The Inn at Summer Island

by Rachel Magee

  In his attempt to protect everyone, he’d really messed some things up. He saw that now. He’d been so busy trying to protect everyone from getting hurt that he’d never considered how that protection was hurting them.

  Life was full of ups and downs. Getting hurt was inevitable. What mattered were the people you had in your corner to help get you back on your feet.

  Braxton had some pretty great people in his corner. People worth fighting for. And he had an idea of how he could fight for Millie. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As soon as Millie finished cleaning up what was left of the snacks laid out on the dining room table, she headed straight to her closet to change into her pajamas.

  Yes, it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have anywhere else she needed to be tonight. Besides, she was done with today. Today was stupid.

  “I mean, if they were so intent on saying no, they could’ve at least mentioned it before today, don’t you think? If I’d known this open house was going to be pointless, I wouldn’t have worked sixteen hours every day for the past eight weeks to get it ready,” she said to Bear as she yanked on her favorite flannel pajama pants. They were way too warm for this hot summer day, but at the moment it didn’t matter. She needed something warm and cozy after the day she’d had. So what if she had to lower her AC another ten degrees so she didn’t sweat to death?

  The only thing that made her feel slightly less like an idiot in this whole situation was that Sophia had been as blindsided by the HOA news as she had. At least Millie wasn’t the only one fooled by the community. Unfortunately, though, after making several phone calls, Sophia confirmed Braxton was right. The board had made up their mind.

  “Because, what? They’re threatened our tiny operation will be so successful that investors from all over will be snapping up their properties and turning them into hotels?” She huffed and stormed out of her closet with Bear following behind. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Bear. I’m not giving up. We didn’t come this far and do this much to walk away now.”

  Although, if she was being completely honest, Braxton wasn’t totally wrong. From where she stood, her options were limited. She was out of money, and after the vote went through tonight, she’d be out of a job.

  “But like Aunt Mildred always said, when you get to the bottom of your barrel, it’s time to find another barrel.” She just had no idea where she was going to find it.

  She let out a weary sigh. “No one ever said starting over would be easy,” she whispered to herself. But she’d hoped it wouldn’t be impossible.

  For the time being, though, she needed a task to keep her busy, something that would help take her mind off all the ways today had been a disaster. And she had just the job in mind.

  Opening the door to the office, she stepped into the room and surveyed the stacks and piles of papers. Sorting through all the documents stored in here would take forever, but if ever there was a time when she needed to be buried by a project, this was it.

  The only problem was figuring out a place to start.

  Since she couldn’t find a logical beginning point, she plopped herself on the floor next to the desk. All along the wall between the desk and the six-foot-tall rusted metal filing cabinet in the corner were rows of document boxes with file folders stacked on top like mini Leaning Tower of Pisas. Millie gently picked up the first one, fully aware that if she made one wrong move the entire structure might come tumbling down.

  She went through folder after folder, sorting the contents into piles to keep, shred, or recycle. The minutes slipped away as she sifted through the history of Seascape. Most of the papers weren’t worth keeping. There were invoices for food deliveries and books containing the carbon copies of old phone messages. Some of the folders at the bottom of the first pile were details of weddings and other private events they’d hosted. There were even a few yellowing photographs of people with big shoulder pads and even bigger hair who attended these events in the eighties.

  After a little over an hour, when she finally cleared the precarious stacks of file folders, she kneeled in front of the first box.

  She shot Bear a sidelong glance. “What are the chances, Bear, that one of these boxes holds a pile of cash?” The dog’s tail thumped against the ground in response.

  It was worth hoping for, right?

  “Here’s to finding stacks of Benjamins.” She pulled off the top and stared inside.

  Even though her hope of finding money hidden away in one of these boxes was wildly unrealistic, she couldn’t help the pang of disappointment. “Nope, just more papers,” she reported. Well, if she was being technical about it, the box contained an assortment of notebooks. She picked up the first one and thumbed through it.

  The pages were filled with line after line of Aunt Mildred’s scripty cursive handwriting. She paused on one page to read a few sentences. After she did, she flipped a few pages and read some more just to make sure this was what she thought it was. Her excitement growing, she pulled out the other notebooks, thumbing through them. They all appeared to be the same thing.

  A genuine smile crept across her face for the first time since the blowup with Braxton. She might not have found a box of money, but she’d definitely discovered a treasure.

  She held up one of the notebooks for Bear to see. “Guess what we just found? Aunt Mildred’s journals.”

  On a day when it felt like the world was against her and she was fighting an impossible battle all on her own, she needed this.

  Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she opened the first journal and read. Aunt Mildred’s wisdom dripped off the pages. Her notes and reflections to herself about the things happening in her life resonated with Millie. She could’ve spent hours going through them. In fact, she would spend hours going through them when she had more time. But for now, she’d just read one more entry, then carry the box of journals to her bedroom.

