The big surprise was that the B and B had been existing on a line of credit against the home for the past eighteen months. The business hadn’t been profitable in nearly three years.
Declining bookings were the real problem. There had been a steady drop since Carly’s father had died. The first couple of years after his death showed a slight decline, then the numbers plummeted. The B and B hadn’t had a full night since Valentine’s weekend, two years ago.
Carly flipped through different ledgers. There wasn’t a single wedding or big party planned for the entire summer. No large groups had requested to take over the B and B, something she remembered happening all the time when she’d been growing up.
In addition to the loss of income, there were some interesting choices in the expense department. The dishes had been replaced to the tune of fifty thousand dollars. At the same time, contractors, including their local plumber, hadn’t been paid. Based on the checkbook, she had a feeling the property taxes were two months overdue.
Carly leaned back in her chair and studied the pile of books, papers and the blinking cursor on the computer screen. Was it possible to make this work? Could she do it? Making the B and B profitable would mean changing a lot of things, and her mother wasn’t a big fan of change. There were—
Her cell phone rang. She reached for it, flipped open the cover and stared at the unfamiliar number.
“Hello,” she said after she’d pushed the talk button.
“Hey, Carly. How’s it going?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t recognize the voice—she had lived with the man for over sixteen years. But she wasn’t expecting to hear from her ex-husband, and it took a second for her to place him.
“Neil?”
“Hey. What’s up?”
She frowned. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m just being friendly. You know, regular phone chitchat.”
The last two words made her wince. Was there another man on the planet who used “chitchat”?
“Okay. I’m fine, and yourself?”
“Great. I’ve been looking at boats. Man, there are some beauties out there. I can’t really afford anything new, but I’ve narrowed my choices down to three older sailboats. I can really fix one of them up and then head off to Hawaii. The cost of the navigation system is going to kill me, but it’s a pretty big ocean and I sure don’t want to get lost.”
Uh-huh. Did she get a vote on that? “How nice,” she murmured. Was she missing something here? “Neil, why are you calling me?”
“What do you mean?” He sounded genuinely baffled.
“I mean, why are you calling? What is your purpose? Do you want to talk to Tiffany?”
“Naw. I’m just checking in. Saying hi. Hi.”
Had she ever thought of the man as charming? “Neil, we’re getting a divorce. You decided you didn’t want to be with me anymore. So why are you checking in?”
“Because we’re friends. Don’t you want to be friends with me, Carly?”
Not even for money, she thought. Why didn’t Neil get it? She could handle him being as much of a jerk as he wanted where she was concerned, but Tiffany was another matter.
“What I want is for you to stay in contact with your daughter. It’s been over three weeks since you last spoke with her.”
“I’ve been busy. This whole boat thing.”
“Neil, she’s your daughter. She has to matter.”
“You know you’re much better at the whole parenting thing than I am.”
What he meant was she was willing to make the sacrifices that went with having a child and he wasn’t. “I know she loves you and misses you. Just because you don’t have to pay child support while you’re not working doesn’t mean you abdicate your responsibilities. You’re supposed to see her every other weekend. She needs that and I think you need the time with her, too. She’s growing up fast. You have to be a part of her life.”
“Lighten up. You take things too seriously.”
Carly held the phone out in front of her and stared at it. She replaced it against her ear. “You’re kidding, right? We’re talking about your child.”
“I know.”
His tone dismissed her in such a way that in less than three seconds she went from annoyed to wanting to maim him.
How did this always happen? They started out with her wanting him to change something and they ended up with her being the bad guy. She wanted to scream at him that it had never been her plan to take life so seriously, but no one had given her much of a choice. Someone had needed to be the grown-up and Neil sure as hell hadn’t volunteered. It had all fallen on her.
“You know, Carly, if you’re going to be like this, I’m not going to call you anymore.”
“Amazingly enough, I can live with that. The person you need to be calling is Tiffany. You need to plan to spend a weekend with her and soon. I mean it, Neil. If you don’t do this in the next two weeks, I’m contacting the judge. I’ll make it a court order if I have to.”
Tiffany adored her father and Carly was going to make sure the man didn’t let her little girl down any more than he already had.
He grumbled something she couldn’t hear but doubted was very flattering to her.
“Fine. But what about the plane ticket? Do I have to pay to fly her down?”
“Yes. Or you could come up here, but you’re not staying at the B and B. You’ll have to get two hotel rooms somewhere else. And before you ask, yes, Tiffany needs her own room. She’s fifteen.”
“But that’s a lot of money.”
“So sail up here on your boat. That will be free.”
“What? Hey, Carly, that’s a great idea. Maybe I’ll do that.”
“So there’s no point in telling you I was being sarcastic about the sailing remark?”
“Naw. Okay. Gotta run. Have a good one.”
He hung up.
She did a little grumbling herself, then pushed the end button on her cell phone.
What on earth made Neil think she wanted to be friends with him? Sure, she was more than willing to keep things civil between them. It was important for them to get along—for Tiffany’s sake. But friends?
