Steve? Steve? No. That wasn’t going to happen. She’d been raised to call teachers by their last names and there was no way she could ever think of Mr. Everwood as anything but a teacher. Steve?
“Okay. Sure.”
The humor faded from his eyes. “I sometimes speak with your mother,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”
News sure spread fast, she thought, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised. “Thanks. I’m okay with it.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Of course your husband’s stupidity is my gain.”
Carly knew her mouth was open because she’d felt her jaw drop. Was Mr. Everwood coming on to her?
“Yes, well, at least we’ve managed to stay on speaking terms.” She swallowed. “Me and my ex-husband. Not you and me. Of course we can speak, too.”
“I’d like that.”
He would? Why?
“Okay. Great. Look, I really have to get back to the B and B.”
“Sure. Would you mind if I gave you a call sometime?”
Him? Call her? For what?
She wanted to run shrieking into the night, except it was day and shrieking would only make her look stupid.
“That would be fine,” she said as she backed toward the door. “You probably have the number.”
“Of course. Good to see you, Carly.”
“You, too, Mr., um, Steve.”
Carly drove directly to the B and B, then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Maribel’s car still parked in the side lot. She flew across the gravel and raced into the kitchen.
“Where’s my mom?” she asked Maribel, who had just put a bowl into the refrigerator.
“Upstairs. Why? Is something wrong? Were you in an accident?”
“What? No. Oh, God.” Carly pulled out a stool and sank down, then she looked at her friend and started to laugh. “I registered Carly for school,” she said, between bursts of laughter.
“Sounds like it was a fun experience.”
“It was fine, but afterward I ran into Mr. Everwood.”
Maribel sat next to her and patted her arm. “We’re all adults now, Carly. It’s okay to call him Steve.”
“That’s what he said,” Carly told her even as she lost control of another burst of giggles. “I think he asked me out. He said he was going to call. Mr. Everwood. Twenty-three years ago I would have been thrilled, but now it’s just plain weird. Besides, isn’t he married?”
“A widower, and something of a ladies’ man. You be careful around him.”
Carly held in another shriek. “Our former math teacher is a ladies’ man? I can’t grasp the concept. And you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going out with him. There’s a huge ick factor. This guy used to be my teacher.”
“Twenty years ago.”
“I know, but still. I can barely call him Steve. I certainly can’t date him.”
Dating? Not in this lifetime. Or at least not for a very long time. She already had too much going on.
“I’m still trying to get settled here. Plus, I was married for nearly seventeen years. The last thing I’m looking for is another man.”
“What about sex?” Maribel asked with a grin.
Carly stared at her. “You can’t expect me to have sex with Mr. Everwood!”
“I guess not if you can’t call him by his first name. He’s actually pretty nice and not bad looking. I’m just saying be careful. He has a reputation for being a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy.”
“This is too surreal,” Carly said. “Tell me it’s five o’clock somewhere. I think I need wine.”
Instead of drowning her sorrows in a glass of chardonnay, Carly chose to put her morning activities behind her and work on her plan. She’d decided to make a formal presentation to her mother, putting everything in writing so they were both clear on where they were going. Assuming this all came to pass.
After spending most of the past four days brainstorming ways to bring the inn back to profitable status, she found herself getting more and more excited about the possibilities. If her mother agreed with Carly’s ideas, there was a better-than-even chance they could make a lot of money. Things had a chance of going badly, as well, but Carly didn’t want to think about that.
She ran the numbers for the fourth time that afternoon, then made sure all her spreadsheets were in order. While she would have liked to do her presentation on the computer, she thought her mother would be more comfortable with actual paper in front of her.
She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t notice the time, and was shocked when Tiffany stormed into her room.
“I’ll never forgive you,” the teen announced as tears spilled down her face. “Never, ever.”
Carly glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was nearly three-thirty. She was supposed to meet with her mother at four.
She put aside her paper and rose to face her daughter. Obviously her first day at a new high school hadn’t been a success.
“Tell me what happened,” Carly said quietly.
“Nothing. Exactly nothing. No one talked to me, no one even looked at me. It’s like I was invisible. I sat by myself at lunch. That’s never happened to me before. I’m the popular one. I’m the one who gets to say who’s in and who isn’t.”
She wiped her face, then threw her books on the bed. “Plus you let Grandma come pick me up. Do you know how humiliating that was? She was standing outside the car! She called my name and waved.”
Carly winced. When her mother had offered to pick up Tiffany, Carly had been grateful for the extra time to polish her work. She hadn’t thought to warn her not to acknowledge Tiffany in any way until she was in the car and they were safely out of sight of her friends.
“I’m sorry about that,” Carly told her. “I know this seems horrible now, but it will get better.”
“How do you know?” Tiffany demanded. “You never changed schools when you were growing up. You never had your life destroyed. I hate you! This is all your f-fault.” Her voice broke on a sob. “If you weren’t such a bitch, Daddy never would have left us. We wouldn’t have had to move here. You did this. You—”
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, as if she’d just realized what she’d said.
