Up To Me (Shore Secrets #1)

Chapter Seven

Because he was a thorough man, Gray went back to the Cosgrove General Store for his caffeine fix. His conversation with Eugene had been eight kinds of uncomfortable. God knew he was in no rush to get into another one just like it. But the job came first. That’s how he got the big bankroll—by always putting the job first. A bankroll big enough that it might eventually allow him to walk away. To do a job that meant more to him than just a fat number at the bottom of a balance sheet.

Until then, though, the job came first. Was there a chance he’d run into Dawn and get sucked into another weirdly personal conversation? The intrusively caring kind of chitchat endemic to small towns? Oh, yeah. The way his day was going, there wasn’t just a chance. There was a certainty. Gray was just as certain, however, that Cosgrove General was a prime spot to mine for information about the town and Mayhew Manor. If not from Dawn herself, then from the locals sure to congregate there. Might as well start pretending to care about them—and not care about Ella. Fake it till you make it, right?

Braced for the worst, Gray pushed open the door. A bell jingled. The wooden floorboards creaked with every step. He realized his back teeth were clenched together. Which meant it was time to crawl out of his head. Leave his emotions in a mental ditch. So Gray hit reset. He cracked his jaw, rolled his shoulders and loosened his stride as he headed for the café area.

Dawn clattered down the stairs. Today she wore another cardigan. This one was tan over an orange top and jeans. Mitzi scampered along right at her heels, long ears flapping against each step. “Good morning, Gray. I knew you’d find your way back to us.”

“You brew a mean cup of joe.” Crouching, he let Mitzi lick both hands before he gave her a good belly rub. Gray liked dogs. Had always hoped to have one someday. Although in his plan, the dog was about triple the size of the ground-hugging Mitzi. If he threw a Frisbee at her, it’d probably squash her. But more importantly, Gray knew that the way to a pet owner’s heart was through their four-legged companion. Dawn had been so suspicious when she met him. Gray wanted to be sure she felt like she could let her guard down now that he was officially no longer a stranger.

“She sure likes you.” Dawn rummaged behind the counter for a mug and passed it over. “I hear she’s not the only woman panting a little more heavily around you these days.”

Yup. Never let it be said the fine people of Seneca Lake didn’t live down to his expectations. In the store less than two minutes and the subject of Ella had already reared up. Denial was futile. After all, she’d written about him in the journal for the entire town to see. Etiquette, however, allowed him to skirt the issue.

“I’m a gentleman, Mayor Cosgrove. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Good to hear.” She sighed and laughed, fluffing her shoulder-length blond hair. “Oh, who am I kidding? Your attempt to do the right thing puts the kibosh on my attempt to squeeze gossip out of you. On the one hand, I’m thoroughly disappointed. On the other hand, in my role as an unofficial godmother to Ella, I approve. You’ve put me in a sticky situation, Gray.”

He shook his head. Turned his back to her to pour his coffee. “Not nearly as sticky as the corner you just tried to paint me into, Madam Mayor.” Crap. Kind of surreal, dodging her question about dating Ella. Since he was simultaneously trying to figure out how to put a stop to their current not-dating dating. Gray couldn’t tell her why. Not without revealing the real reason he was staying at Seneca Lake. But he also couldn’t let Ella think—not for a minute—that he didn’t desire her. That she didn’t thoroughly delight him from her laugh to her smile to her inner strength.

“Ha! And it’s Dawn.” She joined him at the carafe, filling her own mug. Unlike his green speckled stoneware, hers was delicate and painted blue with yellow stars, like a cut out from Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I only trot out my title on the off chance it’s needed to wield some influence. Like when I’ve got to convince town council members not to sling mud at each other.”

He’d far rather discuss the complexity of business than his dating dilemma. Gray hitched himself up onto a stool. A contentious council could translate to a lengthy logjam in the rezoning process. If, that is R&M even went that way. Gray had yet to decide what sort of building would work best at the Mayhew site, if not the castle. Assuming he recommended takeover of it. Which was one of those things he was actively not thinking about. All he had to do right now was gather the information. No decision had to be made for at least another ten days. As if that made it better. As if in ten days, he wouldn’t still be horribly aware of stripping away Ella’s life and memories and her parent’s legacy. As if.

