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“I’ve been sleeping in the living quarters part of the house the last two nights,” she said. “It’s better maintained than this side.” At least she hoped the queen-size bed in the master bedroom wouldn’t collapse through the floor during the night.
Grandma, what the hell were you thinking keeping this place so long?
“Okay, well, I’d stick to that side and watch your step,” Wes said. “I’m sorry to see the place in such bad shape.” He glanced at the open-concept entry as they carefully stepped around the broken landing and descended the stairs, staying close to the wall. “It really used to be something special.”
“It sure was.” Sarah scanned the original dark-wood frame of the impressive foyer. Twenty-foot ceilings and spiraling staircases on either side of the large check-in desk gave the appearance of elegance, packaged in a cozy, inviting beach house. The old three-story Victorian home, built in the late 1800s, had hosted vacationing celebrities and families alike, and her grandma had treated everyone like extended family. Her warm, caring personality had once turned Dove’s Nest into the best place to stay in Blue Moon Bay.
Unfortunately, no one had stayed there in a long time. Her grandmother had closed the doors to the B&B five years before at age ninety, deciding she was too old to run the business alone, and no one else in the family had stepped up.
Sarah had been building her own career in L.A. and had never entertained the idea of moving back home. She loved her grandma, but the B&B had been Dove’s dream, not Sarah’s. Dove loved entertaining, and every guest became a friend. Sarah was more of an introvert, preferring a few close friends and intimate gatherings. She enjoyed the security and distancing that working online provided. That was her comfort zone. And her grandmother was the first one to encourage everyone to follow their own passions.
So why she’d leftherto deal with this, Sarah couldn’t figure out.
Wes’s cell phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID. “Sorry, just a sec,” he said before answering. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m on my way…”
Must be his daughter. Sarah had seen photos of her on Facebook over the years.
“No, you have soccer practice tonight. Yes, you have to go… Because you gave the team your commitment.”
Sarah felt like she’d gone back in time as she listened. How many times had her own father said those words to her? Despite her being clumsy and allergic to basically everything in nature, her parents had insisted that she at least give team sports a try. They gave up when the coaches begged them to stop forcing Sarah to participate. Apparently, it only took scoring on your own net a few times to get the coach to put in the plea.
“Okay, see you soon,” Wes was saying.
As he disconnected the call, Sarah shook her head. “I still can’t believe you’re a dad.” The Wes in her memories was a smart-ass jock who thought he was too cool for school. A childhood hearing problem that developed after a terrible ear infection seemed to make paying attention in school more challenging for him.
As the school’s football star, he used his athletic body and her tutoring skills to help get him to graduation. Going pro had always been his dream, and he’d gotten drafted by the NFL after college, but an injury had taken him out of the game—literally and figuratively—after three seasons. So now he was running his own construction company in their small hometown. Or at least that’s the information her Facebook stalking provided.
She’d also learned that Wes’s wife, Kelly, his high school sweetheart, had lost her second battle with cancer five years before, and he was raising their daughter alone. Sarah’s chest tightened, her sympathy for him overshadowing the cold shoulder she’d been intent on giving him when and if she ever saw him again. “Sorry to hear about…”
Her voice trailed, and he nodded. “Thank you.” He paused. “So, what do you plan to do with the place?”
“I can’t sell it like this, can I?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. You wouldn’t get close to what it could be worth with some structural and cosmetic renovations,” Wes said.
Ugh. That might require staying in town.
Her cell phone rang, and seeing her office number, she winced as she sent the call to voicemail. Her boss was going to kill her, but she did not need an audience when she was on a call with Gail. Asking for more time off wasn’t going to go over well. “I’m not sure I’m prepared to take that on,” she said.
“I did an estimate for Dove a few years ago,” Wes said. “I’d be happy to send that to you.”
Sarah hesitated. “I don’t know, Wes. Dumping money into this place seems kinda futile.”
“Look, I’ll send you the quote and you can think about it. Don’t do anything too quickly. It would be a shame to lose this place,” he said.
A shame for him, maybe. But this inn, or rather the ocean in front of it, had been the scene of Sarah’s most embarrassing high school moment, just weeks before she’d escaped town. She didn’t blame the incident on the inn, but it had lost some of its appeal for her after that night.
And shedidblame the guy standing in front of her…
He checked his phone. “I have to go, but I’ll get the quote to you tonight.”
Sarah’s nod was noncommittal as she followed him outside. Renovating the place could take weeks or even months. She could possibly oversee the work from L.A., but this was just a headache and a distraction she did not need right now when she was up for a promotion.
“It’s good to see you,” Wes said, and his gaze held a note of appreciation as it swept over her.
Heat rose to her cheeks, and irritation overwhelmed her. Was it? Was it really?
Based on his casual, awkward-less demeanor, he obviously didn’t remember the past like she did. The way his rejection had broken her young teenage heart.