Carly experienced her own brand of shock. Her daughter had gotten angry with her before—countless times—but she’d never sworn at her. Sympathy turned to annoyance and threatened to grow into something else.
She wanted a chance to have her own tantrum. When did she get to rage at the unfairness of it all? She wanted to give her daughter a few facts about where the blame lay, and point out that her precious father had only called under threat of a court order.
Then the anger grew and was joined by the sharp pain of raising a teenager and being the bad guy all the time. Eventually she and Tiffany would reconnect. Eventually her daughter would understand what was important, but that era of peace and unity was years away. Until then there was only this.
“I meant it,” Tiffany said, raising her chin. “I don’t care if you punish me. What does it matter if I’m grounded? I don’t have anywhere to go or anyone to see.”
Carly turned away. “Get out of here.”
“What? Aren’t you going to punish me?”
“Right now I don’t even want to look at you. Go to your room and stay there.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
Carly turned on her daughter. She didn’t raise her voice, but for once she didn’t hide her disappointment, anger and pain.
“Get out of my sight.”
Tiffany gasped, grabbed her books and fled.
CHAPTER 5
Carly did her best to clear Tiffany from her mind as she set out the papers in front of her mother. A couple of hours alone in her room might give the teen time to rethink her words and actions and come to the conclusion that she’d been rude and wrong. Given Tiffany’s current hormone level and mental state, it seemed unlikely; but hey, a mom cou
ld dream.
“I’m interested in a three-pronged approach to growing our bottom line,” Carly said after she’d set up an easel and put up the first graphic of three arrows pointing up. “First, individual bookings, second, group bookings and third, day visitors. The individual bookings are going to account for most of our weekend reservations, so the other two need to fill up our midweek slots. My marketing emphasis will be based on the haunted-house angle. It’s the only way we’ll get people to come out here. The decrease in visitors in recent years proves that without a hook, we’re not going to make it.”
She flipped to the second graphic, this one showing a couple in a car. “I want to use the existing database to send out a letter to all our previous customers. We can offer them a twenty-percent discount for their next stay. I’ll also put together some packages—a cooking weekend, day trips to Napa, or an afternoon on a marine research vessel. I already have some contacts there.”
Her mother didn’t comment, nor could Carly read her expression. So she just kept on talking.
“We’ll advertise in very specific magazines. I’ve listed them on page two, along with their rates.”
Her mother flipped the page. “This is a lot of money,” Rhonda told her.
Carly thought about pointing out it was way less than it had cost to replace perfectly good china and flatware, but didn’t.
“I have more specifics on attracting couples and families, but right now I’d like to continue the overview,” she said. “The group bookings would be small conferences. There are lots of groups looking for a unique place to come and have a two- or three-day session. I’ve had interest from some horror writers—obviously they’re excited about the ghost angle. There are three culinary institutes who would like to book for three- and five-day sessions at a haunted house. Management off-sites are another opportunity. I’m still getting information on that.”
“This is all very nice, Carly, but I don’t want a bunch of strangers in my house.”
Carly opened her mouth, then closed it. “Mom, this is a bed-and-breakfast. Strangers is what we do.”
Her mother sighed. “You know what I mean. Nice married couples are one thing, but horror writers? And I don’t want a bunch of business people here.”
Carly had expected resistance, but not like this. “What do you have against business people?”
“For one thing, we only offer breakfast. I’m not interested in opening a restaurant.”
“I agree. It’s too expensive and too iffy. But we can offer boxed lunches with advance notice, and catering. I’ve spoken to several of the restaurants in town and they’re more than willing to deliver out here. In fact, the boxed lunches tie in with my idea for day visitors. We could offer the larger, public rooms for meetings of local clubs. Civic groups, women’s groups. We make a couple of bucks a head on their lunch and give them the parlors for free.”
“How is that going to help anything?”
“If they like what they see then they’ll think about holding their daughter’s wedding here. Or a birthday party. Or putting up out-of-town guests. We need to remind the world we’re still here. I’ve spoken with a few groups and they’re very interested. They love the idea that we’re haunted.”
“Seems like you’ve been talking to the world.”
“Just trying to get a handle on things. Everyone who has been here loves the place and those who haven’t are really intrigued. Without the ghost angle, I couldn’t get anyone to return calls. But Mary is a fabulous selling point. Who wouldn’t want to stay at a haunted B and B? That’s going to be our main selling point with the management off-sites. That, and the quiet.”
Rhonda flipped through the pages. “I just don’t know. It’s all so much. Do we have to do this?”
Carly sat across from her. “No, we don’t. But if you don’t want to make changes then you need to sell right now. The B and B is losing between two and three thousand dollars a month just to stay running and that doesn’t count the repairs or any replacement costs. Or property taxes. They’re incredibly high. At the rate you’re burning through the equity in this place, you have about three years left.”
