by Cari Quinn
His voice cheered just a little. “You are probably right. Try to get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” He closed the door gently and she let out a sigh, part relief and part fear.
She had no doubt they would talk in the morning. If she could figure out what to say.
Thank heavens for Marie Cormier. Without the ledger, she would have never known the Starlight was flat broke. Actually, not just broke, but in the hole. Every month for the past three years, the income hadn’t covered the expenses. And every month, Grandpa had fixed the books so they appeared to balance. But the ledger told the true story and she couldn’t help but believe it because the ledger actually had receipts attached, where the books Gabe had were only notations written by Grandpa. She compared expense by expense and watched the money flow into the red. A bill for janitorial supplies in Grandpa’s ledger would read two hundred forty-nine dollars and fifty cents, but in Gabe’s book, it was one hundred eighteen. Same product, same date, same invoice number. Every month, Gabe got his salary, even if there was no money. Every month, the pool was cleaned, the housekeepers were paid, the lights stayed on.
But why? Why lie to Gabe . . . make him think he would continue to have a home after Grandpa died?
Marie had called it. Because he loved the Starlight. It was the only reason that made sense. He couldn’t bear to force people out, or raise rents, or break Gabe’s heart by telling him the place was a money pit. So he took it from his pocket to cover the extra. As long as Grandpa owned the place, who really cared? It was like a pet project, a hobby. He didn’t care if he lost money. It was something he loved to do. It was his vacation home, so what did it matter if it was a lost cause?
For as long as he owned it.
“But he doesn’t own it anymore, damn it!” The words were a whisper, a condemnation to a ghost. “Crap.” Teach him the things he couldn’t learn from me. The words from her Grandpa’s letter, which had made her smile, now made her angry. “You couldn’t bear to hurt him, so you’re making me? Damn you, Grandpa!”
If he knew it was in the red, why not leave enough money to keep it going? Why make her legacy to go into debt? Either that, or to cause pain to all the people her grandfather loved. Thanks loads.
Now she really did have a headache. Maybe taking an aspirin and going to bed wasn’t a bad idea after all.
But sleep wouldn’t come. The data kept swimming through her mind, the red numbers like Texas wasps buzzing around her head. She had to figure out the answer. There had to be one.
Wait. Gabe had said the tubs were the first of the renovations. What if there were others planned that could help or the money had already been set aside for? She got up and started opening desk drawers. They’d been filled with papers when she moved in, and she hadn’t felt like it would be right to look through her Grandpa’s things.
Now she had no choice.
~*~
Gabe stepped out of the shower. It was barely light out, but he hadn’t been able to sleep anyway. Might as well get up and finish the roof. Another storm was brewing in the gulf. He hoped Sophie was feeling better. He had the suspicion she’d been lying to him that she had a headache, but wasn’t sure why she would lie. Had he angered her? He’d thought they’d been getting along well. The sex was . . . well, it was incredible. Had he not been complimenting her enough? Admittedly, they hadn’t talked much other than about Mr. Will.
Well, that would end now. They would talk about whatever she wanted to talk about. The sky was getting lighter as he left his room, but the horizon was dark and flashes of light spoke of the coming storm.
He knocked on her door and waited. When there was no answer, he called quietly. “Sophie?” He knocked a second time and then listened closely. Was she crying? “Sophie, please let me in. Tell me what’s wrong.”
There was a long pause but then he heard footsteps. He heard the lock open and the door cracked open. He pushed it open and poked his head inside. She was walking away from the door. She was still wearing a nightgown, even though the sun was already up. Wasn’t she the early riser? “Might as well come in and hear the bad news.”
Bad news? “What is wrong? Has something happened?” He walked further into the room and sat down on the foot of the bed. It hadn’t been slept in. “I thought you were going to bed early. Is your headache better?”
A sharp, bitter laugh burst out of her. “Better? Hardly.” She walked to the door, flipped the latch and turned in a tightly controlled circle, her fingers clenching and unclenching while she muttered under her breath, saying something he couldn’t make out.”