“Does that happen often? That sort of squabbling?” he asked.

“Not so much as you’d think. We had a kerfuffle last year over whether or not to name the corn maze at the Fall Festival.” She slipped off a loafer to absently run her foot back and forth along Mitzi’s spine. “I didn’t want sponsor banners plastered all over it. Looks messy. Ed and Archie, they own the liquor store, and they made a big stink. Wanted a ‘piece of the action’. They’ve been sore ever since the barbershop sponsored the Little League team. Ed claims that a barbershop doesn’t need that sort of advertising. His reason being that everyone gets their hair cut. Well, between you, me and the doorknob, everyone ends up at the liquor store, too. But the Fall Festival’s for families. Kids don’t need to see a logo of a dancing vodka bottle waving above them as they enter the maze. Sends the wrong message.”

When she paused to sip her coffee, Gray jumped in. “I agree.” Only two words. But Gray hoped they’d stop her. Normally he reveled in digging up tiny details about a town. What made Gray so good at his job was that he didn’t take anything at face value. A seemingly innocuous piece of information could be the difference between a site being a prime location for a resort or a business park or luxury condos. It was all about perception. And Gray was an expert at perception. He’d gotten a crash course in it growing up. Or rather, being on the negative, receiving end of it.

Today, though, he wasn’t in the mood. Even though it was exactly the sort of thing he’d come to Cosgrove’s to learn. Gray suddenly couldn’t bear learning one more intimate detail about the town. So he lurched to his feet. Lifted his mug in a question. "Can I take this outside for a few minutes?”

In response, she bent down and clipped a leash onto Mitzi’s collar. “I’ll come with you. Going to check the journal?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s my family’s job to watch over the journal. I check it every day. Plus, the whole town’s talking about what you two wrote in it.”

“Great.”

“Want to see what they think?”

“Yes. And no. I think the whole thing’s idiotic.” As she preceded him through the store, Gray hastened to add, “No disrespect intended.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well aware our custom may seem odd to outsiders. But it works for us. Some people send in questions to advice columns in newspapers. Call in to talk radio. Email to bloggers. Really, is this any different? I don’t think so. In fact, it’s more pure. Friends reaching out to friends.”

The screen door clacked shut behind them. Gray thought about mentioning that she hadn’t locked up the store full of merchandise. Then he remembered Ella barging in to the empty store to serve herself. That was just the way of things at Cosgrove General. A level of trust and acceptance and, well, community. Pretty much what Dawn had just said. Which he had to admit, appealed to a deeply buried part of himself he’d completely blocked off over the years. Seneca Lake had a feeling of unification and caring that would absolutely play into his recommendation. Whatever that might be.

Dawn yanked open the mailbox and retrieved the journal. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him.

His momentary hesitation was stupid. What did it matter what a bunch of strangers wrote? He never should’ve written the question in the first place. Gray paced the line where the grass met the sandy lakeshore. “Read it to me.”

“Okay.” She sat on the bench and let Mitzi off her leash. “Hmm. In answer to Ella’s question whether or not you two should start canoodling—”

Gray cut her off. “Canoodling?” He paused, midstep. “The 1930s called, and they want their word back.”

“Very funny. Here’s the first response: ‘No. If you have to ask, you’re not ready’ . ”

Despite Ella’s excellent recounting of the journal tradition, Gray hadn’t actually expected people to answer. And he sure as hell hadn’t expected to be rejected, sight unseen. “That’s…not what I anticipated to hear. Is there another?”

She snorted. “The entire page is full.”

Christ. His fingers tightened around the mug. “What’s the majority say?”

“It’s split about sixty-forty. Where you scratched out ‘take me to dinner’ and changed it to ‘romance me?’ That went over well with the ladies. One woman wrote ‘go for it’, and then drew a heart around it. Of course, she also dotted her I with a heart. There’s a good chance that one’s either annoyingly cutesy or not even old enough to vote.”

He agreed. Even back in high school it drove him crazy when girls gave him notes written in bubble letters and hearts. “Whenever you figure the median, you toss the high and the low. I’d call a heart-dotter a definite low. Either way, I’ll take the sixty percent and run with it.”

