The Wedding Promise (2 page)

The housekeeper and cook had worked for Liza’s aunt Elizabeth for many years—as both an employee and a companion. Claire had also taken care of Aunt Elizabeth in her final months last winter when she fell sick with pneumonia and never recovered.

When Liza arrived and took over, she discovered that Claire more or less came with the property—which was at first worrisome but soon turned out to be a blessing in disguise. A great blessing, Liza knew now. She wouldn’t have survived more than a week on her own without Claire’s help.

“Guess I’ll go up and put away these linens.” Claire lifted the heavy basket with ease and headed for the door. Liza rushed ahead to open it for her. “I did want to tell you, the sink in the laundry room is backed up. Looks like the tree roots again.”

Liza’s heart sank. Another unexpected repair? Was that really possible? And what was this about the tree roots
again
? She was afraid to ask.

“What do you mean? Do the roots get into the pipes somehow?”

“Every few years. Always in the spring. The new shoots work themselves right through the metal. Nature is amazing, isn’t it? So . . . persistent,” Claire added with a wistful smile.

Liza forced a smile in answer but didn’t feel half so awed by the natural wonder . . . wondering more what this clog was going to cost.

“It always hits that sink first. Low spot on the building. We need to take care of it before the rest of the works get backed up,” Claire warned.

“Yes, of course. There’s a number in the book, I guess?”

Liza had quickly learned that no matter what the crisis, there was always a number in her aunt’s battered old phone book.

So far, there was no repair crisis the big, old house had not seen before.

“Joe Lindstadt. He’s the one. But you might try
D
for drains . . . or
C
for clogs. Your aunt had an odd way of categorizing her phone numbers.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Liza agreed.

Aunt Elizabeth had her own way of doing things, artistic soul that she was. Her phone book was the least of it.

Claire took her basket of laundry and went inside. Liza rose but did not follow. She stared out at the startling blue sky and the wide ocean, silently calculating. The profits from the guests who had stayed over the weekend could have pushed her accounts into the black this month. But now those clogged pipes would wipe out any profits, and then some.

When she looked at the inn’s budget, the income and outlay, she wondered how she would stay in business at all. But you just got started
,
she reminded herself. You need to have patience. Isn’t that what Claire always tells you? Patience and faith.

It had taken a huge leap of faith to quit her job and move here from Boston, taking on the inn without any experience at all at running a hotel. Except for spending summers here with her aunt and uncle, watching them run the place.

The change had been exhilarating at first. But now that reality had set in, along with invading tree roots and a list of other unexpected crises, Liza sometimes wondered what she had gotten into. But in her heart, she knew she’d made the right choice. The daring choice, but the perfect choice for her.

She would quickly look past her worries and out at the world around her—the tender blue sky and sparkling sea that greeted her every morning. The long curving stretch of sandy beach below the cliffs, just across from the inn’s front door. The garden her aunt had planted so long ago, green stems slowly pushing through the earth, peonies and early roses bursting into bloom. The sight calmed her heart and restored her spirit.

She was so grateful to live here, surrounded by beauty every day in every season, and grateful to have the freedom of running her own business. The freedom to create a life for herself that felt authentic and true to her spirit and values.

If the pipes got clogged and the gutters drooped . . . well, it was an old building and one that had been neglected for years. Liza knew she had to step back and focus on the big picture. Things were slowly but surely falling into place, getting a little bit better every day. She had made a big change in her life to be here, but she felt it had been the right one. She felt right being here, as if she was in the place she was meant to be, doing what she had always been meant to do.

Liza gave the ocean one last lingering look, then entered the inn, intending to search through her aunt’s phone book and call Joe Lindstadt—then had the impulse to call Daniel Merritt instead.

She knew Daniel couldn’t fix this problem, though his skills seemed to cover just about everything else under the inn’s roof. But she did know she’d feel better just hearing his deep, calm voice. He had a way of making her laugh about even the worst catastrophe.

