The Perfect Hope (11 page)

“Oh, well, I don’t know if—”

“Absolutely.” Beaming, Carolee handed the glasses back to Hope. “We’ll fill a couple of coolers, an ice bucket, take some plastic glasses. We have that folding table downstairs. It’s a good deed.”

“And I should pay for the show?”

Carolee gave her a little pat. “I wouldn’t say that. Come on, it won’t take much time. We’ve got a couple hours before check-in.”

She couldn’t say no to Carolee, especially since she’d been caught ogling the woman’s nephew. So together they made vats of lemonade. They carted out the folding table, coolers, ice, cups. Carolee called one of the men by name, hailed him over. That started a rotation of men from the roof, from inside.

She got a lot of “thanks, Hope,” or in a few cases “Miss Hope.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Beckett downed a cup, winked at his aunt.

“You be careful up there.”

“You bet. We’re almost done. We’re cutting through to the damn rubber now. Your timing’s good. We’re going to break for lunch, finish it up after.”

“Sweep that area over there for nails,” Ryder ordered someone, then grabbed a cup, gulped down the contents. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to call in the lunch order,” Beckett announced, and stepped away with his phone.

“Here, Ryder, have another. Your mama’s coming by later.”

“What for?”

“Because I told her you were tearing off that roof, and she wants to see. I’m going to make another batch so y’all can have more with lunch.”

“And she’s going to want to see the restaurant, and the bakery,” Ryder muttered. “Where the hell is Owen?”

“Here.” Hope poured him another cup herself. “Cool off.”

“There isn’t enough lemonade in the world.” But he drank it. “We’ll have gotten that bitch off before it gets too hot, so that’s something.”

Hearing his master’s voice, D.A. wandered out, rubbed up against Ryder’s legs. Hope took a dog biscuit out of her pocket.

“He’s going to start expecting a cookie every time he sees you.”

“You got lemonade.”

“He hasn’t been ripping off a tar-and-gravel roof and sweating off ten pounds.”

She bent to pet the dog, tipped her face up so her eyes glinted through a dark curtain of hair. “Maybe I should get my garden hose.”

“I might just use it at the end of the day.” He hesitated. “Have you got people coming in?”

“Yes. Three rooms, one staying through the weekend.”

“Okay.”

“Any particular reason you asked?”

“No.”

Back to one-word responses, she thought, and tried another avenue. “I hear you shared your pie on Man Night.”

“The kids were like vultures. I underestimated them.”

“I’ve got half of one left. You can have it.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Pick it up before you leave. I have to get back to work.”

“We’ll bring the table and stuff back. We appreciate it.”

“All right. Oh, and I’m sure I can make time if you want me to hose you off.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes narrow in speculation before she turned and walked away.

Hope considered herself a pretty good judge, and in her judgment she and Ryder Montgomery were having a serious flirtation.

They’d see where it went from there.

OWEN SHOWED UP
as Ryder climbed down from the roof for the last time of the day. He could’ve bitched, but he noted Owen showed some sweat and dirt, and still wore his tool belt.

But what the hell, a little bitching between brothers was just another sign of affection.

“Figured you’d show up when the hard work was over.”

“Somebody had to run the other crew since you got a wild hair to go off schedule. Those fugly tiles are gone over there, and wasn’t that fun?”

Anything but, Ryder thought, and couldn’t help but be glad he didn’t have to do it.

“If you get material in here tomorrow, we can start the new roof.”

“It’ll be here at eight.” Owen gave Ryder an up-and-down study. “Looks like you’ve earned a beer.”

“I earned a fucking six-pack.”

“Avery’s closing tonight, so I’m going to go over, hang awhile. It’s Beckett’s turn to buy.”

“Beckett’s going home,” Beckett announced. “And taking a five-hour shower. I may eat and sleep in the shower.”

“Looks like you and me, Ry.”

“Looks like you,” Ryder corrected. “I’m doing what Beckett’s doing, and so’s my dog.”

“Fair enough, considering how the two of you smell. We’ll rain check it until tomorrow. We need to go over some things, both sites. We can do it before the crew gets here in the morning, or after we knock off.”

“After,” Ryder said, definitely.

“Friday night?” Beckett arched his brows. “No hot date?”

“My hot dates don’t start that early, they go until early.” But he didn’t have one, and hadn’t thought about it. Maybe after he’d showered off three or four inches of grime, he’d give it more thought.

