by Dana Mentink
“Need help?”
“We just had a little accident. We’re handling it.”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll try to come back later if we can.”
“Who are you?” Rosa asked.
“Walt, from Great Escapes. Doing a taped piece with each of the decorators to air on our website.” He squinted and scratched his eyebrow. “We scheduled it two weeks ago.”
Rosa stifled a groan. An interview. Of course. She’d forgotten. Some desperately needed publicity. “How about later today?”
He looked at his watch. “Could do one o’clock, but that’s about the latest.”
Rosa did some mental calculations. It was eleven thirty. She could make it work. “Let’s do it. I’ll meet you back here at one.”
“Why don’t we make it quarter after. Give you time to spruce up.”
Mortification burned through her. “Yes,” she said, nodding through the beekeeping hat. “That would be lovely.”
She thought she heard the driver chuckling as he drove away. Perfect.
* * *
ROSA MISSED THREE CALLS from Pike before she remembered her phone was set to silent. On her way back to the Pelican, she listened to his increasingly aggravated voice mails. When the phone rang again, she answered it and filled him in.
“It’s broken, all right, unfortunately. I feel terrible that I crippled my own aunt. They’re going to keep her in the hospital until the orthopedist can cast it. Manny and Cy are staying with her, but I’m going back to the inn for that interview with the Great Escapes people.”
Pike sighed. “Okay.”
The flatness of his tone was worrisome. “How did your meeting go with Sterling?”
“It didn’t. He canceled.”
“Can you reschedule?”
“No need. He’s retiring. Going to travel around the world. He’s selling the firm to Foster Pardee and Foster’s bringing in his own people.”
Not surprising. She kept the comment to herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. I’ll change and come over to help.”
“You don’t have to do that if there are work things you need to do.”
“Honestly, Rosa, the only thing I can do right now is get that inn together and get it sold. My law career might be at an end sooner than I thought.”
They disconnected and she finished the drive in a flutter of strange emotion. Had it really been just nine days since she’d arrived in Tumbledown and Pike fell off the roof at her feet? She hadn’t wanted to be in the same airspace as Pike then, and now she found herself disappointed for him. Was that it? Disappointment that he hadn’t gotten the position he had long pursued? Simple disappointment didn’t explain the dull ache in her heart when he wasn’t around, or the rush of excitement she experienced at the sight of him.
She brushed the thought away and hurried through a two-minute shower and a quick change of clothes. A brush of her hair and swipe of lipstick and she was ready to meet Walt, who arrived at one fifteen on the dot.
He introduced her to Drew, his cameraman. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you respond as you see fit,” Walter said. “Then we’ll do some shots of....” He broke off as he took in the spilled lake of stain absorbed by soggy newspapers. His gaze traveled to the gaping hole in the sitting room wall and landed finally on the unfinished window seat. “Er, maybe we can shoot outside in the garden if the next rain shower holds off.”
“Of course,” Rosa said brightly.
The rain cooperated and Rosa presented her cheerful best to the camera. A few minutes into the interview, she noticed Pike had wandered into the garden, hanging back behind the winding clematis vine.
“So, why interior decorating?” Walt asked.
She blinked. “Why?”
“Yes,” he said. “Of all the occupations to pursue, why did you settle on home decorating?”
Rosa considered her business plan, the decorating philosophies she’d studied, the careers she’d considered and rejected, her disastrous attempt at law school. She sought an educated answer, the words of a polished professional. Instead, she flashed on Bitsy and the wrecked old house that had salvaged a wrecked childhood. “Because there’s nothing more important on this earth than home,” she said. At that moment, the rain began to fall in fat drops, sending them all scurrying inside.
Walt shook her hand. “Appreciate your time.”
“But I could elaborate on that last answer,” Rosa tried. “It was too brief—I’m sure I can do better.”
Walter gathered up his clipboard. “No need. We’ve got enough.”
“But...” she tried again.
“We’ll let you know when it airs.”
“Maybe we could stick with some shots of the dining area. We’ve started to repaint the wainscoting, and it’s not too torn up.”
Walt gave her a final smile and walked out the door with his cameraman in tow. “Good luck.”
Rosa collapsed on a kitchen chair. “What a disaster. There isn’t a single room of this inn that isn’t a mess.”
“The other places might be just as bad.” Pike looked around. “Maybe.”
She slapped her palms on the table. “Is this contest worth it? I mean, Aunt Bitsy now has a completely torn-up inn and a broken ankle because of it. I’m supposed to be helping her, and now everything’s in tatters.”
Pike took her hand. “The bees would have been a problem anyway, and the ankle? Well, in the eyes of the law, you’re not liable.”
“Thanks, counselor, but why couldn’t I think of anything better to say than ‘there’s nothing more important than home?’” She dropped her head onto her arms. “I sound like Dorothy Gale.”
“Actually,” Pike said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “That was the best bit in the whole interview.”
