More to Give (2 page)

“You already have.” Will held her cup higher. “I dropped my coffee getting out of the car and had to stop myself from licking the gravel to get the caffeine fix.” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Will squinted. “That’s a disturbing visual, isn’t it? Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he said. “But you might want to see someone about that addiction.”

Will waved his words away. “It wouldn’t be so bad if Randy hadn’t cut me off cold turkey. Expects me to drink decaffeinated.” The snort that accompanied those words was less than ladylike. “Says I’m too wound up with the new business and my system needs a break.” With wide eyes, she leaned forward. “You know what I need?”

Sam shook his head in the negative, silently agreeing with Will’s significant other but opting not to say so aloud.

“Some damn caffeine.”

In the short time he’d known her, Willow Parsons had been a laid-back person. Calm. Rational. He wondered where that woman might be this morning.

“So?” she said, “how did the interview go? Is Calliope your girl?” Will’s right foot began to bounce. “Hard-ass? All business? Or laid-back and easygoing?”

He debated how to answer. Considering the Callie he’d hired this morning wasn’t exactly the Callie he’d known six years ago, Sam wasn’t sure what she’d be like to work with. Maybe he should have thought of that
before
he’d given her the job.

“Yes, she seems to be the right person for the position. Her résumé was enough to convince me she’s capable of transforming the Sunset into exactly what I want.” With a casual shrug, he added, “I’m sure you two will get along fine.”

“You think?” Will asked. “You could tell that from one short meeting?”

Tiptoe around this one, big guy
.

“It’s the impression I got. And she goes by Callie.”

Will sat back, dropping her shoulders. “That’s a pretty name. Where is she staying?”

“In the Peabody Cottage across from the inn. The proximity made sense.” Sam folded his hands on his desk. “I’m guessing my new employee is not the only reason you called this meeting.”

“Oh,” Will said, dropping the bouncing foot to the floor. “Right. Well, it does sort of cross over. How long did you plan for the renovation of the Sunset to take?”

“I’m not sure.” Sam had waited to hire and start the renovations until the main tourist season was over, which was why he was hiring Callie at the end of September. “I’m sure we’ll reopen in plenty of time for spring.”

“That long?” Will asked. “Any way you could make it sooner?”

The twitch in Sam’s jaw that had begun during Callie’s interview returned. “How much sooner?”

“Christmas.”

Less than three months? They didn’t even have a solid plan in place. The delivery of new furnishings could take longer than that. But Will wouldn’t be asking without a reason.

“Why?” he asked.

Scooping the backpack into her lap, Will removed a file folder before dropping the bag to the floor. “I have interest in a Christmas wedding. Seventy-five guests. They want cozy, upscale but friendly. The mother of the bride used the word ‘boutique.’ That’s what you’re going for with the Sunset, right?”

That was exactly what he was going for. An event that size would fill the inn to capacity. A hell of a way to kick off a reopening.

“Are we talking Christmas Day, the week of, or earlier in the month?”

“They’re looking at the weekend before. If you don’t think you’ll be open by then, I think the Starfish will work—”

“We’ll be ready.” This was too good to pass up. Whatever it took, the Sunset Harbor Inn would be renovated and ready for business by Christmas.

“Are you sure? I can’t book them in and find out a month before the wedding the hotel won’t be ready.”

“I’m sure.” Will held Sam’s gaze for several seconds, as if determining whether to believe him. He schooled his features to hide his annoyance.

“Good,” she said, breaking the silence. Will slid the folder back into her bag and rose from the chair. “I’ll need some kind of info to share with the client. Some idea what the finished hotel will look like, as well as details about the accommodations and banquet facilities.”

“Once Ms. Henderson and I have a plan in place, I’ll have her contact you for a meeting.” Sam stood and rounded the desk. “Is next week soon enough?”

“I can probably put the client off until then.” Will hesitated near the office door. “Are you sure you can turn the property around that fast?”

Pasting on his most confident business smile, Sam said, “The Sunset Harbor Inn will be renovated and open for business before Christmas. I guarantee it.”

CHAPTER 2

T
he Sunset Harbor Inn was going to take at least six months to renovate. If Sam wanted the place open for business by spring, they would barely make it. And that was likely with several workers putting in long hours.

Callie had brought two suitcases with her, the plan being that her cousin would bring the rest of her belongings in a couple of days if she managed to land the job, and she dropped them in the cottage that would be her home for the foreseeable future. Peabody Cottage was like a dream, with walls of windows and furnishings that looked as if the place had fallen right out of a magazine.

But she didn’t take much time to admire it, as she was anxious to see the hotel. After switching from her interview clothes into something more comfortable, Callie headed across the narrow street. From a distance, the building didn’t look half bad.

Upon closer inspection, her estimation changed.

The entire exterior surface of the hotel was composed of worn, faded shingles barely covered by chipping paint. Repainting them would be time-consuming, since the old paint would need to be scraped off by hand before anything new could be applied.

Based on the size of the building, the outside alone would take several months. The front had to push a hundred feet long. A covered porch ran down the midsection, and two large gables held down the ends of the building, making it appear as if two wide towers had been built, then connected by a long center addition.