Except…he wouldn’t. Instead, he’d have to find a way to do the exact opposite. To run away from Ella, in fact. Amazing how much that idea sucked. Today was Sunday. He’d only met Ella on Friday. Yet Gray couldn’t believe how close they’d gotten, and so quickly. The thought of not spending time with her for the rest of his two weeks here hollowed him out a little inside.

“Before you get all cocky, Gray, remember that your life’s not a spreadsheet. Not everything can be totted up as easily as a list of numbers. Your word change to the question wasn’t nearly as popular with the men. Made you sound like a slick talker, is the general consensus. They’re worried you’ll take her to dinner and she’ll get taken for a ride, if you know what I mean.”

Gray stopped dead in his tracks. “You must be jumping to conclusions.”

“It’s right here in black and white. A couple of people recognized Ella’s handwriting. Probably more than a couple, but most of us try to abide by the anonymity of the journal. Anyway, here’s an example of those responses. ‘Start slow. Group date. Don’t rush it.’ And here’s one from a woman. ‘Don’t leap into the arms of the first man you fancy. Wait for someone who’s worth making the leap.’”

“Those guys don’t even know me? How dare they pass judgment? Say I’m not good enough for Ella?” Arms swinging wide, he accidentally tossed half his coffee onto a low bush just filling out with leaves the color of lime sherbet. Gray ignored the fact that he hadn’t believed in the whole journal project from the start. He’d pendulumed from feeling pretty good to royally pissed. Sixty percent wasn’t that great a number. Still, it was enough to give them a green light. But for total strangers to assume he wouldn’t treat her well? The insult shouldn’t bother him—thanks to the total-strangers caveat. Logic didn’t take away the sting, though.

“Before you get too worked up, remember one thing. Graydon Locke wasn’t the man being judged. The idea of a man who might date Ella was being judged.”

A half hour ago, he’d decided not to hang out with Ella any more. At all. Classified it as too risky. Worse than walking into a Yankees bar wearing a Red Sox jersey. But now, the town had pissed him off just enough to change his mind. Gray tossed back the rest of his coffee before the conversation pissed him off enough to spill more. “I personify that idea. So yeah, I take it personally. Why should I let them decide who I can or can’t date?”

“You don’t live here, so you don’t have to. Ella, however, does.” She aimed a smile at him that looked to be equal parts pity and consolation. “It’s only been a day. The odds are currently in your favor. We generally let the answers pour in for three days before moving forward one way or the other. Give it a little more time.”

Ella hadn’t mentioned the three-day-waiting period. Weird that he could buy a gun in Montana faster than he could take a woman out for dinner in Seneca Lake. It gave him two more days to decide how to handle the situation. He’d be damned if he let a few anonymous lines determine the course of his life—even for two weeks. On the other hand, there was every chance that Gray would end up screwing over Ella’s life. Did he really have the right to screw around with her heart, too? “Sure,” he murmured absently.

“Don’t you want to see the answer to the other question? The one you wrote?” Before he got much further than a gaping mouth, Dawn shook a finger at him. “Don’t try to deny it. Your handwriting’s easy to pick out from where you changed Ella’s question right above it.” She laughed and patted the seat next to her. “Come sit.”

Why the hell not? It had been utter insanity to put the question on paper in the first place. Might as well treat the crazy by lobbing back more crazy. And nothing was crazier than expecting a lakeside journal to solve the career problem he could barely verbalize. Gray sat on the edge of the bench, still unwilling to read the words himself. That was too much like buying into the whole idea. He plopped Mitzi in his lap and gave her a good scratch behind the ears. “Well?”

Dawn gave the page a quick skim, and then looked sideways at him. “You’ve an even split this time. Half the people think you should quit, the general consensus being that life’s too short. The other half says you’re lucky to have a steady paycheck. And an idiot if you give that up without a replacement lined up.”

“I agree.”

“Hmm. Are you really that unhappy?”

In the grand scheme of things? It wasn’t like Gray was digging ditches or the poor, bored schlub who pressed the start button on roller coasters. But he did know that every day it took a little more effort to get out of bed and do his job. “I’m not sure.”

A slow nod, followed by quick purse of her unpainted lips. “Do you really want to quit?”

