by Jen Peters
Robin was better now, mostly, but what she needed more than anything—at least in Ree’s fix-everything opinion—was a boyfriend instead of a pack of dogs.
Ree took a sip of Diet Coke and reached tentatively for Monster Dog’s fur. It was softer than it looked and he didn’t even try to eat her. He was too busy licking Robin’s face. “You really need some human kisses instead,” she told her friend.
Robin raised her eyebrows. “You’re one to talk. You haven’t had a date since you came back.”
Ree grimaced. “I’m on a sabbatical from men until I can find one I can trust.”
“Somebody the opposite of Luc, you mean?”
Ree coughed, almost choking. The thought of trusting Luc seemed ridiculous now. He had seemed perfect, the ultimate romantic, but he hadn’t a clue about love after all—she’d caught him in bed with her roommate, and he had just lain there, blowing nasty cigarette smoke at her and shrugging a shoulder. Like she was the one who didn’t understand, like she was naive to have expected anything else. “Opposite in every way possible, please."
Somewhere, somehow, there might be a guy who believed in love the way she did.
Ree looked over to see Justin whack a watermelon with a giant knife, his muscles flexing under a snug t-shirt. Cat, the blonde co-contractor who was now his fiancée, laughed and leapt back to miss the juicy splatter.
“Still carrying a torch for my brother?” Robin whispered.
“What? No! Whatever gave you that idea?”
“In high school, you used to watch every move he made, even when you already had a boyfriend. I had eyes, you know.”
Ree blushed. “Ugh. I was so stupid and awkward then. He was so much older and he was your brother, but I couldn’t help it. And he’s even better looking now.”
“He’s taken, you know.”
“Of course I know! Sheesh, give me a little credit. It’s just … I’ve been back here in town for two months now, and there aren’t any guys I don’t already know.” Although the out-of-town guy who had come into the shop yesterday had been pretty hot, all intense, gray-green eyes and a strong jaw, with a fit body under those business casual clothes. She’d be happy dreaming about him for nights on end, but she’d never see him again, so what was the point?
“So you have been looking,” Robin teased. “So much for your sabbatical.”
“Yeah, well, looking can be fun,” Ree grinned. “But getting involved with someone? Totally different story." He would have to be pretty spectacular. She couldn’t open herself up just to have her heart broken again. Luc had done a good job of disillusioning her.
Ree eventually made her way over to the patio where a vast lunch had been spread. She picked up a wedge of watermelon, carefully bending over to eat so it didn’t drip on her clothes. “Hey, Justin, it still looks like you use a chainsaw on melons.”
Justin chuckled. “And your sense of humor hasn’t changed much, either. Come meet Cat."
Ree knew the two had met when they worked together remodeling the mansion, and Robin said they were talking about setting a wedding date. Justin made introductions, and Ree found herself asking about the mansion-turned-inn.
The more Cat explained, the more Ree’s idea grew.
The restored mansion would be a bed-and-breakfast. Would they use a live-in manager/cook or would they hire specialists? With the number of rooms, plus the elegance and the guests’ expectations, hiring staff made sense. And they’d need a manager … a manager like her.
“So what’s going to happen when the reconstruction is done?” Ree asked, trying to quiet her tumbling thoughts. “Are you decorating it too?”
“Definitely not me!” Cat said. “Mr. Blake and the interior decorator are making all sorts of plans for the finishing touches, and she’ll start moving stuff in as soon as the painting is done. After that, I don’t know.”
A decorator. Having one specialist might be a sign there would be more. “When is it due to open?”
Justin tilted his head. “End of August, I think. Why?”
Ree shrugged. “Just some things running through my mind. Has Mr. Blake talked about hiring a manager or other staff? Or will he be managing it?”
“I don’t know,” Justin said. “He works in Portland, though, only comes down when he needs to.”
Robin gave Ree a long look. “Do I see wheels turning in your brain, Miss Swanson?”
“Just an idea.” Ree tilted her head and paused. “I only need three more classes and then I’ll have my Hospitality and Tourism degree, except for another internship I’m supposed to take. I thought I’d be taking them back at U of O. But Mom…” She grimaced at the thought of how much her mother was doing that she wasn’t supposed to. “Her hand is healing slower than we expected, and I might need to stick around for a bit.” Her voice trailed off, and she looked off to the horizon. She would not tear up now.
Robin laid a hand on her arm. “You’ll get there. It might take a little longer, but you’ll finish, I know you will.”
Ree kept her voice steady. “I don’t want to be stuck here forever, Robin. I can’t be stuck here forever. I don’t know if any of my other classes will be available online, but maybe managing the mansion might count for my internship.”
She sighed and finally looked back at them, only to catch Cat and Justin exchanging glances. “What?” she asked.
“You haven’t managed anything before, especially not a start-up,” Justin said.
Ree huffed. “You two hadn’t taken on a job like this before, either.”
Justin frowned. “No, we hadn’t. But we’d done similar work, even if not as big. Mr. Blake seems to prefer people who have proven they can do the job.”
Ree crossed her arms. “Don’t you think I’m capable? I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“We’re not the ones you have to convince.”
