Unraveled (5 page)

Heavy footfalls echoed on the hardwood and Matt came into the bedroom, stopping next to Seth. Worry clouded his features as he stared at Granny on the floor. He raised his blue eyes to meet Lauren’s gaze. “Hey, sis. What’s going on in here?”

“Granny fell a few minutes ago. We’re waiting on the ambulance.” Lauren stood and stepped gingerly away from Granny, slipping her arms around Matt’s waist. “Good to see you again.”

He pulled her close and planted an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. “I’m glad you made it. Sorry I couldn’t meet your flight. It’s been a crazy day.”

“That’s okay. How’s Joshua?”

“He’s fine. Nothing a few staples couldn’t fix. I’m a little worried about Granny, though. Think we should splint that ankle?” He knelt down and gently placed a hand on Granny’s leg.

“Lauren says we shouldn’t move her, but whatever you think—” Mom stood and reached for another tissue from the box on the dresser.

“Mom, the ambulance will be here in a minute. Let the professionals do their job.” Lauren put a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“I think it’s pretty obvious that leg’s broken. What if she tries to move it?”

Lauren’s chest tightened.
Always trying to micromanage.
“She’s breathing and has a pulse, Matt. That’s what matters right now. We could do more harm than good trying to—”

The blare of sirens blanketed any further discussion as the ambulance pulled up outside. Lauren ran and opened the front door for the paramedics. Her breath hitched in her throat. Jess Ferguson, Blake’s best friend, stood on the porch. He looked confident and professional in his crisp white shirt and navy blue pants. The EMT waiting next to him resembled a girl who was a year behind her in school. Tiffany. Tiffany Lambert.

“Lauren?” Jess’s brown eyes widened. “Holy smokes. It’s been a long time. We’re responding to a call about—”

“Hi, Jess. Tiffany. It’s my grandmother. She’s back here.” She directed them to the bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as Matt stepped out of the way and let the paramedics take charge of Granny’s care. Her heart ached as Granny was strapped to the stretcher and loaded into the back of the ambulance. Mom climbed in behind her and blew Lauren and her brothers a kiss. Lauren managed a weak wave before the ambulance doors slammed shut.

Matt glanced at his watch. “I can still pick up the guests from the ferry but there’s no way I can stay here tonight. Ang will kill me.”

“I think I’m on for tonight. Unless you want to step up to the plate and take a swing at serving breakfast?” Lauren gave Seth a playful nudge.

“N-n-no way.” Seth held up both hands and backed away, a look of panic in his eyes. “It’s all y-y-you.”

“Right. All me.” How hard could it be? Greet the guests, fix a little breakfast, then send them on their way. A cool breeze blew in off the water and Lauren shivered, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted in an anxious knot.

Lauren knocked a stack of metal lids over and muttered under her breath as they clattered onto the kitchen floor. She was up with the sun to fix breakfast for the guests, a caffeine headache encircling her skull in its vise-like grip. Wrestling her mother’s ancient electric griddle from the cabinet, she rubbed her bleary eyes and studied the recipe on the Bisquick box. In her world, breakfast meant a carton of yogurt topped with granola. Her father reminded her late last night that guests expected, and paid for, something more substantial. Surely she could produce pancakes for two.

He had come home around midnight and wrapped his only daughter in a warm hug, then followed it with grim news from the hospital. Granny’s fall resulted in not only a mild concussion but also a broken arm and ankle. Mom had left a few instructions scribbled on the back of an envelope. She must have already gone back to the hospital. Hopes of rest and rejuvenation dashed, Lauren accepted her assignment as temporary innkeeper.
Come on, you’ve got this.

The first egg she touched refused to come out of the carton. She tried again and half of the shell came off in her hand, dripping sticky egg white down her arm.
Or not.
Reaching for a paper towel, she tipped the open carton of half and half on its side. A white river flowed across the granite countertop.
Fabulous.

“Sure smells good in here.”

Lauren’s head shot up, hands full of kitchen towels as she raced to soak up the sticky mess oozing down the side of the cabinet. The young couple from Chicago hovered in the doorway, eyes wide with surprise. She pasted on a smile and gestured toward the empty chairs at the table.

