“All that?”
“And more, after—if you’re lucky.”
“I’m feeling lucky.”
“Tonight we’re presenting seared, pepper-crusted tuna over a bed of field greens and julienne vegetables, finished with a champagne vinaigrette.”
“Luckier and luckier.”
“To start, our hopefully soon-to-be-famous Crab and Artichoke Heart appetizer. All served with our recommendation of a crisp sauvignon blanc.”
“Sign me up.”
“Honest feedback,” she said.
“You can count on me.”
She got out a pan for the tuna, smiled. “I do.”
To make up the time spent on his search for Billy and his evenings with Avery, Owen put himself at Ryder’s disposal. At the rate they were going, he calculated they’d have the bakery ready by June, and the apartments above it ready for tenants.
He’d gathered a little more information on Eliza Ford, but wanted to let it settle in his mind awhile.
As promised, demo began on the pub side of Avery’s new restaurant, and the two projects moved forward as February raced toward March.
As the April wedding drew closer, the brothers—and some of the crew—devoted weekends to Beckett’s house.
On a Sunday afternoon, the sudden rise in temperatures melted the snow cover, and turned the ground into a muddy mess. But inside the house, the floors gleamed around the trails of muddy cardboard as the three brothers stood scanning the nearly finished kitchen.
“It looks good,” Beckett pronounced. “Damn good. Counter guys are coming in tomorrow to start the install, here and in the bathrooms. We may just make it.”
“You’ll make it.” Owen had the schedule, and refused to be daunted.
“If you hadn’t let it sit here, half finished—less,” Ryder pointed out, “we wouldn’t be busting ass now.”
“Live and learn. Anyway, this way Clare gets to put her own stamp on it. It’s ours instead of mine.”
“So speaks the man already prepared to be whipped.”
“So speaks the man marrying the love of his life.” Beckett turned. “Good light, good space. It’ll be great to spread out again. There’s not an inch of room left at Clare’s place. I’m always stepping over a kid or a dog.”
“And you think that’s going to change?” Owen asked.
“No.” Beckett thought about it, and laughed. “I’m okay with that, and looking forward to stepping over kids and dogs right here. Barely a month to go till the wedding.”
“It’s cool they’re using the inn for the bridal shower thing,” Owen commented. “It may be another area of revenue down the road.”
“More important. Bachelor party.” Ryder hooked his thumbs in his tool belt. “We’ve gotta send you off to the great unknown right.”
“I’m working on it,” Owen reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah. Why all the work and fuss? Why can’t we just go to a titty bar? It’s a classic for a reason.”
“Poker, cigars, and whiskey—groom’s choice.”
“No strippers,” Beckett confirmed. “It’s just too weird.”
“Man, you’re breaking my heart.”
“When it’s your turn, we’ll have strippers.”
“I’ll be too old to appreciate them. No plans to walk into the great unknown until I’m eligible for Social Security. On second thought, a man’s never too old to appreciate naked women. Make a note.”
Justine, arms full, used her elbow to tap on the glass atrium door.
Owen opened it, took the big insulated bag, the enormous thermos.
“Oh, look at this! Beckett, it’s wonderful.”
“He didn’t do it alone,” Ryder reminded her.
“All for one,” she murmured. “You’re going to have a beautiful home. You’ve all done so much since I was here a few weeks ago.”
“I’ll give you the full tour.”
“I’ll take it. First, I brought lunch. Minestrone, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, apple crisp.”
“Best mom ever.” Ryder opened the insulated bag.
“I’ll stick with the soup.” Owen laid a hand on his stomach. “I’ve been eating more since Avery’s using me as a tester, and working out less with Beck’s place on the schedule.”
“Interesting you should mention working out.” Justine took paper plates, bowls, spoons out of her enormous purse. “That’s something I want to talk to you all about.”
She set everything out on the plywood currently covering the base cabinets. “I’ve got cold drinks out in the car.”
“We got you covered.” Beckett opened a cooler.
“Any diet in there?”
“Why would there be?” Ryder wondered.
“Oh well, give me the straight shot,” Justine decided. “I’ll work it off soon enough. Especially in, oh, say nine months to a year, when I can put in an hour or so in Fit In BoonsBoro.”
Ryder paused on his way to taking a huge bite of grilled ham and cheese. “Mom.”
Placidly, Justine poured soup into a bowl, offered it to Owen. “It’s come to my attention the building behind the inn, one we currently share a parking lot with, is for sale.”
Beckett sighed. “Mom.”
“And it occurred to me there’s no fitness center in town, even close to town. People have to get in the car, drive, go to the gym, get back in the car. And Hope’s already reported a number of guests at the inn have asked about workout facilities.”
Owen stared down at his soup. “Mom.”
Cheerfully, Justine plowed on. “Currently it’s not a particularly attractive building, not one that affords our guests a nice view from The Courtyard or the back porches. But it could be. We’d also gain parking.”
“We haven’t finished the bakery,” Owen pointed out. “We’ve barely started on the new restaurant.”
“And of all my sons, you’re the one who understands best the value of advance planning. I’m in negotiations. I haven’t bought it yet, and wouldn’t without discussing it with you first. Negotiations take time, settlement takes time. If it goes well, Beckett could start working on drawings when he’s back from his honeymoon.”
“Mom,” Beckett began, “have you been in that place lately?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. It needs work.” She offered him soup. “A lot of work. Aren’t we lucky we know how? And it’s not nearly as complicated as the inn was.”
“Ought to buy it just to level it,” Ryder muttered.
“And you know better. Gut it, yes, level it, no.”
“You already know what you want in there.”
She smiled at Owen. “I have ideas. We’d be on the small side, of course, compared to big, chain fitness centers. But we’d offer everything we could in that setting. A twenty-first-century fitness center with a small-town appeal—a large and varied menu of classes.”
“Even if we could turn that place into what you’re talking about, you’d have to staff it, find trainers, instructors.”
“Leave that end to me,” she told Ryder. “A large classroom on the second floor, and a small child-care area, maybe a treatment room for massages. Fitness area with cardio equipment, circuit training, weights on the main level, a small classroom, and locker rooms—each with a steam room and a sauna. Very spa-like in there, I’d think. We’ll figure it out.” She gave Beckett a pat on the cheek. “Won’t we?”
“I guess we will. If you get it.”
Her smile widened. “Leave that to me, too. Now, how about that tour?”
“Sure. We’ll start upstairs, work our way down.”
