“What about all those empty shelves?”
“And the bookcases? They need to be refinished. Or painted.”
“They need books.”
“Or something.”
“I can refinish the bookcases.” Greta’s heart leapt against her ribs. They all turned to see Oliver standing in the doorway. Looking a little uncomfortable, he joined them. “That original oak was likely unpainted so as to showcase the natural beauty of the wood. It’s what was typical in the 1850s.”
If she was as shocked as the rest of them, Holly didn’t give it away. “I think you’re right about that,” she told Oliver.
“So what will you host in here, if not weddings?” Greta asked.
From the look on her face, it was the question Holly had been waiting for. “In keeping with the original purpose of this space, I want to host book events. Author events, book retreats, pop-up shops, book clubs. All of it!”
Everyone murmured in surprise.
“There’s a growing market for these kinds of literary events,” Linus piped up. “I was just invited to a book retreat in P-town.”
Holly nodded. “As a reader myself, it’s a booming trend I’ve been following. We could host beach-read authors during our summer months, and do ticketed events with fun, splashy luncheons. This also keeps our events going during the offseason, when beaches close and town gets quiet. For example, we could do a knitting and crafting retreat with cozy fall titles or a thrillerworkshop with a panel of authors. For aspiring writers, we could host weekend writing salons with agents or authors as coaches. It would be a great way to fill our guest rooms during winter months.”
Though the rest of them looked skeptical, Greta was beginning to see Holly’s vision. The inn was dead during the winter months, and sometimes the restaurant, too. This could help.
“We’ve got the bookstore in town, Where the Sidewalk Ends,” Linus added. “They have such a great store, but I don’t think they have a dedicated event space.”
“Exactly! I’ve already called them,” Holly said. “They’re excited to try something together. But… we have to work fast. I have a little left in the budget for supplies, but I think we need to do as much of this as we can, ourselves. On top of floors and bookcases, we need to repaint the walls and fill the bookshelves and find some nice second-hand estate furniture. Overtime pay for anyone who wishes to pitch in.”
This got everyone’s attention.
“My husband’s contracting business refinishes floors,” Josephine piped up. “I’ll ask him to give you a quote.”
“There’s a great outdoor flea market in Wellfleet on Sundays,” Oliver chimed in. “They get a slew of second-hand furniture vendors.”
“I’m not a professional, but I recently repainted my house,” Paul added. “Turned out pretty good.”
“You’re hired,” Holly said. “All of you.”
Greta had been listening, and her creative wheels were already turning with potential themed book event menus, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Oliver. He, too, was looking at her.
Was he tanner? Had he absconded to Nantucket with Sissy? How could he? Hang on—why did she care?
Staff meeting adjourned, Oliver approached Holly. “I’d like to speak with you, if you have a moment,” Greta overheard him say. At least he’d had the guts to approach their boss first.
“Yes, we need to talk,” Holly said. “Let me grab a coffee refill and I’ll be right back.”
Greta hurried past them without so much as a glance. Now that he was back, she was no longer worried. She was mad. And she didn’t have time for it. Harvest was reopening to the public tomorrow, after being closed for the Suttons, and she was expecting a full house. She had food to order, a farmer’s market to get to, and specials to curate. Back to business, she told herself, heading into her kitchen.
Holly and Linus trailed her inside, talking quietly, but despite that and the fact she had decided not to care anymore, her ears couldn’t help but overhear.
“So what are you going to say to him?” Linus wanted to know.
“I’m still thinking about it. He didn’t do anything wrong, technically, but he should’ve spoken up.”
“Yeah. So we didn’t have a bomb dropped on us.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to be the one who let the cat out of the bag. Maybe he felt it wasn’t his business.”
Linus threw Holly a look. “He ran off with a popular influencer who posted their joint getaway. He’s an idiot.”