“Sophie, what is wrong? Please talk to me.” He was starting to get truly worried. Papers were scattered around the room, covered with red markings and different colored highlighters.
She stopped, froze and turned to him. Her eyes were puffy, red rimmed, the whites angry with red veins. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
His heart sank. “Are you breaking up with me?”
The question seemed to startle her. “No! I mean, yes. That is . . . goddamnit, I don’t even know what I mean. It’s just too much!”
He stood and walked to her, quickly enough that she couldn’t respond. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her. “Sophie, it will be all right. Whatever is wrong, you’re strong. Smart, talented. And if it is too much, I’ll help you. I swear.” At first, she pushed at him, trying to get away. But when he wouldn’t let go, kept her close against him, she broke down. She started crying again and clung to him. “Shhh. Just let it out.” He held her for long minutes, until the tears stopped and then the hiccups stopped too.
When she finally rested her head against his shoulder, exhausted, he pulled back and guided her to a chair. “Now. Tell me.”
“Grandpa . . . Mr. Will . . . lied to you. To me. To both of us.”
He felt his brows drop down until he could see dark hairs at the edge of his vision. “Lied to us about what?”
She swept her hands in a wide arc. “This. All of this. The Starlight. I can’t do it. I can’t be broke again. I can’t stay and—” Her lip began to quiver again. “Watch . . . what it would do to you. I know I haven’t known you that long, but you deserve better.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. What in the world was she talking about? “Sophie, I don’t understand you. Please, just tell me.”
She took a deep breath and stood up. She walked to the desk and picked up a wide leather bound ledger, like the ones Mr. Will used to write in near the pool. “You need to see this.”
He took it but then shrugged. “It is a ledger. But I have many ledgers. In the computer, in the files. What is special about this one?”
Sophie’s eyes turned cold and angry. “It’s the truth. I know none of this is your fault. I understand Grandpa lied. But you need to know that the Starlight is broke. In the red, really and there’s no hope of getting out of the hole without some major changes.”
Broke? He didn’t understand. He opened the volume and it appeared to be a summary of accounts, by month, for several years. “Yes, these are the records. What is the problem?”
She handed him another stack, copies of the ones from the office, out of the computer. “Look at June of last year. Compare the two.”
He put them on the bed and scanned down the columns. The bills were the same, but they weren’t. The same entries, but different amounts. “What is this? I don’t understand.”
She nodded and walked over to touch his shoulder. “Grandpa made you believe the payments from the guests were paying the bills. But the income wasn’t even half of the bills. The place is mortgaged to the hilt and he made up the rest out of his pocket. Without him, we can’t keep this place open.”
He turned a page and looked at another month. Then another, flipping pages faster, his fingers sliding down the page so quickly that the edge sliced into his thumb. He pulled it back sharply with a harsh sound and put the tip in his mouth so he didn’t bleed on the pages. All the while, Sophie didn’t
say a word. She curled into a tight ball in the corner chair—her feet tucked under her and her arms crossed tight over chest. The more he looked the angrier he got. “Where did you get this book? I’ve never seen it before!”
“Marie. Grandpa left it in her room before he went home for the last time. She came to me in the office yesterday, said I needed to see it.”
He turned on her, his emotions in turmoil. “Why wouldn’t she give it to me?! Long before now? Mr. Will has been dead for months! Why just now, and you? It makes no sense!” His hands punctuated each word as he got closer to her.
She flinched at the tone of his voice. “She told me how much Grandpa loved the Starlight, how much he loved you. He respected the hell out of you, Gabe.” She shrugged her shoulders, a tiny, helpless gesture. “Maybe that’s why. I don’t know. I don’t think he wanted to hurt you was all.”
