by Glynna Kaye
“Den.” The rumbling voice sounded genial enough—but then, that was standard, even when delivering news of budget cuts and severances of contracts with longtime loyal vendors. Denny could picture the sixtysomething hotelier, his salt-and-pepper hair thick and neatly styled, his deceptively casual manner of dress belying that his attire was purchased from top-notch clothiers.
Denny gripped his phone more tightly. “Yes, sir?”
“I understand Char sent you to Arizona to take care of personal business for her.”
“With the understanding that I’d be gone from work only a few days.” Had his absence not been taken well? “I’m staying on top of business long-distance and will return shortly.”
“I’m not concerned about that. But I am concerned that you agreed to see about upgrading a property Charlotte’s friend manages, and that it sounds as if you’re now unwilling to follow through on that.”
A muscle in Denny’s throat tightened at the misinterpretation, just as a bird in a nearby tree started into an annoyingly repetitious solo. “What my mother originally asked me to do was evaluate the situation and determine if retaining her ailing friend as manager of the Pinewood Inn and investing a great deal of money in upgrades is a worthwhile option. I did as she asked and confirmed it’s a poor investment.”
Would that obnoxious bird never shut up?
“You know I’m crazy about your mother, don’t you?” Elden never made a secret of that and had always treated her like a queen. Pampered her. In fact, Denny’s father blamed his ex’s former boyfriend for making her dissatisfied with Hunter Ridge, motherhood and, in particular, her first husband. “I know you care for her, too, Den. So what do you say the two of us get this inn fixed up the way she’d like it? You know how she dotes on that old gal who befriended her in that backwoods hamlet.”
Denny stepped out of the gazebo, determined to keep his temper in check. “So you want her to spend a mint on a six-guest-room inn located in the middle of nowhere and hand it over to an old woman who is in questionable health but who also has no training and limited experience in the hospitality field? Pardon me for pointing this out, Elden, but that’s not the type of investment you’ve trained me to make.”
“Maybe not, but if you can see to your mother’s business and lie low in Arizona while Victor gets acclimated to his new role...” That’s what this is about? Making life comfy for Vic? “If you can make those things happen, Den, I can make it worth your while.”
Denny had heard his stepbrother was struggling—a leader without followers, because most supported Denny stepping into that VP slot. “I’m being banished? Is that what you’re telling me?”
His stepfather chuckled. “Not banished. Giving your brother a chance to find his footing without people looking to you for the answers.”
“Is that what he’s telling you? That I’m trying to undermine him?”
“Apparently you have a loyal following, and that’s caused unrest.”
“I’m not driving that. It’s business as usual, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not stirring up animosity toward Vic.”
“That’s good to know. But I realize that as long as you’re highly visible and available, there are those who may continue turning to you instead of Victor. There seems to be an undercurrent of, shall we say, resentment on the part of some that he was promoted over you.”
No foolin’. “Is that surprising? Vic walked out on you and the family business almost a decade ago. Then he waltzes back in—and out of the blue steps into a top spot.”
“Although it may seem like it on the surface, it wasn’t out of the blue. I told him at the time we had our falling-out that there would always be a place for him in the business.”
A place he hadn’t earned? A birthright he’d snubbed?
Denny remembered well that blowup between his stepbrother and Elden. It hadn’t been pretty, and clearly Elden had been deeply wounded at a betrayal by the offspring he’d poured so much of himself into. That was when Denny set his heart on filling Vic’s shoes better than Vic could ever fill them. To earn his stepfather’s respect and a leadership role in the family business. He was well on the road to achieving that, until Vic showed up last winter, seemingly humble and contrite...and the tide began to turn.
“From the reaction of others,” Denny said carefully as he watched Lillian step out the back door and into the garden, “I think you’d have to agree that expectation wasn’t well communicated.”
“Come on. He’s my son, Den.” And I’m not. “He’s settling down now and is ready to put his nose to the grindstone. Don’t take it personally. You and everyone else knew from the beginning that he is destined for the top spot when I step down. That’s still a considerable ways off, but if everyone pulls together, helps him get through this time of transition, it will work out in the long run. For everyone. I’m counting on you to make that happen.”
Meaning keep out of the way?
“I have responsibilities, projects that I’m in the middle of, people who are depending on me.”
Seeking relief from the pressure building inside, his gaze tracked Lillian as she gracefully moved to sit on a shaded stone bench. She was a striking-looking young woman with a country-fresh vivacity that had been absent in the sophisticated, born-to-high-society Corrine. The local librarian seemed considerably less capricious than his former fiancée, too. You wouldn’t catch a well-grounded Lillian Keene heading for the hills on her wedding day, leaving some poor sucker in the dust.
But as appealing as that small-town allure might be on the surface, it wasn’t a girl-next-door type that would help him get ahead at GylesStyle Inns. With the departure of Corrine, he was back to square one. Nevertheless, it was a shame that the pretty Lillian planned to follow in her great-aunt’s footsteps and sequester herself in Nowheresville.