Maybe she would be a better person if she were willing to let Neil stay in her life, but that was so not her style. She’d moved past wanting to see him cut up into little pieces and fed to the carnivores at the L.A. zoo, but that didn’t mean she wanted to “chitchat” about his hopes and dreams.
None of which mattered, she reminded herself. What was important was his relationship with his daughter. If he followed through on that, she would ignore the rest of it. If he didn’t, she would make good on her threat to get in touch with the judge.
In the meantime, she had books to put in order and a profit-and-loss statement to work out.
But instead of reaching for the keyboard and entering numbers on the spreadsheet, she turned her chair toward the office window and stared out over the side lawn.
What had happened to chase guests away? Or had they simply forgotten about the B and B? Was it the same with the groups and the weddings? Carly remembered attending large bridal fairs with her parents at least twice a year. Then there were a couple of big travel shows. There had been brochures and pictures and letters of recommendation by previous guests.
Without turning away from the window, she reached for a notepad and a pen.
“Contact previous guests by postcard, giving them a discount,” she wrote. They still had the old registration information. Sure, the mailing would be expensive, but they would be reaching people who had wanted to come at one time.
What next? Weddings, parties of all kinds. They were coming into the busy season. If she spoke with some of the local hotels in town, told them they had availability, maybe they could get some spillover bookings.
They could run specials during the slow seasons and they weren’t that far from San Francisco. What about advertising locally? Chatsworth-by-the-Sea was off the beaten path, but they di
d have a ghost. She would have to feature that prominently.
Okay, those ideas worked for the weekends, but what about during the week? Based on what she’d discovered, the place was mostly empty, even on holiday weeks. So what made people travel during the week, when most of them were working? What would make them give up their precious vacation time to come here? Or was she missing the point? What if they got to come here without giving up vacation time? What if their travel was about work?
Carly grinned as she put pen to paper and began to write as fast as she could form words.
“This is just stupid,” Tiffany said from the passenger seat. “I don’t want to go to school.”
Carly resisted the urge to remind her daughter that she loved school. The classes were mildly interesting, but what really got Tiffany excited was the activities and hanging out with her friends. No doubt if she said that, she would be reminded that due to the move, Tiffany had no friends locally.
“Even if I wanted to let you stay home, which I don’t,” she said, “the state of California has a real thing about truancy. You gotta be there, kid.”
“But I’ll hate it. Besides, Grandma said she’s not sure we’re staying, so why don’t I wait until you decide what you want to do about ruining my life even more?”
Carly stared at her daughter. “What?”
Tiffany sighed. “Grandma said we may not be staying with her. That you’ve mentioned going somewhere else. Not that you’d discuss it with me. I’m just the one with the broken life. Why should I know anything?”
Carly felt her temper rise and it had nothing to do with Tiffany’s negative attitude. How dare her mother discuss moving with Tiffany? Carly hadn’t decided what to do about staying or leaving, but she’d been determined not to worry Tiffany until she had a clearer plan. Tiffany was only fifteen—her life should be about classes and friends and boys and growing up. Not worrying about where they were going to live.
“I’m sorry Grandma said anything,” Carly told her. “It’s true I don’t know if we’re staying. I’ve been working on trying to figure out if I think I can make the bed-and-breakfast profitable. She and I are going to talk about my plan this afternoon. I’ve come up with some ideas and suggestions, but ultimately, it’s her decision whether or not she wants to keep the place open. If she doesn’t, then we’ll be moving somewhere else. But until we know otherwise, we’re assuming we’re staying.”
“Easy for you to say. Your life isn’t destroyed.”
Tiffany folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window. Hard to believe this was the same girl who had, only a few nights earlier, wanted to sleep in her mother’s bed. She’d worried that Tiffany was growing up so fast. Maybe she should worry she wasn’t growing up fast enough.
“I’m working through the last of the numbers this morning, then I have to talk to your grandmother. As soon as we know, you’ll know.”
Tiffany didn’t say anything, but her folded arms and closed expression more than communicated her displeasure. Carly knew it was going to get a whole lot worse with her daughter before it got better. Tiffany had never changed schools before, and while Carly wanted to believe the transition would be smooth, she had her doubts.
Funny how knowing a situation had the potential to be difficult didn’t make it any more pleasant when it occurred.
She pulled up in front of the high school and stared at the familiar building. Wings had been added on each end, nearly doubling it in size, but even with the addition and the two separate buildings behind the main one, it was still much smaller than the school Tiffany had attended in Santa Monica.
“This is it?” the teen asked in disbelief. “What are there, like twelve students?”
“I’m sure there are at least twenty,” Carly said as she turned off the car and unfastened her seat belt. “Come on. Let’s get you registered. I called last week and the office already had your transcripts, so that will help.”
“Nothing’s going to help,” Tiffany muttered.
Carly ignored that and walked toward the main entrance. She remembered everything about this school—she’d attended it herself. More years ago than she could count, she’d been thrilled to finally be in high school. It had seemed so mature and exciting. Some of the seniors had been close to eighteen. The senior guys all had deep voices and a lot had beards or mustaches.