For a moment, she was calm and content, the way she felt when she finished decorating a house and found she’d created a home. Quickly, she got to her feet before the feeling could grow wings inside her heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PIKE AND ROSA drove back to the hospital in the late afternoon, toting a bouquet of carnations. Bitsy was in better spirits, her ankle supported by a temporary cast. She had already learned the names of the shift nurses and the raft of doctors who had examined her, and she’d inquired about borrowing a hairbrush until one could be brought from home. Manny stayed at her side, offering sips of water and adjusting her blankets as needed. Judging by Pike’s creased forehead, he was not happy to see Manny’s attentions to his aunt, but he didn’t comment.
“You’ll have to get along without me for a few days,” Bitsy said to Rosa. “But at least all these gentlemen will be there to see you through.”
“Not me. I’m gonna stay here with you,” Manny announced. “Cy and your nephew can work at the inn.”
“We don’t allow overnight guests,” said a nurse as she checked Bitsy’s chart. “You can come back tomorrow afternoon for visiting hours.”
Manny huffed. “I’ve never been told to leave. I’ve always been allowed to stay the night.”
The nurse paused. “Have you been here before?”
Manny looked confused, scanning the room as if he had only just arrived. “I’m pretty sure,” he mumbled.
“No problem,” Cy said, offering the nurse a high-wattage smile. “We’ll bring him back tomorrow.”
Manny scowled, but Bitsy put a palm on his chest. “Manny, honey, they’ll need your help to finish the drywalling back at the Pelican. I’ll be fine. Come and see me tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be all right here by myself. Rosa brought my toiletries and a nice robe to replace this potato sack, so I’m all set.” She pointed to her cell phone on the bedside table. “See? You’re only a phone call away if I need anything else.”
Rosa urged
him to the door. “Please, Dad. Let’s go.” She blew a kiss at Bitsy. “I’m sorry, Aunt Bitsy. For everything. It’s my fault you’re here.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” she called. “Accidents happen, don’t they? Go home and take care of each other and win that contest.”
Rosa wanted to say more, to convey how terrible she felt that Bitsy was injured.
Bitsy raised her pointer finger and put it to her heart, the sign she’d used with Rosa to tell her, when teenage angst would not permit it to be spoken aloud, that there was love between them. Rosa did the same, unshed tears burning her eyelids.
Back in the car, Cy was uncharacteristically silent and Rosa knew he was thinking about Manny. Did the endless corridors and curtained rooms take her father back to the time when their mother had lingered, her life prolonged but not improved?
Manny stared out the window. “Hospitals smell funny. Something they use to clean ’em. Why do they use stuff that smells like that?”
No one answered. Rosa suspected that it was not simply the cleaner, but the smell of joy and fear, love and loss, that mingled together and permeated every inch of hospital space in a fragrant funk.
The storm was kicking up by the time they returned. Wind rattled the weather vane and sent leaves skittering across the roof.
“Shingle’s loose,” Manny said, pointing to a spot near the peak. “Promised your mother I would fix it. Better get to it before the storm hits. Ladder still in the shed, Cy?”
Rosa felt a surge of terror. Her father was once again slipping away in front of her eyes. “Not tonight, Dad. It’s late.”
He shrugged. “Okay, but your mom’s not going to like it.”
Pike opened the door for Rosa and Manny. “I’ll cook us some dinner,” he said.
“You don’t need to,” Rosa told him.
He shrugged. “Give me a half hour and stay out of the way.”
Rosa was grateful. With her father plopped on the sitting room sofa, she was happy to have the time to clean up the stain and gather the pieces of Sheetrock scattered around. She found the screwdriver where it had been kicked into a corner, and Cy helped her finish installing the curtain rods. Baggy came to check out their progress, but his happy-go-lucky personality was altered by the thunder. With each rumble, he cringed, tail tucked, ears flattened.
“Baggy’s got a thunder phobia,” Cy said.
A dog with mental problems, Rosa thought. He fits right in to the Freako Franco family. She tucked Baggy under her arm as she tidied up what she could.
Rocky had spent the time while they were in the emergency room scraping out honeycomb from the sitting room wall. He and Stu joined them at the dinner table as Pike served up cheese omelets, sourdough toast and cubed melon.
“Good stuff,” Cy said as he ate.
Manny picked at his food, and Rosa wasn’t sure if it was because he lacked an appetite or the fact that Pike had prepared it.
The storm obliterated the waning sun, so Manny switched on the kitchen light.
“Problem,” Rocky said, after he’d forked in a few mouthfuls and drained a full glass of ice water.
“Another one?” Cy shook his head. “What now?”
“Comb reaches up into the wall of Captain’s Nest.”
Rosa blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I saw it from the upstairs bathroom after I cut the hole in the ceiling. ”
“Those are really ambitious bees,” Pike said.
Rosa sighed. “Well, the room isn’t part of the contest, anyway. At least you can work on getting it out while we repair the damage down here.”
He fiddled with his napkin. “Dunno if she’d want that.”
“Aunt Bitsy? She wants the honeycomb gone, that’s for sure.” Pike assured him. “Take it out.”
He grimaced. “She doesn’t want anyone in Captain’s Nest.”
“I’m sure that doesn’t apply to bee removal.” Rosa wiped her mouth with a paper napkin.
Rocky didn’t answer.
“How about you fix what you can,” Pike said. “From the outside, without opening up the Nest. Would that work?”