“See you tomorrow then.” As Owen strolled off, Beckett looked back at the building. He and Ryder stood together like a couple of refugees from hell. “Flip you for who does the final check and locks up.”

Mostly because he remembered early-morning coffee in the kitchen with Clare, Ryder shrugged. “Go on home to the wife and kids. I’ll do it.”

“I’m already gone.”

Ryder went back in, grabbed his clipboard. He wanted to note a couple things down, after he could stand to be around himself again. He checked the door facing St. Paul, got his cooler.

Thought of lemonade.

No time for that, he told himself. And though he wouldn’t mind the pie, he wasn’t going into the inn in his current state. He’d have to rain check that, too.

He started out just as a truck pulled in.

Willy B’s, he noted, with his mother riding shotgun. He tried not to think of the fact that Avery’s father was sleeping with his mother. He’d rather just continue to think of Willy B as he always had: an old family friend—a hell of a nice guy who’d been Tommy Montgomery’s best pal since childhood.

If he thought of big, red-bearded Willy B as his mom’s lover, it just got sticky.

Justine hopped out. She wore those pants that stopped inches above the ankle and some sort of girly T-shirt with fancy work around the neck.

She’d fussed with herself some—the hair and face stuff—and looked damn pretty.

“Don’t get too close.” He held up a hand. “I’m not fit for close.”

“I’ve seen you worse, but this is a new shirt. So.” She blew him a kiss.

“Back atcha. How’s it going, Willy B?”

“Going good.” He stood six and a half feet. A big man with a big heart, and a full head of wild red hair that matched the beard he sported. He stood, thumbs tucked in pockets, eyeing the building. “Took the roof clean off.”

“There wasn’t anything clean about it. I guess you want to take a look inside.”

“Wouldn’t mind it. If you want to get on, I can lock it up for you.”

“It’s okay.” He led the way.

Willy B ducked in, swiveled his head side to side, up and down as he walked the space. “Justine, you got some imagination.”

“It’s going to be fabulous. My boys won’t settle for less.”

“She doesn’t give us a choice. We got material coming first thing in the morning so we can start on the new roof.”

He talked roofs and windows with Willy B, then let Justine drag Willy B around, pointing to the rough spaces that would be locker rooms, a little classroom, reception space.

“I expect you to join up.”

“Oh now, Justine.”

“Don’t ‘oh now’ me.” She wagged a finger, then patted Willy B’s arm. “I’m going to give you a discount since we’re going to be in-laws.”

He grinned at that. “That’s something, isn’t it? My girl and your boy. Wouldn’t Tommy do a dance over it?”

And that was it, Ryder thought. What made Willy B Willy B. He would think of his friend, always.

“He really would. And he’d’ve told me I was crazy for buying this place. Then he’d have strapped on his tools. Oh, I tell you we’re going to have such a pretty place here, nothing like it around. I’ve got big plans for the locker rooms.”

“Your mom mentioned the lockers and such,” Willy B said to Ryder. “I know a guy, they do good work there.”

“Owen’s been looking into it some. Maybe you can give him the name.”

“I’ll do that. We’re going over to Vesta in a bit. I’ll give it to Avery.”

“Owen’s there.”

“Perfect.” Justine nodded. “We want to go through the new restaurant space before we get some dinner.”

“Owen’s got the key. He’ll take you through.”

“Buy you a beer,” Willy B offered. “And pizza if you want.”

“Not like this.” Ryder spread his hands. “The Health Department might shut her down. But thanks.”

“When this place is finished, you can take a shower and a steam.” Justine smiled at him. “I hear you’re hitting on our innkeeper.”

“Oh now, Justine,” Willy B murmured as Ryder scowled.

“I am not.”

“Was it someone who just looked like you kissing her out in the lot yesterday?”

“That was just . . . nothing.”

“It looked like something to Mina Bowers, who was driving by, and who told Carolee, who told me.”

He’d known it would get around, but he hadn’t expected it to get around to his mother so quickly. “People should mind their own business.”

“Well, that never happens,” Justine said cheerfully. “And oddly enough I heard firsthand from Chrissy Abbot, who was walking her dog, the two of you had another ‘just nothing’ earlier. A little digging and I found out the man in the fancy suit who was here at the time was that Jonathan Wickham.”

“Yeah, he came by to try to steal her back for his hotel, and try to talk her into sleeping with him again.”

“I thought he got married,” Willy B began.

“Oh, Willy B, don’t be so naive. That bastard,” Justine said, with considerable heat. “Why do I hear about you kissing Hope and not knocking that bastard on his ass?”

