“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Garret pulled his hand over his face again and sat back in his chair. “Nothing. It’s just—” He blew out a sigh. “The cash flow thing is frustrating.”
Larissa relaxed back against her chair relief sluicing through her. So that was what bothered him. “Once we talk to Albert we’ll get a better idea of what’s happening,” she assured him. “I know we can make this inn profitable. It was once before, I don’t know why it can’t be again.”
“That’s the trouble isn’t it? We don’t know why.”
Larissa felt the chill again, but dismissed it. Garret was simply expressing frustration she’d been feeling, too.
“What are you working on?” he asked.
Thankful for the diversion she glanced back at the computer screen. “I’m just going over some of the bills and receipts from the scrapbooking conference. Orest usually pays all the bills and takes care of invoicing, but I thought I should start finding out for myself how things work.” She shrugged. “I’m sort of stumbling along here but from what I can see, we should have made a profit from this conference.”
“That’s what we said about Pete’s conference,” Garret ground out. “But that didn’t happen either, according to Orest. I’m not sure we can trust—” Garret stopped, pushing himself to his feet and walking to the window behind Larissa’s desk.
“You’re not sure we can trust him?” Larissa finished Garret’s comment, feeling a twist of disloyalty. “Is that why you wanted the external audit?”
Garret nodded slowly, his back to Larissa, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his suit pants, his coat straining at his broad shoulders. From behind, his hair curled over the collar of his jacket, a dark contrast to the gray of his suit. He rearranged the waves with a quick shove of his hand, then spun around.
“What would you do if you didn’t have the inn?”
Larissa swallowed down her trepidation at his question. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m just curious. You’re so tied up in this place, sometimes it feels like I don’t know where the inn quits and you begin.” He added a smile but it did nothing for Larissa’s equilibrium.
“I feel like this place is a part of me,” she said quietly. “I think I would lose my identity if I had to leave this place.”
“Do you think that’s a good thing? To have your identity so tied up in a place? Especially as a Christian? Shouldn’t your identity be in your faith? In your relationship to God?”
Larissa felt her back stiffen, surprised at Garret’s questions. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think we all need to know who we are and what’s important to us. I think God wants us to have a sense of place. To feel connected. The inn is my home.”
“Not the house you were raised in?” Garret’s quirk of his eyebrow told her how silly that might have sounded.
She shook her head. “No. Not the house. That was just a place to sleep. This was where I spent the most time with my mother.”
“So is this a business for you, or a way to keep your mother’s memory alive?”
Larissa fought down a flicker of disquiet at Garret’s almost harsh tone as his questions mirrored her own uncertainties. Was she just holding on to the inn to keep her mother’s memory alive as Garret said?
She was afraid to ask because to do so felt as if she was being a traitor to her mother’s legacy. Before her mother died, she had asked Larissa to take care of the inn. To make sure it kept going. And she had.
But before she could formulate a response to his rapid-fire questions, Garret made a left to right swipe with his hands as if erasing what he just said. “Sorry. That’s an unfair question.” He shoved his hand through his hair again and released a long, heavy sigh.
Larissa weighed her thoughts, measured her memories as she struggled to find the right way to say what she needed to say. To not let Garret’s questions resurrect the fear that spiraled through her.
“When my mother was dying she asked me to take care of the inn. That’s one of the reasons I want to keep this inn going. The other is that it’s truly a part of me.”
Garret nodded and took a step closer to her. “But when you have to make a business decision, what criteria do you use? Your need to keep your mother’s legacy alive, or the reality of where the inn is going?”
“It’s doing okay. It has to get better and it will but for now, we’re getting by.”
Garret released a cynical laugh. “I don’t want to just ‘get by’,” he said. “I’ve done that enough in my life.”
His words made her uncomfortable. She knew that money was important to Garret. Even though he said he didn’t take ten thousand dollars from her father, he left because of money and his concern that he couldn’t give her enough of it. “Money isn’t everything.”
“No. It isn’t. But try to keep your car on the road without it. Try to put food on the table without it. Try to provide for a family without it.” He stopped there, his hands clenched at his side. He released his fists slowly and flexed his fingers.
She heard the rising anger in her voice and it made her pull back. “I know you’ve had your hardships, Garret. But I also know that this inn isn’t just a business to you, either. I’ve heard you how talk about this place. It means something to you too.” She stopped there, not sure she could keep the fear out of her voice. Or the pleading.
Garret blew out a sigh, then walked over to her. “I’m sorry, Larissa.” He laid his hand on her shoulder, his fingers lightly caressing her neck. “I don’t want us to fight about this.”
“I don’t either.”
He gave her a cautious smile and cupped her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes his own intent, direct, like a laser. “I’ve got to go away for a while.”
She felt a sense of foreboding as he spoke, wondering what happened to the date they were supposed to have tonight. What had come up that he had to cancel?