“Please sit down, have some coffee.” Her father had set the table and programmed the coffee maker before he went to bed, buying her valuable time.

“Are you the owner’s daughter or…” The man trailed off, pressing his wire rimmed glasses back up on the bridge of his nose.

Lauren tossed the soggy towels in the sink and reached for the carafe of coffee. “I’m Lauren. My parents couldn’t be here this morning. My grandmother fell—it’s a long story. Do you take cream and sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

“Chilly this morning,” the woman shivered, drawing her navy blue cardigan tighter.

“Sure is.” Lauren set two steaming mugs of coffee in front of them and then scrambled to open a new carton of half and half. She really needed to get those pancakes started.

“Did you grow up here then?”

“Uh huh,” she kicked the refrigerator door shut, balancing butter, orange juice, and a bowl of fruit salad in her arms.

“How do you sleep with all of this light?” the woman asked, wrapping both hands around her coffee mug and sipping it slowly.

“Get used to it, I guess.” Dang. Forgot the bacon. The package sat on the counter next to the stove, still unopened. Might have to skip that this morning.

“Knock, knock.” Blake stood in the doorway of the kitchen, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe.

Lauren’s heart skipped a beat. She dropped the measuring cup in the pancake batter. “Good morning, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Baird.” He leaned across the table, giving the man a hearty handshake. “Blake Tully. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Todd Baird and this is my beautiful bride, Melissa.” He slipped his arm around his wife and gave her a tender kiss.

“Congratulations. We hope your honeymoon in Alaska is unforgettable.” Blake smiled and raised his insulated coffee mug toward Lauren. “Good morning. Mind if I get a refill?” He paused next to the coffee maker.

“What are you doing here?”

He smirked as he tipped the carafe into his mug. “Believe it or not, I’m helping you out.”

She furrowed her brow. “Really? How so?”

“It seems your folks include complimentary transfers with all their reservations. I thought you might need an extra driver this morning.”

She poured the pancake batter onto the griddle and tried to avoid Blake’s gaze. His eyes matched the blue polo shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. She wanted to be annoyed.

“I am quite capable of driving my guests wherever they need to go,” she said, heat rising on her neck as she noticed the Bairds had stopped talking. They sipped their coffee, watching the conversation over the rims of their coffee cups.

Blake leaned back against the counter and crossed one long, lean leg over the other. “My mom works nights in the ER. She told me your grandmother was admitted. This seems like a lot for you to take on your second day back.”

She resented his implication that she couldn’t handle a challenge. On the other hand, she’d made a real mess of breakfast. Two guests generated at least one load of laundry, not to mention the cleaning and vacuuming. If Blake handled the driving she might finish the chores before lunch and have the afternoon to visit Granny.

“Looks like Blake will handle your transportation this morning.” She glanced at the Bairds, then back at the pancakes bubbling on the griddle. “Remind me of your plans?”

“Helicopter ride this morning and sea kayaking after lunch,” Melissa said.

“Perfect. No rush. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be on our way.” Blake remained propped against the counter, casually sipping his coffee. The weight of his expectant stare propelled her around the kitchen; serving the pancakes, loading the dishwasher, and wiping down counters. She needed to thank him. She owed him at least that much for helping her and her family out in a crisis.

But a trace of annoyance niggled its way up into her gut, sifting in with the shame and guilt she already carried. He waltzed in like he owned the place, calling the guests by name and playing tour guide. Did he not remember her cruel words and thoughtless actions? Why was he showering her with kindness?

“So, Lauren. What does your father do for a living?” Melissa forked another bite of pancake and waited for an answer.

“He’s a State Trooper.”

“Hey, isn’t there a show about those guys on TV?” Todd nudged his wife and smiled.

“How long has your family run the B & B?”

Geez.
What’s up with the inquisition?
“Um, they started the year after I was born. So this is their twenty-sixth season.” Lauren opened the cabinet, reaching for a clean mug. If she didn’t get some coffee in the next fifteen seconds, her head just might explode.