Ryder’s smile covered his face, and came straight from the heart. “I love you, Mom. Seriously.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because I didn’t know until he was out of range. She set him straight.”

“I’d expect no less. If that son of a bitch shows his face around here again, I want you to kick him right off our property. Or call me and I’ll do it myself. I’d like to do it. I should go in and talk to her.”

“She’s got people in there.”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow then.” She took two long breaths to calm down. “If you want to hit on her and not have people talk about it, do it in private.”

“I’m not hitting on her.”

“If you’re not, I’m disappointed in you. Meanwhile, you go on and clean up, get some rest. I’ll talk to you later. And, Ry, it’s good work here. You can see it already.”

She could, he thought as they left. She always could see. Sometimes more than was comfortable.

“Hitting on her. Jesus. Disappointed if I’m not. You just can’t figure women, even mothers. Maybe especially mothers. Come on, Dumbass, let’s go take a shower.”

He knew the word, wiggled in anticipation, trotting out as Ryder followed.

After he locked up, he turned and saw Hope, with another pie plate, crossing to his truck.

Why the hell were they always meeting up in the damn parking lot?

“You just missed my mother and Willy B.”

“Oh. I wish they’d come in.”

“I thought you had people in there.”

“I do.” She gestured at the two cars in the lot beside hers and Carolee’s. “And I bet they’d have loved to meet her. Your pie.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Carolee’s serving wine and cheese to the guests, but I should get back in and help. I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Okay.”

“Are you considering the idea of having sex with me?”

“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”

“The truth would work. I’m very big on honesty in any sort of relationship, however casual. I’ve lived and learned on that one. So I’d like to know if you are while I’m considering it. Straightforward,” she continued, as he stood, scowling and speechless. “No strings, no complications. If you’re not, no problem. I’d just like to be on the same page.”

Talk about putting the cards on the table. “The same page. I don’t know what the hell page I’m on.”

He was tired, filthy, and she was hitting on
him
in the damn parking lot. Had he thought she needed more figuring out? Hell, there
was
no figuring her out.

“All right. When you do, just let me know.”

“Just let you know,” he repeated. “Yes or no.”

“It’s simpler, isn’t it? You look tired,” she observed. “You’ll feel better after you clean up and get something to eat. I have to go in. Good night.”

“Yeah.” He opened the door to let the dog jump in. After a debate, he decided to drive with the pie on his lap. D.A. wouldn’t be able to hold back from sticking his whole face in it otherwise.

He got behind the wheel, just sat there.

“No, you can’t figure women, Dumbass. You just can’t figure them.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

W
ITH HER GUESTS OUT AND ABOUT, THE ROOMS TURNED,
and Carolee doing a market run, Hope carved out some office time. She had payroll and invoices to deal with, the home page, the Facebook page, emails, reservations—and a space of quiet time to get it done.

Then there were lists, the routine tasks and chores that needed doing on a continuous loop. Guests commented on how fresh, pretty, and clean the inn was—and it took steady work to keep it that way.

With the payroll out of the way, she uploaded a few new pictures to the Facebook page, added a brief, chatty post, then moved on to emails.

She clicked Send on the last one just as the Reception bell rang. As good a time for a break as any, she thought. She started to rise when the idea of Jonathan flipped through her mind. If she found him at the door, fine. Even good. This time she’d finish giving him that piece of her mind.

She geared up for it, almost looked forward to it, but found Justine at the door.

“Hi! I thought you had a key.”

“I do, but I don’t like using it.” She glanced back over her shoulder where workers hammered and sawed on the skeleton of a roof. “I hope the noise isn’t a problem.”

“It’s not bad, and the view improves every day. We’ve got a lot of excitement and interest in the idea of a fitness center right in town.”

“That’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m sorry I missed you and Willy B yesterday.”

“I’m making up for it. It always smells so good in here.” Justine strolled into the kitchen, helped herself to a Diet Pepsi out of the refrigerator. “It gives me a lift every time I come in. Oh, did you see Lacy’s getting equipment installed? Icing Bakery should be up, running, and open to the public in about ten days.”

“We can’t wait. It’s nice to have a neighbor, too—one I’m told makes amazing sticky buns.”

“Avery says we’ll all be in heaven. We’ve also rented the two apartments over the bakery. So you’ll have more neighbors. Got time to sit?”

“Sure.” Adjusting mental lists, she joined Justine at the kitchen island.

“Guests in the house?”

