Too late, Connor realized she thought he had underestimated her, too, by rushing to her aid the way he had. “Obviously you’re not wasting your time if this is what you want to do with your life.”
Kristy finished her lemonade and then stalked past him out the door, leaving him to follow at will. They walked across the lobby together, through the dining room toward the lodge kitchen, Kristy talking all the while. “They insisted I take the MCAT.”
“That’s the test you take to get into med school, right?”
She nodded.
Connor knew it was supposed to be a grueling exam that separated those with an aptitude for medicine from those without.
“Anyway—” Kristy walked across the kitchen to the big refrigerator and brought out a pitcher of lemonade to refill her glass “—I was going to do really bad on it, on purpose, just so they would get off my back. But when I went in to the take the test, I couldn’t fail on purpose. It was against my nature to even try.” She scowled, as if resenting her natural inclination to be a good student. “So I did my best and ended up scoring phenomenally high on it.”
Connor wasn’t surprised about that. She was a very bright woman. “Which probably made them want you to become a physician all the more,” he guessed.
“You got it.” Kristy poured him a glass of lemonade, too, and added a few ice cubes. “But I talked them into letting me take a year off after I graduated, to work at a hotel and save money.”
That sounded more like her, Connor thought. “What did your parents think about that?”
Kristy sighed and looked all the more miserable. “They supported my plan only because they thought working in a hotel would cure me of ever wanting to own one.”
Which in turn sounded somewhat like his current plan to induce her to sell out, Connor realized guiltily.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Kristy continued her narrative. “Nevertheless, they kept introducing me to other young med students, hoping some of their ambition would rub off on me, and to their delight, I actually clicked with one of them.”
“Lance.”
“Right. I married him before the year was out and got pregnant with the twins right away.”
Connor felt that should have made her family happy, but he could tell by her disgruntled expression it hadn’t done anything of the sort. He regarded her curiously. “That didn’t stop the campaign to get you into med school?”
“Nope.” Kristy looked into his eyes as if searching for the understanding she had not gotten anywhere else. “Not that I really ever thought it would,” she admitted with a candid shrug. “My mother had always worked. She only took six weeks off with each of her three pregnancies. But I wanted to stay home with my babies,” Kristy said passionately. She paused, shook her head, before going on in a low voice tinged with frustration. “My mother and father didn’t understand my desire to be a homemaker when I could be out saving the world. But I knew I had to be home with them, just as I know now that I have to strike out on my own. Don’t you see, this is my chance to prove to myself and everyone else that I have what it takes to run a top-notch beachfront resort.”
More important, Connor thought, this was a part of her long-held dream she had never had a chance to pursue. “So when your aunt died last spring and left you this place, it was a perfect opportunity, right?” he asked, letting her know he did understand now. Maybe more than he, or his conscience, would have wanted…
Kristy beamed with pleasure and enthusiasm. “I knew I had to run it. Get it back to its former glory, the friendly, fun family place it was when I was a kid.”
And she was doing just that. With or without his help, Connor noted. For the first time since stepping foot on her property, he saw that this association of theirs might not have the ending either one of them had expected. But maybe that wasn’t so bad, either, he mused, as long as when this situation finally got resolved, once and for all, they both were better for having crossed paths.
In the meantime, though, a lot had been done today that she hadn’t even viewed. And it was time that much, at least, was remedied, Connor decided. He reached over and took her arm. “Speaking of restoration…how about coming down to see the paint job now that it’s finished?”
KRISTY HELD ON TO HER lingering feelings of self-righteousness as they walked across the lobby, down the hall and into the north wing. But the moment they entered and she got her first glimpse of the transformation the crews had worked in just one day, her resentment faded. “Oh, Connor,” Kristy breathed.
It was beautiful. Better yet, it looked brand-new, and yet had so much old-fashioned charm. Their guests were going to love it.
“The new paint smell is pretty heavy,” Connor warned. He searched her eyes for approval. “We’re going to have to leave the windows open all night for ventilation.”
Kristy waved off his concern. “That’s all right.”
Connor directed her gaze downward. “What do you think about the floors?”
The hardwood glowed with the warm patina that comes with aged oak. There were pockmarks here and there, but they only added to the charm of the floors, Kristy decided with a grin. “They look stylishly distressed, don’t they?” She had seen someone on the home-and-garden channel on TV make floors look like this with three days intensive labor.
Connor nodded. “One of the flooring people who helped tear up the carpet suggested they just wash and wax them, for now. I was skeptical, but now that it’s done, I have to say I think what they did does look really good.”
“I agree. With the colors of the walls and the white woodwork, the weathered look of the floors is perfect.”
Being careful to stay away from the still-damp walls, Connor continued helpfully, “The flooring guy also suggested you think about some colorful rag or braided rugs.”
Kristy considered that. “I may just do that when I can afford it. For now, though, I think we’ll have to go with just washing all the windows and putting the drapes back up. We’ll see how it looks then.”
Connor nodded in approval as they continued to inspect all the work that, thanks to him, had been done that day.