“By all means, stay on top of the projects out in the field,” Elden responded, drawing Denny’s attention again. “But in dealing with others at the home base? Steer them back to Victor and let them learn to depend on him. If you’re working on getting this inn fixed up for your mother, that’s a good enough reason for stepping back. No one will question it. You won’t have to offer explanations.”
Was his stepfather truly that naive? Oblivious to the effort Denny had taken to build a network of strong relationships based on mutual respect as he climbed the corporate ladder? Elden thought his arrogant, self-indulgent son could step in and pick up the reins if Denny laid them down?
Across the garden, Lillian looked up and caught him watching her—those beautiful hazel eyes, even at a distance, almost took his breath away. Nevertheless, he managed to refocus on the conversation at hand.
“And when I’ve done my time here?” He couldn’t help throwing in the prison analogy.
“Then we’ll talk. Victor filling that VP opening doesn’t mean there isn’t still a prime spot for you at GylesStyle—especially if you can keep him and your mother happy.”
“And if I can’t?”
Silence hung heavy. Except for that irritating bird.
“Well, Den,” Elden finally drawled, “see that you do.”
* * *
From the far side of the garden, with the sound of a merrily trilling robin singing its heart out, Lillian couldn’t hear what Denny was saying on the phone. Assuming it was the same call he’d taken before she’d gone inside, it was quite lengthy. His voice remained low and indistinguishable, but from his expression, he didn’t like the way things were going.
How often she’d seen that same look of concentration on Cameron Gray’s face when he’d returned home to Hunter Ridge in February. Having been let go from a managerial position in Boston, he nevertheless lived on his phone, constantly schmoozing with contacts despite insisting that anyone who remained tied to corporate America was nothing but a fool.
He was at home in Hunter Ridge to stay, he’d declared. Working
with his dad at the hardware store, he assured everyone around him that relationships were what mattered. Family. Church. Old friends. This was where he wanted to settle down and raise a family. With her. Or so he claimed until the day before their wedding, when he got a call from his former employer—and without consulting her leaped at a job offer, generously volunteering to hire a caregiver for her aunt and to place Taylor at an upscale private school.
Was it any wonder she’d cried and prayed most of the night? The next day, as everyone was gathering for the ceremony, she called the officiating pastor—an out-of-town buddy of Cameron’s—to ask him to deliver her no-show news.
Cameron hadn’t spoken to her since then, having immediately packed up and left for Boston. Nor had his mother or grandma, even when Lillian removed her personal belongings from the apartment above his parents’ garage that the newlyweds intended to call home until they found a place to buy. The two women seemed to find plenty of time to talk about her, though, if rumors of their critical remarks regarding her immaturity and heartlessness held any truth. And little brother Randy had made nothing but a nuisance of himself.
At least Cameron’s sister, Barbie, caught up in her own autumn wedding plans, didn’t seem to care one way or another whether her big brother and Lillian were married happily ever after—or not.
Across the garden, Denny pocketed his phone, then turned in her direction. She stood, determined to make another plea on behalf of the inn.
“Sorry for the interruption. Important call.”
“Aren’t they always,” she said drily, wondering how far she’d get in her appeal before he was again whipping out that cell phone.
He motioned irritably to a Navajo willow in the far corner. “What’s with the obnoxious bird, anyway?”
No, that phone call must not have gone well.
She laughed. “Maybe he’s happy?”
Denny snorted, then looked at his watch and nodded to the inn. “I guess I should take a look at the guest rooms upstairs.”
With Aunt Viola sequestered in the apartment, it didn’t take long to go through the second-floor rooms, half of which weren’t booked despite a long Labor Day weekend fast approaching. The occupants of the other three were out for the day. Although Denny added items to his lengthy list, he seemed preoccupied, as though something else weighed on his mind. Most telling was the fact that he didn’t pull out his phone a single time, not even to check caller ID when she heard it vibrate.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to him. “So what do you think?”
“You mentioned earlier you’re aware that garden events keep the inn in the black. So you must be at least somewhat acquainted with the business side of things here.”
“I kept the books when my aunt was unable to. So, yes, I’m aware that the inn is...holding its own.”
“By the skin of its teeth. The Pinewood Inn, sadly, has never been a profitable investment for my mother.”
“You’re implying that it’s been nothing but a charitable endeavor on behalf of Aunt Viola?” That rankled, as Lillian knew how much of herself Aunt Vi had invested in this place trying to keep it going.
“As you know, my mother was struggling to find her place in the world when your great-aunt befriended her. She offered her encouragement, advice and support when many in town extended little sympathy as her marriage fell apart. My mother was a big-city girl, a fish out of water, and undoubtedly she made plenty of mistakes that didn’t endear her to others.”
“My aunt is a kindhearted woman.”
“She is. And deep down, so is my mother. Which is why when Viola retired and asked if she could take over management of the Pinewood Inn, my mother agreed. She was losing money on it anyway—basically kept it open to irritate my father as much as anything. What would it hurt if her dear friend and mentor gave it a try?”