“Probably get to it from the attic side. It’ll take longer and I’ll have to remove more Sheetrock to find it.”
“This is ridiculous,” Rosa said. “If there are bees making nests in the walls, they need to be removed in the most efficient manner. Unlock Captain’s Nest and then you can take care of it easily.”
He shook his head.
“She doesn’t have bodies up there, Rocky,” Rosa griped. “Or bars of gold, does she?”
“People got their reasons. I’ll get it from the attic side. Or I’ll leave it there until Bitsy comes back. Doesn’t seem right to call and bother her with it while she’s in the hospital.”
“And risk the bees returning? You said they might do that.” Rosa shuddered, looking at Pike, who lifted a shoulder.
“Rocky needs to do what he thinks is right.”
“I don’t understand this at all.” Rosa pushed the remnants of her omelet away, frayed nerves tingling. “Whatever Aunt Bitsy has packed away up there, it can’t be worth tearing up another section of the house. That’s ridiculous.”
Cy raised a hand. “This isn’t our call.”
“It’s mine,” she said. “I signed a contract to revive this old place, and that’s what I’m going to do. Are any of you on my side in this?”
Pike, Cy, Rocky, Stu and Manny all stared, casting their silent votes against her.
Outnumbered and alone, Rosa bit back an angry comment. “I can’t believe this. Well, Rocky, I guess you’ll have to tear up the attic.” Bitterness swirled inside her. Absolutely nothing had gone right on the project from the beginning. For the first time, she truly doubted they would be able to get the inn finished before the deadline. What about that, Rosa? What if you have to withdraw because Dollars and Sense isn’t good enough?
If you aren’t good enough?
No one seemed to understand what was at stake.
“Come on, Pike,” Cy said. “I’ll wash, you dry.”
Outside, a roll of thunder echoed and Baggy leaped from the floor to her lap. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to work on hanging Stu’s stained glass before anything else goes wrong,” Rosa said.
The lights flickered once and then winked off.
In the darkness, Baggy let out a whine of despair.
“Too late,” Cy said.
* * *
AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES and some careful shuffling around the kitchen, the lights came back on. Pike set about rounding up flashlights as a precaution. Rocky gathered his bucket and tools and headed up to the attic to begin the slow work of destroying yet another room. Rosa wandered back into the kitchen to pour some water into a bowl for Baggy.
“That’s not good for your teeth,” Pike said, handing her a flashlight.
“What’s not good for my teeth?”
“The gnashing. You’re grinding them together, I can tell by your jaw.”
“You’re imagining it.”
“No, I’m not. My mother was a dental hygienist for a while.” He washed the omelet pan. “And you’re wrong to pressure Rocky.”
Wrong? “Easy for you to say.”
“Just relax. It will all work out.”
The frustration of the day spewed forth. “And you can say that why? Your lawyer thing didn’t work out.”
He frowned. “I have other opportunities.”
“But not as good as getting in with Sterling Lassiter. That would make your career. You said so yourself.”
“I shouldn’t have,” he sniped. “My business is mine and I don’t know what possessed me to share. You couldn’t understand, anyway.”
Anger settled deep in her gut
. She couldn’t possibly understand? What arrogance. As if his dreams were so much loftier than hers, Mr. Near-Perfect Score on the SATs.
Rain pattered against the window. Out in the foyer, Manny pushed aside the curtain to look. “Nearly dark. That shingle’s gonna come loose.”
“Don’t worry about it, Pops,” Cy said, casting a worried glance into the kitchen. “Come and help me put the last piece of trim on this window seat. We’ll all feel better if one thing is finished, at least.”
Pike dried a stack of dishes with angry swipes. “The Lassiter thing would have been great. Yes, it would have made things easy. I’ll just have to work harder now, build up my own business, like my father did.”
Rosa put a stack of plates in the cupboard. “But that’s not what you want to do, is it? You’ve been puttering around here all week instead of working at your office because deep down you don’t really want to be there.”
He stared into the sink. “Maybe I just want to be around you, Your Majesty.”
His sarcasm fanned the flames of her anger. “Nope, you can’t wiggle out of it with a flippant remark. You don’t want to be a lawyer, but you think you have to. Why? It’s so important for you to be esteemed?”
“Rosa,” he said, tossing the towel down on the counter. “Why don’t you stay out of my psyche? I’m a lawyer. I chose to go to school and earn that career, and Aunt Bitsy sacrificed her financial well-being to make that happen, so I’m going to be the best lawyer I can be. End of story.”
“That’s duty, not desire.”
“You’re a hypocrite. You wanted the law school thing as much as I did, but you trusted the wrong person and now everyone who tries to get close to you is painted with the same brush.”
Fury engulfed her. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you better than you think. Look what happens when you go running after your desire.” His eyes flashed. “You take on projects you can’t finish with funds you don’t possess. Is that the road to happiness? Broke and frustrated?”
“What happened to ‘it will all work out?’” She fumed. “That’s a lie, isn’t it? You don’t think I can pull it off. You’re just humoring me until this contest is over and you can sell the inn. You never believed I could do it in the first place. You think I’ll fail now, like I did then.”