“We’ve got the cutest couple staying the weekend in J&R. He’s a huge Civil War buff. In fact they hit TTP before closing yesterday and he scooped up some books by local authors he didn’t have. You’d have thought he found gold. Now they’re touring the battlefield. They booked the Historical Adventure package. But the deal is she goes with him today, and tomorrow he has to go antiquing with her.”

“Fair’s fair.”

“He’s full of stories. We had two other couples in last night, and he kept everyone entertained until after midnight. Oh, and he loved the Civil War chess set in The Lounge. He’s hoping one of the guests checking in today’s a player.”

“Tommy and Willy B used to play. Me? I like Monopoly.” She let out her big laugh.

“You play it really well. I was going to email you once I have all the details, but we’ve got someone interested in booking the inn for a bridal party.”

“A wedding?”

“No, they’ve got the venue for the wedding and reception, but they’re interested in booking us for the night before. Bride, groom, attendants, parents. And the same for the wedding night. I’ve blocked it off, for now. They’re supposed to confirm by Monday.”

“Sounds good. How was your Girls’ Night?”

“It was great. I really appreciate being able to do something like that. I’d like to have another down the road, with you and Carolee, maybe Darla joining in. My mother and sister if I can manage it.”

“Sounds even better.” With a satisfied nod, Justine sat back. “You’re happy.”

“This is a dream job for me, Justine. I couldn’t be happier.”

“So, no temptation to take Jonathan Wickham up on his offer?”

Hope winced. “Should I have told you about that?”

“Not necessary.” Justine waved the question away. “I hear everything worth hearing eventually.”

“I guess you do, and no, not the least bit tempted. This is my home. Jonathan may think I can’t exist without Georgetown, the Wickham, and him, but he’s wrong. I feel more . . . myself than I have in a very long time.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Glad to know you didn’t give either of his offers the time of day.”

“Oh. Oh! Don’t get me started on door number two.”

Justine laughed again. “That’s exactly why I’m here. To get you started. Men don’t give the real details, just a sketchy overview.”

“What kind of person was I involved with?” Hope shoved back, got a soda for herself. “I knew he was flawed, everyone has flaws. And I knew there were weak spots, and of course, I assumed I’d shore them up. I know better than that, but—”

“You were used to him. You cared for him.”

“I was, I did. Looking back, I see it was the whole package. The place, Jonathan, the people. I considered his sister one of my closest friends. She wasn’t. I thought I was where I belonged, and the lifestyle . . . It was a good one. Or it was on the surface. It’s hard to admit it was all surface.”

“How can you see that when you’re in it?”

“By looking.” She sighed. “Even realizing, admitting, seeing it all, and him, for what it was, he completely stunned me by suggesting we go back to how it was—with benefits including some sort of
pay
scale.”

“Prick.”

“Oh, at least. Once I calmed down enough, I called my mother and ranted to her for nearly an hour. He was always so charming to my mother, to my family. That mattered to me. She supported me when it all went to hell, but I know she had this soft spot for him. Until I unloaded on her. She was madder than I was when I’d finished.”

“I think your mother and I would get along just fine.”

“You would. Coming here in his Versace suit and Hermès tie, with his honeymoon tan still glowing, and telling me I’m unfulfilled here, out of place here, how I should come back to the Wickham—at a substantial raise—and to him. How he’d take care of me. Asshole.”

“Asshole’s a compliment next to the word I’m thinking.”

“I never thought I’d feel sorry for Sheridan—his wife. But I do.”

“Hold on. Didn’t she rub your face in it? Didn’t she, knowing full well he’d been involved with you, come into your office and tell you she wanted you to run point on planning her wedding at the hotel?”

“Yes, she did.” Hope’s eyes narrowed as she drank. “Yes, she damn well did. Scratch feeling sorry for her. They deserve each other.”

“I’d say they do. I’m glad Ryder came along in time for you to do some nose-rubbing of your own.”

Hope met Justine’s amused eyes, sipped slowly. “You heard about that, too?”

“Ear to the ground, honey. Always.”

“I guess I didn’t think Ryder would mention it to you. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he’d bring up.”

“I heard it from another source, then poked him in the ribs about it. And about the second rendezvous.”

“It wasn’t a . . . You heard about that, too.”

“Small-town ways. If you kiss a man in a parking lot, somebody’s going to catch wind.”

And she’d thought she’d rolled into the rhythm of those small-town ways. She supposed she still had a bit to learn. “Obviously. I understand if you’d prefer I don’t—or we don’t—get involved on that level. I—”

“Why would I prefer that?” Justine arched her eyebrows. “You’re both grown-ups.”