But pride kept her question unvoiced. Instead she only nodded. “Sure. When will you be back?”
“I’ll stay in touch.”
Again, all she could do was nod at his vague comment. He gave her a quick kiss, which seemed to be more afterthought than caress. Then he straightened and walked away.
Larissa watched him leave, watched as he walked toward the parking lot. Watched as he started his car and drove away without a second glance backward.
Through the open window Larissa heard the burbling of the creek counterpointed by a robin’s cheerful song. She leaned her chin on her cupped hand, waiting for the peace that usually came over her when looking outside.
She thought of all the years she had spent here. Of the changing of the seasons and the plans she had spun and woven around the inn.
She had always imagined that when she got married, it would be here at the inn. She would have a gazebo set up in the large open area just below the patio. She would come in over the bridge, her long white dress trailing behind her. No veil, just a small spray of flowers on one side of her head. Purple orchids and white roses.
She and Alanna had spent hours planning their weddings. The styles of the dress and the colors of the flowers always changed but one thing was constant.
The inn.
At one time she had a clear picture of who would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Then, when Garret left, the man was just a blur in a tuxedo.
But lately...lately she dared give the man a face again. A name. Did she still dare?
On the heels of that question, more came tumbling to the fore.
Why was he asking the questions he had about the inn? What was he planning? Why didn’t he tell her where he was going and what he was doing?
And, even worse, would he come back?
Chapter Fifteen
Larissa kept herself busy in the office the rest of the afternoon. Each time she heard the front door of the inn open, her heart plunged in her chest.
Then the inn door opened again and this time, a few seco
nds later, her office door creaked open and her father stepped into the room.
He gave her a somber look then closed the door behind him. “Do you have a few moments? I’ve something I need to tell you.”
Larissa’s smile froze at the disquiet in his voice. First Garret, now her father? What was going on?
“Sure,” she said, shaking off the sense of foreboding. “What do you need to tell me?”
He didn’t reply right away. Instead he stood by the door, looking around the room, a wistful smile tugging at his mouth.
“You and your mother spent a lot of time in this place,” he said quietly. “I remember how you used to play here while she was working.”
Larissa nodded, remembering how she used to set her dolls up on the floor by the desk while her mother would pay bills and did all the bookkeeping.
Sometimes Larissa would sit on her mother’s lap, and play with the pens and pencils sitting in a cup on the desk. When she grew older, she would do her homework in here. When Larissa started high school, Orest took over the bookkeeping. Then Larissa would help her mother with the housekeeping, supervising the work in the kitchen. Consult with Emily. Help with the ordering.
A wistful smile pulled at Larissa’s mouth.
“You know, some of my best memories of Mom weren’t at home. They were here. In this inn,” Larissa said.
“Your mother’s whole life was wrapped up in this inn,” her father said. “Many memories, that’s for sure.”
The pensive note in his voice and his mournful smile gave her heart a nervous flutter. He was talking about the inn as if it was something in the past. Or something that would soon be in the past.
“Why did you want to talk to me?” she asked, threading her now-chilly fingers together, her smile suddenly forced.
“Did Garret come by after our meeting this morning?”
Larissa nodded, her fingers tightening. The ring her mother had given her dug into her skin.
“Did he tell you what we talked about?”
“We didn’t talk about your meeting.” Which was true. But she wasn’t going to mention what Garret had said to her, waiting to hear what her father would say.
“I wanted to come sooner to talk to you about it, but I had other business to take care of at the mill.” He released a heavy sigh. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but Garret and I talked about selling the inn.”
For a moment all she could do was stare at her father, his words falling like shards of glass from a broken window. She didn’t want to pick them up. To arrange them into something that made sense.
We talked...selling the inn...
Right behind that came an echo of Garret’s question.
What would you do if you didn’t have the inn?
“What did you and Garret decide?” she asked, disappointed to hear how reedy and weak her voice sounded.
Jack eased out a sigh. “Larissa, you have to be realistic. The inn isn’t doing as well as it used to.”
“But we just had two successful conferences and the bookings are up. We’ve got to be making some headway.”
Her dad walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. His reassuring move was an echo of what had happened another time. When Garret had left before.
She shook the déjà vu off. She was just being silly. Garret hadn’t left. He was just...just...
Her mind ticked back to Garret’s preoccupation today. She thought it was because of the finances of the inn. But now?
“I know it’s not what you want to hear but you know what Orest has been telling us. This isn’t working, honey. It’s time to let go.”
The sorrow on her father’s face and threaded through his voice battered at all her insecurities. She didn’t want to believe that Garret would simply turn his back on what they had worked so hard to build.
But she couldn’t dismiss what her father told her either. And on the heels of that came a memory of when Garret first arrived. How he had talked about the inn’s potential. Like it was just another asset. However, she also knew that the inn was not his first choice. That the mill was the prize he’d been gunning for.