“I hate to say it,” Kristy said as she walked from room to room, inspecting the incredibly beautiful paint job, admiring how fresh and pretty it made the formerly drab and dingy guest rooms. She turned back to Connor reluctantly, knowing she owed him more than money; she owed him an apology. “You were right to insist we do this. It’s going to make all the difference in the world to the conference guests coming in next week.”
Which in turn would lead to even more bookings.
“As soon as we get the rooms put back together, I’m going to take some pictures for the brochures I’m sending out,” she confided.
“Daisy could probably do that for you,” Connor suggested.
Kristy had been planning to call her, since Daisy was not only her friend, but a very talented photographer in her own right who specialized in working with small-business owners. “I just wish I could get a business loan and pay you back and finish the rest of the hotel now.”
“Why can’t you—if that’s what you really want?”
Kristy had the feeling Connor wasn’t just playing devil’s advocate with her, and that he already knew the answer to that. There were really no secrets in a business community the size of Charleston’s. “Because,” she said quietly, feeling herself begin to grow anxious again as talk turned to the mountain of problems she faced, “as I’m sure you and your partner, Skip, already know, this place has been going downhill for years and is currently mortgaged to the hilt.”
Connor frowned. “If you had a business plan—”
Kristy held up a silencing hand. “I tried that. Let’s just say in the current economic climate, the banks want to make sure they will get their money back before they fork over money for renovation on the scale we’re talking. Plus, they also know you and Skip and that group of investors you’ve lined up are standing in the wings, waiting for me to fail so
you can purchase this property, tear down the Paradise Resort and put up a luxury, hurricane-proof condominium community in its place.”
To Kristy’s disappointment, Connor looked a little guilty at that. “Maybe if you brought them out, showed them what you’ve managed to do over the summer and fall—”
“The banks are still going to want some sort of collateral for that and I just don’t have it.”
“Surely your husband left you—”
“A lot of debt and not nearly enough insurance. I’ve already used a great deal of what I had left getting the outside of the cottages and the lodge professionally painted. I did as much of the interior work as I could myself, of course, but there were things, like the leaks in the roof, that required immediate attention, and I had to pay cash for those.”
Connor studied her, concern sharpening the planes of his handsome face. “So how close to the edge are you?” he asked.
Kristy’s lips curved into a cynical smile as she related, “I need to turn a profit by the end of this year or I really will be forced to sell. So you see, Connor,” she said softly, feeling hopelessly discouraged once again, “all you really ever had to do was play the waiting game. It might be yours to tear down, anyway.”
KRISTY WAS TELLING HIM what he wanted to hear. What he had been aiming for all along. But strangely, Connor was no longer enthused about the development project he and Skip had put together. He, like Kristy, was more interested in restoring the grand old lodge to its former glory. And then some. And that was a surprise. Connor had never put much stock in things that were old versus things that were new. For him, it had always been about getting down to the bottom line to serve all involved. “How did it get so run-down, anyway?” he asked compassionately as they left the wing.
Kristy shrugged and, as if on a whim, escorted him into the other wings, which were in even worse shape than the one they had been working on so hard. “For one thing, my aunt was getting older,” she said, as they walked down one dingy hall after another. “She didn’t have the energy to compete with some of the big outfits that have come in and built modern resorts and golf courses.”
Connor could understand that. Most of the new places were pretty luxurious. “You had no idea of the condition of the rooms?”
“She told me the last time I was here—two summers ago, with Lance and the girls—that she was going to begin closing a wing down every winter during the off-season, in January and February, to redecorate. I assumed she had done so, but I didn’t come back that first summer after Lance died. It was just too painful, so the girls and I went to Washington, D.C., to vacation instead. You know, just trying to do something different. Educational. Then my aunt fell ill, but she didn’t want to worry anyone, so she didn’t mention it, and the place fell apart even more. I had planned to come back again last summer, but before I could, my aunt died. And left the place to me.”
Connor looped a hand around Kristy’s waist as they walked along. “Were you her favorite?”
She moved in companionably close. Her glossy, clean hair brushed his chin as she turned her face up to his. “She said I was the only one in the family who had ever understood what this place meant or could come to mean to generations of families. She knew it was in bad shape, but she thought—hoped—I had the talent to put it together again, the way she had after her husband died, years ago. She entrusted Paradise Resort to me, Connor. And I am not—I repeat, not—going to let her down,” she said determinedly. “Not if I can help it.”
Chapter Nine
“Mommy, can you braid my hair today?” Sally asked as she sauntered into the cozy sitting room of their apartment, carrying her father’s old beach towel. She was dressed in her usual dress and ruffled pinafore.
Susie came in right behind her, wearing a pair of coveralls suitable for roughhousing, and a T-shirt, her daddy’s old Frisbee clutched in one hand.
“You sure you don’t want curls?” Kristy asked Sally curiously. As per their usual routine, she already had the electric rollers heating, so she could make the spiral curls Sally loved.