As was common in these low coastal areas, the entire structure hovered two feet off the ground, which required latticework around the bottom to protect the exposed pipes and duct work from anything that might want to nest underneath.

Regardless of its condition, the place had charm. Old rockers dotted the long porch, and two were occupied near the middle, where a couple of older gentlemen looked to be playing a game.

“Hello,” Callie said, approaching the men. She hoped to gain some insight into the hotel from current guests before stepping inside to assess the place for herself. “How are you today?”

“We’re playing checkers,” one of the men said, not bothering to look Callie’s way. “It’s your turn, Olaf. Don’t be taking all day.”

“Don’t get your waders in a bunch. I’m thinking.”

“I knew I smelled something.”

“Shut up, Bernie.”

Neither man lifted his eyes from the checkerboard during the exchange.

“Are you enjoying your stay at the Sunset Harbor Inn?” Callie asked.

The man called Bernie finally looked her way. “We don’t
stay
here,” he said, then squinted his pale blue eyes. “Who are you?”

If they didn’t stay at the inn, why were they playing checkers on the porch?

“I’m Callie Henderson. I’m here to help with the renovation of the hotel.” She stepped closer to the men. “I’m sorry. Did you say you aren’t staying here?”

“Why would we stay at the inn when we live on the island?” the one addressed earlier as Olaf asked.

So the two older gentlemen were natives. They should know something about the place.

“My apologies. But if you’re natives, then you must know the inn well. What do you think of the place?”

Two heads turned her way, one covered in wiry, salt-and-pepper hair, the other looking nearly bald beneath his tan fishing hat.

Bernie, the owner of the salt-and-pepper hair, did the narrowed-eyes thing again. “We don’t think of the place. It’s a hotel, like all the others on the island. If you want to know something about it, walk inside and see for yourself. We’re trying to play a game here.”

Callie had always thought these quaint little island towns were supposed to be filled with friendly, welcoming people. Bernie and Olaf disabused her of that notion. Maybe island life wasn’t going to be the idyllic adventure she’d hoped for.

“Right,” she said, backing away from the makeshift checker table, which was a weathered brown barrel. “I’ll let you two get back to your game.”

Neither man bid her farewell, but she thought she heard one of them grunt. Lovely.

Callie halted in front of the entrance. The white door, flanked by two long, narrow windows, looked solid, if in need of new paint. Callie could only hope the inside was in better condition than the outside.

As she stepped into the lobby, hope went out the window.

A dated, wood-paneled counter sat to her left. The top was Formica and straight out of the seventies. A dim lamp glowed from the left end against the wall,
while dirty, ancient ceiling light fixtures cast a dingy glow over the area. The walls were beige, which was a good neutral color, but the finish was flat and dull. Rollers would have to be applied here as well.

The one redeeming quality of the lobby was the beautiful staircase directly across from the door. Though faded by the high-volume foot traffic endured by this sort of establishment, the hardwood treads would definitely be a keeper. The solid oak railing, with its simple white spindles, looked promising as well.

Feeling a bit better about things, Callie waited several seconds for a clerk to arrive at the desk. A chime had sounded as she’d entered, due to the bells attached near the top of the door, and she assumed the sound could be heard wherever the current clerk on duty might be hiding.

But no one came. Odd. Maybe the hotel was already closed for the season. Though she’d spotted several cars in the parking lot, meaning something was going on inside. Several more seconds passed in silence before Callie heard a rumble in the distance.

It was coming from the stairs, and it was getting louder. By the time the source of the thunder bounded from the first landing, Callie had braced for impact.

“Oh,” said the young man who’d landed on the lobby floor with a thud. “Hello there.”

The boy—Callie guessed his age at no greater than eighteen—was tall and thin, with a sweep of dark hair over his forehead and bright green eyes twinkling with youthful exuberance. Whoever he was, this person stood in stark contrast to the cranky old men outside.

Thunderfeet rubbed his hands on the front of his skinny jeans, then awkwardly ambled his way behind the counter in his bright red Vans. “How can I help you?”

“I’ve been hired to handle the renovation of this facility. Do you always bound through the hotel like that?” she asked. “I was worried a herd of elephants was about to stampede me into the carpet.” The carpet that was ugly, dated, and in dire need of replacing.

The young man stuttered as his eyes shifted between the stairwell and Callie. “I heard the bells and thought you were someone else. I was expecting my friend Lot.”

Callie blinked. “You have a friend named Lot?”

“It’s a nickname,” he offered, as pink crawled up his neck to the tips of his ears. “We go to school together. Well”—he stumbled again—“
went
to school together. We both graduated this past spring.”

So her age estimate had been correct. “And what is your name?” she asked.

“Jack,” he said, stabbing a hand in her direction. “Jack Barrington.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack.” Callie accepted the handshake with a smile. “Perhaps we could refrain from charging along the stairs going forward?”

As she’d been talked down to by more than one boss while working her way through the hotel ranks, Callie had determined long ago she would never do so when she was in charge. Be firm? Yes. Run a tight ship? Absolutely. Treat employees like crap? Never.