Daniel, a local carpenter and jack-of-all-trades, had also come with the property and had also proven to be another blessing in her life. Her aunt Elizabeth had relied on Daniel for everything from a squeaky hinge to a shaky chimney.

Liza was far more self-reliant, willing to try her hand at most jobs that didn’t require great skill, just basic know-how and grunt work. When she made a mess, as she often did, Daniel would step in and show her the proper way to do things. They would usually wind up doing the job together, which Liza always enjoyed. That was how they had first gotten to know each other and become friends.

Now it seemed there was something more between them, though it was hard to say exactly what. Liza didn’t worry about it. She was very newly divorced and had not yet begun dating. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for a new relationship—even with a man as attractive as Daniel. All she did know was that she always looked forward to seeing him and always laughed with him. She always felt better just being around him. That seemed enough for now.

Finally, Liza decided not to bother Daniel and instead, under
D
for drains, found Joe’s number. Daniel might run over even though he couldn’t fix it, and she didn’t want to waste his time.

Later that morning, Liza stood beside Joe Lindstadt in the dank, dingy basement, peering over his shoulder as he searched for the trap on the main line.

Joe stood up, clicked off his flashlight, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Ms. Martin,” he said, and named a price that was twice as high as what she’d expected. “I can usually do a job like this for less,” he went on. “But for one thing, these pipes are old. We have to handle them with care. And that new water heater has blocked the trap. So I have to cut a new trap somewhere. If we have to dig—”

“I understand,” Liza replied evenly. She could tell it was a fair price for the work involved, just a lot more than she had anticipated. But what could she do?

“I can start today. Or maybe you’d like to think about it?” he offered in a kind tone.

Liza knew he was giving her a chance to call around for another estimate. But choices were limited on the island and most of the repairmen came from the town of Cape Light, on the mainland. Joe had come over to the island quickly and now that he was there, it was best to just let him get started on the work.

“You go ahead, Joe. If you can start today, that would be great.”

“I can start right now,” he said cheerfully. “I just need to go back out to the truck.”

Liza climbed up the steps to the first floor and Joe followed. When they reached the foyer, he slipped out the front door, leaving it ajar. “I’ll be right back with my tools.”

“No problem,” Liza told him. She turned to Claire, who walked out of the kitchen to meet her.

“It’s the roots, just like you thought,” Liza told her. “Aunt Elizabeth hadn’t taken care of it for a while, so it’s worse than usual. And the new water heater is blocking the trap or something. In short, the bill is going to be a whopper,” Liza concluded. “I don’t know. Sometimes, this inn seems like a disaster just waiting to happen. Sometimes I feel like the entire place is just about to fall down around me. . . .”

Liza noticed the look on Claire’s face and realized someone had entered the inn and was standing right behind her.

She heard a polite cough and felt her face flush.

There was someone here, a potential guest perhaps, and here she was, going on and on about how the inn was a falling-down mess.

Great marketing strategy.

Claire sailed past the tongue-tied Liza with a smile. “Good morning. May I help you?” she asked in a warm, polite, and totally sane tone.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Dunne . . . Elizabeth Dunne . . . Is she still here?”

“Not any longer, dear,” Claire explained. “Elizabeth Dunne passed away a few months back, in February.”

Liza felt relieved that Claire had stepped in to relay that news. It still pained her to tell anyone about her aunt’s passing. She took a calming breath and turned slowly.

She saw a young woman in her early twenties, standing at the open door. The light breeze lifted the long hair that hung past her shoulders in gentle waves, a rich shade of auburn with golden streaks of blond. Natural highlights, Liza could see, not the kind from a beauty salon.

Everything about her looked very natural and unstudied. She wore a flowered sundress and a dark blue sweater that complemented her wide blue eyes and dark brown lashes. A khaki green canvas bag was slung over one shoulder. It was big and battered enough to be a backpack but was probably a purse. She was very pretty, Liza thought; strikingly pretty, without a bit of makeup. And she didn’t even seem to realize it.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I knew her, a little. She was so nice. A really interesting person,” the young woman said sincerely. “Was she a relative of yours?” she asked Claire.