Chapter 5
Mitch sat behind his gleaming mahogany desk, the office air a perfect 72 degrees, the Portland skyline outside his window, and a low murmur coming from outside his closed door. He had plenty to do—fact finding for another new client, writing a final proposal for the one last week—but McCormick’s Creek had his attention. Which was strange. He’d never felt a particular need to be over-involved while the renovations were happening. Now it had somehow become difficult to keep his mind on mergers and acquisitions instead of his grandfather’s project.
The real problem was that with each project, his sense of accomplishment dropped another notch. He couldn’t wait to close the file on this latest takeover bid, even for a few hours. He’d finish the case next week, and one more small business would be consumed by one more faceless corporate giant. One more set of loyal staff would likely be out of work. It had happened like that more times than he wanted to count.
Mitch had loved the excitement and the cut-throat competition the first few years after law school, but something had changed in the last few months. He couldn’t pinpoint if he’d lost the thrill of the chase or just saw the end results of his work more than before, but he was glad for any chance to get away.
He yanked his attention back to the figures in front of him, tying them together with the terms of the proposal. He could picture his client’s satisfied smirk when he absorbed the smaller company into his conglomerate. Bigger was always better, the man liked to say.
Mitch grunted. It was only ten in the morning, but he needed a break. With more excitement than he had felt for the last three workdays, he pulled out the McCormick Inn file and paused at the interior decorator’s suggestions. He liked her idea of clawfoot tubs, and her lighting choices were exquisite, albeit expensive.
When had he become fascinated with Victorian ambiance? Never before, that was sure. He browsed through the rest of the images and sent it back to the decorator with a go-ahead, then pondered the next step.
They needed staff. A 12-bedroom hotel was small, but even as a Bed & Breakfast, it was too much for one live-in person to handle. They would need a mana
ger, maid, breakfast chef and night clerk. The maid and night clerk he could get locally, but where was he going to find a concierge-class manager in a small, out-of-the-way town? He had already put the word out for a decent chef, but no one decent seemed willing to work part-time.
Sighing, he closed the file, forced himself to shift mental gears, and started again on the takeover proposal.
Two fourteen-hour days later, he had researched, crunched numbers, printed and signed various papers. By noon on Friday, he was bugging out. He checked his texts while he waited for the elevator, and Melanie Xanthe strolled up to meet him.
“Hey, there, Mitch. I’d like to ask you a question.”
“Legal? I don’t know that I have much to offer in divorce cases.”
Melanie smiled. “No, I already popped in to have a word with Howard. But as long as you’re here…want to take me to the Black and White Gala?” She ran a sleek red fingernail up his arm.
Mitch easily envisioned her blonde hair in a fancy up-do, her tucked-and-toned body in an elegant gown, her slender hand on his shoulder to dance. She was an enjoyable, sophisticated partner at social events…except for her ulterior motives. But her machinations hadn’t been very visible lately, and it had been several weeks since they last went out.
The elevator dinged and he followed her in, pressing the down button and keeping his sigh to himself. “What’s the date?”
“Next weekend, the 13th. You should be there.”
“I know." This time the sigh escaped. The law partners would be there, along with a good portion of the movers and shakers in the city. A month ago, he would have looked forward to it. Why was it that these days, McCormick’s Creek sounded better than it used to?
“I’ll have my secretary confirm the date,” he finally said.
“Lovely,” she purred. “And perhaps dinner on our own sometime before then?”
“We’ll see,” he said as they reached her floor. He really needed to find another social companion, but it wasn’t going to be easy to do unless there was someone else he could get Melanie interested in. Until then, he’d keep their dates to public events. “Have a good weekend.”
He swung by his apartment, packed an overnight bag, and headed for McCormick’s Creek.
The tightness in his shoulders eased as he guided the Porsche down I-5 and then up the mountain highway. Being out of the city had its advantages, not the least of which were leaving the people and the guilt behind. Once he pulled in, the mansion’s bright blue added an extra lift to his smile. It wasn’t quite as startling to him as the first few times.
Cat Billings greeted him on the porch. “Not too much more to do, now,” she said. If he ever saw her without a coating of sawdust on her forehead, he’d be surprised. “Want a tour?”
“Of course." Mitch followed her in and made appreciative comments about the details finished since the last visit. And it was nice. He’d been in many hotels that were fancier, but many more that were just everyday decent. This one, the one that carried his family name, would be all the more impressive for having quality service and an aura of elegance in a town where you wouldn’t expect it. Even if it never turned a profit, it was worth it.
He toured the empty bedrooms and unfinished bathrooms, then they headed back down the glorious staircase.
“Cat? Are you here?” a feminine voice called from the front. “I saw Mr. Blake’s car outside…” A young woman with long black hair stumbled to a halt in the foyer.
Wait, he knew her. She was the girl from the florist shop last weekend.
Next to him, Cat smiled. “What’s up, Ree?”
She shook her head. A pretty blush crept up her face. Mitch watched her visibly collect herself and put a professional look on her face.
“Let me start over. Mr. Blake, I’m Ree Swanson, and I’d like to make an appointment with you while you’re in town.”
