“I’d take that!” Krissy said.
“Exactly. We found a niche people wanted. We made our motto Dog-Gone Fun. My sister loved it—loves it—and was content with it, but I was bored within a year. About the same time Theresa had produced the first little monster. I noticed troubling changes in her. One day, she said to me, ‘I always thought I’d be a yummy mommy.’ She went on to say she felt fat and frumpy and like she always had some mystery smudge on the front of her blouse. She said she had days when she didn’t know whether to eat lunch or have a shower. Sometimes Mike came home from work, and she realized she hadn’t even combed her hair. The resort next door to ours had been boarded up for years, so I went and took a look. I was thinking a health and wellness of some sort, but after talking to my sister, I wanted to target her demographic. So I picked young moms. I revamped the whole place so it had a very spa-like aesthetic. We developed hour, day and weeklong retreats that focused on delicious food, quiet spaces, learning yoga or meditation or music or art. A mom could have a facial or a massage or a long walk or a soak. And then Theresa figured out the thing that really sold it: child care. Moms might not like the day in, day out drudgery of their kids, but they aren’t going to leave them for any length of time, either. We called it Yummy Mommy.”
“I’ve heard of that!” In fact, Krissy’s coworker, fifth grade teacher Martha Montrose, went every year.
“I sold the majority of the ownership a few months in. I realized my strength was in the concept, but the operational side bored me. And then I went on to the next one. I keep a percentage, I move on. I think I’m over a hundred properties in right now.”
“So you do own all the hotels on the game board!”
He laughed. “Working on it.”
“And you have no formal training in any of this? No university? No degree?”
“No, I kind of plunged right into the working world and all these massive projects when I was eighteen and never looked back.”
“You know what I like the best? That it’s about your family. The first one about saving your family business, and then the second one was about seeing a need in your sister. It’s about love for you, isn’t it?”
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Love and business don’t mix.”
“I think you’re amazing.” She blushed. “I mean, that’s amazing.”
Jonas laughed, obviously trying to keep it light. “That’s exactly what we want—my fiancée to think I’m amazing. In fact—” he took his phone out of his pocket “—I’m going to take a picture of you looking amazed at me.”
“Just a sec.” She picked up her wineglass. “Here’s to the amazing Jonas.” Just as he took the picture she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Post that on Instagram.”
“I actually don’t use social media,” he said, still holding up his phone. As soon as she uncrossed her eyes and tucked her tongue back in her mouth, he took another picture. “The company does, and I have a specialist who puts together posts, but I don’t have any personal accounts. I don’t get the concept of living your life as if it’s an open book, seeing every event as a photo op to be posted instead of something just to be enjoyed. This is a great pic.”
He turned his phone to her and showed her both photos. The one was quite hilarious, but the other one had a loveliness to it she found startling. She had scrubbed all her makeup off and had never gotten around to doing anything with her hair. Still, there was something about the photo she really liked. There was an expression on her face she didn’t see often.
She looked relaxed. Happy. With a faint undertone of hopefulness. Or maybe it was wistfulness.
“Do you do social media?” Jonas asked her. “You want a copy of it?”
She did want a copy of whatever he had captured that she usually did not see in herself, though in all fairness, she did not see many pictures of herself.
“No, send it to my phone. I don’t do social media, either. Mostly because of the teaching thing. Even though some teachers use it with a false name, I just don’t want my kids—or their parents—snooping around in my life.”
“We have something in common!” he crowed. He picked up his crumpled list off the blanket and pretended to write on it. “No social media. The fact that I don’t even have your phone number yet shows this is quite an old-fashioned kind of romance. My sister will approve.”
It was a much-needed reminder that this old-fashioned romance was really not a romance at all—a hard thing to keep in mind with the delicious food and the wine, and the growing ease of being with him. A hard thing to keep in mind when he talked about his sister.
It was the same as when he had talked about his mom.
He might protest; he might say otherwise, but Jonas was the rarest of things: a decent guy. She could feel herself falling just a little bit in love with him.
A little bit in love with him? She should watch the wine! He seemed to be topping her glass up more than his own. In fact, he might still be sipping his first one.
“I think I’ll send her this picture, kind of a little foreshadowing of what’s to come.”
“Foreshadowing,” she said wryly. “A literary term. Do you like to read, then?”
“Love it. Nothing literary, though. Espionage, suspense.”
“Me, too. Murder and mayhem.”
Just like that, it was so easy. The food and the wine disappeared as they talked about favorite books and favorite movies, favorite things they had done and planned to do. They talked about childhood friends and pets, naturally, no lists involved.
Jonas, now stretched
