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I tilted my head. “Don’t tell me you want to harvest one of my kidneys,” I teased her.
“You might like that better.”
My eyes widened. “What did you do?”
Her devious brown eyes bored into mine. “I did the right thing.”
I rubbed my temples. “Whenever you say that, it never ends well for me.”
“When have I ever steered you wrong?” she scoffed.
“Uh, when I was in the eighth grade, you told me blue eye shadow was totally my shade and that I should part my hair in a zigzag pattern. Do you know how ridiculous my yearbook photo was that year?”
She snort-giggled. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving to me.”
I nudged her with my shoulder. “You are such a brat. Tell me what you’ve done now.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling at turtle speed. With each second, I grew more nervous. She finally took my hand and held it between her own. “I had an interesting phone call from a past guest. Well, not him exactly, but this man was quite adamant we let his boss stay here tomorrow evening.”
I scrunched my brow. “Did you tell this person we aren’t open for business yet?”
“Of course, darling.” She batted her eyes, mocking me. “But the man said money was no object.”
“But we don’t even have the proper permits and haven’t passed any inspections yet.” We’d had to do some serious renovating when we bought the old place. The ballroom, where we would hold weddings and receptions, was set to open next month—on Valentine’s Day—just in time for the annual ball George and Daisy had always held. We’d promised George we would continue the tradition. And since we were renaming the place Valentine Inn on account of our last names, it seemed fitting. Almost like kismet. But we weren’t planning on opening the inn itself until spring. We still had a lot of work to do.
“I told him that, but like I said, the man was adamant and said money was no object—so I told him fine, he could stay here if he paid us ten thousand dollars and didn’t tell a soul.”
“What?” I spat. “And he agreed to that?”
Izzy nodded uneasily.
“Why would he do that? He could stay at the ski resort for a lot less. And for now, have a better room.”
Someday soon, we would have the best rooms in town.
“Apparently, this place has sentimental meaning for him.”
“Oh. Did he get married here?”
“No.” She rubbed my hand. “Char.” She swallowed hard. “It’s Drake Foster.”
I clutched my throat and shook my head vehemently. She had to be kidding. This was the worst practical joke in the history of the world. I jumped up and began to pace. “Please tell me you did not agree to let him stay here.” My voice and body trembled like a 7.0-magnitude earthquake.
Izzy stood and gently put her arms around me. “Char, it’s time. You have to tell him.”
“I can’t.” I buried my head into her chest, hyperventilating.
She stroked my hair. “You’ve been living with the guilt for far too long.”
It was my constant companion, but so was justifying my choices. And I had some excellent justifications for those poor choices, which once again involved a man. “He won’t care,” I mumbled, then blubbered, “He never cared about me.” That was always my first justification.
“I don’t know if that’s true. What other sentimental reason, besides you, could he have for wanting to stay here for a night?”
“Well, George did make a mean grilled cheese sandwich, and the cinnamon French toast was to die for.”
Izzy chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it. He’s coming for the food we don’t even serve yet.”
“Does Drake know we own the place now?”
“I didn’t mention it to his assistant, and since our idiot website guy is behind schedule putting up the new site, I don’t know how he would know.”
I leaned away from her. “Then why would you do this to me?” I whined. “You always hated him.”
She tugged on my braid. “Because I love you and I love Jameson. You can’t keep telling my nephew that Uncle Sam is his dad and that the fireworks made him.”
“In my defense, he was born on the Fourth of July, and there were a lot of fireworks when he was conceived.” I hugged myself. Oh, that weekend. Things happened that I’d never expected. A lot of poor decisions were made. Those choices changed my life in ways I never imagined, a combination of the most painful and the best possible. The best being my sweet Jameson, the true love of my life.
“I’m sure they were spectacular,” she said wryly. “But the kid is going to start thinking that if he sees fireworks with a girl, she’s going to get pregnant.”
“You know, I don’t mind that. It could totally work in my favor.” I started thinking about where to stock up on fireworks. I would call it birth control.