Carly smiled as she recalled clinging to Maribel as both of them had stared at all the older guys. It had been like waking up on a different planet—an exciting one filled with possibilities. She and her friend had spent that first lunch period walking around the campus, figuring out where things were. One of the seniors had actually smiled at them and said hi. Carly had a feeling she and Maribel had shrieked and run off in the opposite direction.
Hard to believe she’d ever been that innocent and silly. Good times, she thought wryly.
She led the way to the administration desk. None of the staff looked familiar, which made sense. She’d been out of high school nearly…
Carly did the math, redid it, then groaned. Nearly twenty-two years. Was that possible? No way. She wasn’t that old, was she? Apparently she was. Talk about depressing.
“May I help you?” the young woman behind the desk asked as Carly leaned against the counter.
“I’m here to register my daughter. Her transcripts were sent ahead. I called last week to confirm.”
The woman smiled. “Of course. Tiffany Spencer.”
Tiffany shuffled up to the counter and gave the heavy sigh of a child being punished by horrible parents.
“I’m new,” she said with as much cheerfulness as those facing certain death in the Spanish Inquisition.
“I know settling in to a new school can be difficult, but you’ll do fine, honey,” the woman said. “I’m Jenny. I work here in the office. Let me get your file and we’ll figure out what classes you’re taking. Oh, and you’ll want to meet with Mrs. Beecham, the girls’ vice principal. Just this one time,” Jenny added with a wink. “You don’t want to make a habit of hanging out with her.”
Jenny bustled out of the front office and disappeared into a rear room. Carly looked at her daughter.
“She seems nice.”
“Sure. And lame. We’re not going to be friends. Why does she want to pretend any of this matters?”
“Can’t she just be a nice person who wants to help?”
“Right. Plus it’s totally weird that you went here. It was a really long time ago, but still. What if one of the teachers remembers you? I don’t want anyone talking about that. Then I won’t make any friends for sure.”
Carly thought about pointing out that most of the kids in the school were locals and most likely their parents had attended the school, as well, but she doubted Tiffany would find any comfort in that.
“A lot of my teachers were pretty old,” she said instead. “I’m guessing many of them are retired.”
There were a few exceptions. Her gym teacher had been in her twenties and Mr. Everwood, her math teacher, had just finished college. Carly almost mentioned that when she remembered how both she and Maribel had had huge crushes on the man. He’d been maybe twenty-five and very hunky, in an older man sort of way.
She and Maribel had sat together in his geometry and algebra classes, giggling softly at the wonder of being so close to the object of their affection. Mr. Everwood had broken their hearts their second year when he’d invited them to his wedding.
Maribel had been out of town that weekend, but Carly had bravely attended with a couple of other friends. She’d found her heart miraculously mended when a junior on the basketball team, also a student of Mr. Everwood’s, had danced with her twice, then asked her out for the following Saturday.
“What’s so funny?” Tiffany asked suspiciously. “You’re smiling. It’s because you’re thinking of a new way to make me miserable, aren’t you?”
Carly laughed. “Not even a little. I’ll tell you a secret, Tiffany. Not everything in the world
is about you.”
“I know. Just the bad stuff is.”
Thirty minutes later Tiffany had a class schedule, books, a locker and was being led away by the ever-cheerful and pleasant Jenny. Carly turned from the administration office and walked back toward the main entrance. As she reached for the door handle to head to her car, someone called her name.
“Carly? Carly Washington?”
Carly stopped, turned and blinked at the tall man walking toward her. He was familiar. Older, sure, with gray at his temples. He wore his dark hair shorter, and there were more lines than she remembered. The brightly printed shirts he’d favored had been replaced with solid-color ones, and he’d probably put on ten or fifteen pounds. Otherwise, he was exactly the same.
“Mr. Everwood,” she said, feeling herself blush even though she knew there was no way he could have a clue that she’d been thinking about him a few minutes before. “Wow. You’re still here.”
He grinned as he approached. “I know. I should have gone on to bigger and better things, but I love teaching. I’ve tried not to, but I think it’s too late for me to change now.” He stared into her eyes. His were still dark brown.
“But that’s great. We need good teachers and you were that. I’m sure you still are.”
“I like to think so. You wouldn’t recognize the old classroom. These days we do a lot with computers and programming. Every student has a computer station in nearly all the classes.”
“That will make Tiffany happy. She’s of that generation—the one that doesn’t remember a world without computers.”
Carly nearly groaned. Could this conversation be more lame? Could she?
“How old is your daughter?”
“Fifteen.”
“She might be in my class.”
“I hope not,” Carly said, trying to relax. “She’s deathly afraid of coming face-to-face with one of my old, um, former teachers and have him or her tell the class I used to go here. So if she is in your class I would appreciate you not saying anything. Lucky for me, I didn’t mention I’d ever had Mr. Everwood for math.”
He raised his eyebrows. “We’re both adults, Carly. You can call me Steve now.”
There's Always Plan B Page 5