“Yeah. Sure. I can do that.” Jack looked ready to do anything Callie requested, if the goofy look on his face was any indication. She’d expected him to point out her office, but he only stared silently.

She raised her eyebrows and received a similar look in response. She’d forgotten young men weren’t the best at picking up cues. Something many of them never outgrew.

“I intend to look around the property, but could you direct me to the manager’s office?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Callie wondered if all of Jack’s responses started with these words. “It’s right there,” he said, pointing to a door to the left of the stairs marked
PRIVATE
. Quieter feet were definitely going to be a must.

“Thank you,” Callie said, taking a step toward the office.

“But it’s locked. I have the key behind here somewhere.” Jack disappeared behind the counter, and the sound of rustling papers filled the air. “Here it is!” he exclaimed, returning again, a bright orange keychain of what looked like braided leather dangling in the air. A large, tarnished key hung from the gaudy piece of craftwork.

“Good.” She took the keychain between two fingers. “Thank you.”

Once again, she didn’t make it far before Jack stopped her. “I should warn you. Things in there might be a bit . . . messy. Cheryl, the last manager, wasn’t real happy about being let go.” Jack shrugged, his shoulders nearly touching his ears.

Callie valued organization. Required it. Dread created a knot in her stomach, and she could feel the first flames of heartburn inching up her esophagus. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and thought positively. She’d have had to set up the office in her own way regardless of the condition in which she found it. It wasn’t as if she needed to have it finished within a day. She had plenty of time to whip this hotel into shape.

“I appreciate the warning,” Callie said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

With that, she crossed the small space and unlocked her new office door. This was the first step to her new life. The realm from which she’d lead her first renovation project. With renewed enthusiasm, she pushed the door open and stepped through.

“Holy mother of God,” she uttered. Cheryl hadn’t been unhappy when she left. She’d been downright pissed
.

Sam had spent the last twenty-four hours debating how he would inform Callie of the new shortened time frame for the project. Not that he was worried. He was the boss, she his employee. Her job was to complete the tasks assigned.

But less than three months was asking a lot. He knew that. Sam had given so much focus to renovating the Anchor Inn, the larger of the two properties he’d inherited three years ago upon his uncle’s passing, that he’d ignored the Sunset Harbor Inn for too long. The smaller hotel had been his uncle’s first purchase back in the seventies, and he’d shared his love for the place with his nephew during the summers Sam spent on Anchor Island.

Those visits were the few positive memories Sam had from his childhood, filled with adventure and affection, two things he hadn’t received at home. He’d dreamed of the day his uncle would say, “Sammy boy, I’m going to keep you here with me. You don’t have to go home ever again.”

But that day never came, and the island wasn’t the same without Uncle Morty. Anchor had been the setting for the memories, but Morty had been the one who made them. Without him, this remote speck of dirt felt more like a weight around Sam’s neck, keeping him from chasing bigger game. Putting his mark on larger, more prestigious properties.

But for now that weight couldn’t be dropped, so Sam shook off the bitter irritation and focused on what lay ahead.

Like convincing Callie Henderson to turn a ramshackle seaside inn into a contemporary but cozy boutique hotel before Christmas.

Correction—
inform
, not convince.

Sam was staring out the window behind his desk, watching two seagulls fight over something on the sand, when Callie stepped into his office.

“Good morning,” she said, stopping inside the door. “Yvonne said I should come in.”

“Yes,” Sam said, returning to his desk but waiting for Callie to take a seat before settling into his own. “I take it your paperwork is complete?”

Callie nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Fine.” Sam cleared his throat, then took a sip of his black coffee. “After our meeting yesterday, I spoke with the new wedding coordinator on the island.”

“The island has a wedding coordinator? That’s excellent.” Callie crossed her legs and leaned forward, causing her navy blue skirt to ride high on her thigh. “I hope we have a solid relationship with her. Weddings are the perfect business for a boutique hotel.”

“Yes,” Sam said, tugging on his suddenly too-tight tie. “I’m glad you say that. She has a potential event for the Sunset Harbor Inn, and I told her we would take the business.”

Callie sat back. “Good. A wedding would be a great way to kick off the new opening next year.”

Sam winced, then mentally slapped himself for the reaction. “Actually, it isn’t next year.”

Head tilted to one side, she asked, “The year after? That’s pretty far out to book an event. Oh, I took the liberty of examining my new office yesterday. I hope you don’t mind.”

He’d have preferred she waited for him to show her around but took her enthusiasm as a good sign. Since he hadn’t been to the inn in several months, he was anxious to hear her assessment.

“Not a problem. I hope everything was to your expectations.”

Callie hemmed a bit. “Well . . . not exactly. I don’t believe your former manager left on a positive note.”

Cheryl hadn’t done anything to give Sam the impression she’d been unhappy. She’d thanked him for the opportunity, admitted she was ready to move on to something else, and bade him farewell. As she didn’t live on the island, but rather over on Hatteras, he hadn’t encountered her since.