Heat Wave

by Nancy Thayer

  “Wow.”

  “You need to get a credit card machine. You need to decide what kind of record-keeping program you want, which one you can work with most easily. You can talk to Martha at Computer Solutions but you’ll also need to run it by your accountant. You need to check to see if your guests can access the Internet in this house. Do you want them to have coffee/tea in their rooms? Do you have maids to help make the beds and clean the bathrooms every day?”

  Carley shook her head. “Reverend Salter’s nephew Kevin is here. We don’t make his bed every day. He doesn’t have afternoon tea, either. We don’t change his sheets …”

  “Right. He’s just renting a room. That’s quite different. Look, I don’t run an inn. I’m just hitting some of the points. You’ve got to talk with an innkeeper.”

  Carley buried her face in her hands. “Lexi, I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Maybe not,” Lexi responded bluntly. “But maybe you can. And maybe it’s just what you need. When I came back from New York, I was divorced and miserable and lost. My business saved my life, in more ways than one.”

  When the girls arrived home from school, Carley had them sit at the kitchen table with her. She’d set out snacks of fruit and cookies, and she asked them about school, and then she cleared her throat.

  “Girls, I’m thinking of opening a bed-and-breakfast. An inn. We’ll have guests staying with us.”

  “Like Kevin?” Margaret piped up hopefully.

  “Well, sort of. Probably, they’ll be older people. I’ve got a ton of work to do, and I’ll be using Daddy’s office as an office for the B&B. Which means that I’m moving a lot of Daddy’s things out.”

  Margaret tugged on a lock of black hair. Cisco’s face turned stubborn.

  Carley continued, cheerfully, “I thought you girls might like to go through Daddy’s office and find some things of his you’d like to keep in your room. The sailing trophies, maybe. Cis, you might like his desk set.” She waited for a response, but the girls didn’t speak. “I’m going to box up Daddy’s legal books. Some of the others I’m putting in the living room for the guests to read on rainy days. Things are going to change here, girls. They have to. I need to find a way to make some money, and with this big old house, I think I can.”

  Cisco’s face was set. “If we lived with Nana and Granddad, you wouldn’t have to make money.”

  “Cisco, this is my home. This is your home. This is Margaret’s home. We are not moving out of it.”

  “Well, I think you’re stupid.”

  Carley hesitated, then let it go. “It’s going to be fun! Every room will need some chairs, a little writing desk, a little table.”

  “Strange people in our house,” Cisco muttered.

  “Cisco, I need to find a way to make money. I’m doing what has to be done.” Suddenly Carley was exhausted. She could see the strain on both her daughters’ faces, too. “All right. It’s a sunny day. Enough talking. Go play.”

  “I don’t play,” Cisco snapped as she exploded from the table. With her hand on the door, she turned back to Carley and snapped, “Have you told Nana and Granddad about this?”

  “Not yet.” Carley forced herself to be calm. “I wanted to tell you girls first.”

  14

  • • • • •

  The next morning, as soon as the girls were off to school, Carley pulled on her dress coat and boots and walked down toward the Winsted legal offices on Centre Street. When she came to the distinguished brick building, she hesitated. All last night, she’d thought, made notes, plotted, and planned, finally deciding that she’d talk with Russell first, before she spoke with Annabel. Russell would know the legalities of opening a B&B, and perhaps he might be less emotional about Carley turning her home into a business.

  She stood there in the bright cold light of day, fighting off fear. If Russell strongly objected, if he grew angry, Carley would fall apart, and so would her plans. Shoulders slumping, she turned back toward home.

  “Carley!” Wyatt strode up the sidewalk from town, a newspaper in his hand. His camel coat and scarlet muffler gave him an impressive professional aura. “Were you going into the office?”

  She hesitated, then admitted, “I was, but I changed my mind. Oh, Wyatt, I think I have a really good idea, a way to make money and keep the house and still be independent, but I’m pretty sure Russell and Annabel will hate the idea.”

  “Try me,” Wyatt suggested.

  “I want to run a B&B.”