“What happens in three years?”
“You won’t be able to get enough money out of the sale to live on the proceeds. You’ll have to get a job.”
Rhonda leaned back in her chair. “I don’t want that. I’m ready to retire.”
“I know, Mom. The thing is, I would really hate for you to sell this house after all this time. It’s a part of our heritage. But I also want you to be financially secure. What I propose is that you give me one year to get the B and B back on its feet financially. If I can’t do it, then you can still sell and have your nest egg. If I can, then we’ll go back to what we’d always talked about—that I would take over the business and slowly buy you out.”
“You want to make a lot of changes. I’m not comfortable with this. Why does it have to be different?”
“Because you’re losing a lot of money.”
Her mother closed her eyes. “I hate this. I wish your father hadn’t died. He always took care of everything. This has been so hard for me.”
Carly sat next to her and took her hand. “It has. It’s been a long seven years and you’ve done a great job. But I don’t want you to lose your retirement and I really don’t want to lose the house.”
Rhonda nodded, then looked at her daughter. “I just don’t know if you can do it. What if you fail?”
Carly tried not to take the lack of confidence personally. “I’m asking for a year. That’s all. If things aren’t going well at the end of that time, you can still sell and get out enough to live on for the rest of your life.”
“All right. I’ll think about it.”
Carly held in a sigh. Her mother was notorious for thinking about things for weeks at a time and then still not deciding.
“I need to know by tomorrow.”
“What?” Her mother glared at her. “I can’t decide something this big that quickly. You’re pressuring me. What does it matter if I take a few weeks?”
“It matters to me. I need Tiffany settled. If you’re going to say no, I need to find a job somewhere else and get her into a new school. I don’t want to have her start to make friends here only to uproot her again. It’s not fair. I’m asking you to decide in a reasonable time frame. I have responsibilities to my daughter, and I take them as seriously as you took your responsibilities to me.”
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “This isn’t fair. If your father were still alive…”
“But he isn’t.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’ve had to deal with this all by myself. You haven’t been any help. You’ve been running around having a good time while I suffered.”
Carly stood and stepped back a couple of steps. “I’ve been raising my child.”
“With that no-good man you married. I don’t understand it. And now you come back here and want to order me around.”
Carly knew that however this went, she was going to be the bad guy. “That’s not my intent. I saw us as partners. I’ve offered my vision for what we can do to make the B and B successful again. I’m willing to work sixteen-hour days and devote myself to the project. All I ask in return is for you to either agree or disagree. But I won’t wait forever. If you don’t like what I want to do, then you’ll need time to figure out what you want to do instead.”
“Oh, sure. Put it all on me. You’ve always been difficult, but I don’t remember you being so hard-hearted. When did that happen?”
“I have no idea,” Carly told her, feeling both sad and resigned. Why couldn’t her mother simply make a decision? Obviously she’d known changes would have to happen to make the business a success.
Of course Carly already knew the answer to that. If her mother decided anything, then she had to take responsibility—the one thing she hated to do. Life was better when whatever went wrong was someone else’s fault.
“You
’re not giving me much choice,” Rhonda said. “Either I agree or you walk away from me forever.”
“That’s not what I said. If the B and B is going to be closed, then I have to make a life for myself and my daughter. That’s hardly abandoning you.”
Rhonda didn’t look convinced. “Fine. Have it your way. You’d probably do it without me.”
Carly sank back into the chair. “You’re saying yes? You’re agreeing with my plan?”
“Yes. It’s your idea and you’re in charge.”
Carly understood the momspeak. That she wasn’t just in charge, she was responsible. If anything went wrong, she was to blame.
She was okay with that—in this case it was true.
“I suppose you’ll be taking over everything,” her mother said sadly. “I won’t matter at all.”
“That’s not true. I’ll need your help more than ever. With me getting all the advertising in place and coming up with different ideas, I’ll be swamped. You’re the heart and soul of this B and B, Mom. You always have been. Yes, I have a lot of things I want to get done, but none of it will happen without you.”
She squeezed her mother’s hand. “I mean that.”
At that moment Rhonda looked old and small. Carly opened her mouth, then closed it.
Was that the real problem? That her mother didn’t feel needed by anyone?
Rhonda sighed. “I just don’t have the energy I used to, but if you need me, of course I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. I want to take the load off you and I will. But at first I’ll need your help in the day-to-day running of things. At least until I’m up to speed and can do some rearranging of the staff.”
“All right,” Rhonda said. “We’ll be a team.”
“Great.” Carly smiled. “I’m going to do everything I can to make the B and B a success.”
“I hope it works,” Rhonda said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll all know you tried your best and that’s what matters.”
Carly accepted the words in the spirit they were given—or at least in the spirit she wanted them to be given. She leaned forward and hugged her mother. The soft scent of Chanel No. 5 surrounded her.
There's Always Plan B Page 6