He sat on the bed, too close to the edge and slid down to sit on his butt on the floor. “Hurt me?” He reached back and grabbed a handful of papers, clutched them tight in his fist and shook them while he yelled at her, at Mr. Will, at the empty air. “How could this not hurt me? Everything I’ve worked for . . . years I’ve studied at his feet. I could have eaten well, but I starved so I would have money to live on later. And now you tell me it was for nothing?” He threw the papers hard against the wall, but they just fluttered to the floor like wounded birds. “And now I have to choose whether to lose the Starlight, or lose the people? What kind of choice is that, Sophie?” He turned to look at her, his heart wounded and lost. “How could I choose?”
“I don’t know!” Her voice rose to match his in intensity. She stood and jutted her chin forward, nearly daring him to come closer. “But I didn’t scrimp like you. If we don’t have a salary, we’ll starve, and if I get a job, I can’t keep this place going without hiring someone to help you.”
That made him coldly angry. “So you would leave. Is that what you are telling me? You will walk away, leave me to whatever happens?”
“It’s five years until we can sell, Gabe. That’s a long time for us to starve. I can’t watch you go through that.”
“I see.” He did. Pushing to his feet, he regarded her. He had thought she was like Mr. Will; like him. But perhaps not. “Very well. Go. I have money saved. I will manage until the time is up and then I will buy you out. I don’t know how, but I will do it.” Her face crumbled and her lip started to tremble again. He didn’t care. If the people he loved, that her grandfather loved, meant nothing to her, then she should go.
He left the room, pulling the door shut hard behind him. All he wanted was to be alone right now. He started walking toward the beach. He needed to start over, find new corners to cut, think of new ways to make money. He could make new plans . . . ones that didn’t involve Sophie.
CHAPTER FIVE
There was a gentle tap at the door, but Sophie didn’t want visitors. “Go away!” She buried her head back under the pillow, but she couldn’t get the image of Gabe out of her mind. He looked so hurt, so lost—just like she had known he would.
“Sophie, can I talk to you?” The voice was Marie’s. “Please?”
It wouldn’t do any good to turn her away. She would just come back and Sophie really wanted to know why, as Gabe had said, she didn’t ever tell him what she knew. She threw off the heavy covers and padded to the floor on bare feet. Opening it, she saw Marie’s face, sad and tired, on the other side of the door. “Why?”
She didn’t even have to explain. Marie seemed to know. “May I come in?”
Sophie shrugged and backed up, letting the door swing wider open. The older woman came in and looked around the room at the scattered, torn papers, just where Gabe had left them. “I had a feeling he’d be angry.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell him? You didn’t want him yelling at you?” Her voice sounded dull to her own ears, like the emotion was all gone, drained away until there was nothing left.
Marie shook her head and saw down primly in the corner chair. “No, dear. I wouldn’t have cared if he yelled at me. He’s all fire, but no fight. I wouldn’t be in danger. I’ve encountered worse than him in my years. No, I didn’t tell him because he would be just what he is—wounded and lost. I gave you the book because I expect you to fix it.”
That pulled a startled laugh out of her. “Fix it? Fix it how? There’s nothing left to fix.” She threw up her hands and sat down in the desk chair and spun it around to face her guest. “It’s over, Marie. Accounting one-oh-one: The income must exceed the outgo. It doesn’t.”
Marie’s jaw set firm. “Then reverse it. Make the outgo less, or the income more.”
“So you want me to double the rent on a bunch of senior citizens who were friends with my grandfather? And maybe fire the maid or not have clean linens? I could do that. I’m tough enough to stand the hate, but Gabe would probably kill me in my sleep.”
Marie rolled her eyes and let out a raspberry that didn’t fit the image of the nice old lady. “He’s in love with you. He would do no such thing.”
He was? “Yeah? You didn’t hear him an hour ago, or see his face.”
Now the older woman laughed. “Oh, I heard him. Probably most of the complex did. These rooms aren’t very well soundproofed, dear.” Marie’s expression turned, saying it wasn’t just the yelling that had been overheard. It brought heat to her cheeks. “He is smitten with you, and you with him. But you’re the strong one, like Will. Gabe’s more like me, a people person. He’s wonderful with the guests. Between the two of you, this place could be a gold mine. Will knew that. It’s why he couldn’t make up his mind between you. Your strengths are very different.”
