by Dana Mentink
Manny blinked, a layer of dust blanketing his face. “Takes someone special to see the beauty inside the beast.” He sighed. “Your mother could always do that. Loved me, ugly parts and all.”
It struck her like a blow, emotion so strong she couldn’t breathe. To glimpse her mother and father through a different lens that revealed them to be two people she did not fully know. Katy, the love of Manny’s life. Katy, her mother.
How she missed her with every breath and every beat of her heart. Drunk, weak, unstable, an absolute disaster of a parent. Yet there was a hole in Rosa’s heart the exact size of Katy Elizabeth Franco. Did her father have a hole like that in his own heart? The longing in his eyes felt like a blade in her chest. Throat thick, she blinked furiously and turned away. “I’d better get busy.”
Though Rosa began meticulously spreading tarps to protect the floor and furniture, she found her fingers were not as steady as she desired. She managed to dribble primer on the back of her hand. And passing the small mirror on her way to retrieve more primer, she was aghast to find white paint streaked across her cheek. “Oh, man.”
“Rosa?” Cy called. “Come here a minute, can you?”
She arrived at the window seat in time to see both Cy and Manny leaning down, in postures of acute concentration.
Cy held a finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.
She listened. A soft scrabbling noise emanated from the window seat. “Oh, no. That’s not a rat, is it? How could a rat get in there?”
“From underneath in the crawl space,” Cy suggested. “Could have found a way up from there.”
Manny climbed up on the nearest chair. “We’ll have to call someone. An exterminator or zookeeper or something,” he announced from her perch. “I hate rats.”
“Now let’s not panic,” Cy said, “until we know what we’re dealing with.” He applied a crowbar gently to the rotted wood.
Manny tensed. “No, Cy. It could get out.”
The front door opened and Bitsy came in, glowing in a sapphire sweater set Rosa had not seen before. She ushered in a wiry man with a notebook and camera. She glanced at Manny on the chair. “Uh, Mr. Finley, this is Rosa and Cy, the owners of Dollars and Sense Design, and their assistant, Manny.” She smiled wanly. “Everyone, this is Mr. Finley, a local reporter who’s doing an article for the Pacific Trail newspaper about the contest.”
Inwardly, Rosa groaned, eyeing her father standing on a chair, hammer held like a sword in front of him. Smiling wide, she went for charming. “Well, hello, Mr. Finley. We’re just working through a construction snafu.”
By way of greeting, he aimed the camera and snapped a picture. “Interesting decorating technique,” he said with a grin. “Does it help to stand on a chair?”
“Actually...” Rosa began just as Cy pulled up a corner of the rotted board, which broke in half as it came away. The events unrolled like some nutty Three Stooges vignette. Something rodent-like shot out of the dark space below, tail unfurled as it raced from the window seat and pelted under the dining room table. Bitsy screamed and the reporter dropped his notebook. Baggy poked a nose from under the sofa and barked while Manny stood paralyzed. Showing his typical unflappable calm, Cy loped to the door and flung it open.
The squirrel ran directly into a wall, tumbled over backward and immediately righted itself, tottering dizzily toward the open front door. It darted right between the legs of Pike and a heavy man who had just appeared in the doorway. Both of their mouths rounded into identical Os.
Pike stared. “What is going on here?’
“A squirrel.” Rosa cleared her throat and tried again. “There was a squirrel in the window seat, and a reporter. But he’s not in the window seat.” She gestured to Finley.
Mr. Finley nodded at Pike and the visitor.
Somewhere in between her hammering heartbeats and conversational gibberish, Rosa managed to wipe her hands on her jeans and try again.
“I’m Rosa Franco,” she said, introducing herself for the second time and offering her hand to the plump man in the doorway with a shining bald head. There was no hope of salvaging the absurd situation, so she determined to sail forward as if the unfortunate squirrel fiasco had never happened.
He chuckled, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Fred Lassiter.”
“Lassiter?”
“This is Eva Lassiter’s father,” Pike explained.
“That’s right. You’re an architect. Curious about the decorating project?”
Mr. Lassiter lifted an eyebrow and shot a glance at Pike. “Er, actually...”
“Actually what?” Manny said.
Pike cleared his throat. “Mr. Lassiter is going to buy the Pelican.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE ROOM FELL so silent that Rosa could hear the distant crashing of waves.
“Buy the Pelican?” Bitsy echoed. “I didn’t think it would happen so fast.”
Rosa felt her stomach settle to her feet. She forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Are you interested in innkeeping, Mr. Lassiter?”
He shook his head. “No, no. I’m a businessman, not a genial host, I’m afraid.”
“Then why do you want the inn?” Rosa blurted out.
“That’s really not an appropriate question.” Pike flashed her a warning look.
“That’s the catch, you see. I don’t actually want the inn,” Lassiter said. “Not to offend—it’s a lovely building and all that, but it’s the land that’s precious. The view is unbeatable. Best ocean property on the coast.” His face shone with enthusiasm. “We’ll build something modern that blends in with the surroundings. My wife, Meg, has always coveted an ocean view.”
“But...but what will happen to the Pelican?” Bitsy stammered. Manny stepped off the chair and moved next to her, settling a comforting arm around her shoulders.