“I don’t know.”

She barked out a laugh. “Good talk.” Gathering the leash and both their mugs, she stood. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The journal isn’t so much about giving you an answer. It’s more about helping you discover the answer you knew was right all along. You should chew on what you really want before you come back tomorrow to see who else has weighed in.” Dawn carefully placed Mitzi back on the grass. Then, with a wave, she hurried back across the road.

So what? Now she was a Zen master? Find the truth within you. Sounded like equal parts Yoda and Karate Kid. Why would he bother to ask a question if he already knew the answer? Somehow Gray was leaving the mailbox with more information…and yet more confused than ever.

∞∞∞

The cold, wet mud seeped through Ella’s black pants almost immediately. Didn’t matter. She wore her cemetery pants. The ones all but destroyed by mud almost three years ago, the first time she visited her parents gravesite. She’d knelt in the mud for hours, grinding it into her knees and shins as she sobbed, banging her fists against the cool marble of the headstone until they ached. At least that pain had been enough to distract her, if only for a second, from the stabbing agony in her soul.

Knowing it was useless to try and completely remove the caked-in grime, she’d dubbed them her cemetery pants. Ella came far too often to bother wearing them on every visit. But when she needed to tend the stone and tidy the flower holder, like today, on went the pants. It didn’t matter if she ran into someone she knew looking so bedraggled. Everyone who visited the cemetery knew why she was there. They all knew about Disaster Day. And if the journal was anything to go by, nobody expected her to be fully back in control. They all expected to see the shaken, stained-pants-wearing Ella.

Enough was enough. The obstinate side of Ella had almost put on a dress and heels before coming today. Just to prove that she was back. Pulled together and in complete control. But her practical side overruled the showy gesture. First of all, there might not be anyone else in the cemetery today, making it a moot point. And secondly, she was wielding the clippers to edge the flower holder. On her knees. In the mud. Why bother dressing up for what she knew to be a messy business?

What mattered was talking to her parents. It was hard to feel the remnants of them in the Manor. Too many other people always around. But here, at the grave, Ella could talk to them. Unburden herself of her loneliness, her grief, and whatever other troubles she carried. The feeling of actually talking to them might be as much a mirage as a functioning wet bar in the Sahara. Still, it comforted her. Reminded her of the days she could zip in and get a hug from Dad, a kiss from Mom, and such a sense of belonging. These days, Ella didn’t belong to anyone.

“It hasn’t been the best week. My business is fine. But bookings at the Manor are still down, even with the kickoff to this summer’s season just a few weeks away. Not the worst news in the world. Except that, well, it is. Because we’re hemorrhaging money.”

There was the leak in the roof that necessitated new carpet, paint and linens in the corner room of the top floor. Not to mention the actual repair of the roof itself. A patch job wouldn’t cut it. It looked like three more holes might open up with the next good storm. The generator should’ve been replaced last year, so they were living on borrowed time there. The driveway needed to be repaved. Spring had brought a new colony of moles to the south lawn, dotting it with a warren of unsightly and dangerous holes. And for months now, Joel had been making noises about needing to upgrade the commercial-grade stove and the dishwasher. The last time he mentioned it, the words fire hazard popped up. Even though she officially didn’t run the Manor, people still came to her with questions and issues. Sending them on to Eugene didn’t prevent her from noticing all the problems piling up. Eugene had the passion for hotel management that Ella utterly lacked. If he couldn’t find a way to fix things, she didn’t stand a chance of making a difference.

Ella finished edging a neat circle around the rusted metal holder in the ground. Then she picked up a brush to clear away pollen and a few cherry tree petals. “Nothing catastrophic. Just the normal wear and tear of running a hotel. Especially a high-class, boutique hotel. You guys know how it is. The dining room linens should be updated. A bachelor party used the art in the Library suite for darts, so that all needs to be changed out.”

With an inhale so deep and long it might as well be a reverse sigh, she paused to trace the raised letters that spelled out the words Beloved Parents. On the one hand, she wanted to stay strong, tend the grave, and leave without a single tear falling. On the other hand, unburdening herself to the simple marble square comforted her. She always held it together in front of her friends nowadays. Had stopped seeing Dr. T. Ella knew deep down that she could keep this visit unemotional. The knowledge was enough. It wouldn’t hurt anything, wouldn’t be a step backwards, if she went ahead and let it all out. So she looked up at the dense leaves overhead and continued.

