скачать книгу бесплатно
“You’re thirty-three,” his mother began. It was a familiar refrain and not one he wanted to listen to again.
A door banged, rescuing him.
“The contractor is here.” Finally. “I’ll call when I can.”
No time to argue grandkids with his mother. He had a building to finish.
* * *
CHERYL CLOSED THE back door of her car with her hip. “Here’s your backpack,” she said, handing Joshua the Spider-Man bag filled with his few toys.
They walked through a garden leading from the B and B’s small parking lot. God, her car looked out of place among the guests’ late-model SUVs and luxury sedans.
Her car was more rust than metal. The gray hood didn’t match the green paint on the rest of the body. And it sucked gas and oil like a drunk with a bottle of hooch. But it ran.
They passed a small table in a secluded section of the courtyard. The table was all but hidden from the house and the rest of the grounds. This would work.
She swallowed. “Okay. Wait here for me.” She pulled out Josh’s crayons and a pad of paper. “Draw a picture. I won’t be long.”
Josh looked up at her, his big brown eyes so like Brad’s her heart ached. “Can’t I come with you?”
“I wish you could, but I have to talk to a woman about working here.” She had to get this job. To keep Josh safe, she had to earn a living. She couldn’t go back.
“The rainbow house?”
“Yes, the rainbow house.” She knelt and cupped his cheeks. “Don’t talk to anyone. If you get scared, run to the car and lock yourself in.”
“Like you taught me when Uncle Levi smelled funny and got mean.” He looked solemn and older than a five-year-old ever should. “I run fast, jump in the car and slam down the lock.”
“Yup.” She was a terrible mother, leaving her son alone in a strange place like this. She brushed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried around the corner of the house and up the stairs.
The entry was empty. She pushed the buzzer on the desk.
The house was big. She hadn’t really noticed the day before. When they’d walked up the steps, Joshua had spotted the rainbows and taken off before she could get much sense of their surroundings.
“Can I help you?” An older woman came down the hall.
“I’m here to see...” Her mind went blank.
“Are you Cheryl? No last name?” the woman filled in.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re here to see me. I’m Marion. Last name Winters.”
“Cheryl Henshaw.” After running from Atlanta, she’d decided to use her mother’s maiden name. Levi shouldn’t be able to find them, since he’d never heard the name before.
Marion pointed to a small parlor. “We can talk in here.”
“This house is beautiful.” The words rushed out.
“That it is. And it takes dedication and elbow grease to keep it that way.”
The rich smell of coffee mingled with the scent of lemon wood polish. Cheryl stared at a tray with two coffee mugs and a plate of banana bread. The aromas intensified her light-headedness, and she sank onto the sofa.
“Take a sip.” Marion pointed. “You won’t find coffee this good at any of those chain places.”
“Thank you.”
Marion picked up a second mug. “Are you from around here?”
“Atlanta most recently. Before that, Fort McPherson, though I grew up in Richmond.” Cheryl took a sip. “Oh, this is good.”
“How many years have you been cleaning?” Marion asked her.
Cheryl took another sip and then set her mug down. “I’ve cleaned all my life, but I’ve never...been paid to clean.”
“Oh.” Marion frowned.
“I know how to work hard. I won’t let you down.” Please, please, please.
Marion watched her, not saying a word.
Cheryl figured the interview was over. Sighing, she grabbed her wallet. Her Coach purse, a gift from Brad, had been hocked along with her wedding ring. She knew Brad would have understood; she needed to keep Josh safe.
She stood.
Where are you going?” Marion asked.
“I...assumed...” She pointed out of the room.
“Sit on down. Have a piece of that banana bread.”
Cheryl sank into her chair. She couldn’t swallow much more than the coffee.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Marion tapped her finger on her nose. “We’ll try you out for a couple of days.”
“You will?” Had she really heard Marion right?
“Sure. Miss Abby says you’ve got a little boy.”
“I do.” She wanted to tell this woman with the warm brown eyes that her son was waiting in the garden for her. If she did, would Marion rescind the offer? “He’s an angel.”
“I’m sure he is. Can you start today? That damn fool, Kikki, took off for California with her boyfriend. Going to be movie stars or some such nonsense. Put me in a bind leaving without notice.”
Today? “I... I’d love to. But my son. He’s here, outside, waiting for me in the courtyard.” Her words ran together.
Marion tilted her head. “He’s here?”
“I don’t...” She took a deep breath, her face burning with embarrassment. “Miss Winters, I don’t have money for day care.” Without money for rent, how could she pay someone to watch her child?
“Is he in school yet?”
Cheryl shook her head. “He just turned five. He won’t start kindergarten until September.” If they were here that long. Staying away from Levi was more important than staying in one place.
“I’ll bet he would love some of this banana bread.” A grin spread across the older woman’s face. “It’ll keep him busy while I show you the ropes.”
As the meaning of Marion’s words sank in, Cheryl burst into tears. “Thank you!”
Marion moved over and laid a gentle hand on Cheryl’s arm. “Now, now. No need for all that. Let’s see how your boy is doing.”
