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“But?” The single syllable rang with warning and challenge.
Standing hip-shot now, Ryder put on his most agreeable expression. “Well, you said we were to treat her like family. So, do you want me to be polite to her, or treat her like family?”
Justine said nothing for a long, simmering moment. Beckett edged away from his brother as she started forward. She reached up, grabbed both Ryder’s ears.
“Think you’re clever?”
“Yes’m. I take after my mama.”
She laughed, shook his head from side to side. “Your father’s son is what you are.” And poked him in the belly. “Watch your tone.”
“Okay.”
Nodding, Justine stepped back, fisted her hands on her hips. “That top’s warped, Ry.”
“Some, yeah. It’s poorly made and overpriced, but it works—and it’s pretty enough. Better when you put those big copper things on it.”
“Maybe, yeah. Galls me. My mistake.”
“Yeah, it was.” Ryder shrugged. “You outfitted a nine-thousand-square-foot B&B from p-traps to four-posters, and this is your mistake? That’s not shabby, Mom.”
She slid him a glance. “You are clever. Maybe you do take after me.”
She turned as Hope came in with a huge box, followed by Carolee with another.
“Let me take that.” Ryder stepped over, took the box from Hope. “I’m being polite.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Not yet. Might be sore later.”
Beckett took the box from Carolee, and Owen stood back a moment, watched them. Unpacking boxes, pulling out the big coffee urn, the chafing dishes, the racks, shoving aside boxes and packing material—he’d haul it out later.
Carolee talking about washing wineglasses, his mother adjusting her hair tie. Beckett and Ryder making noises about hauling the mirror in so they could get next door and join the crew.
He waited while the three women studied the result on the piece in question.
“It doesn’t show, but I’ll know it’s warped.” Hope pushed at her hair. “That just irritates me.” She shifted her gaze to Ryder. “I’ll get over it.”
“Good. Let’s get that mirror in place and get out of here before they find something else for us to haul around.”
“I need a minute first. Quick meeting,” Owen announced.
“After we knock off,” Ryder began.
“It’s got to be now.” Deliberately Owen put a sour look on his face. “It’s about the U and O.”
“Christ, don’t tell me they’re giving us a hassle with Use and Occupancy. The inspector signed off.”
Owen gave Ryder a sigh, a slow shake of the head. “Yeah. I went up to Hagerstown to see if I could move this along. And . . . I got it.”
Beckett pointed at him. “You got the U and O.”
Grinning, Owen pointed back. “I got the U and O.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God! Carolee.” Justine grabbed her sister’s hand.
Owen punched Ryder in the shoulder, then grinned at Hope. “Are you ready to move in? We can haul the rest of your stuff over. You can stay here tonight.”
“I’m so ready. Owen!” Laughing she threw her arms around him, kissed him on the mouth. “I’m moving in.” After the jump and squeal with his mother, with his aunt, Hope jumped at Beckett, kissed him noisily.
Then stopped short at Ryder.
“What do I get? A hearty handshake?”
She laughed again, shook her head, and gave him a very prim, very chaste peck on the cheek.
“Same thing,” he complained.
But he threw an arm around Owen’s shoulders, the other around Beckett’s. “Son of a bitch. We did it.”
Justine’s eyes filled, spilled over. “My boys,” she murmured. She spread her arms wide to embrace all three of her sons. She held tight there a moment, just held as Dumbass tried to nose into the hug.
“All right.” Stepping back, she nodded as she brushed tears away. “Lunch, here. On me. Beckett, see if Clare can come over. Owen, call Avery, order us up some food, have her bring it over—and join us if she can. Hope, break out one—no two—of the bottles of champagne we’re stocking for guests.”
“Oh, you bet.”
“I haven’t washed all the glassware!” Carolee made a dash for the kitchen.
“Champagne?” Ryder commented. “At lunch?”
“Damn right, champagne.”
“Speaking of champagne, sort of.” Owen scratched his jaw. “Ry, do you have a date for New Year’s Eve?”
“Yeah. The Giggler. But I’m going to bail.”
“On New Year’s Eve?” his mother demanded.
“Believe me, if you heard the giggle, you’d understand. Why?” he asked Owen. “You want to take me dancing?”
“I’m having a party.”
“This New Year’s?” his mother said, eyes wide.
“Yeah, yeah, this one.” Jeez! “It’s no big deal. Just a party. A holiday get-together. A thing with food and drink. You can come, right?”
Puffing out her cheeks, Justine continued to study him. “Sure.”
“Ry?”
“Why not?”
“Clare’s on her way up,” Beckett announced as he pocketed his phone.
“New Year’s Eve party, my place. Okay?”
“What year?” Beckett asked.
“Okay, that joke’s old now. You in or not?”
“We were going to stay home. The boys want to watch the ball drop, but Murphy’s the only one with a prayer of making it. I’ll ask Clare if she wants to get a sitter.”
“Good enough.” Owen pulled out his notebook. “Lunch,” he said, and D.A. thumped his tail in anticipation. “Give me the orders. I’ll call them in.”
As he started the list, he heard champagne pop from the kitchen. “That makes it official.” He grinned at his family. “Welcome to Inn BoonsBoro.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS HOPE TRUSTED HER—and would likely change things around anyway—Avery organized her friend’s new kitchen. She liked the tidy, efficient space, and everything new, new, new.
“How much fun is this?” Still in her work jeans and Vesta tee, Avery happily arranged flatware in Hope’s drawer organizer. “Clare’s missing out.”
“You’ll have this with kids,” Hope called out from the bath as she put away makeup.
“Yeah, you will. Ever think about having them?”
“Sure. One day. Do you?”
“Sure. Especially when I’m around Clare’s boys for a while. They’re seriously addicting.” She shut the drawer, started on the next. “But having them is most traditionally preceded by marriage—and that’s the sticker.”
“You’ve got too wide a romantic streak to really think of marriage as a sticker.”
“It’s easy to be romantic for other people—it’s no risk, no fail—personally. Anyway, you’re starting a whole new adventure—and this is your first night. You’re not nervous about staying here alone, are you?”
“No.” Hope poked her head out. “But I thought you might like to stay. Pick a room.”
“Hot damn!” Hands fisted around forks and spoons pumped jubilantly in the air. “I thought you’d never ask. Are you sure it’s okay?”
“More than. Justine asked if I’d use each room over the next couple weeks. That way I can check for any glitches with plumbing, electric, even just the flow of the rooms. And I’d actually like to stay in my apartment here tonight—first night. So you can be my first guest.”
“T&O. I’d be the first to sink to my ears in that big copper tub. No, wait. J&R. I’d have the fireplace and a copper tub. Or . . .”
Laughing, Hope came out. “It’s a problem, isn’t it?”
“A really good one. Maybe I should pick one out of a hat. Couldn’t go wrong. Has Owen picked his room for opening night?”
“He’s in Nick and Nora.”
“Okay, I’ll take that out of the hat since I’ll probably be sleeping with him by then, a
nd get my chance at that room opening night.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. We’re taking a few days to make sure it’s not just crazy.” After closing the next drawer, she turned. “It doesn’t feel crazy.”
“Why would it? He’s a great guy, gorgeous, smart, sweet. The two of you have a nice rhythm.”
“That’s part of the ‘is this crazy.’ We do have a nice rhythm. Sex changes the beat.”
“I think both of you will adjust very well.”