  Wyatt stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, thinking. “Hm. Yes. I can see that. I think that could work.”

  “You do?” She almost burst into tears of relief.

  “Let’s go look at the house.” Wyatt linked arms with her and ushered her briskly along the sidewalk. “It is a huge house for only three people. It’s got spectacular water views. It’s a short walk to town, that’s always a plus. You wouldn’t want people on the second floor, though, not on the same floor as the girls. Somehow that doesn’t seem quite right. The attic? Perhaps too many stairs for older folk.”

  His enthusiasm was contagious. By the time they reached the house, Carley’s mind was buzzing.

  They hadn’t even gone in the front door when Wyatt snapped his finger. “The basement! Let’s check out the basement!”

  Like many Nantucket houses, Carley’s had what was called an English basement, the walls half in the ground, half above ground, with large windows letting in light. There was a private entrance from the side of the house, a few steps down. They went in.

  Carley flicked on the light, exposing a large unfinished room. Over the years, all sorts of orphaned bits had ended up here—a centerboard and rudder from a sunfish, parts of bicycles and ice skates and skis, a pair of crutches from when Gus sprained his ankle, a few boxes of unnecessary junk bought at church auctions. Most of that had gone in the tag sale. The windows were covered with old roller blinds that had yellowed over the years. Carley tugged on them, trying to get them to snap up. Some worked, others tore.

  “It’s a great space,” Wyatt told her. “The floor is dry. The walls are dry.”

  “We’re high on the cliff. Rain never has been a problem.”

  “Good light from the windows. Solid construction.” He ran his hand over a wall. “These old houses were built to last. The floors are wood, handsome wide pine. Antique lovers would appreciate them. The walls are plaster. This doesn’t feel like a basement.”

  “True.” Carley circled the room. “Look at all the sunlight.”

  Wyatt unlocked a window, raised it, shut it. “You’ve got one bathroom down here, right?”

  “Right. Just with a stall shower. We could have another bedroom if we put in a private bath, but I can’t imagine how much that would cost …”

  He whipped a pad and pen out of his pocket. “Let’s look at some numbers.” He walked toe-to-toe, measuring with his feet. “A house like this, a location like this, you can make a big fat profit from a couple of posh rooms. You don’t want college kids here and frankly they wouldn’t want to stay up here on the cliff. It’s an old residential area. You need to get some nice retired people in here. You could double the amount of money you make if you put in another bathroom.”

  “But first I’d have to pay for the bathroom,” she reminded him.

  “Maybe you could take out a short-term loan.” Wyatt scratched numbers on his pad, showing her how the money would come and go; by July, she’d have the loan paid off and be making money free and clear.

  Carley tapped her lip with her fingertip. “My father could loan me the money.”

  “I’d be glad to loan you the money, Carley.”

  Carley met his eyes. In this light, the green had deepened to emerald. He held her gaze, and something seemed to stretch between them, an invisible tug. His smile held such affection, such warmth.

  “I, um—” She knew he was being kind but she didn’t want to take his money if she weren’t certain she could repay i
t. “I’m sure I can get the money from my father.” She crossed the room and looked out the window. “What I would appreciate would be if you could help me convince Russell and Annabel that running a B&B would be the right thing for me to do.”

  Wyatt hesitated. “I have a feeling they might resist this, Carley. But I’ll certainly do all I can to help you.”

  “In that case,” Carley said with a grin, “I’ll let you be the one to tell Annabel and Russell!”

  Wyatt laughed. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to drop that bomb yourself. But I will check out some contractors for you. I have a pretty good idea who’s available, fast, and won’t cheat you.”

  “Wyatt, that would be terrific!” Suddenly the idea seemed possible. She clapped her hands. “Oh, this is exciting!” Without thinking, she gave Wyatt a big tight hug. “Wyatt, thank you!”

  Wyatt’s body stiffened inside the circle of her arms.

  Oh, no, he thinks I’m making a pass at him! Carley thought with a rush of humiliation. She practically ran out the door, into the open air. “I think I’ll go talk with Annabel this minute, while I’m so determined!”

