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“We’ll pay you back,” Clara blurted out. “All of it, Mom. We’ve made so much progress here. Someone else is going to buy it and fix it up the way it needs to be.”
Her mother said nothing, and Clara couldn’t even stir her dressing into her salad. She opened her mouth to say something more, but Scott shook his head. She appreciated his gentle guidance, and she snapped her lips closed again.
Her default was to explain more, and she’d been working with Scott to curb that instinct since the day Lena was born. She didn’t need to hear anything twice. She simply needed more time to process.
“Well,” Mom said. “I think…I think that’s probably the best thing to do.”
Clara’s shoulders slumped as relief filled her. “Really?”
“Yes, Clara,” Mom said. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“We’ll pay you back.” The last word caught in her throat, but Clara would pay her mother back every dime if it was the last thing she did.
“I’m sure you will,” Mom said. “Let me see who would be best for this type of sale.”
Clara smiled at her husband and started to stir her dressing into her salad. When she’d called him and told him all of her thoughts, he’d questioned her. Asked things more than once just to be sure.
Clara was sure.
She didn’t want to do this anymore. She felt like she’d put in a decent effort, but the enormity of it was too much for her. Too much for her and Scott combined. Friendship Inn needed a big company, one that knew how to restore old buildings and run hotels, with someone at the helm of it who had far more experience than they did.
“Sampson Winslow,” Mom said. “He’s the best in the cove.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Clara said, and her voice came out quiet and reverent.
“Of course, dear,” Mom said, and Clara appreciated how even she always was. She’d been like that growing up too, and she’d been the peacemaker in their home between Clara and her father. She’d evened out both of them, sanded away at their rougher edges until they’d become more refined and less reactionary.
“Will you be at Asher’s party?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” Clara said with a strong, sure voice. “I’ll see you there.”
“I love you, dear.”
Clara’s throat closed again, for she knew how unloveable she was sometimes. “I love you too, Mom.” The call ended, and the lump of emotion remained in her throat for a few moments while the screen stayed lit.
Then she took her first bite of salad as Scott said, “I’ve got Sam’s number right here.” He met her gaze. “Should we call him right now?”
“Yes,” Clara said. “Then, when I’m finished eating, we’ll head back to Diamond Island. I need to run home and get baby Asher’s gift before the party.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
AJ couldn’t stop snapping pictures of her son. He was simply the cutest one-year-old who’d ever lived, and she wouldn’t believe otherwise. Jean had made him the cutest little sailor outfit for today, and as he gave her another two-toothed grin, AJ took yet another picture.
She heard the rumbling of the garage door, and she brightened. “Oh, guess who that is?” She scooped Asher off the floor and into her arms, which caused her to groan. He was a year old now, and at least twenty pounds. “Daddy’s home!”
Matt walked into the house about a minute later, and he carried the biggest box AJ had ever seen. It was wrapped in white paper with tons of blue umbrellas on it, and AJ grinned at him as he put it on their dining room table.
“Look-it who it is,” she said to Asher. “Wave hello to Daddy.”
Asher kicked his feet and babbled in his baby-tongue. Matt chuckled and came toward them. AJ passed their son to him, and Matt leaned down to kiss her. “Smells good in here, sweetheart.”
“Thanks,” she said. She’d spent the morning cleaning while Lisa had run to the grocery store. Then, they’d put the beef roast in the slow cooker, and AJ had made a cold corn salad, corn muffins, and corn salsa.
It was never too early to celebrate her son’s favorite foods, and right now, that was corn.
“How’s the course?” she asked. The moment she did, she hated the question. It felt so…rote. She asked Matt every day when he walked in how the golf course was.
He said the same thing every day too. “Good enough,” he said, mimicking the words she heard in her head.