Mr. Lassiter cleared his throat and slid his gaze to Pike. “I thought we were all on the same page here.”
“We are,” Pike said. “The Pelican must be sold.”
“Sold,” Bitsy said. “But it sounds like Mr. Lassiter is talking about tearing it down.”
Lassiter shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe we should discuss the details back at my Realtor’s office.”
“Yes,” Pike said, relief washing over his features. “Let’s do that.”
Rosa hardly took note of the reporter who had strolled to the window seat after the hasty squirrel departure. “Would you look at that....” he mumbled.
Cy hovered close, craning to see as Finley reached in a hand.
Rosa’s mind reeled. The whole situation had to be some sort of bad dream. Was it really all finished? The project that would launch Dollars and Sense and repay Bitsy for her selfless devotion? She tried to find a hopeful thought to hang on to, to anchor her against the storm that had just destroyed her dreams. How could it be gone? She stared at Pike, her eyes burning.
How could you do it?
He returned her gaze with an expression that was part sorrow and part steel, which only infuriated her all the more. He had no right to be sorry, the man who had no skin in this game. What did her life goal matter to him?
“Rosa,” Cy said, in a tone that indicated it was not the first time he’d tried to get her attention.
She tore her gaze from the traitorous Pike to find Finley holding a crumpled piece of paper up to the light that streamed through the window, illuminating the brittle, yellowed scrap.
“My Dearest Irene...” he read.
“What is that?” Bitsy asked, her fingers clasped around Manny’s sheltering arm.
Finley continued.
My Dearest Irene,
Here we have camped for five weeks on this dreaded isthmus, rank with mosquitos and hardly enough food to feed us, wait
ing for that promised ship to take us to the Eldorado of the west...
“There’s a part torn out there...then it continues.”
...and I long for the days when we will be reunited. When I see those green hills of San Francisco Bay, my love, I know it will mean that I have found a new home for us, a new hope.
Finley broke off, squinting at the paper. A smile drifted over his thin face. “This is a love letter from Harold Herzberg to his wife. It’s dated 1854. Down at the bottom he talks about building her a little house by the sea when he makes his fortune in the gold fields.”
Bitsy let out a soft squeak. “And it was in the window seat all this time? How terribly romantic.”
Cy peered again into the dark space he had opened with his crowbar. “There’s a whole bunch of letters down there. Some are pretty torn up. The squirrel was using them for nesting material.” He laughed. “This is a historical treasure trove. Like a museum with a squirrel as curator.”
Finley laid the paper gingerly on the sofa and began taking a stream of pictures, mumbling to himself all the while. “This is incredible. I thought it was going to be a fluff story, but with bona fide love letters, we’re talking a feature.” He tuned them out and began shifting the letter this way and that to maximize the lighting.
“There’s a newspaper article in the offing?” Lassiter said. “About the Pelican?”
Finley looked up. “Yeah. Did you say you’re going to buy the inn and tear it down?”
“Yes, he did,” Rosa interjected quickly. “He’s going to tear down Mr. Herzberg’s house, the one he built for Irene.” She shook her head. “That’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Can I get a quote on that, Mr. Lassiter?” Finley said, reaching for his notebook.
“Not at this time,” Pike said, leading Lassiter to the door. They spoke quietly for a moment and Lassiter waved a good-bye and left. Pike glowered at Rosa. “May I speak to you? Outside?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “I think that would be an excellent idea.”
They left Bitsy and the others extracting the crumpled letters from the window seat as they stepped onto the front porch in time to see Mr. Lassiter’s BMW disappearing down the drive.
“How could you?” Rosa said. “Sell the place out from under Bitsy? A historic home where...”
He held up a finger. “Don’t even start on that Irene love letter thing. You didn’t know about that, either, until two minutes ago.” Fire kindled deep in his eyes. “We have to sell this inn, and I’ve been telling you that all along. Mr. Lassiter is eager to nail down the deal right now, and letters in the dining room nook aren’t going to change that.”
“It’s a window seat.”
“Whatever.” He let out a gusty breath. “Listen, Rosa. I’m not the villain, no matter what you think. Bitsy needs this deal to go through.”
“Not right now she doesn’t,” Rosa said through gritted teeth. “She told you as much. You’re the one pushing it.”
“Yeah, you said that before. Urging her to sell for my own greedy motives. Well, what about your selfishness, Ms. Franco? Did you ever stop for a split second to consider that part of the equation?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Your primary motive for being here and paying any attention to this decrepit inn is to benefit your business.”
“It’s not...” She broke off, seething.
“Oh, yes, it is. This inn is an opportunity for Dollars and Sense Design which you intend to fully exploit, don’t you? For the betterment of your personal financial picture. Go ahead and deny it, if you can.”
She ground her teeth together. What did he know about her business? The only way she could prove that she had resurrected the ruined part of her life? “I’m not going to let you interrogate me, Pike.”
“No answer. That’s what I thought, so why don’t you ease up on the self-righteous stuff and finger pointing and don’t make things hard with Mr. Lassiter.”