“It all just keeps coming. And it’s my fault. Things fell apart after…well, for a while there. But I feel like it really started before that. With me. When you guys took out the mortgage to buy back my shares. The finances have been strained since then. I shouldn’t have let you do it. I should’ve quit school, given you back the tuition money to cover the shares. It was because of me that you spent our safety net. Then I let everything slide while I grieved. So everything’s piled up now. Stopping the flood seems almost impossible.” Ella hitched in a breath through a throat clogged with tears she thought she was finished shedding. “I’m so sorry I’ve let you down.”

“Ella, don’t say that. Don’t even think it.” She dropped her brush as Gray stepped out from behind a tree. He wore a cream sweater against the misty and cool morning air. It gave him a rugged air that made her suddenly wish to be zipped into a tent with him…and an air mattress. Because she had comfort standards that couldn’t be bent even for the hottest of guys.

“Gray? What are you doing here?”

“Eavesdropping, apparently.”

At least he didn’t skirt the obvious truth. Ella eased back onto her heels to make it easier to look up at him. Okay, glare up at all six-plus gorgeous feet of him. Because while she didn’t mind being the kind of crazy girl the whole town knew talked to her dead parents on a regular basis, she really didn’t need anyone listening in on the one-sided conversation. Being funny, handsome and charming in no way gave him a pass on common courtesy. “Planning to apologize for that?”

“Nope.”

Before throwing a full-blown screaming hissy, Ella thought it wise to double check the other reason she was already steamed at him. “Are you planning to apologize for canceling on me for breakfast?”

“I already did. In the note I slid under your door.”

“Riiight.” She drew out the word while she stood, planting her hands on her hips. “The one where you said you had something important to do. Now I find out you stood me up just to walk through a cemetery? I may not be the best conversationalist in the world, but I’d like to think I rate higher than dead people, for crying out loud.”

Gray shuffled his dark brown boat shoes. “I didn’t stand you up.”

“You most certainly did!” There it was—the leading edge of her hissy fit, like a cold front pushing ahead of a blizzard. Even though they officially didn’t have a real date scheduled, being stood up felt crappily the same, officially or not. After not having dated at all for three years, it felt even crappier.

He crossed his arms and crowded forward into her space. A sharp, vertical line bisected the space between his eyebrows. “If I’d let you go down there, sit alone waiting for me and not shown up at all, then I would’ve stood you up. As it was, I made a very polite excuse and gave you more than sixteen hours notice.”

Technically, all true. But Ella didn’t intend to let him off on a technicality. Gray had pissed her off. Worse, he’d hurt her. Not a sobbing into her pillow thing. But it stung. And she didn’t deserve his thoughtlessness. No woman did. So she’d stay up on her high horse. “It’s the polite excuse part that bothers me. If you don’t want to spend time with me, be honest. You don’t have to make up a polite excuse. You can just walk away.” Ella tried for a breezy tone. Something to give the impression that she hadn’t holed up in her room all night in a serious pout after he’d canceled. “After all, we’re not really dating.”

“Trust me, I do want to spend time with you. That’s the problem.”

“What?” She didn’t understand. Not what he said, nor why the line on his forehead had deepened.

“Never mind.” He speared a hand through hair that appeared to not have seen a comb since rolling out of bed. It was sexy and adorable at the same time. Not that Ella should be noticing while they were in the middle of a spat. “Look, I thought I had something to do this morning. A conference call for work. It fell through, so I took a walk instead. This cemetery’s just around the bend from the Manor, and it looked interesting. I didn’t mean to piss you off with the note. I was trying to be a decent guy. Guess I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh.” Not a bad explanation/apology. Not bad at all. It poked a very sharp pin into her inflated temper. Nice to know Gray wasn’t the jerk she’d written him off to be.

His arms dropped to his sides. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Right now. I had a bunch of other things lined up to toss at you. But I don’t think you either want or deserve to hear them anymore.”

