“It’s stunning,” Avery said. “Just as it is.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Hope winked at her. “Bring Alphonse into the bedroom.”
“His favorite place. The man’s a machine.”
She followed Hope back, would have detoured into the bath, but Hope grabbed her arm. “This first.” And Hope beamed like a new mother at Avery’s gasp.
“The bed! I saw the cut sheet, but that’s nothing compared to the real thing.”
“I love the carving.” Hope trailed her fingers over one of the tall posts. “And with the bedding, it really looks plush. I swear Carolee fussed with the duvet and shams, the bedroll for an hour.”
“I love it—the oatmeal of the shams against the white bedding, and the throw.”
“Cashmere. Just a nice touch.”
“I’ll say. The tables, the lamps. And this dresser!”
“The subtle gold sheen really works in here. I want to finish the whole space up by tonight. The journal, the books, the DVD, all the little details. We need photos for the website.”
“I love the plush little stools and pillows at the foot of the bed. Everything in here says luxury. Even Alphonse would be impressed.”
“And God knows he’s not easy to impress. The Bast crew just left. They’re bringing in Westley and Buttercup next. It’s a job and a half getting these pieces up the stairs.”
“I’m glad it’s not mine. I can’t stay long now, but Dave’s back this afternoon so I’m not working tonight. I can help.”
“You’re hired. I thought I’d bring a few of my things over, things I don’t absolutely need for now. We have to start on the art, too, and I’ve got my eye on a few pieces from Gifts.”
“It’s really happening.”
“I need your menu for the room folders.”
“I’ll get them for you.” She wandered out, into the bath. “You put stuff out! Soap dishes, the shampoo and stuff. The little dishes.”
“Photographs, or that’s my excuse. We really wanted to see it dressed. I’m going to put out the towels, hang the robes. Ryder’s going to take the photos. Apparently he’s good at it.”
“He is,” Avery confirmed. “I’ve still got a shot he took of me and Owen when we were teenagers. It’s nice, fun. Do you know he came over and waited and bussed tables last night?”
“Ryder?”
“No. Owen. Then he had to all but carry me upstairs. Two doubles, a bus tour, a spur-of-the-moment high school chorus party, a temporary glitch with the computer, and so on. I was like a zombie by closing.”
“He’s a sweetheart.”
“Yeah, most of the time.”
“So’s Beckett. What happened to Ryder?”
Avery laughed, circling a finger around the rim of one of the oval vessel sinks. “Oh, he’s got some sweet in there. You just have to dig it out.”
“I think it’d require explosives. But he does good work. We can dress the place, but it wouldn’t hold up without the frame. And he’s hell on details. So I respect that. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to it.”
“Me, too. I should be able to knock off about four, five latest. I’ll pitch in.”
“Rumor is we should be able to start loading in The Library sometime today. At least the shelves. And possibly Elizabeth and Darcy.”
“I’ll be here. Hope!” After a quick bounce, Avery tossed her arms around Hope, bounced again. “I’m so happy for you. I’ll see you later.”
Avery hurried out, trotted down the steps just as Owen came through the gate between the proposed bakery and the inn courtyard.
“Hey,” she called out.
“Hey, yourself.” Clipboard in hand, he crossed to her. “You look better.”
“Than what?”
“The walking dead.”
She punched him lightly in the stomach. “I’d put something behind that but I owe you. I forgot to ask how you made out in tips.”
“Not bad. Pulled in about twenty-five.” Instinctively he reached out to button her coat. “Just tell me Franny and Dave are back.”
“Dave, yes, or he will be right about now. Franny, no. She’s better, but I want her to take another day. I just had my eyes dazzled by The Penthouse. Jesus, Owen, it rocks.”
“I haven’t gotten up there.” He glanced up. “What’s in?”
“All of it. Parlor, bedroom. They’re bringing in W&B now, or soon. I’m coming over later, getting in on the action. Are you going to be around?”
“It’s looking like one or all of us will be around pretty much round the clock until it’s done.”
“Then I’ll see you.” But she backed up with him when the furniture truck turned in. “Oh, I want to stay. Damn needing to make a living wage.”
“You can’t stand here in the cold anyway.” He took her hands, rubbed them. “Where are your gloves?”
“In my pocket.”
“I think they work better if you wear them.”
“Maybe, but then I wouldn’t get a hand rub.” Boosting onto her toes, she gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. “Gotta go, be back later,” she said and zipped away at a lope.
She moved fast, he thought. Then again, she always had. He’d always wondered why she hadn’t run track instead of cheering. When he’d asked, as he recalled, she’d rolled her eyes at him. Cuter uniforms.
He had to admit she’d looked damn cute in her cheerleading gear.
He wondered if she still had it.
He wondered if he should be thinking about Avery in her cheerleader uniform.
Then he wondered why the hell he was standing out in the cold wondering about anything.
He went inside, and work took over.
The hours flew and by the time the crew knocked off, Owen was ready for a beer.
But his mother wasn’t.
Instead of hoisting a cold one, he hoisted boxes full of books up the steps of the inn.
Justine stood at the top of the steps, a rag in one of the hands fisted on her hips. “Take those right into The Library. The girls are in there, polishing up the bookshelves. Carolee and I are back in Nick and Nora.”
“Yes’m.” Puffing some, he trudged up, Ryder behind him with another load, Beckett bringing up the rear.
“Lot of damn books,” Ryder muttered when his mother was out of earshot.
“Lot of damn shelves to fill,” Owen commented.
The Library smelled of polish and perfume. Avery stood on a step stool at the far end, shining up the top shelves of one of the bookcases that flanked the hearth and mantel.
He and his brothers had built all of it in the family shop.
He remembered the work that had gone into it, the cutting, the sanding, the gluing, the staining. A lot of effort, he thought now, and a lot of satisfaction.
More satisfaction now seeing that wood gleam under the polishing rags.
“Looking fine, ladies,” Beckett said as he set down his load. He wrapped his arms around Clare, pulled her back against him to nuzzle her neck. “Hi, there.”
“Which one are you?” She turned her head, laughed. “Oh yeah. Mine.”
“No making out till we’re finished.” Ryder jerked a thumb back toward the doorway. “We’ve got another load.”
“There are two boxes in J&R.” Crouched, Hope polished the doors below the shelves. “They’re marked ‘Library Shelves.’”
“I’m done with my section.” Avery hopped off the stool. “I’ll get one of them. Give me a hand?” she asked Owen.
“Sure.”