“Is that why you’ve spent all that time kissing up to his daughter? To land a position at her uncle’s outfit?”
“Why?” he fired back. “Jealous that I’m spending time with Eva?”
“Jealous?” she sputtered. “Why would I be jealous? I feel sorry for Eva, hanging out with someone trying to strong-arm my aunt.”
“She’s not even your aunt.” The words exploded out of him.
“You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” Rosa shouted back.
“Is it time for you to go get a stapler to throw at me, like you did in high school?”
“You deserved that for what you put in my locker, and for your information, I’ve changed since high school.”
“Still seem like the same hot-tempered, impulsive girl to me. Always trying to prove something.”
“Well you have a lot to prove, too, Pike, because you were a jerk in high school and I’m beginning to think that part hasn’t changed.”
He clamped his lips together and stared at the ground, hands on hips. She could not help thinking, through her red haze of anger, that he resembled James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause, though she wished an uglier movie star had come to mind.
“All right, that’s enough shouting. People in town can hear you and I don’t want a scandal. Pike’s not at fault here,” Bitsy said, stepping onto the porch. Cy and Manny stood behind her. “He has been trying so hard to save me from myself and at the same time to protect my dignity.” She kissed Pike on the cheek. His mouth twitched, but he did not respond.
“I might as well tell you everything.” Bitsy sucked in a deep breath. “The truth is, I’m deeply in debt. I’ve taken out a second mortgage on this place and I can’t afford the payments anymore.” Cy took her hand and she pressed it to her cheek. “I can hardly believe it’s come to this. There was always time enough to try to fix things, at least that’s what I thought.”
“Oh, Bitsy,” Rosa whispered. “What happened? The inn has always drawn visitors.”
“Leopold and I...accumulated debts. I did my best to pay them off after he died, but we’d gone through all of our savings and there was little left.”
“That skunk,” Manny said. “Should have provided for you.”
“I won’t have that kind of talk.” She spoke sharply. “Leo was a good man in many ways. He always treated me like a queen, gave me the finest of everything.” She leveled a strong look at Manny. “He cheerfully agreed to take in Rosa and Cy. Leo and I made some bad decisions along the way—you should understand that.”
Manny sighed. “Yes, I do understand. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have shot off my mouth. Just hate to see the mess he’s left for you. How hard it’s gonna be for you to unload it all.”
Bitsy’s eyes lingered on his for a while. This time, her breath came out in a wistful sigh. “I’ve got plenty of financial burdens, but there are good memories, too. We took on this old wrecked Pelican together. Leo loved this inn, especially Captain’s Nest. He used to drag me up to that dusty place and say, ‘Look Bitsy. The whole ocean belongs to us.’ And the funny thing is, he could almost make me believe it.” Her voice wobbled and she cleared her throat. “Anyway, Pike knows that I cannot keep going much longer, and physically...”
Rosa’s breath caught. “Are you...?”
She smiled. “No, I’ve not contracted a deadly disease, other than advanced age. I’ve had some dizzy spells and trouble with high blood pressure, and the doctor’s sage advice was that I need to reduce my stress. Normally I go shopping, but that doesn’t seem to be solving the problem, so Pike agreed to arrange for the sale of the Pelican. He’s going to help me find a little place I can rent, too, maybe, but I haven’t made it easy for him. I entered the inn in this contest, which he advised against, because I thought it would take months to sell the Pelican. I guess in the back of my mind I thought maybe something magical wo
uld come out of it and we’d win and the problems would go away.” Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “Now I’ve got your hopes up and the Pelican will be sold and we’ll have to withdraw from the contest. I’m so sorry, Rosa. I’m so, so sorry.”
Rosa went to her then, cradling the sobbing woman. Cy put his arms around both of them. Bitsy’s grief washed through Rosa. She knew she had been selfish, so absorbed with the idea of what she could accomplish she hadn’t taken the time to find out about Bitsy’s sorrows. Financial ruin was just one more thing they could share.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “You were trying to help me, just like always.”
“Don’t give up, yet, Aunt Bitsy. We’ll make it work somehow.” Cy pressed a kiss to Bitsy’s forehead and left the women to their embrace. “Come on, Manny. Let’s see if we fished out all the letters for Finley to photograph.”
Rosa held Bitsy and they cried together. Pike turned away and went to a bench at the end of the bluff, gazing out across the ocean. When the tears were all spent, Rosa wiped her sleeve across her damp face.
“The contest isn’t important now. We’ll help you clean up and pack and we can decorate your new place.” Each word stung as it emerged, as she let go of her dream one syllable at a time. She would say goodbye to Dollars and Sense Design and the Pelican, just as she had to law school.
The well of despair deepened as she recalled the most painful ending of all, the moment when Rosa stood over her mother’s grave and realized, with excruciating clarity, that every remaining day of her life would have to be lived without her mother.
As she struggled against the anguish, she took Bitsy’s hand. The loss of the Pelican would be much more severe for Bitsy and she must not add to the woman’s grief. Thinking about her aunt, the grande dame of Tumbledown, settling into a dreary rented apartment was too much.
“You go in and start the teakettle,” Rosa said. “I’ll be in in a minute and we’ll make a plan, okay?”
