The Way Back to Erin

by Cerella Sechrist

  Tessa didn’t respond, and he knew why. She was thinking that it was a useless wish when Allan Worth already had plans to level the place. She looked away, and he was again struck with the feeling that something still weighed on Tessa.

  “I should probably get going.” He looked at her for a long moment, even though she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “But, Tessa, thanks. Not just for telling me about the Moontide or storing my stuff but...for the last year and a half. You reminded me that I was worth loving.”

  She didn’t look at him, but on impulse, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I hope you get everything you want, Tessa,” he said.

  She ducked her head, but he caught a glimpse of her eyes, shiny with tears.

  “You, too,” she choked out.

  And then she turned and fled toward the house before he could say another word.

  * * *

  BURKE DIDN’T KNOW what he intended when he pulled up to the Delphine Resort. A valet greeted him as he got out of his car, but he brushed him off.

  “This won’t take long. I just have to speak to Mr. Worth.”

  The valet looked impressed at Burke’s confident assertion. “I can place your vehicle in the private lot—”

  “That won’t be necessary. Just keep it nearby please.” He walked off before the valet could offer anything else.

  He knew exactly where Allan’s office was located, thanks to the multiple visits he’d paid to the Delphine during his and Tessa’s engagement. He also knew that Allan was in town for most of the summer, running his other business in D.C. remotely, so he hoped he’d be able to catch the other man in his office.

  His luck was rewarded as he stepped through the door leading to the suite of offices for the Delphine’s staff and glimpsed Allan at his desk, the phone pressed to his ear. Burke headed in that direction. The offices at the Delphine were more relaxed than Allan’s firm in D.C. He’d only been to that building once, with Tessa, but it felt like there were several layers of security and office personnel before they were allowed entrance to Allan’s office. Allan looked up as he stepped inside the office and stood, arms crossed.

  “Julien, I’m going to have to call you back. Yes, we’ll talk soon. Bye now.” Allan placed the phone in its cradle and offered a smile. “Burke, how nice of you to drop by.” Allan’s tone was strained, and Burke doubted very much that the father of his former fiancée was glad to see him.

  “You lied.”

  Allan looked distinctly uncomfortable at this accusation. “I hardly think that’s a fair—”

  “You’re demolishing the Moontide.”

  Allan frowned. “How did you hear about that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  Allan had the grace to look abashed. “That wasn’t my original intention. I liked the history of the place. But after consulting with my contractor and local code officials, it just didn’t make sense, financially, to use the inn for the clubhouse.”

  “So you decided to tear it down?” He shook his head. “You couldn’t find another option?”

  “Burke, why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll talk you through the logistics—”

  “Are you kidding me?” Burke felt a swell of ire. “I’m not one of your employees, Allan. I just want to know when you decided it was cheaper to bulldoze the inn than preserve it. Was it before, or after, you asked Aunt Lenora to sell? Did you know before she signed the contract and turned the deed over to you?”

  Allan fidgeted. “These kind of plans are rarely that easy, or simple.”

  “It seems like it was easy enough to decide to destroy a local landmark.”

  Allan’s humiliation turned to irritation. “This kind of sentimentality is what prevented that inn from being successful. If it had been treated it as a commodity instead of an heirloom, Lenora wouldn’t have had to sell the place.”

  Burke took three steps forward and leaned down over Allan’s desk, resting his knuckles on the surface. “Aunt Lenora had her own reasons for selling, and not all of them were financial. Don’t underestimate the fact that the Moontide has been a part of the Findlay Roads community for a long time. The Delphine hasn’t.”

  It was obvious Allan’s patience was wearing thin. “I own the property now. Neither you, nor Lenora, have any say in what happens to it. That decision rests with me.”

  Though Burke still felt affection for Tessa, the more Allan spoke, the more relief he felt at not having him for a father-in-law. “You seem awfully certain about this happening.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? I’ve gone through all the proper channels. Demolition is set to begin next week.”

  Burke’s stomach dropped at this bit of news. This timeline severely limited his window of opportunity to forestall Allan’s plans. He straightened.

  “Can’t you hold off a little while?”

  “Why?” Allan asked. “The sooner it’s done, the faster I can move forward with my plans for development.”

  “Of a golf course.”

  If Allan noticed the disgust in Burke’s tone, he didn’t react to it. “Yes.”

  He thought of Erin. She’d had such a hard time saying goodbye to the Moontide. She’d be devastated to learn it was being torn down. He swallowed his pride, for her sake, and tried to appear humble.

  “Allan, please. Don’t do this. At least, not right away. Give it more time and consideration. The Moontide may not mean much to you, but to some of the people of this town...it’s everything.”

  “You mean Lenora. And your brother’s widow.”

  He tried not to flinch, but Allan saw what he wanted to.

  “You know, I wondered at Tessa’s choice when she agreed to marry you. It’s obvious now how you feel about Erin. I certainly hope you were smarter about how you behaved while you were engaged to my daughter.”