  She flipped the page and started reading.

  Life has a funny way of changing the way one sees things. Things I felt so sure of in my youth I now find myself rethinking while things that had me stumped before now seem so clear. I suppose that’s the beauty of wisdom.

  I’ve often said that I don’t have regrets. I’ve had lessons, some harder than others, that have gotten me to where I am today. Although some nights, when the rooms are not full and I am alone in this big empty house, I wonder.

  I loved once. I don’t write about it often and talk about it even more seldom, but I think about him frequently. It was a breathtaking romance. The kind that changes lives. The kind that changed my life. And then it ended.

  The relationship, that is. Not the love. I dare say, I’m just as in love with him today as I was back then. Perhaps that’s why I have never been interested in anyone else. My heart still belongs to the one who stole it many years ago. His words, some from my memory and some from notes that I have kept, remind me even today of the person I want to be, of the person I could be. They remind me that the people we love and the people who love us make us better. They remind me that life was never meant to be conquered alone but among those we cherish. And while I cherish the rich friendships that have surrounded me throughout my life, there will always be a hole where one was supposed to be.

  I still maintain my position of no regrets, although there are times when I wonder what could have been. What could have been if I’d been quicker to listen and slower to anger on that fateful night? What could have been if I had been slower to judge and quicker to find common ground? What could have been if I had taken time to sort through a minor misunderstanding and offer forgiveness instead of letting my own pride halt all conversations?

  Perhaps then things would have turned out differently. Perhaps that hole which reminds me of what I once lost would have remained filled as a testament to what my life had gained.
And if that were so, I would’ve liked to know how that story played out. I think I would’ve liked that very much.

  Tears rolled down Millie’s cheeks. The wounds from everything that had happened were still fresh. The sting of betrayal had clouded her mind earlier, but she was justified, wasn’t she? She needed to stop things before she allowed herself to get hurt any more. If she’d been smart and stuck to her original plan of this chapter being a solo act, she never would’ve put herself in a position to get hurt in the first place. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories from earlier today.

  But after thirty years of clarity, would today be the one day Millie wished she could do over? Should she have been quicker to listen and slower to anger? One thing was for sure: even after everything that had happened, she still loved Braxton. He’d touched her in a way no one else ever had. He gave her confidence, made her laugh, and reminded her she was worthy. She had an odd suspicion that was the kind of love that would leave an unfillable hole in her heart if he wasn’t there anymore.

  Millie dropped the book to her lap and stared up at a picture of her great-aunt that was propped on top of the file cabinet. Aunt Mildred was in her later years here, looking stoic and confident in front of Seascape. It was the picture Millie always thought showed off her aunt’s strength. Look at the amazing things she achieved on her own!

  But today she saw a different side of that picture. She saw a woman whose one regret was that she’d let love slip through her fingers because of what she said started as a minor misunderstanding.

  “If it’s any consolation,” she said to the picture, “after all this time, he never stopped loving you either.”

  Her eyes drifted down as she considered this insight to the love story that had captivated her all summer. She was barely even paying attention to what she was staring at when something on the bottom drawer of the file cabinet made her pause.

  She’d never taken a lot of time to study the labels on either of the two old rusting file cabinets in the office. Honestly, there didn’t seem to be much need. The office as a whole didn’t seem to have much organization to it. But now she could make out the first three faded letters written on the paper label. HOA.

  Intrigued, she wiped her eyes and crawled over to the drawer to get a better look. She moved the stack of file folders and stacks of papers out of the way and read the full label: HOA Board Documents and Deed Restrictions

  On demo day, someone mentioned Aunt Mildred had been president of the very first HOA. It hadn’t surprised her. She loved this town and this neighborhood and would have done anything to see it prosper. Protecting the coast and the sea life had been a passion of hers. Millie remembered her working hard to make sure they preserved the beach for generations to come. What sort of items had been important to her when she was helping to make the deed restrictions?

  She opened the drawer and scanned the files inside. The first folder was labeled “Deed Restrictions.” She opened the file and pulled out the first document inside. An old sticky note that had long lost the stick fluttered to the floor. Millie pushed the drawer in to retrieve it. She picked it up and read it.

  Mildred,

  Thanks for your dedication to the community. It’s our turn to look after your welfare. We’re calling it the Mildred clause. Viva la Seascape.

  Article 12 Section E

  Intrigued, Millie flipped through the document that was very similar to the one she’d received from George two months ago. She swept her finger down the page, searching for the correct section. She had to flip the page to find it, but there it was. Article 12 Section E. Someone had even circled it. Millie read the legal words. When she finished, she read them again, just to make sure she’d understood it correctly the first time.

  A fresh fire surged through Millie. If it was saying what she thought it was saying, this was huge. The Mildred Clause could be the magic bullet she needed to save Seascape and her dreams.

