After a thirty-minute Peloton yoga workout, she pulls on a fleece, stuffs AirPods in her ears, and leaves the building. She’s incognito, a local out for her morning walk. No one has reason to suspect she’s spying on the family who lives at 237 Hillside Drive.
Her timing is impeccable. As she rounds the corner onto the street, Rita and the girls emerge from their house. Seeing Abigail’s and Emma’s bare legs in short flouncy dresses makes Presley shiver. Does that mean no field hockey game for them today? Rita wears a Barbour coat over her khaki pants. What is it with the Barbour coats in this town? Everyone appears to own one.
As Presley strolls by on the sidewalk, one of the girls, Abigail, she thinks, the younger of the two, lifts a hand at her in a shy wave. Presley wishes her a good morning in return. She smiles to herself as she continues down the street. Her first contact with her half sister.
As she roams the neighboring streets, Presley, enamored by so many charming homes, loses track of time and is nearly late for her first day of work. She chooses a simple long-sleeved black sheath and tall boots, but she feels overdressed when she sees Stella waiting for her at the front door in jeans and a black turtleneck. She reminds herself that Stella has been meeting with the architect at the construction site.
Stella holds the door open for her. “Good morning. Welcome to the team.”
“You have no idea how much this means to me.” It’s been a long time since Presley has been a part of anything.
She gives Stella a quick hug, and they enter the building together. “We’ll stop by your office first. Then, we can discuss plans for the homecoming party while I give you a tour of the facilities.”
Presley smiles at Naomi as they pass through reception. Naomi nods at her, but she doesn’t smile back. What is up with her attitude?
Karen, the concierge, is on the phone at one of two desks cramming the small office. She flaps her hand at Presley. Karen’s warm welcome sets Presley at ease after Naomi’s chilly reception.
In a low voice, so as not to disturb Karen, Stella says, “I’m hoping to relocate security to a different building, which will open up the office next door for you.”
Presley’s fingers graze Stella’s arm. “This is fine. Really. I’ll work remotely from home whenever necessary.”
“Please let me know if it gets to be a problem.” Stella turns back toward the door. “Are you ready for the tour?”
“Let’s do it.” She removes her iPad from her bag and drops the bag on the chair at the empty desk.
Starting at the solarium, they work their way through the first floor of the inn before moving on to the outbuildings. Presley falls in love with the barn at first sight. “No matter what season, this will make for a fabulous wedding reception venue.”
“I think so too,” Stella says.
“For the party, why don’t we book a bluegrass band and have an oyster roast out here?”
Stella’s face lights up. “Brilliant suggestion. Cecily has an excellent source for oysters. Coincidentally, I’ve purchased three tents in varying sizes, and I’m having a Sperry Tent custom designed to cover the terrace at the main building.”
“Wow! Our brides will love it.” A sailcloth tent of that quality must cost a fortune.
They continue down toward the lake, stopping in at the carriage house. The building houses two two-bedroom suites on the second floor with a kitchen and lounge area on the first.
Stella explains, “In 1923, when my great-grandfather built the inn, even though the use of automobiles had become more widespread by then, they still needed a place to store their guests’ horse-drawn carriages.”
“I love the way you kept the integrity of the building when you renovated,” Presley says. “How do you plan to use the carriage house?”
“To accommodate brides’ families during wedding weekends and corporate executives who need a quiet place away from their employees during conferences.”
“Are we using the carriage house for the party?”
Stella shakes her head. “I don’t think we need it. But I envisioned us having an inflatable or two for kids on the lawn out front.”
“Fun! We can come up with some other activities to keep the kids occupied while their parents enjoy themselves.”
Stella gestures at the construction site. “You’ve seen the spa, which is now officially the Summer House Wellness Center thanks to you.” They walk back up the hill to the main building. “I have a surprise that I hope will take some responsibility off of your shoulders.”
Presley palms her chest. “Ooh. I love surprises. What is it?”
“As of Monday, our wine shop and cellar are officially open for business.” Stella motions Presley through the door. “Come on. I’m dying to show it to you.”
On the way down in the elevator, Presley asks, “Who is running the wine shop?”
“Our sommelier, Lucy Jordan. Lucy has worked at the inn on and off for much of her life. In her younger days, she was a server in the dining room. After college, she attended sommelier school and trained at French Laundry, a Michelin three-star restaurant in Napa.”
Presley nods. “I know it well. The food is amazing. My mother and I visited the wine country several times. She always insisted we eat at French Laundry.”
“I’ve heard it’s over the top. I feel blessed to have Lucy on our team.”
The doors part at the basement level, and the women enter another world. In one direction, a tunnel of a room, cool and damp with an arched stone ceiling, stretches as far as the eye can see. Lining the walls are oak shelves housing hundreds, if not thousands, of bottles of wine. A long wooden tasting table with matching backless stools occupies the center of the room. In the other direction, partitioned off by glass, is the wine shop with a checkout counter in the center surrounded
