“So what do you want from me?”
Abby sat down on the kitchen stool and shook her head. “I don’t know. Just a tiny bit of encouragement might be nice.”
“Look, Abby, I think you can do whatever you set your mind to. I’m just not sure that you’ve set your mind to this. For all I know, this could be just a passing fancy. It might seem exciting or glamorous to run a bed-and-breakfast.”
Abby laughed. “Exciting? Glamorous?”
Her mom held up her hands. “I don’t know. I just remember that Bob Newhart show that used to be popular, and I thought running a bed-and-breakfast looked like fun.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “For your information, I spent more than an hour this morning getting a tour of Jackie’s B and B. She told me the chores involved, including endlessly cleaning bathrooms, changing linens, cooking, keeping the books, arranging fresh flowers, answering the phone, shopping, going—”
“All right. It seems you’ve done your research.”
“I have.” Abby nodded in a wounded way. “And I’m not ready to give up yet.”
“I’m not suggesting you give up. I just think if you do something like this, you should do it with your eyes wide open.”
“You mean like how you sold your house after Daddy died and bought this funky little bungalow out here on the beach by yourself?”
“I have neighbors.”
“Depending on the time of year. And then you took up art—where did that come from? Did you do that with your eyes wide open?”
Her mom laughed. “Good point. No, you’re right. I did that impulsively. I needed a change.”
“And have you regretted your impulsiveness?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
“I realize that opening a B and B is a bigger risk. But it’s something I’ve wanted to do for years. You know me, Mom. I love cooking and cleaning and playing hostess. I always have.”
Her mom nodded. “Yes. I think you enjoy it more than I ever did.”
“You always acted like you liked it.”
She sighed. “Maybe I did back then. I suppose I still like it, in a smaller way.” She looked around her. “Not that I could do anything bigger than small in here anyway.”
“If you ever did want to do something bigger,” Abby began slowly, “like a dinner party for all your friends … and if I did buy the old house … you could use it.”
Her mom laughed. “Well, I must admit, it would be fun to have a tea party there. Do you remember the tea parties we used to have?”
Abby nodded eagerly. “I was even thinking about serving high tea there, to make extra money. Can you imagine?”
“There isn’t really a tea room in town.”
“No, there’s not.”
“And you still have my Haviland china, don’t you?”
“In storage. It seemed too formal for our beach house.”
“But it was perfect in the Victorian.”
Abby nodded. “I think it misses the Victorian.”
Her mom sighed.
“Remember the roses in the backyard?” Abby asked.
“Of course. Do you think they’re still there?”
“They better be.”
“That house really would make a perfect inn. And six bedrooms might not be overwhelming. But could it really support the house payments, Abby?”
“I’ve done the math, Mom.” Abby reached into her purse to pull out her notes, spreading them on the counter. “Look, even if the rooms were rented only half the time, this is how much revenue it would bring.”
Her mom looked at the figures and blinked. “Really? That much?”
“That much. I based my room rates on Jackie’s. She and I would have a kind of partnership. Nothing legal, just an agreement to help each other out, kind of like a co-op. We’d send overflow guests to each other and cover for each other if we needed a break.”
“It does sound like you’ve given this some real thought.”
Abby nodded eagerly. “The problem is, I don’t have a whole lot of time to think about it. The bank won’t say when the house is going to go to short sale, but Leslie said I better have my financing preapproved as well as my down payment in hand if I plan to nab it.”
“But you said you have enough for a down payment, right?”
Abby frowned. “Yes. But then I have nothing left to get the inn ready to operate. I can’t very well invite guests to visit with no furniture, no linens. I have a lot of things in storage that I can use, but there’s a whole lot more I don’t have.”
“Okay.” Her mom was pacing now. “How about this, Abby? How about if you get everything in order, you get preapproved and you use your savings for the down payment. If—and that’s a big if—you’re able to purchase the house, I will agree to be your partner.”
Abby blinked. “You’d do that?”
“If you do the rest of it and are actually able to buy the house, I will back you with the finances to open the bed-and-breakfast.”
Abby jumped off the stool and threw her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mom! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“Hey,” called Marley as she came in the back door with a pitcher of margaritas and some colorful glasses on a tray. “What’s going on here? Did someone just win the lottery?”
“Even better.” Abby beamed at her. “My mom’s going to partner with me in my bed-and-breakfast.”
“Only if you are able to purchase the house,” her mom reminded her. “It’s up to you to pull that off. If you do, then I’m in.”
“You heard her,” Abby told Marley happily. “You can be a witness. Mom and I are going to partner in this business venture!”
Her mom laughed. “You think you need a witness against your own mother?”
“No, I just want Marley to remind you—when my bed-and-breakfast is a screaming success—that I had to talk you into it.”
“This calls for a celebration,” Marley said as she filled the glasses. “Margaritas all around!”
Chapter 12
Marley
“I’m no expert,” Abby said, “but I think that’s looking really good.” Abby had helped bring the margarita things from next door, then paused to study Marley’s seascape.
