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She tapped the photo again. “It has to look just like this one.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Well, I’ll go so you can get back to work. I’m in town until the wedding. Maisy just booked me a room for the next three weeks. That way I’ll be here to supervise.”
“What about your fiancé? Will he be here?”
She smiled for the first time. “Not until the week before the wedding. Rob’s the CEO of a software company and can’t take as much time off as I can.”
“What do you do?” I asked, curious. “Because you look very familiar to me.”
“I’m an influencer. Beauty products, that kind of thing.”
An influencer? Wasn’t everyone these days? But what did I care? If she could pay me a hundred grand for a gazebo, then I was in. “That must be it.” I held out my hand to shake hers. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find someone to do the work. I’m assuming you’ll want to see the proposal?”
“I’d appreciate it,” Arianna said.
I walked her out then and returned to my office. Where in the world was I going to find someone to do this work in a mere three weeks?
* * *
I returnedto the wine-and-cheese hour in the common area and mingled with the guests, answering questions about where to dine and what activities were available this time of year, but my mind was elsewhere. Specifically, I silently churned on the subject of a certain gazebo. I knew because I’d just spent the better part of a year rebuilding my inn that carpenters and workers were in high demand here in a town still recovering from a forest fire that had taken out several of our businesses, including mine, and a dozen homes. My brother’s firm had agreed to do much of the work for a discount, but there were only so many of them to go around, especially since their home base was in Cliffside Bay, California, not here in Colorado.
After the guests had all wandered off to finish the rest of their evenings, I cleaned up the glasses and almost-empty trays of cheese and crackers. Tiff, Stormi, Crystal, and Brandi were on their way over to enjoy a happy hour of our own. Since reopening, I’d been too busy to see any of my friends. Stormi, who had been busy herself running our new art gallery and taking pictures for our local newspaper as well as being the town’s primary wedding photographer, had come up with the idea of a gathering at the inn for wine and dinner. Brandi, who owned The Sugar Queen bakery, had promised to bring sandwiches left over from her lunch offerings. Crystal said she’d bring wine from her cellar. A treat, as her wine collection was substantially better than anything I offered my guests.
I hadn’t known a soul in Emerson Pass when I purchased the old Higgins mansion several years before. That I had a friend group still amazed me. Back home in San Diego, I’d had several close friends and had missed their easy companionship when I’d moved away. However, the relationships I’d built with the women here had lessened my homesickness considerably. In fact, I couldn’t remember when I’d felt more blessed and full. These women had become like family to me, which I desperately needed. My father and I hadn’t spoken since the divorce. When I left Cliffside Bay, my mother had decided to travel the world to get over being left by him for a woman my age. Midlife crises were real. I’d witnessed it with my own eyes.
I still had my brother Trey, though. That would never change. He was as loyal and steady as the rising sun. His wife, Autumn, had just given birth to their second child—another little girl to go with her adorable sister. I hoped they would all come visit soon, but the demands of two careers and two babies kept them busy out in California. I’d moved out here so hopeful about my new life, only to have that dashed with the fire. There had been more than a few times I’d thought of packing it all in and going back to the West Coast. But to where? My mother had sold the home I grew up in. Dear old Daddy was busy with whatever her name was. This was my home now. For better or worse, I was tied to it as long as I owned the inn. The small-town culture I’d craved all my life was more than enough, I told myself on the lonely nights.
My friends arrived around half past six. I’d sent Gerald home by then to eat his supper with his family. He was only seventeen and still pink-cheeked and dewy-eyed and expected home for dinner every night. I envied the simple but loving family he had. Growing up in a wealthy suburb in San Diego hadn’t been as wholesome as one might predict.
I took in a deep breath, hoping to rid myself of thoughts of the past. I was here now with my best friends. Being present with them was a gift. One I didn’t plan on ever taking for granted.
We were seated on the soft, all-enveloping chairs and love seats my brother had chosen as I told them about the request from my potential new client.
“Wait a minute,” Stormi said, fluffing her dark bangs that hung just above her almond-shaped green eyes. “This woman offered you how much?” She looked her usual arty self—dressed in jeans with holes in the knees and a tight black tank that clung to her slender frame.
I reiterated the financial details once more.
“Incredible. I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Brandi poured another slug of wine into our glasses without spilling a drop. She could make a sandwich and brew a double espresso while taking money from a customer all at the same time. I’d never met anyone as competent in my life. She could do anything, including caring for a baby and running one of the most successful businesses in Emerson Pass without breaking a sweat.
“Sentimentality will cause you to do a lot of things that might not seem rational to other people.” Crystal crossed her long legs. She wore designer jeans and a silky blouse, both of which probably cost more than my car. Before she’d attended culinary school, she’d modeled on the runways of Milan to pay the bills. This was long before she’d married one of the richest men on the planet, only to lose him in an accident. She was now happily married to Garth and the mother of a sweet baby boy named Huckleberry.
“You know who has mad carpentry skills?” Stormi asked.
“Yes.” Tiffany nodded solemnly. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head tonight, making her light blue eyes stand out from her fair skin. “He would be perfect.”
“He?” I asked.
“He’s looking for extra work,” Brandi said. “So he can buy a house and replace his car.”
“Who are we talking about?” I asked.
When I saw them all exchange humorous glances, I knew. They meant Darby. My cheeks flamed with heat.
“No way,” I said. “Not Darby.”
“He built a patio for us,” Tiffany said in her soft voice. “He’s detail-oriented, which we both appreciated.”