“Aunt Vi did bring it out of the red.”
“She did. But it’s still not a moneymaker. Never will be.”
“We’re not asking you to strip the place down to the studs and start from scratch. We’re asking that broken things be fixed. Dismal furniture replaced. Peeling wallpaper removed. Bedding and window treatments updated.”
“That involves money, time and hard work.”
“My aunt and I can provide the hard work.” Or at least she could. “I understand your concern surrounding the financial issues. That concerns my aunt, as well. But Hunter Ridge is her home. The inn. Her garden. Her guests. I’ll personally do anything within my power to enable her to live out the rest of her life, however long that may be, as the inn’s manager. For now, this is Taylor’s home, too. If your mother makes the requested much-needed changes to the property, I know my aunt can turn it around.”
He shook his head. “Maybe, if she had a hospitality degree and decades of experience at other reputable properties to bring to the table... I admit I’ve seen highly successful enterprises make it under good management in the most unlikely places. But those were spearheaded by professionals with an innate savvy for the hospitality business.”
“She may not have a degree, but we’ve both read every book on innkeeping we can get our hands on. And growing up, I traveled extensively with my parents and know what they liked and didn’t like about those brief or extended stays. What I liked and didn’t like. Aunt Vi traveled in her younger days, too. I strongly believe that kind of personal experience will transfer well here—if the property itself works for her and not against her, as it’s been doing.”
“I admire her—and your—pluck, but it’s risky. Successful inns are customarily located in areas that have something to draw people there. Location, location, location, as you’ve surely heard before.”
“Hunter Ridge is rousing itself after that economic downturn a decade or so ago. Your mother’s played a role in that—initiating leasing properties to a new artisan dynamic that is taking root and transforming the formerly isolated face of the community. Here at the inn’s garden, we’ve showcased a number of local artists this past summer. It’s a market waiting to be tapped into. And if we don’t do it, someone else will.”
“This garden is a prime selling point. But the inn has only six guest rooms available.” He gave her a regretful look. “I don’t see how that can generate enough return on investment to make it worthwhile.”
“So what you’re trying to tell me is that you’re going to recommend to your mother that she close the inn.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is not to get your hopes up that the inn will ever be much more than it is today—even when we’ve completed the renovations.”
Even when...?
She momentarily closed her eyes, gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused. You are or you are not going to advise your mother that the inn be closed? That my aunt’s managerial contract should not be renewed?”
* * *
“I’ve expressed to my mother my professional opinion that the doors to the inn should be closed.”
Denny stared into the still-bewildered gaze of the woman standing before him. Saw the hope that had briefly lit her eyes evaporate. She was disappointed in his stance because she truly didn’t understand what it took to run a profitable hospitality establishment.
He hadn’t been toying with her when pointing out the dismal prospects of the inn and the gloomy odds of making a success of it. He’d only wanted her to clearly understand that the endeavor was a waste of money—his mother’s. And a waste of time—his. Who was his stepfather, anyway, to insist on throwing good money after bad, just to make his wife “happy”?
And to keep Denny out of the way to give Vic a boost.
Elden had dangled a vague “make it worth your while” carrot in front of him. Then he topped it off with what sounded like an unspoken threat if Vic didn’t make a go of things in his new position and if that failure, even in part
, could be laid at Denny’s doorstep. Like it or not, if he wanted the slimmest chance at a future in a company he’d poured himself into, he’d have to buckle under Elden’s demands.
No matter how much it galled.
No matter how unfair it was.
He’d put too much time into GylesStyle Inns to walk away in a snit. If he could pull this project off...there might yet be a future in the family business.
What did he have to lose?
“I explained to my mother exactly what I’ve explained to you, Lillian. The risk. The unlikelihood of profitability and the preferable route being to shut down the inn.” He cleared his throat and steadily met her gaze. “But, regrettably, she disagrees with me.”
Lillian remained motionless, expressionless except for the growing glow in her lovely eyes.
“You mean—?”
“I mean I’m acquiescing to my mother’s wishes, and despite my personal reservations, the Pinewood Inn will have a second chance.”
A gasp escaped her lips.
“Please recognize,” he continued, “that I’m not reneging on anything I’ve said about the inn. I have misgivings. Extreme ones. Make no mistake—I’m not happy about this. But I love my mother and know she genuinely wants your aunt to continue as manager of the Pinewood Inn as long as her health allows.”
He’d just have preferred not to be blackmailed by his stepfather to give them this chance.
Chapter Four
“Why don’t you run that by Vic, Craig? That falls under his jurisdiction now.”
Gazing across the raftered dining room of the Inn at Hunter’s Hideaway, where he’d stepped into the lobby away from lunch with Lillian and Viola to take a call, Denny cringed at the profanity-laced grumbling of his colleague and right-hand man.
“I know, I know. But give him a chance. He hasn’t been sitting on his thumbs all the years he’s been away from GylesStyle. He’s stayed active in the hospitality industry, just outside the family fold.”
Or so Vic’s story went.