“No. I think I want to wear my hair in a French braid today,” Sally announced as she sat down in front of her mom.
“Well, I want pigtails,” Susie said, as she waited her turn. “Only I want ribbons on ’em. Is that okay, Mommy?” She pulled hair adornments that only Sally usually wore from her pocket.
“Sure.” Kristy smiled, pleased to see her ultradressy little princess, Sally, going a little more casual, while her determined little tomboy, Susie, was becoming a tad more feminine. That meant her talk with them on the beach the other day had cleared up at least some of their misconceptions about what their father—and she—had wanted and expected from them. Kristy wanted her girls to embrace all aspects of themselves and their personalities, but she wanted them to do it on their own terms and time schedule. She wanted them to be free to become whoever, whatever they wanted to be, and not be pushed in a single direction the way she had been while growing up.
As she reached for a hairbrush, Kristy switched on the TV. Bypassing the usual Saturday morning kid shows, she turned to the Weather Channel to get the latest on Imogene. She frowned as she saw it had been upgraded to a hurricane overnight, with winds strengthening to seventy-five miles per hour as it pushed past Jamaica, toward the Cayman Islands. The Weather Channel showed the several dozen houses it had damaged as it swept past the far western edges of the island before continuing on out to sea, where it was still slowly but surely gathering strength. “Is Imogene going to come here?” Susie asked.
Kristy patted her shoulder reassuringly, while Sally cuddled closer to her. “I don’t know, honey. You know how it is with these storms—”
“One minute they’re a hurricane—” Sally grinned.
“Then the next they’re a tropical storm again,” Susie stated.
“One minute they’re headed toward us—” Kristy continued.
“The next they’re headed away from us,” Susie and Sally said in unison.
Kristy shrugged. “So we’ll just have to wait and see. But most of these storms don’t amount to much more than a few days of rain for us. You girls know that.”
They nodded. Having gotten the weather update she wanted, Kristy changed the channel to a Saturday morning children’s show.
Their apprehension swiftly forgotten, the girls began watching raptly. Kristy had just finished fixing their hair when a knock sounded on the door. Susie hopped up to get it.
“It’s Connor!” she announced happily, as she ushered him in.
Connor was wearing another T-shirt, with the logo of a local charity emblazoned across the front, and jeans that fit just as well as the ones he’d had on the day before. He had the now paint-stained Carolina Storm cap she had given him looped through his belt, for wearing later. The enticing fragrance of soap clung to his skin. “I hope it’s not too early,” he said, flashing her an easy grin. “But Winnifred wanted you to know breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
Susie shifted her weight from foot to foot as she beamed up at him adoringly. “Can I show Connor our room?” she asked.
Aware that this was the first time he’d been granted entrée to her and the girls’ private quarters, and that giving him the grand tour would further the intimacy between them, Kristy nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. She wasn’t sure what a man to-the-manor-born would think about the Xena Warrior Princess bedspread that Susie had selected, or the Beauty and the Beast décor Sally had wanted for her side of the room they shared, but maybe it was time to find out.
Kristy could hear Susie’s running commentary as she explained everything about their bedroom to Connor, while he lingered in the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks and a sincerely interested expression on his face.
“Now it’s my turn to show Connor my stuff!” Sally said. Excitedly, she detailed everything on her side of the room. “And here is our bathroom,” she said, showing Connor their Little Mermaid
shower curtain, bath mats and towels.
“And here’s Mommy’s room,” the twins said in unison, shoving the door to Kristy’s room wide before she could stop them. She hadn’t yet made her bed, and the pink-and-white-striped sheets and floral comforter were in a rumpled mess across the center.
“Nice,” Connor said, his gaze lingering on her cozy brass bed, upholstered chaise and a closet overflowing with casual clothes. His eyes focused on the picture on the night-stand, of herself and her husband and the girls, taken shortly before Lance died. It was a happy photo, snapped during a rare family outing. As he noticed it, she caught the question in his eyes. Was she over Lance? Ready to move on? Or still holding tight?
A few days ago, Kristy knew she had still been clinging to the memories, good, bad and indifferent, rather than let go of her marriage and move on. But now, bit by bit, moment by moment, she could feel herself letting go of the past. Wanting, needing to move on.
She wasn’t sure what that said about her as a person. She just knew it was how it was.
“Look, you can see all the cottages from our bedroom windows,” Sally said, as she and Susie each grabbed one of Connor’s arms and dragged him toward a window.
“And all the palmetto trees, too!” Susie added.
Trees, Kristy thought, that were looking sicker every day.
“And if you look out the sitting room windows, you can see the beach and the ocean.” The girls showed Connor that, too.
“That’s nice,” he said. He looked around again, observing the kid-friendly blue denim sofa and patterned-denim armchairs, sturdy old-fashioned oak furniture and colorful red-blue-and-cream Persian rug. “So this is where you three live,” he observed, approval shining in his eyes as he looked around at all the homey touches Kristy had added.
Taking Over the Tycoon Page 13
