All the blood rushed from his face as he met her gaze. He opened his mouth, seeming to all the oxygen in the room into his lungs. “My name is Mr. Cook. Please take your seat.”
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Keep scrolling! Saving the Garland Inn by Victoria Anders is up next!!
A new adult romance about a city girl trying to save her family's legacy and a caretaker trying to save his job. Can these opposites come together to save the Garland Inn?
High-school senior Holland Garland has had her life planned out since she was little. She wants to be a part of her family’s legacy and takeover The Garland Inn. With the unexpected passing of her grandfather, her plans are thrown into turmoil by her family’s idea of selling her future.
Ember Vine took over the caretaker’s job at the inn from his alcoholic father six months ago. With the death of his mentor, he needs to find a way to save his job and keep a roof over his head.
Can these opposites come together to save The Garland Inn?
Chapter 1
Holland
Delilah tugs on her strawberry blonde curls as her freckled face contorts into something that resembles a pretzel. I won’t intervene, even though the look tells me she’s not getting it. She needs to do it herself. I won’t be here to get her through the next three weeks of math before school lets out for winter break.
“Looking at me isn’t going to help me figure it out any faster,” she says as she bangs her head down on her trigonometry book and kicks my headboard with her rainbow-patterned socked feet.
I hate that she’s right. We carry out this same scene time and time again.
Rising from the bed and sitting in my desk chair with my back to her, I glance outside as a headlight cuts through the dimly lit street. The throaty growl of a motorcycle hums in my ears. Camden, Delilah’s boyfriend, pulls into his driveway across the street, parks, and walks through his open garage.
I’m surprised Delilah isn’t up and hovering over my shoulder, ready to beeline it out of here now that he’s home. Maybe she didn’t hear the bike? Maybe she’s concentrating so hard she’s deaf? I should tell her he’s home, but I won’t. She needs to pass trig; otherwise, she may not graduate with me come May. The torture will continue for a few more minutes.
I close my blinds to hide him.
Not one to remain still, I open my laptop to check my email. My grandfather stares at me from the background, my icons are arranged neatly to prevent covering up his face. Releasing an almost inaudible sigh, I squeeze my eyes shut to prevent the tears from flowing. He’s been gone almost a month now, and it hasn’t gotten any easier.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t officially said goodbye since my dad and uncle decided to postpone the funeral until the day before Thanksgiving, allowing everyone who wants to give him a send-off to come together at his favorite place: The Garland Inn.
Even though I only saw my grandfather a few times a year, I talked to him almost every day. I keep waiting for my phone to flash his name. But G-Daddy never makes an appearance on my screen unless I scroll through my text messages. The last one he sent was a month ago. I pick up my phone and find the last words I’ll ever get from him.
Hey Holly-Berry, I hope you had a G-Daddy day at school. Can’t wait to squeeze you so hard you toot when I see you at Christmas. Love you to Pluto and back. ~ GD
Even though his crudeness always embarrassed me, I miss his silly messages. I wipe the tear that escapes and spin in my chair to face Delilah. With furrowed brows, she’s frantically drawing angles and writing numbers on grid paper.
“I think I got it,” she squeals and hands me the sheet.
A quick glance tells me she doesn’t. “Sorry, D. Try again.” I crinkle the paper and toss it toward my trash can across the room as my door opens.
“Knock, knock.” My dad steps in and picks up the crumbled paper that landed at the foot of my bed and successfully tosses it in the waste basket. “Oh, sorry, Delilah. I didn’t realize Holland had company.”
“No problem, Mr. Garland,” Delilah says, hopping off the bed and flipping up the blinds. “She’s trying to help me figure out this trig crap until Camden gets home.”
“Hol, Katie’s putting the boys to bed then we’re hitting the sack. Rise and shine happens at six, and we’re leaving no later than seven. I want to get there before eight tomorrow evening. So, don’t stay up too late. You sure you want the first shift?”
I hit my phone screen. 8:08 pm. “Yeah, Kate said she’ll try to keep thing one and thing two asleep. I doubt I’d be able to drive safely with them awake.” My loud-mouthed half brothers are ages four and five. Full of energy is an understatement.
“I’ll be sure to prepare several travel mugs of coffee to keep both of us awake.” He picks up the suitcase by my dresser. “Is this ready to go?”
“Yep, I’ll also have my backpack in the morning.”
“Okay. I’ll set this by the front door. Delilah, I hope you and your family have a happy Thanksgiving and a merry Christmas. Don’t keep Holland up too late, or I’ll have to drive most of the trip then come for you when we get back.”
“Thanks, Mr. Garland. The same to you.” She gives my dad her toothy grin as she organizes her disheveled papers and reaches for her black bag. “Camden’s home now, so I’m heading out to save myself from your future wrath.”
My dad’s lip twitches in amusement then he exits as I snatch her backpack off my bed before she can grab it. “No, you’re not leaving until you get that last problem right.”
Rolling her eyes, she says, “I’ll just get Marlee to help.”