Was that what was behind all the questions and now what her father told her? Was the inn simply a jumping point for Garret? Was it always about the mill?
She shook her head to dislodge the renegade thoughts. She couldn’t think here. Couldn’t think at all. Too many emotions too many memories.
“I don’t think I can be here,” she said, her voice breaking.
Her father nodded. “You’ve been working so hard the past couple of months. Sheila can watch the inn for you. You should take a break. Why don’t you just take a couple of days off? I’ll let you know what happens.”
Maybe she should. Maybe she should get away. Get some perspective. Give herself some room.
So she simply nodded, then gave him a quick kiss and left. No reason to stay here. Garret and her father together owned the majority share of the inn anyway. They didn’t need her to make a decision.
She wasn’t necessary at all.
When she got home she made a few phone calls, quickly packed her bags and left.
Two hours later she was pulling up to the parking lot of Lydia Porter’s bed-and-breakfast. Lydia had been a close friend of her mother’s.
She reached for her purse to call her father to tell her where she was and realized that in her rush to leave, she had forgotten her phone back in her apartment.
No matter. She didn’t need to talk to anyone. Didn’t need to find out what Garret and her father were planning. She would know soon enough.
She pulled her suitcase out of the car and walked up to the door, her heart sinking in her chest, memories of her mother’s friendship with Lydia surfacing. The two of them would travel together and twice a year went down to Mexico for what her mother called her ‘spa getaway’.
However Lydia had just stepped out, but the receptionist knew who Larissa was and quickly escorted her to her room.
Larissa tossed the suitcase on the bed and began unpacking. As she did, she pulled out the Bible she had put in her luggage. She had picked it up from the kitchen counter, where she had left it more than a few weeks ago.
Ever since they started getting ready for Pete’s conference.
Guilt weighed on her soul as she lowered herself to the bed, her Bible in her lap. She was quick enough to pray when she wanted something from God.
Lately she hadn’t been reading the Bible. The inn had absorbed all her time and had taken over all her waking thoughts.
And the past few weeks...so had Garret.
His voice now sounded in her head. I don’t know where the inn quits and you begin.
His words crept around the periphery of her mind accompanied by remorse and self-reproach. She had made the inn a huge focus at the cost of her spiritual life. It had kept her busy.
But she wasn’t busy now and, if things went the way her father and Garret seemed to be hinting at, she might not be busy like that again.
She subdued the fear that spiraled up her throat and turned her attention to the Bible.
The pages flew through her fingers as she sought some scrap of comfort. Some portion of peace. She turned and turned and then she came to a marked spot.
Matthew 6. Part of the Sermon on the Mount.
Larissa read and then a verse jumped out at her. A verse so familiar, so well-known, her eyes almost slipped over it without letting its words register. Then one word caught her attention. Treasure.
She read, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moths and vermin destroy.” She stopped there, thinking about the work that had to be done on the inn yet. The slow deterioration of a place that she treasured so much. She eased out a weary smile and carried on. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven where moths and vermin do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
She lowered the Bible, l
etting it rest on her lap as the words slowly seeped into her mind, bringing out other emotions. Had she really made the inn more important in her life than God? Had she really made it her treasure? Had she tried to find her worth in that place instead of in her Lord?
Still holding the Bible open on her lap, she let her thoughts go to a place she had never dared travel.
What would her life be without the inn? As she had told Garret it had been so woven in her life she couldn’t see herself apart from it.
But it wasn’t making money.
She thought of Garret’s comment about trying to provide for a family without money. Was he talking about their future? Or about his past?
She looked back down at the passage. Maybe she had made the inn too much of her “treasure.” Maybe she needed to learn to let go. What was more important? Her promise to her mother? Her changing feelings for Garret? Or her relationship with God?
She lowered her head, pressing her hands against her face. Help me to let go of the things I need to let go of, Lord. Help me to trust in You. Help me store up treasures in heaven. With You. And be with Garret. Watch over him. Keep him safe. She wasn’t sure what else to pray for.
She sat a moment, but then felt restless and headed downstairs. Lydia was still gone so Larissa went into the room often referred to as the library. It was more of a sitting room and a tiny one at that, just off the dining room. A row of shelves lined one wall holding a variety of books that, Larissa was sure, hadn’t changed since she was a kid.
She and her mother would visit here from time to time and Larissa always liked checking the bookshelves in the hope that she would find something to pique her interest.
But the room was in an uproar. Books lay in piles on the floor and on the two small tables that flanked a couple of easy chairs. The chairs were also stacked with books. Obviously Lydia thought it was time for an update. Larissa smiled as she walked through the room, noticing books that she remembered reading as a young girl when her mother would come to visit Lydia.
She ran her fingers along the piles on the table, then, as she turned, noticed a number of older photo albums lying in one corner of the room.
Homecoming Reunion Page 16