  Wyatt came outside, too, pulling the door closed behind him. “I’ll walk back toward town with you.” This time, he did not take her arm.

  “I’m thinking about the room off the laundry room,” Carley babbled. “The one Kevin’s in now. He’ll be leaving in March. It’s a good size room, but not particularly charming.”

  “Take out the two small windows that face the garden and replace them with a half-moon window with casement windows at each end.”

  “Wyatt, you’re a genius! Yes, I can just see it, with a long window seat. Charming.” She restrained herself from hugging him again.

  When they came to the law office, Wyatt said, “Okay, then, I’m off to work.”

  “And I’m off to Annabel’s.”

  Wyatt paused, as if he had something more to say. Then he said simply, “Good luck, Carley,” and gave her a mock salute before turning away.

  15

  • • • • •

  Carley often dropped by her in-laws’ house without calling first. They had insisted over and over again when she first married Gus that they liked it that way, and after all, they were family. In return, they often dropped in at Carley’s without calling first. But so did Carley’s friends and her children’s friends.

  She knocked on the door of her mother-in-law’s house. Annabel was in old chinos and a cashmere sweater with a scarf around her neck. She accepted Carley’s kiss on the cheek without a smile. “This is a surprise.”

  “I hope you don’t mind …”

  “Of course not.”

  “That’s a lovely scarf.”

  Annabel grimaced. “Arthritis. Keeps my neck warm.”

  “Annabel, could I talk to you a minute?”

  “Of course. Come back to the kitchen and we’ll have tea. How are the girls?”

  “They’re well. Cisco’s new friend, Polo, is not obsessed with ballet. I’m delighted about that. Cisco’s hardly eating anything these days. I’m worried about her.”

  “I’m keeping an eye on her, too. Sooner or later, someone has to tell her that she’s too tall, too broad-shouldered, to be a classical ballerina.”

  Carley winced. “You’re right. Annabel, I’m afraid it will crush her.”

  Her mother-in-law leaned over and patted Carley’s arm. “I don’t think your daughter is so very crushable.”

  “Good. That makes me feel better. I don’t think she’s smoking, either.”

  “I agree. I haven’t smelled it on her clothing or hair.” Annabel tilted her head. “Is that what you wanted to talk with me about?”

  “No …” Carley took a deep breath. “Annabel, I’ve decided to run a B&B here this summer.”

  Her mother-in-law was at the stove, pouring boiling water into a teapot. Her back stiffened, but she didn’t speak.

  “I’m going to have two bedrooms with private bathrooms added in the basement. I’d like to start having guests in June.”

  “Guests.” Annabel brought the pot to the table and sat down. Her mouth had tightened into a thin line.

  “Annabel, I need a way to make money and stay home with the children, and this is the perfect way to do it.”

  “The house is not a hotel.”

  “Well, it’s big enough to be one.” Carley bit her tongue and counted to ten. It would not help if she became confrontational.

  “Carley, it’s always been a home, not a place of business.”

  “Renting out three rooms isn’t really turning it into a business. It’s not like I’m setting up shop, tearing down walls and installing windows full of mannequins in girdles and bras—”

  “I doubt that the zoning laws would allow you to do that.”

  “The point is, the people who stay here will be tourists on short-term stays. They’ll come because of the beauty of the island.”

  Annabel folded her hands on the table and drew herself up as straight as a judge. “I strongly oppose this, Carley. This house has been a private family home for decades. It has weathered the Great Depression and any number of family problems without being opened to the public.”

  “I understand how you feel, Annabel. It kills me to disagree with you. But it’s necessary.”

  “Russell and I have offered to help you financially. We’ve asked you to move in with us.”

  “Yes. I do appreciate your kindness. Of course in an emergency, I’d be grateful to have to rely on you both. But we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. I have to find a way to work, to support myself and the children. Besides, Annabel, this is something that appeals to me. I think I might really enjoy it! I love people, I love cooking—”

  “The house is hardly set up for guests.”