A laugh escapes and my eyes spiral back at her. “I’m in calculus with Marlee. Trust me. She can’t help you.” I love the girl to death, but if she didn’t have a math-genius as a boyfriend, she’d be in the same boat of failure as Delilah.
“I’ll get Noah to help me then.”
Noah, the math-genius boyfriend. I can’t argue with his ability to help her. “Aren’t they going to be gone, too?”
She takes her bag from my clutch and starts packing away her things. “Yeah, but they aren’t leaving until the day school lets out. And I can’t believe y’all are leaving me to fend for myself.”
I click my tongue and raise my eyebrows. “Oh, please. I’d be the one left alone if I was in town. You’ll be with Camden the whole time.”
Her eyes gloss over, and the dreamy smile that’s frequented her face since she and Camden became official makes an appearance. “True. But I wouldn’t totally desert you.” She stands and pulls me into a hug. “Drive safe, do your G-Daddy justice when you perform the eulogy, and smile. He’d want that.”
Even though I’ve only been friends with Delilah since last spring, she already knows me so well. Between her and Marlee, I don’t know how I would’ve managed the past month. They both have their own complex web of problems, way more than mine, but that hasn’t stopped them from taking me in and providing friendship I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
My dad always says I’m too focused on my goals and not enough on just living and being a teen. My drive is still there, but I’ve let loose and acted closer to my age so far my senior year, thanks to them.
Ever since I was little, I’ve always known what I wanted to do with my life. Once out of high school, I planned to follow in my dad’s footsteps by attending Reinback College in upstate New York while learning to run The Garland Inn with my grandfather. Now with the latter gone, I no longer know if I’m capable of following through with my goals, at least when it comes to learning to run the inn.
It was supposed to be my future, but now, my dad and uncle are talking crazy about wanting to sell it, tossing out my G-Daddy’s legacy with the daily trash. I’m determined to
figure everything out over the next month as I spend the holidays at the hotel that’s been in my family for three generations.
I can’t give up my dream even with G-Daddy gone. I’ve got to save it not only for myself, but for him.
My fierce determination hits me. I refuse to let them sell.
I'll figure it out somehow.
I’m determined to save The Garland Inn.
Chapter 2
Ember
The screen door creaks. I hold the door steady to prevent it from sounding off even more, hoping my dad is too far gone to hear it. Note to self for the third time: WD-40 is your friend.
“Ember, is that you?” Dad slurs.
Of course, on the day I wish he’d be too far gone, he’s not. I’m not in the mood for the usual “when-are-you-going-back-to-school” hounding.
“Yeah, Dad. Just on my lunch break,” I say, opening the fridge and pulling out luncheon meats and sliced cheese. “Would you like a sandwich?”
“I’ll have what you’re having.” The recliner clunks and Dad emits a grunt that sounds like he’s doing a deadlift in the Olympics. A clatter sounds followed by his favorite curse word: “Pig skins!”
After a minute of rustling and more grunts, he staggers into the kitchen with four beer cans nestled in his arms, his salt-and-pepper hair glued to his forehead and his eyes streaked with red. The metal chair scrapes the tile floor when he pulls it out.
I set a plate with a club sandwich in front of him, hoping the additional slice of bread will help sop up the alcohol that’s gurgling in his belly.
He mutters a thanks and takes a gigantic bite. Silence fills the air along with continuous chewing sounds and I hope the quiet continues. I prefer the days when the cat has his tongue, as opposed to the days when said tongue gives me a lashing about dropping out of school.
What else could I do? Someone had to save the roof over our heads.
“They not feeding you anymore at the inn?” he says after finishing half his sandwich. A spot of mayonnaise covers the left of his lip and lettuce dangles from the right.
I let out a gusty sigh and look toward the heavens with a questioning why, knowing it’ll be a matter of minutes before he mentions his favorite topic. “Didn’t feel like eating lunch there today.”
“Why not? It’s free.”
I scoff. Why should he care about free food? It’s not like he bought this bread or any of the contents in between.
“Mrs. Mabel made her minestrone today. That’s why.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ve never understood why you don’t like her award-winning minestrone.”
“No soup today. And Mrs. Mabel is gone.” What was once a full and hearty lunch courtesy of The Garland Inn has been replaced with the equivalent of a kid-sized lunchable pack. Not enough for a strapping guy like me.
“She head to Florida to visit her family for Thanksgiving?”
“No, Todd let her go.”
“Go where?”
“As in she got canned.”
He drops the last half of his sandwich on the paper plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“She’s been cooking for that inn for forty years.”
“Todd told her it was time to retire. Had a big party for her last week.”
Retirement was just the cover. She had pulled me aside after it happened and told me to watch out. I could be the next victim, not only losing my job as caretaker but also losing the roof over our heads courtesy of said job.
Dad runs his hand over his scruffy beard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did. And you were invited to the party.” You were just too drunk to come to it.
He frowns and his light-blue eyes gloss over. “Todd is going to run that inn into the ground.”
“Old Man Garland would become undead before he lets that happen.”
