“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.
When her Civil War couple returned, she set them up with wine—on request—in The Courtyard.
Some guests, she knew from experience, wanted a private little getaway where the innkeeper was nearly as invisible as Lizzy. Others wanted her to be a part of their experience, wanted to share with her the adventures of their day.
She listened and chatted when it was called for, vanished when it wasn’t. And like Justine with the town, Hope kept her ear to the ground of Inn BoonsBoro.
By five, with a full house, she had guests scattered around The Courtyard and in The Lounge.
“I can stay,” Carolee told her. “And that woman in E&D has you running your tail off. She assumed we’d have a wine list,” Carolee said, trying for a snooty accent. “And she certainly hopes we have Greek yogurt. It’s not that I minded running out to get it, but she could’ve asked nice—or better, in advance.”
“I know, I know. She’s a pill.” Hope poured out another bowl of bar mix. “It’s only two days,” she said like a mantra. “It’s only two days. And maybe she’ll be less of a pill as it goes on.”
“That type was born being a pill. She snapped her fingers at you.”
She had, Hope remembered, but for some reason it made her laugh. “Oh, girl, girl—because I’m much too important to be expected to remember or use your name—do you at least have water crackers available? I’d like to give her a water cracker.”
Now Carolee laughed. “Oh well, everybody else seems really nice, and ready to relax and enjoy. I can stay,” she repeated.
“No, you go home. You have to be back bright and early to help me make breakfast for this crowd. Civil War Bob’s bound to keep everybody entertained again.”
“He couldn’t entertain
“You’re the best.” Because she was, Hope drew her into a hug. “I’m on it. Don’t worry.”
She carried out more bar mix, another bottle of wine, and smiled easily when The Pill asked her for cocktail olives. Since she had some, she put them into a pretty bowl, carted them out. She chatted with those who wanted to chat, went back in to check on the guests in The Lounge.
And made the rounds until she could take a breath and offer up a prayer of thanks when The Pill and her