Marley laughed. “That’s probably the margarita talking.”
“No, it’s not,” Abby insisted. “This is really good, Marley. Admit it.”
Marley set the margarita pitcher on the kitchen table then joined Abby, tilting her head to the side. “I guess it’s coming along. It’s just so different from my usual work.”
“But you said you hadn’t done any work for quite some time,” Abby reminded her. “Maybe your style has changed.”
Marley considered this. “You could be right. Now that I think about it, I did those other pieces, the ones in Jack’s gallery, when I was in my crazy period.” She shook her head at the memory. “At least that’s what Ashton called it. He came up to Seattle to visit me shortly after I’d split with his dad. I was like a maniac—I’d barely finish one painting before starting the next, just whipping these pieces out like a madwoman. Ashton was actually worried about my sanity.” She chuckled. “I remember he asked me if I planned to cut off my ear.”
Abby laughed. “Well, your ears still seem to be intact.”
“After a couple of months, I was so exhausted that I quit painting altogether. I couldn’t stand to look at a paintbrush or tube of paint. That’s when I stored all my crazy canvases and went to work at the gallery.” Marley stared at the peaceful seascape and frowned. “What worries me is that Jack loves my crazy work, and now I can’t seem to do it anymore. I’ve tried.”
“Maybe this is your peaceful period,” Abby suggested. “I like your other paintings, but this is more like s
omething I would hang in my house.”
“Don’t forget, Janie already has first dibs on it.”
“Yes, and I need to save all my money for purchasing my bed-and-breakfast anyway. Janie should definitely have it. It would look great in her house.”
“Speaking of Janie, did you—” Marley stopped herself. Why had she opened her mouth?
“What about Janie?” Abby pressed.
“Oh, nothing.” Marley went into the kitchen, taking the pitcher to the sink to rinse it out.
“Come on, Marley,” Abby urged her. “We’re the Four Lindas, one for all and all for one. You can’t keep secrets.”
Marley scowled as she set the glasses in the sink. “We aren’t still going by all the old rules, are we? Good grief, we’re grown women, Abby.”
“It’s an unspoken rule.” Abby leaned forward and looked her in the eyes. “Now give! What’s going on with Janie?”
Marley slowly rinsed and dried her hands then, leaning against the counter, sighed. “Well, it’s really nothing … and you’ll find out eventually anyway.”
“Find out?” Abby looked curious now. “What is going on? Is something wrong with Janie?”
“Not exactly. But she unwittingly went into Bridgeport Interiors. She didn’t know that Bonnie was the owner.”
Abby’s expression was hard to read. She just shrugged. “Well, that’s no big deal. Just a simple mistake on Janie’s part.”
Marley nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
“But?”
Marley picked up the sponge and gave the colorful tiled countertop a quick swipe.
“There’s more to this story, isn’t there?” Abby said.
Marley looked at her. “Well, just a little. You see, Janie needed tiles.”
Abby nodded. “Yes. I know. For her kitchen backsplash and for accents in her bathrooms. I gave her a couple of good Web sites to order from.”
“Well, she found some tiles at Bridgeport Interiors, and Bonnie went out to her house to help her with it.”
Abby’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Marley just nodded. “But like you said, it’s no big deal.”
“Bonnie went to Janie’s house?” Abby looked angry now.
“That’s what Janie told me. She didn’t even know if it was Bonnie. In fact, she was hoping that maybe the woman she met was a partner. And maybe it was a partner. Anyway, I tipped her off. And I’m sure she has it all figured out by now.”
“I cannot believe that Janie would let Bonnie into her house. Especially after I’ve been helping her to renovate that house. If she lets Bonnie in … well, it’s like a slap in the face.”
“Don’t forget that Janie didn’t know who she was dealing with, Abby. She simply stopped at the shop to look for tiles. It’s not her fault that Bonnie insisted on coming to her house.”
“She insisted?”
Marley held up her hands. “I don’t know. All I know is that Janie had no idea that Bonnie Boxwell owned that shop. Think about it: It’s not like we have a whole lot of interior-design stores in Clifden, and Janie is, after all, trying to finish up her house. It seems only natural that she might shop there.”
“So now you’re saying it’s okay to shop in Bonnie’s store?” Abby was really angry.
“I don’t know what I’m saying, Abby. Are you saying that we should not step foot in Bonnie’s store?”
Abby nodded firmly. “Yes. Out of loyalty to me, you should boycott Bonnie and her store.”
Marley laughed. “Actually, I’ll have no problem avoiding her store. Judging by the ad in the paper, her store is out of my price range anyway. And you know I prefer shabby chic with pizzazz. I doubt that Bonnie caters to my type.”
“But she would cater to Janie.” Abby shook a fist. “I wish I could drive that woman out of town.”
“Okay,” Marley said in a soothing tone. “You need to calm down, Abby. It won’t do anyone any good for you to come unglued about this. If you lose your cool about Bonnie, it’s like she wins.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you end up looking like the jealous, crazed wife.” Marley slowly shook her head. “And that’s not a good look on anyone.”