  Since the legal wording always threw her off, and since this was an old version of the deed restrictions, she wasn’t sure if it was still valid. But lucky for her she knew someone who could answer both of those questions.

  If she was reading this right, she had less than an hour to get his opinion and get to the clubhouse to stop that vote.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Braxton glanced at his watch as he paced in front of the entrance to the clubhouse. It was seven o’clock, time to start the meeting. Where was she?

  The thought of seeing her filled him with a mixed bag of emotions.

  On the one hand, excitement swelled inside him. He had news to share and he wanted to be the one to deliver it to her. He’d taken a page out of Millie’s playbook and gone after the impossible. And it worked! Perhaps he should’ve tried harder earlier and they wouldn’t be in this mess. But, to be fair, he hadn’t put it all together until he was with Henry. The important part was that he got here, and while it might not be enough to save everything, it was enough to give her time to figure out her next move.

  On the other hand, guilt, disappointment, and icy apprehension pricked him at the thought of seeing her. To put it simply, he wasn’t sure where they stood. Okay, fine, that wasn’t quite accurate. He knew exactly where they stood. He’d played a part in that decision the moment he walked out—see guilt—ready to give up on them. But that had been a weak moment, before he realized…well, before he realized a lot of things. He wasn’t sure where they could stand after this, but he had pretty strong feelings about where he wanted that to be.

  He glanced at his watch again. It was now two minutes after seven. He was officially late to the meeting. His stomach plunged as he took one more look at the parking lot. She wasn’t coming.

  Heaving a sigh, he turned to head into the clubhouse. Millie not being there wouldn’t affect the outcome, but he would’ve loved to have seen the look on her face during the process.

  He was halfway down the hall when he heard her voice.

  “Wait! Braxton!”

  Excitement. When he was in her presence, the emotion that won out was excitement. It gushed through him as he stopped in his tracks and turned.

  Millie, dressed in blue flannel pajama pants and an oversize sweatshirt, was racing through the door with George Rodriguez on her heels.

  “Stop the meeting!” She pumped her fist in the air, still jogging to catch up with him. Then she grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  She stopped in front of him, a little out of breath but looking awfully cheerful for a woman whose future was actively in the process of getting crushed.

  “I have news,” she said, sucking in a lungful of oxygen.

  “Me, too.” Braxton started to launch into what he’d found, but she held up a hand to stop him.

  “No, me first.” She motioned to George. “We have proof that they can’t vote against the inn.”

  Braxton raised an eyebrow. “Well, by all means, let’s stop that vote.”

  They rushed the rest of the way down the hall, and he held the door open for her and George. The entire board was already assembled, sitting around the long conference table.

  “Finally,” Stan breathed out. “We can get this thing started.”

  Braxton took his seat at the head of the table while Millie and George made their way back to the extra chairs. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was taking care of some last-minute things.”

  Sophia pushed the computer toward him with a questioning look. He gave her a discreet half smile and hoped she got the message. “We have a lot to discuss today, so without further delays, let’s get tonight’s meeting started.”

  Braxton banged his gavel on the table.

  “First up on the agenda is the grievance and subsequent proposal by Millie Leclair of 121 East Shore Drive that was presented at the last meeting.”

  Anticipation grew inside him as he shifted
his gaze to Millie. “But before we move to the vote, I think there has been some new information to be presented in that area. Ms. Leclair.”

  “I’m sorry, Millie, but you’ve already had your chance to state your grievance.” Stan’s face wrinkled with disapproval as he turned to Braxton. “This is highly unprofessional. We have procedures.” Stan gave her a stern look.

  “Indeed you do, Mr. Huffington.” George offered a curt smile to the table and opened his briefcase. “What you have failed to do is follow those procedures, which is why we are here.”

  Millie stepped up next to him, her wide, joyful grin lighting up her face. “I found something today when I was going through my aunt’s office that changes my grievance.”

  “In light of our new discovery, the old grievance filed at the previous meeting is no longer valid. The new grievance has to do with improper addition and deletion of rules and restrictions to the legal document.” George pulled out two packets. Even Braxton could tell from his end of the table that they had the same cover page as the Oceanside Estates Deed Restrictions he was familiar with.

  George held up the two documents. “I have a copy of the two previous adoptions of the deed restrictions. This version, voted into adoption in February of 1994, was amended to include a new clause. If I may…” He lowered his glasses to his eyes and started reading from the document. The room was completely silent as he read a clause that basically said it was not allowed to create new rules and restrictions that would adversely affect the current operations of properties already established in the neighborhood. “And if such a restriction is created to protect the future of the neighborhood, the adversely affected property can continue to operate in the same manner it has been.”

  George looked over his glasses at the board members seated at the table. “Basically, according to this, you can’t stop Seascape from operating as an inn as long as it is doing so in the same manner it was when the new restriction was written. As long as Millie is planning on offering six guest rooms in the original structure, she is well within her rights of operating as it always has.”