“We weren’t related. Just friends. I’ve worked here a long time.” Claire turned to Liza. “This is Ms. Liza Martin, Elizabeth’s niece. She owns the inn now.”

“Oh, you’re the new innkeeper?” The young woman looked at Liza, clearly cheered to learn that someone had taken over.

Liza met the young woman’s gaze and smiled. “Yes, I am. Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so. . . . I’d like to have my wedding here.” The girl smiled as if she’d just informed Liza she had won some sort of sweepstakes. The grand prize, in fact.

When Liza didn’t immediately react, the girl looked at her curiously. “You do weddings here, don’t you?”

Liza stared back, still dumbstruck. “You want to have your wedding
here
?”

I’ve barely mastered serving breakfast, Liza nearly confessed.

Before Liza could say more, Claire jumped into the conversation. “Oh, there have been some lovely weddings here. We even have pictures around somewhere. Such a romantic setting, especially in the summer. . . . Would anyone care for a cup of tea? I just put the kettle on.”

“I’d like some tea,” the young woman said. “By the way, my name is Jennifer Bennet.”

“Hello, Jennifer. Nice to meet you,” Liza said.

“Nice to meet you, Jennifer. I’m Claire North,” the housekeeper introduced herself as she headed back to the kitchen. “Why don’t you two go into the sitting room. I’ll serve the tea in a minute.”

Claire’s easy, gracious ways made Liza remember her own manners. “Please come in, Jennifer. We can talk more comfortably in here,” she added, leading the way to the large sitting room.

Liza couldn’t imagine what she would say to this girl. Had she really come here hoping to plan her wedding? The idea was simply . . . impossible. But something in Jennifer Bennet’s gentle manner and hopeful expression made Liza reluctant to disappoint her.

When they entered the sitting room, Jennifer slowly looked around, seeming pleased by what she saw. She settled on the chintz-covered sofa as Liza chose a nearby armchair.

“It looks the same, almost exactly. Kyle will be glad to hear that,” Jennifer announced. “I mean, it’s been painted and all. But not that much has been changed.”

“I haven’t changed much in these rooms so far,” Liza replied. Partly because she didn’t have the funds yet to redecorate. But also because there was something warm and familiar in the rooms just the way they were. Her aunt and uncle had both been artists and had exquisite taste and style.

Liza assumed Kyle was Jennifer’s fiancé, but before she could ask, Jennifer smiled and pointed to the big bay window that framed a view of the ocean. “I remember those curtains, with the birds. They’re so pretty.”

“My aunt designed them and made them herself. She was a wonder with a sewing machine.”

The silk fringed curtains with their remarkable fabric had held up well. Liza had considered putting them away, as a memento, but it turned out that they had only needed a good cleaning to make the colors bright again. Liza was pleased to rehang them. The curtains seemed to carry some of Elizabeth’s vivacious spirit in their style.

“When were you here last, Jennifer?” Liza asked, curious about how well the girl had known her aunt.

“Oh, about six years ago, I guess,” Jennifer replied.

The answer surprised Liza, but before she could ask more questions, Jennifer began to explain.

“My boyfriend, Kyle, and I . . . Well, he’s my fiancé now,” Jennifer corrected herself. “We met on the beach just down the path, across the road from the inn. We were in high school. Kyle is a little older than me, two years. I’d seen him around school, but I never had the nerve to talk to him.

“I came to the island for the day with some friends,” Jennifer continued, “just to hang out on the beach. I got bored and decided to take a walk, and there was Kyle. He was fly-fishing with his brother, but he said hello when I walked by and we started talking. He’d noticed me around school, too, and had been trying to meet me. He told me that later,” she added with a laugh. “We just hit it off, and we spent the rest of the day together. When we finally left the beach, we came up here, to the inn. Your aunt was so sweet. She brought us cold lemonade and cookies, and we sat up on the porch in the shade and talked to her for a long time.”