“He’s your son. I’m your employee.”

“I love my son. I love him enough to believe he can and should make his own decisions, choose his own way. I love this inn—not as much as my boys, but it’s up there. I wouldn’t have put anyone in charge of it I didn’t believe in, I didn’t care about. Anyone I didn’t respect and trust to make her own decisions. If you and Ry decide to get involved, on any level, that’s your choice.”

She paused, her smile blooming. “I’ve seen the sparks, honey. I’ve wondered what the hell the two of you were waiting for.”

“I wasn’t sure we even liked each other. I’m still not entirely sure.”

“I’m prejudiced, but I’d say there’s a lot to like on both sides. You’ll figure it out. And if it just turns out to be sex, you’ll both enjoy yourselves.”

“That’s something I didn’t expect to hear from an employer, or the mother of a man.”

“I’m Justine first. Now that we’ve settled that, is there any inn business we need to go over before I go poke my nose in the bookstore to make sure Clare’s taking care of herself and my new grandbabies?”

“Speaking of that first, would it be all right to have the baby shower here? I know we wouldn’t have it until into the fall, but if that’s a go, I want to set up the date and block it.”

“I think that’s perfect. You let me know what I can do to help.”

“You could stay over. You, Clare, Avery, Clare’s mom, Carolee. There’d be room for three more if Clare wanted.”

“A baby shower followed by a Girls’ Night? Better than perfect. Count me in. Just give me the date when you set it up with Clare. We could do the same with Avery’s wedding shower.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. God, it’s going to be so much fun.”

“I think Lizzy wants to make sure she’s invited.”

“I didn’t notice,” Hope said as she caught the scent of honeysuckle. “Sometimes I don’t. It’s just part of the place. Or she is.”

“That means you’re comfortable with her.”

“I am. I’m waiting for some information from a cousin who’s doing a biography on Catherine Darby. And I’ve reached out to the school, to the head librarian, hoping they may have some letters or documents archived. Trying to find her Billy with so little isn’t moving very well.”

Frustration eked through. When you had a job, a task, a duty, you got it done. Finding she couldn’t, at least not expediently, left Hope itchy.

“I wish she’d tell us—one of us—more. The last name, something. She spoke to Owen. I keep waiting for her to speak to him again.”

“Who knows what barriers there are between her plane and ours? I like to think she’ll tell you what she can, when she can.”

“Me?”

“You’re with her more than any of us, and she’s your ancestor,” Justine pointed out. “Have any of the guests mentioned anything?”

“I had one woman who said she heard music in the middle of the night, and thought she smelled honeysuckle. She woke up not feeling well, couldn’t get back to sleep. So she went to The Library for a book. And when she was in there reading, she heard music.”

“Interesting.”

“She thought she’d dozed off, dreamed it. I’m not sure she didn’t, as music hasn’t been part of Lizzy’s repertoire before.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if she branched out. I need to get out of your way. You get me those dates, and I’ll mark them down in indelible ink.”

“I will.”

Hope rose with her, walked her to the door. They stood a moment, watching the men work across the lot.

“The first time I saw Tommy Montgomery he was up a ladder working, his shirt off. I was starting my brand-new job, and I wanted to be so professional, so dignified. And I saw him, and thought: Oh my God.” Laughing a little, Justine laid a hand on her heart. “That was the end and the beginning for me.”

“I wish I’d had a chance to meet him. Everyone who speaks of him speaks so well.”

“He was a good man. Had his flaws, like any. Made me crazy some of the time, and made me laugh a lot. I wouldn’t have had him any different. Not one bit.” She put an arm around Hope’s shoulder for a hug. “If Ryder doesn’t make you laugh, you toss him back. Sex isn’t worth it if he doesn’t make you laugh. I think I’ll go interrupt his day before I go nag at Clare.”

Hope watched her walk across the lot in her red sneakers, hailing Ryder as she went. And he straightened, shook his head, and grinned down at his mother.

Who wouldn’t want to be Justine when they grew up? Hope thought, and slipped back inside.

SHE DIDN’T HAVE
time to think about potential lovers or ghosts, or anything else once the Friday arrivals began to roll in. Hope walked—or jogged—up and down the steps too many times to count. She figured until the fitness center opened, she got plenty of cardio right on the job. She showed guests to their rooms, answered questions, accepted compliments on the decor in the name of her boss, served refreshments, offered advice on dining and shopping.