  “True. I’ll need to have some work done. I’ve spoken with Wyatt. He’s going to find a contractor for me.”

  “You’ve already spoken to Wyatt about this?” Annabel’s tone was indignant.

  “Well, yes,” Carley answered, trying not to be apologetic. “We sort of ran into each other on Centre Street and I told him what I was planning, and he offered some advice.” Her mother-in-law was beginning to tremble slightly and her face had gone pale. Annabel was heartily furious, but holding back her fury. “I’m sorry to upset you, Annabel. Please understand I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I think we disagree on what ‘the best’ is,” Annabel commented coldly. She rose without bothering to pour the tea she’d made. “This has come as a blow to me, Carley. I need to go lie down. Please excuse me.”

  Guilt thumped down in Carley’s belly like a twenty-pound weight. Annabel had never been so adamant before, so bitterly disapproving. But they were, after all, family, Carley thought, and they would get past this, she was sure.

  Head high, she let herself out the front door.

  Carley walked home without noticing the snowmen smiling in the yards or the birds swooping down to the feeders on the neighbors’ lawns. She was sad about Annabel’s disapproval, excited about Wyatt’s positive reaction, hopeful about running a B&B, worried about Cisco’s extreme thinness, frustrated because she couldn’t talk to her parents or Sarah or Sue because they were at work, and generally confused and overwhelmed.

  This much was clear: Her future, at least the immediate future, was simply this: She was alone. She was widowed. She needed to make money. She needed to protect her daughters. The B&B might not be what Annabel wanted, but Carley was convinced it was the only option that made sense for her.

  She’d just entered her house, hung up her coat, and kicked off her boots when a knock sounded at the door and Vanessa came in, wrapped in a glamorous faux fur.

  “Hi, Carley!”

  “Oh! Vanessa. Hi!” Guilt slammed Carley hard. She had promised not to tell Vanessa that Maud was “seeing” Toby. A headache tapped at her temples. “Umm, want some tea?”

  “I’d kill for some. I’ve spent all morning in a committ
ee meeting, and I’ve got another one this afternoon.” As she talked, she pulled off her handsome leather high-heeled boots and thudded her feet up on another chair. “I don’t know how I let it happen, but I’m chair of the hospital summer fund-raiser, and you know that’s insane, plus I’m co-chair for the library’s fund-raiser.”

  “You’re a saint.”

  “I’m a sucker.” Vanessa looked around. “I thought Maud’s boys would be here …”

  Carley headed toward the stove, hiding her face from Vanessa. “No, I’m not babysitting for them much anymore. I think Maud’s made other arrangements.”

  “Carley. Have I offended you?”

  Carley turned, startled. “Oh, Vanessa! Of course not! How can you ask?”

  “You haven’t phoned me for ages. We haven’t been getting together like we always do.” Vanessa slipped off her coat and hung it over the back of a chair. “What’s going on?”

  Carley closed her eyes, wondering how to have an intimate conversation with this beloved friend and still keep Maud’s secret, which she wasn’t even sure she should keep. “Oh, hell, I don’t care about calories, I’m going to make some Godiva hot chocolate with whole milk. Want some?”

  “I’d love some.”

  Carley bustled around, searching out the container from the high cupboard where she’d hidden it from herself, pouring the milk, stirring steadily.

  “There’s a flu bug going around,” Carley said. “Toby must be crazy busy.” Oops, she ordered herself. No talking about Toby.

  “He is,” Vanessa agreed. Automatically she got out the little rose-covered tray Carley kept next to the stove and set it with napkins and spoons and Carley’s prettiest mugs. “Cookies?”

  “Sure. There’s shortbread in the tin.” How pleasant this could be, just like always, except that Carley’s heart raced around inside her, up to her throat, down to her stomach, skipping and thudding with nerves. She hated this. Maud had put her in an indefensible position; she was betraying Vanessa with every moment that she didn’t tell her the truth.

  “Your hands are shaking,” Vanessa observed as Carley poured the hot chocolate into the mugs.