  Burke’s fist flexed at this insult, not only to Erin but to Tessa as well. “I’m not even going to deign to comment on such a narrow-minded opinion.”

  Allan made a face that came suspiciously close to a sneer. “You Findlay Roads locals. So much pride and so little sense.”

  “You have a pretty low opinion of a town that has benefited you greatly.”

  Allan pushed back his chair and stood. “Don’t mistake me. I have benefited from this town, and I’ll continue to do so. But this place needs a vision to keep up with the recent growth of tourism.”

  “A vision? Like yours?”

  “Don’t sound so skeptical. The Delphine managed to take away most of your family’s little B&B business, didn’t it? How’s that for vision?”

  Burke ground his teeth together, not trusting himself to speak. When he didn’t rise to the bait, Allan relented slightly.

  “Listen, Burke. I didn’t purchase the inn with the intention of tearing it down. But that’s how it’s worked out, and I can’t apologize for dreaming of something better for Findlay Roads.”

  “Something better? Like a golf course?”

  He shrugged. “It will bring in more tourism, and that’s good for everyone.”

  “Not so good for the Moontide,” Burke pointed out.

  “I’m sorry you choose to view it that way, but that’s the price of growth.” Allan resumed his seat and turned his computer screen.

  Burke recognized the action as the dismissal that it was. He made his way to the door but couldn’t resist throwing one last comment over his shoulder.

  “There are some things in this life that you can’t put a price on.”

  And with that, he left the room.

  * * *

  BURKE SAT DOWN at his desk in the Graham suite and flexed his fingers over his laptop. He was better at photography, but when the occasion called for it, he could put words on paper well enough.

  And this occasion certainly called for it.

 
; He closed his eyes, drawing inspiration from his memories of the Moontide: the Galway room with its walls painted a pale blue, the cream-colored wainscoting, the pewter candlestick holders and the Chinese porcelain figurines on the mantle. There were several scuffs on the walnut desktop and a deep gouge on the surface of the desk. The brass bedstead was a little tarnished, and one of the windows was cracked.

  The inn had seen better days, perhaps, but none of that mattered now. Its imperfections were like lines on a weathered face. For all the Moontide had lived through, it had earned those scars. Who was he to be critical of them? They were all little details that he’d ignored as a teenager and taken for granted during his last few weeks living there. Now, in hindsight, he cherished them.

  He didn’t regret that Aunt Lenora had sold the Moontide. It was time. But he did mourn the fact that it had gone to a man who didn’t appreciate its true worth. Allan saw the inn as something disposable, an obstacle to his so-called vision. He didn’t recognize that the place was a historical treasure, a local landmark. It had been a haven for weary travelers, a sanctuary for slaves on the Underground Railroad, a Civil War hospital and especially...a home.

  Burke was grateful for Erin’s open house that had prompted him to take an impressive collection of photos of the inn before they’d moved out. Now all that was left was to write the words. But in many ways, that was the more difficult task. His own relationship with the Moontide was complex. So how to put it in words for others to understand?

  He would find a way. He might not have Allan’s money or influence, but he wasn’t without resources. He’d already talked to several editors who were interested in the inn’s story. But publishing the Moontide’s history was only the second part of his plan and one that would take time.

  He didn’t have time. He’d done some investigating and confirmed what Tessa had said. Demolition on the Moontide was slated to begin next week, pending approval from the city council. That part of his plan was phase one—halting demolition.

  He wasn’t doing this just for the Moontide or the town, either, and he knew it. It was for Erin. To spare her whatever heartbreak he could. If she wasn’t meant to be his, then he would learn to live with that. But he was still determined to look out for her, to watch over her, to take care of her. Just as he’d told Kitt that he would.

  He opened his eyes and faced his laptop screen. And then, he began to type.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  BURKE SAT IN the back of the room at the town hall, observing the proceedings from a distance and doing his best to keep his nerves in check. He’d attended a few town councils in his life, joining Aunt Lenora several times while he was still in high school. She had thought it important that he and Gavin learn how local government operated, especially since, as a small business owner, she had necessary dealings with the system.

  Burke recalled his utter boredom at these events as elected officials droned on about right-of-ways and boundary disputes. He’d never had much invested in the workings of the local council...until now.

  His gaze shifted from the council seats to the right, where Allan Worth’s assistant sat in one of the folding chairs placed in neat rows to accommodate citizens who wished to involve themselves in local affairs. Allan’s assistant, Tate Cummings, tapped his foot impatiently on the linoleum floor of the town hall building where the council met the first and third Tuesday evening of every month. Tate checked his watch and then began tapping his pen on the chair in front of him in a loud, staccato rhythm.

  Councilwoman Rosalee Hastings shot him a look of disapproval which he obviously missed. She cleared her throat loudly, which finally drew Tate’s attention.

  “If you find yourself uninterested in the town’s agenda, you might consider removing yourself from the premises.”

  Tate coughed, finally getting the message.

  “Uh, sorry, ma’am. Please, don’t mind me.”