“And did your dad build this place himself?”

Blake cleared his throat and slid a napkin next to her elbow. Lauren glanced at the message he’d scrawled in all capitals: TRAVEL WRITER. PLAY NICE!

Oh no.
She raised her eyes to meet his. Blake arched one eyebrow. So that explained the questions. Lifting the carafe in the air, she flashed her most hospitable smile. “My grandfather built it, actually. Can I get you some more coffee?”

“That must have been quite an adventure,” Todd said, covering his cup with his hand. “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I’ll take another half cup, please.” Melissa smiled and raised her mug toward Lauren. “What do you think sets your place apart from that of the competition?”

Lauren poured the coffee and wracked her foggy brain for a witty comeback. Did Melissa know the Inn was struggling this season? Or was she merely making conversation? “I think it’s tough to compete with cruise ships and their all-inclusive packages. But for those guests who desire a truly unique and authentic experience, I believe we offer exactly that.” She reached for the empty pancake platter. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I think we’re all set, thanks.” Melissa said.

Lauren returned to cleaning up the kitchen, hoping her response wouldn’t come back to haunt her later in print. Maybe she shouldn’t be speculating about the state of the family business when she hadn’t even been home twenty-four hours yet. While she second-guessed her response to Melissa’s question, Blake kept the conversation flowing with a story about one of his many recent adventures on the river.

Before long, chairs scraped back and silverware clattered as the Bairds shrugged into their fleece-lined outerwear. Lauren wished them well and walked with them to the front door.

Blake followed them out but turned back, studying her for a moment.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ve got a little something on your face. Right here.” He pointed a finger at his cheek. “Looks like pancake batter.”

She rubbed her hand quickly across her cheek then studied her fingers. How embarrassing.

“Lauren?”

She sighed and looked up at him.

“You’re welcome.” He winked and reached for the door knob.

She balled up her fists, stomped her foot, and growled as the front door clicked shut.

Blake smiled as he drove the newlyweds away from the Inn. The pancake batter on her cheek, mass of fiery red curls piled on top of her head, half and half dripping off the counter; it took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to laugh out loud. She still tried to handle everything on her own. Some things never change.

Blake glanced in his rear view mirror as the Bairds huddled in the van’s middle seat. If he was supposed to dazzle Melissa Baird the travel writer, he had better get busy. Although snuggled up against her new husband, she didn’t appear too interested in the scenery. He could squeeze in a quick drive-by of some popular attractions before dropping them off for their helicopter ride.

Melissa met his eyes in the mirror. “Do you know much about the Inn?”

“A little. What else would you like to know?”

“I’d like to hear more about the family’s history, the building, how it became a bed and breakfast. I didn’t get to ask a lot of questions. Lauren seemed too distracted.”

Blake spotted a black bear and two cubs frolicking on the rocky beach and pulled the van over for a closer look. While the Bairds scrambled for their camera, he turned the question over in his mind. The Carter family’s bed and breakfast, once the reigning favorite in Southcentral Alaska, had faltered in recent years, something Lauren had definitely alluded to. His parents told him the increase in cruise ships making port calls put a significant dent in the Inn’s reservations. Granny’s health issues probably weren’t helping the situation. He couldn’t air the Carters’ dirty laundry to a stranger, particularly a travel writer and also his customers for an afternoon of sea kayaking.

“The Carter family has a rich history here. The bed and breakfast evolved out of a desire to share their unique location with others. I’ve heard it said that people laughed when the family claimed that land. Look at it now. You couldn’t ask for a more amazing view.” Blake tried to give just enough information to satisfy her curiosity.

“What about you and the redhead? What’s the story there?” Melissa prodded, pulling a notebook and pen from her satchel.

Blake turned in his seat to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“C’mon.” Melissa’s eyes twinkled. “The chemistry between you two was palpable. Think you’ll ever get together?”

Clearly the novelty of black bears was lost on her. He turned back around, put the van in gear and headed for town. “No, I don’t see that happening.” He didn’t tell her that he spent many a night alone, dreaming of nothing else. But that dream was fading. She belonged to someone else now.