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“What time would you like the meeting?” she asked.
“This afternoon. Say two o’clock. It’ll give me a chance to catch up on some business I have on the west coast and also to familiarize myself with the inn.”
“Very well.” She caught herself before she said that she would see him then. “Just ring the front desk if there’s anything you need.”
He nodded before proceeding into the bungalow and closing the door behind him.
She wasn’t sure what to make of the inn’s new owner. He was definitely cold and closed-off. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was always that way or if it was his mother’s and aunt’s deaths that were affecting him.
She knew grief affected people differently. For her, she’d thrown herself into her work. She’d worked longer hours and perfected their plans for the inn’s bicentennial celebration.
She had so many questions for Lane, starting with where had he been all this time? Why hadn’t he visited the island before now? And what did he intend to do with the inn, especially now that it appeared he was from the west coast? That would be one long morning commute.
But for now her questions would have to wait. As she made her way back to the inn, she recalled the unopened envelope. It was probably just a notification of transfer of ownership to Lane.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hedidn’tbelonghere.
Lane stood just inside the door of the bungalow and looked around at all of his aunt’s possessions.There’s so much stuff. He sighed. It didn’t seem as if any of her belongings had been disposed of. Everything appeared to be just the way she’d left it.
While the place was at least tidy, it also looked lived in. The long flowered couch sat in the middle of the floor with a dark cherry-wood coffee table in front of it. There was a small arrangement of silk flowers in a glass vase in the center. On one side of the flower arrangement were some women’s magazines, and on the other side of the table was a crossword puzzle book. This surprised him because he, too, liked to do crossword puzzles. He started one each Monday morning with his coffee. Depending on the level of difficulty, he’d finish it anywhere between Thursday morning and Sunday over brunch.
So he and his aunt had something in common besides his mother. He doubted their similarities went beyond crossword puzzles. As soon as that thought came to him, he pushed it away. He wasn’t here to get all caught up in emotional sentimentality. He had to get the sale of the inn wrapped up as quickly as possible. His thriving real estate business was waiting for him in San Diego.
As his gaze moved around the room, he instantly knew he was in over his head. He was there to calculate an appropriate sale price and perhaps show around prospective buyers. Instead, he had a bungalow full of personal possessions and papers to sort through.
And he had an inn that was in the midst of repairs. That just wouldn’t do if he wanted to transact a fast sale for top dollar. Of course, all of this hinged on his aunt’s beneficiary.
He reached for his phone and put through a call to his attorney. He had hoped by now to know the identity of the inn’s other owner. Surely they’d been notified by now. But at the end of the brief conversation, Lane had learned absolutely nothing new.
He inwardly groaned. Why was the beneficiary being cagey? Was there something for them to gain by keeping their identity hidden? He couldn’t think of any reason they’d want to exist in the shadows. He’d set his attorney on ferreting out the information so they could get on with the sale.
And then he turned his attention back to his aunt’s home. He was going to need help. Maybe he should have asked—what was her name? He realized he’d been so stressed about being here that he hadn’t even thought to ask the woman’s name. She really should have a name tag. It would make it so much easier for the guests.
He couldn’t very well call the front desk and ask for what’s-her-name. They’d never take him seriously. He’d ask Joe about the woman with the remarkable blue eyes. She’d seemed competent enough. Maybe she could temporarily be his assistant while he was on the island. He’d certainly make it worth her time to help him clean out the house before next week when he hoped to have potential buyers visit the inn.
“Who was that?”
Sara’s eyes lit up with interest as she looked expectantly at Josie. She didn’t know if her friend would be excited to know Lane was the new owner or if the news would worry her. Josie considered holding off the news for just a bit until after her meeting with Lane, but it would only be putting off the inevitable.
Josie finished buttoning up her navy-blue vest, which she’d just retrieved from the janitor’s room. “His name is Lane Johnson.”
As she said the words, she realized there was so much about him she didn’t know—like everything. Perhaps he was a bad person, and that was why Sandra didn’t speak of him.
Still, she didn’t get a nefarious vibe from him, other than he was a bit on the grumpy side. Of course, his temperament could be due to his grief over the passing of his mother and aunt, and he now owned his family’s inn. It was bound to be a lot for any person to take in, even for someone that wasn’t close to the person that had passed.
And then she realized that perhaps she’d mistaken his guilt for grumpiness. Maybe he regretted not bridging the gap between him and his aunt. Now it was too late for any of that.
“Lane.” Sara let the name roll off her tongue as her eyes lit up. “It’s not a common name. And you know how I like unique things.”
Josie shook her head. “Don’t get any ideas.”
The hopeful look fell from Sara’s face. “Let me guess. He’s married.”
“Worse.”
“What could be worse?”