* * *
ABBY PUSHED THE remnants of lunch to the end of the kitchen table and convened the weekly Fitzgerald House staff meeting.
Dolley checked her laptop. “This week we have three sets of Moons checking in—two today, one on Wednesday. There’s a Scrapbooking Sister group coming in today, thanks to Bess’s efforts—two rooms and one of the parlors for their work.”
“There’s a group coming for the Scary Sister weekend—three rooms. They’re staying Friday through Monday.” Dolley tucked her bright red curls behind her ears. “Another Repeater couple, oh...it’s their fortieth anniversary. Neat. They’ll be here Saturday and Sunday.”
“So I need three honeymoons and one anniversary basket. Got it,” said Marion.
“Ten out of twelve rooms occupied.” Abby grinned. “Nigel, keep the vacancy sign up. I’d love to fill up this weekend.”
If they could keep up this pace and open more rooms, they would easily make their balloon payment. Assuming nothing else broke down.
“That’s better than last year at this time.” Dolley tipped her chair back on two legs. “We need to firm up Fitzgerald House’s St. Paddy’s Day plans.”
“Give me a couple of days.” Abby took a deep breath. The celebration, parade and bedlam would be here before they knew it.
“I can pull together the packages.” There was an unexpected sharpness to Dolley’s tone.
The group around the table went quiet. Abby pushed her hair back and looked at her sister. “You already do so much.”
“So do you,” Dolley replied.
“But I don’t have to hold down an outside job,” Abby explained.
“That doesn’t mean you have to do everything around here.” Dolley pointed a finger at her.
Marion patted Abby’s arm. “If she’s volunteering, let her do the work.” She leaned in. “You need to learn to take help when it’s offered.”
“I do,” Abby said defensively.
Marion raised her eyebrows. “And be gracious when you do.”
Abby huffed out a breath. “Thanks, Dolley.”
Her sister rolled her eyes.
Abby looked at her to-do list without seeing it. She did let people help her.
“Nigel,” she said. “The hallway near Eleanor Roosevelt needs touching up—again.”
He nodded, running his fingers through his white hair. How much longer would they have him to rely on? They’d celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday last month.
He’d been driver, handyman, assistant gardener and jack-of-all-trades since Mamma had first turned their home into a B and B.
“I think we should add wainscoting in the hall,” he suggested. “It’s too narrow. People bump the walls with their luggage. It would take a little more of a beating and we wouldn’t have to paint the whole wall.”
The group discussed the hallway and the following weekend’s catering event.
Abby checked her notes. “Nigel, Bess would like the tables set up by four-thirty, so she can bring in the flower arrangements.”
Bess was part owner and operator of Fitzgerald House, but she also worked at a local florist and landscaping business, which was why she rarely attended the staff meetings.
“I’ll shoot you copies of the St. Paddy’s Day info before I post it.” Dolley closed her laptop. “I’ve got to get back. My client is howling for his website redesign. Can I help it if he’s changed his mind—three times?”
Abby couldn’t wait for the day that her sisters didn’t have to work second jobs. Someday the B and B would support them all. She would make it happen.
Nigel picked up his notebook. “I’ll paint the hallway tomorrow and get those bids on wainscoting. Got to get to it.” He ambled out the door.
“Hey, Abs, it’s karaoke night at McMillian’s.” Dolley slipped her computer into a messenger bag. “Want to go?”
“I’ll pass. I barely wake up with two alarms now. If I gallivanted with a night owl like you, our guests wouldn’t get breakfast tomorrow. Plus, I have an association meeting tonight.”
“Your loss.” Dolley shrugged on her jacket.
“Any more surprises coming this week?” Abby asked. Although having dinner with Gray hadn’t been a hardship.
“I’m sorry about the Smythe mix-up, really, I am.” Dolley tucked her phone into her pocket. “I was working on the arrangements but didn’t want to get your hopes up. The assistant was talking to two other places at the same time. Originally, he’d asked for a twenty-percent discount.”
“I’m glad you talked him down to ten percent.” She touched her sister’s hand. “You’re our best negotiator.”
“Yeah, yeah.” But her sister grinned. “We need new registration software. After I shifted the other bookings, I had to wait for a system backup before locking in Smythe’s reservation.”
“We need a lot of things. We need to fix the third-floor water damage. We need to open more rooms. But foremost, we need to make the loan payment.”
Personally, Abby would like to replace her eight-year-old car, but that wouldn’t get her any closer to restoring the main house and opening Southern Comforts. Hard work, frugality and dedication were the only ways she would open her own restaurant.
“You’re right. Loan payment first.” Dolley sighed and headed out the door.
Marion pushed her wiry body away from the table. “You know you can’t live and breathe the B and B. A young, pretty thing like you should be out enjoying yourself.”
Enjoying herself? “I’ve got a business to run.”
“And you do it well.” Marion wrapped her arm around Abby’s shoulders. “Just don’t be afraid to accept help when it’s offered and to have a little fun.”