Now Sophie couldn’t help but snort. “Great. So I’m the big, tough meanie who’ll sweep into town and clean up the mess? Is that what Grandpa expected?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Well, guess what? I don’t want to be the meanie. Why can’t I be the nice one? Just for once?”
Because she had always had to be the tough one, the steady one, who would keep her mom sober and her dad paying attention, so at least they looked like good parents. Apparently it was hereditary.
Now Marie stood and walked over to her and put delicate, but surprisingly strong hands on Sophie’s shoulders. “Will didn’t want you to be mean, dear. He wanted you to be smart. Use the brains the good lord gave you, and the training your grandfather did. That’s his real legacy, not this place. This place is nothing special. It’s not magical. It’s just a motel. It could earn a profit with some work.”
“Profit? Just the monthly payments on the mortgage statements I saw in his drawer are more than he was paying me in Texas every month. There’s no way to pay the bills without selling this place.”
Marie lowered herself until she could stare Sophie right in the eyes. “That’s Will’s mortgage, not yours. The money wasn’t even used to buy this motel. He bought a racehorse. It’s a debt against his estate. Tell the attorneys to pay off the bank. You should be deeded this place free and clear.”
That actually . . . made sense. A weight lifted off her shoulders so abruptly it felt like she could float. “Holy crap. Without the mortgage, the debts are only about thirty percent more than the income. It’s still not good, but maybe—”
Marie nodded. “Talk to Gabe, dear. Keep your head clear and talk. You might discover it’s not nearly as bad as you fear. He’s a very smart young man, Sophie. Your grandfather didn’t trust him with this place for no reason.”
She nodded and Marie released her shoulders and then quietly walked to the door. Impulse made Sophie jump up and run over to Marie and envelop her in a heartfelt hug. “Thank you. Now I know why you were special to Grandpa.”
~*~
Gabe flung another rock into the ocean, skimming the flat stone it along the surface of the water. His arm was getting sore enough it was going to be a trick to lay the rest of the shingles. I might as well finish that today. They’re the last supply that’s been paid for.
He never would hav
e believed in a million years that Mr. Will would do this to him. And to his own flesh and blood? It must be a mistake. But Marie had no reason to lie. He just couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t have told him, months ago. What had she been afraid he would do?
Fear pulled at his stomach, churning it and making him burp like he’d had spicy food. But the taste in his mouth was bitter, acrid.
Sophie was leaving. Why did that bother him more than losing the motel . . . or the guests having no home? Because she walked into my life long before she stepped out of that limo.
Was he crazy to have fallen in love with a picture? He had to be, because he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind. He picked up another rock from the stack he’d collected and heaved it across the waves.
“Impressive,” came a male voice from behind him. Gerard LeBeaux’s Cajun accent dropped off the first two letters, so all that came out was Pressive. “Flipping ‘em ‘cross the waves. Never done seen that afore.”
He really didn’t want company, but he was getting tired anyway, and it wasn’t like he could stop people from coming to the beach. “The harder you throw, the faster it skips. Want to try?” He turned, trying to be polite, while hoping he didn’t really want to stay.
The old man rubbed his shoulder. “Bursitis. Probably couldn’t pick’n up without droppin’ it.” Gabe nodded and tossed another stone.
“You heard the fight?” He presumed that’s why the old man had come down to talk to him.
“Twasn’t much of a fight, if’n that’s what’cha call it. But a’yup. I did.” He paused for a long moment and they both stared out at the ocean. The scent of the salt air seemed to soothe Gabe. “Ya seem a fool t’me, boy, carryin’ on when she’s just tryin’ to protect ya.”
He turned to look at the side of LeBeaux’s face, but the thick shock of gray hair blowing in the breeze covered all but one eye. If only he would have hair that full and luxurious when he was old. But all of the men in his family had smooth heads by the time they reached fifty. “Protect me? She said she couldn’t live without a salary . . . that she was leaving. How is that protecting me?”