“So I’m supposed to take this lying down? First Bonnie comes in and tries to steal my husband, and now she’s working on my friends?”
“She’s not working on your friends, Abby. Don’t make this into something it’s not. Janie simply needed tiles. Bonnie had them. It’s not like they’re best friends.”
Abby sat down in one of the old-fashioned dinette chairs and let out a big sigh. “It’s just that I was helping Janie. If Bonnie gets involved, I will not step foot in Janie’s house.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“I don’t care.” Abby’s expression reminded Marley of when they were girls. Sometimes Abby would pout until she got her way. It was funny then but not terribly attractive now.
“I know this is upsetting,” Marley told her. “But it’ll all blow over. Don’t obsess over it. Besides, don’t you need to focus your energy on buying your old house?”
Abby brightened. “That’s right.”
“And if you get the house, you’ll have more than enough to keep you busy.”
Abby nodded, standing. “Yes. And I should go home and start doing the paperwork.” She smiled. “Sorry to act like a baby. But this thing with Bonnie, well, it just gets me a little riled up.”
“It’s okay.” Marley hugged her. “Of all the Lindas, I should understand this better than any. If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you.”
Abby thanked her, then headed on her way. Although Marley’s offer of a shoulder was genuine, she hoped there wouldn’t be too many moments like that. Really, what good did it do to get so angry? She hoped Abby would get the house and start her business. She needed something like that to keep her from obsessing. Marley turned back to her painting now. What if she couldn’t finish it? Even worse, what if she finished it but it turned out badly? Then what?
She took in a deep breath, then squirted some dabs of acrylic paint onto her disposable paper palette and slowly started to mix them with her palette knife. She liked mixing colors, watching the pigments mingle and change, transforming into shades that resembled nature. She had just filled her brush with paint when the phone rang. Thankful for the distraction, she set down the brush and went for the phone.
“Marley?”
“Hey, Jack,” she said, recognizing his voice. “What’s up?”
“Not much. I was just in the neighborhood and wondered if you were home.”
“You’re in my neighborhood?”
“Just a ways down the road. Care if I stop by?”
“Not at all.” Marley hurried to her small bathroom, flipped on the light and peered at herself in the mirror. Her glasses were smudged and her short hair was sticking out all over, but that was fairly normal.
“Okay. See you in a couple of minutes.”
“See you.” She hung up, quickly cleaned her glasses, then reached for some lip color, but as she was applying it, she asked herself, Why? Why was she so concerned about how she looked for Jack? She’d been comfortable going over to Doris’s earlier without changing a thing. Why should she improve her appearance for Jack’s sake? She told herself it was simply professionalism. Jack was kind of like her boss, and she wanted him to have confidence in her as an artist. She wanted to be a personality that he could proudly associate with. That was all.
She reached for a chunky choker that she’d made from rustic pieces of coral, turquoise, and silver, fastening it around her neck. Okay, the paint-spotted pale-denim shirt looked a little ratty, but she was, after all, a painter.
“Hello?” She heard his voice calling through an open front window.
&nbs
p; “Come in,” she yelled back, giving her hair a fluff with her fingers.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” he said with a self-conscious smile.
“Hey, you were in the neighborhood,” she said. “And I’ve invited you to come see my place if you were ever out here.”
He glanced around. “Wow, this is very cool, Marley.”
“I’ll give you the one-minute tour,” she offered. “That’s as long as it takes to see everything.”
But it took more than a minute, and by the time they were in the kitchen, Jack seemed somewhat impressed. “I like your style.” He ran his hand over the shiny tiles. “But then why should that surprise me? However, I do have a surprise for you.”
She nodded, bracing herself. Hopefully he hadn’t come out here to tell her that he’d changed his mind about showing her art. She knew that nothing had sold yet, and space in his gallery was limited. It was possible he’d discovered someone with more potential.
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Two of your paintings sold yesterday.”
She blinked and wondered if she’d heard him correctly. “Two paintings sold?”
He nodded with a big grin, handing her the envelope. “Congratulations!”
She fingered the envelope. “Thank you!”
“Naturally, I deducted my commission. But I didn’t want to wait until the end of the month to pay you. I assume that’s okay.”
Marley couldn’t contain herself. She threw her arms around him. “Yes, that’s more than okay. It’s fantastic.” Then, feeling self-conscious, she stepped away. “I can’t believe it. Two paintings in one day!”
“I asked the buyer to bring them back for the art walk. I told her that would only increase their value, and she agreed.”
“Oh, that’s great. Where was the buyer from?”
“Here in town. She’s new, just opened up a shop. Maybe you know her. She owns Bridgeport Interiors. Her name is Bonnie Boxwell.”
Marley felt her heart sinking. Bonnie Boxwell had purchased her paintings?
“Is something wrong?” Jack’s brow creased with concern.
Marley shook her head. “No, not really. Well, sort of. But it’s nothing.”
Hometown Ties Page 12
