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Sarah heard the warning in her boss’s voice. She shut her eyes tight and prepared for an earful. “A few weeks?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“I’m sorry, Gail. I know the timing isn’t ideal. But don’t worry, I can work remotely, and I’ll be back in the city in plenty of time to present the proposal to SmartTech Kids.”
“It’snotideal, Sarah, but you do have the holiday time banked,” she said begrudgingly.
Sarah’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you.”
“I’m expecting great things with the next version of the proposal.”
Sarah winced. “Absolutely. Already have some new ideas.” The lie wasn’t convincing anyone.
“And make sure you use our existing clients’ software we’ve developed for them for any technology upgrades you’re planning,” she said.
Sarah frowned, then her eyes widened. Upgrades! That was a brilliant idea. “I definitely will,” she said. “Thank you,” she added before disconnecting the call.
If she was stuck renovating the inn anyway, why not do it her way?
An hour later, her list was growing.
Starting at the check-in desk, she made her way through the old house and was almost vibrating as the ideas came to her. Dove had never upgraded to an online reservation and check-in system. Dove’s Nest had a website that Sarah made years ago in high school and that had been sufficient for her grandmother. Dove had still preferred that guests call to make reservations—said she could always get a vibe about them from the phone call and was able to tailor their experiences to suit them. Quiet, shy guests were treated to more privacy, and outgoing travelers were the ones Dove would deliver breakfast in the room or plan afternoon teas in the library.
She really knew how to read people. It was one of her gifts.
But any potential buyers would be expecting an online system and computerized check-in, not the paper ledger books her grandmother still kept in banker boxes in the attic dating back fifty years or more.
Moving into the den, she made a note to add a computer station with scanner and printer. Guests might want the access to check in for their travel plans and flights after their stay, and some might need to log in for business purposes.
The library she’d leave as it was…besides updating the furniture. The old sofas and chairs were worn and the fabrics faded. But she would ask Jessica for her help with that. Her friend’s parents collected antiques and old furniture for their store on Main Street, and Sarah would replace the furnishings in this room with antiques in better shape. Her intent wasn’t to modernize every room in the inn, just ensure guests were as comfortable as possible.
She ran a hand along the bookshelf, along the dusty spines of old classic novels. As a kid, this was one of her favorite rooms in the B&B. She’d read so many of these books and in later years, she’d study in the library, which was often quiet and underutilized. Her grandmother would bring her snacks, and they’d sit and chat for hours sometimes. Dove had led a fascinating life from the stories she told, but more often she listened more than talked and Sarah always had a feeling that there were things—secrets, parts of herself she kept in a special place, locked away.
She paused, seeing an old journal at the end of the shelf. The hair rose on the back of her neck, and a shiver ran through her as her thoughts manifested. Picking it up, she turned the old, weathered leather book over in her hands and recognized her grandmother’s initials embossed in the cover.
It was locked by a tarnished latch on the side, and there was no key attached or on the shelf… What should she do?
If Jessica were here, the lock would be picked by now, but something gave her pause. These were Dove’s secrets, her private thoughts. Would she want Sarah to read them? Leaving something so personal lying around seemed awfully trusting. Then again, now people used social media as their diary, so there was no real privacy anymore.
She ran a finger over the initialsD. L., then she carried the book to the old mahogany desk near the window and placed it in a drawer before picking up her upgrades list and continuing on her mission through the inn, the old journal lingering in the back of her mind.
…
Using his discarded T-shirt, tucked into the top of his jeans, Wes wiped his forehead the next morning. It was just a little past eight a.m., but already the blazing summer sun in the cloudless sky beat down on him. It was going to be a scorcher. Perched on a ladder, haphazardly propped against Mrs. Granier’s old oak tree on her lawn, Wes hung her latest bird feeder. Next to the seventeen other bird feeders in the tree.
All of which he’d hung for her.
He wasn’t at all fooled into believing Mrs. Granier was an avid bird-watcher. He knew she chased squirrels out of these wooden, multicolored painted boxes more often than not. Her request for his assistance always oddly enough coincided with her weekly breakfast book club.
Right now, six little old ladies sat sipping their tea, watching him work.
He descended the ladder and, folding it, he carried it under one arm toward the storage shed. He waved to them as he passed. “How’s the book?” he asked with a chuckle, nodding to the Oprah’s book pick, sitting untouched on the table in front of them. The same one as last time.
Mrs. Granier flushed slightly. “Oh, you know, lots of hype…” She waved a hand.
He put the ladder away and climbed the deck. “Well, enjoy your new bird feeder.”
She reached for her wallet, but he stopped her. “It was my pleasure, Mrs. Granier.” He took her hand and kissed it quickly. The older woman looked like she might faint, and the gaping mouths around the table had him hiding a grin. “Ladies, nice to see you all again. Until the next bird feeder,” he said with a wink as he headed back to his truck.