He stifled a sigh—he couldn’t think of anything that needed more than a quick conversation and he was tired of humoring women who had hidden agendas. “I’m sorry,” he said, “we won’t be needing any flowers here for a while.”
She pursed her lips a bit. “It’s not about flowers, although we’d be happy to supply them for your rooms. But I have a proposal on another topic.”
What could he want from a girl who couldn’t run a simple flower shop? He looked at his watch, more from habit than anything else because he certainly wasn’t putting himself on a timetable this weekend.
Cat nudged him. “Go ahead, Mitch. You said you had plenty of time.”
He wished she would have kept quiet and let him handle his own business. But in a small towns where everyone knew everyone else… He couldn’t put the flower girl off without showing disrespect to Cat. And he had a lot of respect for his contractor. “All right, then. In an hour. At the coffee shop?”
Ree frowned. “I was hoping for somewhere more private. I mean, for private business. I mean…" She broke off, the rosy hue creeping quickly up her pale skin again.
He chuckled. It was rather amusing to watch her get flustered—there were some advantages to small town personalities. But he knew what she meant. He let her stew for a moment, then nodded. “Here at the mansion, then. Cat, do you have a couple of chairs we could sit on? And would you care to join us?" He didn’t know what this girl had up her sleeve, but he didn’t want any accusations of impropriety later.
Cat nodded, her smile almost a smirk. “I’ll be here. Justin will be around too, if that helps.”
“Ms. Swanson, I’ll see you in an hour,” Mitch said.
She grinned. “You won’t be sorry, I promise.” And she dashed out the door like a teenager, her black hair flying after her.
Mitch turned to his contractor. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Cat just shrugged and went upstairs. A few moments later he heard the thunk of her nail gun.
An hour later, Mitch had checked in at the rather dreary Sleepy Time Motel and was back discussing the last of the renovations with Cat and Justin. He pulled out the decorator’s choices for lighting, drapes, and the soft furniture. They pored over them for a few minutes, Justin admiring the bedroom chandeliers, Cat liking the clean lines of the breakfast tables.
While they talked and pointed to where things would go, Mitch tapped his finger on the worktable. Ree Swanson had requested this meeting, and it was two minutes after the hour. If it was so important, where was she?
Ten minutes later, Cat and Justin were still taking the selection folder from room to room, and Mitch was still tapping his finger.
Steps sounded on the outside porch, followed by a thud, followed by a muttered curse. Ms. Swanson. Well, whatever she wanted, he’d listen for ten minutes and then send her and her distracting black curls on their way.
There was a pause before the door opened. Ree stood confidently, portfolio in hand. She strode forward. “Mr. Blake, my apologies for being late.”
He lifted one eyebrow, a skill he had practiced for months when he was eleven or twelve. “It certainly couldn’t have been the traffic.”
“No, I just wanted to have everything perfect for you.”
No excuses? That was unexpected. He motioned to the other stool at the worktable, and she slid onto it smoothly. “What do you have?” he asked.
She pulled two folders from her portfolio, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. Her blue eyes sparkled, and he ignored the way they made him want to smile.
“This is everything that your Bed & Breakfast requires to run, and it’s too much for one person,” Ms. Swanson said. She lay lists in front of him, showing breakfast room operations, guest room cleaning, common area cleaning, bookings and bookkeeping.
“And here’s my resume,” she said, pulling an ivory sheet from the other folder. “You can see that while I haven’t finished my degree, I’ve had excellent training and exposure at the Duniway Hotel in Lake Oswego. They’re known for high quality details and concierge service." She paused to take a breath. “I hav
e the experience you need, and I’d like to manage the McCormick Inn for you.”
What? The cute little florist who couldn’t be attentive in her own shop?
Mitch sat back and stared. Sure, it seemed she knew what running the place would take, but she hadn’t managed to translate the Duniway’s concierge attitude into basic customer service in the florist shop.
He looked at her resume long enough to be politely interested, then met her eyes again. “I’m sorry, I don’t think it will work out."
Her face tightened and those blue eyes dulled a bit. “May I ask why?”
Should he be kind or truthful? Thoughts ran through his head, thoughts of the hurt caused by his corporate work. No need for it here. “You just don’t have the experience I’m looking for. I’m sorry."
Ms. Swanson shook his hand. “Thank you for your time, then."
“It’s nothing personal, Ms. Swanson. Just a sound business decision.”
She nodded, and he watched her go. And wondered why part of him wanted to call her back.
Chapter 6
Ree fumed as she slid into the driver’s seat of her battered old Honda. All that time researching facts and figures, and Mr. Blake had hardly looked at them. Finding a business outfit that still fit, doing the professional make-up and hair she hadn’t bothered with since last summer, all for nothing.
But what did that handsome, stuck-up lawyer know? He had never run a hotel. He didn’t get his hands dirty with the real work. She slammed her open palm on the steering wheel. She was capable, she had experience, and she wanted this job.
Or a job like it, she mused, driving home. There was no reason she couldn’t start looking for a real job now, even though she was stuck in this dinky town until her mom was better. In fact, she could have started looking weeks ago. But she hadn’t thought of it, so she should at least be grateful that the McCormick Inn had put it in her mind.