  Burke’s lip twitched. It was just like Allan to send a minion to perform the tasks the older man couldn’t be bothered with. Allan was highly successful, and he was used to delegation. Burke was hoping that worked in his favor tonight. Tate wasn’t a bad guy, but he certainly wasn’t as silver-tongued as his boss, and he lacked the ability to think on his feet.

  Burke was counting on this as Ms. Hastings finished up the discussion on a permit for a new sewer system and moved to the next item on the agenda. The reason Burke had come to the council tonight.

  “Next item on the agenda is Allan Worth’s proposal to demolish the Moontide Inn in favor of expanding his Delphine Resort by adding a golf course to the site. Mr. Worth has already purchased the property from its former owner, Lenora Daniels.”

  After a brief glance around the table at her other council members, Ms. Hastings turned her attention back to Tate, who was already on his feet and moving to hand out the golf course proposal.

  Burke had stolen a look at the paperwork earlier, while Tate was speaking to a young woman before the meeting began. It was impressive, with detailed drawings of the proposed golf course and a list of how the development of the property and the influx of additional revenue from golfing enthusiasts and vacationers would continue to benefit the town’s economy.

  “As you are already aware,” Tate was saying, “the Delphine has done much to bolster the Findlay Roads economy. Since its opening last summer, it has drawn an unprecedented number of guests to the town.”

  Nate Donahue, seated at the far end of the council’s table, cleared his throat. “I hardly think the Delphine is solely responsible for our tourism boom. We’ve seen a steadily growing uptick in tourism for the last ten years. That distinction is thanks to many different initiatives, outside interests and efforts on the town’s behalf.”

  “Especially Sawyer Landry’s,” Jessica Murphy said. “His growing fame as a country music star and his annual concert series here in town has done much to grow our reputation.”

  “Of course, of course,” Tate agreed. “But with the Lodge having closed last fall, all of these visitors need somewhere to stay when they visit. The Delphine has filled that need by providing a quality resort right here in town. By expanding and building the golf course, we’d be growing the town and its opportunities even further.”

  Councilman John O’Shea huffed at this. At the age of seventy-six, he was the oldest of the council’s members. “I’m not sure we need more growth at this point. We want to maintain our small-town feel. Adding a golf course to that monstrosity of a resort seems excessive.”

  Even from his position in the back of the room, Burke could see Tate’s frown. Clearly, Allan hadn’t warned him to expect any opposition.

  “Um, well, surely you can see the benefit—”

  “Benefit to whom?” John countered. “To the town? Or to Allan Worth, lining his pockets at the expense of our heritage?”

  This was just the kind of opening Burke had been hoping for. As John finished speaking, he rose to his feet and started toward the front of the room.

  “Councilman O’Shea raises a good point. Which is why I have a different sort of proposal for the town to consider.”

  All five council members turned their heads in his direction. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tate Cummings do the same.

  “Burke?” Tate’s tone was one of confusion.

  “Mr. Daniels. It’s good to see you,” Ms. Hastings commented, her tone welcoming. The last time they’d spoken had been nearly a year ago, when she’d expressed her condolences over Gavin’s death and welcomed him back to town. “I assume this matter is of some interest to you, given your family’s history with the inn.”

  “It is,” Burke confirmed and then began handing out the folders he’d prepared. Each one contained a copy of the article set to run in Traveler magazine next month, along with the photographs he’d taken of the Moontide and the idea he wanted to share.

  “As you are al
l aware, in recent years, the Moontide has lost much of its business.”

  “If you’re planning to blame that on the Delphine—” Tate began to protest, but Burke held up a hand to cut him off.

  “I’m not. Allan Worth may have used the Moontide’s situation to his advantage, but he was not responsible for the loss of income. The truth is that the house is old, and it needs a lot of upkeep and repairs, which was a deterrent to guests. Aunt Lenora did what she could, even took out a mortgage on the place though it’s been in her family for generations. My sister-in-law, Erin—” he stumbled briefly on her name, his emotions striking him hard “—has also done her best over the last few years to keep the inn running, though it’s been more than difficult. When Allan offered to buy Aunt Lenora out, it seemed like the perfect solution.”

  To him, anyway. But not to Erin. He feared she would never forgive him for voting to sell the inn, especially given its imminent destruction. He knew he couldn’t win her heart. But he would do whatever he could to restore their friendship, to love her as a brother-in-law if not as his wife.

  “Burke?”

  His attention jerked back to Ms. Hastings. She was looking at him with concern, and he realized that he’d trailed off, mired in his thoughts for Erin. He had to pull himself together. This was his only chance to save the Moontide...and his friendship with the woman he loved. His gaze swept the table and saw that the other members of the council were now reading through the contents of his folders with what he hoped was interest.

  “Allan Worth was not entirely forthcoming about his plans for the Moontide. He told Aunt Lenora he was going to convert the inn into a clubhouse. He never once mentioned its demolition.”

  This statement caused the members of the council to confer amongst each other, murmuring in disturbed tones.