At least I wished that could happen. If it were possible, he’d already be haunting the place and putting a halt to all of the nonsense. The past month since he passed away has seen many unwelcome changes. I’m surprised the free lunch for employees hasn’t been nixed yet.
After Mrs. Mabel, several employees have already put in their notice. It forced Todd to increase wages to keep them until after the busy holiday season. I’m just happy to still have a job and a home, at least until the new year.
Dad shakes his head as if waving off a thought. “Any news of Cory coming?”
“Yeah, they’re arriving sometime this evening. Don’t wait up.”
Blake, Todd’s power-hungry son and Mr. Garland’s grandson, informed me that I had to work late as he flirted with a new arrival of guests--a family with two attractive blondes who giggled as he puffed out his chest, showing off his self-appointed manager nametag. The reason for the additional hours--with no overtime--was because his uncle Cory and his family, including Mr. Garland’s beloved granddaughter, would be arriving sometime this evening and would need help settling into Mr. Garland’s cabin behind the inn.
It’s been several years since I’ve seen his granddaughter. She’s a couple of years younger than I am. Mr. Garland always raved about her being the future of the inn. I just remember her being as quiet as a mouse and always curled up in a hammock by the lake reading a novel, completely opposite of the boisterous Mr. Garland. I never once heard her speak.
Dad’s shoulders hunch and his chin meets his chest. If it wasn’t for the rapid eye movement, I’d think he’d passed out. I wipe the crumbs off the wooden table and onto the paper plates then toss them in the trash.
Slipping into my work boots, I open the screen door.
“Son?”
I pause, letting the noon sun cut through the chilly air to warm my face. “Yeah?”
“We’ll manage.”
I let the screen door slam shut behind me. “You mean I’ll manage,” I mumble.
Mr. Garland sat me down for a talk after Dad forgot to put the work truck in park, causing the vehicle to roll into the lake. He suggested that I take over for my dad as caretaker of the inn. He caught me at a time when I was pondering what I wanted to do with my life, not enjoying my freshman year of college, and painted it as learning the ropes of how to run an inn. And in the past six months, I’ve been a sponge for everything he said until a heart attack silenced him.
Up until that point, my life started to make sense and I realized I liked taking care of the grounds, managing the horses, and being Mr. Garland’s right-hand man. My future started to present itself. Now, it’s back to being a big blur.
At least Dad didn’t hound me about school.
That’ll be a topic for tomorrow’s lunch hour.
And the next.
And the next after that.
Chapter 3
Holland
Dad pulls off the expressway and heads down the dark two-lane highway that leads to the town of Snow Falls, New York. The area is known for three things: Reinback College, ski tourism during the winter months, and water sports during the summer months.
Spring and fall in Snow Falls aren’t too shabby either with the colorful floral display during April and May and the golden leaves painting an exquisite picture in autumn. Year round, Snow Falls is a perfect postcard place to live, especially during the holidays when the entire town puts on an over-the-top Christmas display that brings tourists from far and wide with the Garland Inn being the leader of twinkles, baubles, and illuminations.
The inn is on the outskirts of town nestled between the base of a mountain and a winding river that leads to Snow Lake. A spattering of rental cabins cover the Garland’s side of the ridge. A cable car leads to the summit, dumping its riders off to snow-covered courses. They make up a resort belonging to the Jenson family who owns the other side of the mountain.
For years, the two families have worked together to be the prime winter sporting area in the northeast. While the Jenson’s pack up and head to Canada for the summer, the Garland’s continue bringing in tour
ists with a multitude of lake activities, thanks to fifty percent of Snow Lake being on our property and my G-Daddy’s love for lake life--fishing, water skiing, tubing, boating. You name it, he enjoyed it, even in his older years, or as he would call them, his experienced years.
At age seventy-five, he was always on the move and appeared to be as healthy as a horse. I expected him to live to a hundred.
As the miles tick down, my nerves are bundled so tight I can barely move. My body is stiff and unyielding as I try to stretch out my legs. So many unknowns are ahead of me. Dad hasn’t come out and said they plan on selling, but the muffled conversations he’s had on the phone with Uncle Todd tell me all I need to know.
If they sell, my whole life plan is over. The idea of working at the inn while attending college in town will go down the drain. G-Daddy and I talked about me managing the inn after I earn my degree, allowing him to finally retire to his fishing cabin that sits within a stone’s throw of the lake on the farside of our property.
But his heart had other ideas. I still want to be here but only if the inn is part of that future. Without it, even with its picture-perfect facade, this town couldn’t hold me. Besides my uncle and his son and several of the inn’s employees, I don’t know anyone in this town. Definitely no one my age besides my cousin who cares about nothing but himself.
I release an exasperated sigh when the glittering lights of Snow Falls fill the panorama. The tension starts to melt away as I think about seeing my beloved inn covered in red and green shimmering splendor. It won’t be the same without my G-Daddy, but his spirit will live in every light-covered fir tree for as long as I’m alive.
“I thought you passed out on me,” Dad says. “You’ve been quiet since we crossed the state line.”
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