“Thanks. I think.” He took her hand. There was a callus on the side of his thumb. She also noticed that despite his long fingers, Gray had big, manly knuckles. It was a sexy hand. A little rough, a little firm. “Now that it’s back to my turn, I have more to say myself. I’m not sorry for eavesdropping. It wasn’t my intent. But you sounded upset. Clearly you’re not getting the kind of…feedback you need in this area.” Gray pointed down at her parents’ grave. “They may not be able to absolve you of guilt, but I can sure as hell try.”

“Why would you?” He’d heard the whole story from her. Why on earth would he decide to whitewash her past?

“Somebody’s got to. This whole poor Ella thing the town’s doing only goes so far. Did you see someone, like a grief counselor, after the crash?”

“Yes.” No problem admitting it to him. Everybody else and their dog knew already. People had pumped Dr. Takeuchi for updates on her at the golf course, the gas station, and notably shouting the question across two fishing boats in the middle of a bass tournament. The whole town truly cared and wanted to be sure she made it through the long aftershocks of Disaster Day. Doctor-patient confidentiality didn’t matter—except, thankfully, to Dr. T, who didn’t spill a word.

“Did he tell you that you weren’t to blame?”

Ella turned her gaze away from the squirrel scampering in between two headstones and up a tree. “For what?”

“For any of it. For the crash. For their death. For the struggles the hotel’s going through.”

“Yes. Pretty much every time I walked in his door.” If Gray kept this up much longer, she’d demand a change of venue to a long leather couch. “It’s been almost a year since my last appointment with Dr. Takeuchi, though. Things with the hotel have gotten worse since then.” It was just a few months ago that she became aware of the problems. Eugene said he had everything under control, but that was getting harder and harder to believe.

Swiping his hand in the air as if erasing a chalkboard, Gray said, “It’s time to forget about blame. Take the emotion out of it and be practical. Will blaming yourself fix the hotel’s money problems?”

“No.” Ella looked down at the spring green grass. Across to the mottled gray headstone with a last name, but no dates yet. Looking anywhere else was far easier than looking at the matter-of-fact expression on Gray’s face. She felt like an utter idiot for not thinking to use this approach sooner.

“So move on, already. How about you be the one to fix the problems, instead of fixating on them?”

He had a point. A good point. The mother of all points. Made her wonder why Dr. Takeuchi hadn’t ever brought it up. “You make it sound so easy.”

“I’d bet that it won’t be. But it’s where you need to start from. Right now. Today.” A double squeeze of her hand physically punctuated his suggestion.

Well, she’d tried everything else. Antidepressants, that she’d gone on and off of within three months. Ella hadn’t liked the idea of suppressing her feelings with drugs. It made her worry that when she finally stopped taking the medication, she’d backslide to the overwhelming grief of those first few days, having not worked through any of it. Instead, she threw herself into every other possible coping mechanism. Exercise. Deep breathing. Meditation. More than a year of therapy. The tried-and-true combination of copious amounts of both ice cream and chocolate, with a chaser of chick flicks. Giving Gray’s simplistic yet brilliant approach a try couldn’t hurt. Maybe it would turn out to be that final push that got her from ninety-five percent better back to a hale and hearty one hundred percent.

“I did have an idea. To bring in an investor.” She sank back down to her knees to place the bouquet of pink and white tulips into the holder. “Someone who could give us a big influx of cash.”

Gray squatted on the other side of the Mayhew headstone. Kept his eyes focused on the spring-bright grass. “That would mean giving up family ownership. Like when you sold your shares.”

Sure didn’t take him long to see the flaw in her plan. Which happened to be the very reason she’d been waffling about this for more than a week. Gray had a keen business sense. It made her wonder all the more what he did for a living. Along with the five hundred and forty-seven other things she wondered about him at any given moment. Like…where he preferred to be kissed—neck or sternum? Or if he could undo a bra with one hand. Ella was positive he was the kind of guy who had that kind of suave bedroom move in his sexual arsenal.

“True.” She gathered up her tools and put them back in the tote bag. “But giving up forty-nine percent ownership is worth it if it means the hotel flourishes again. And ultimately, even though the decision affects so many people, the decision is all up to me.”

“Why don’t you table that idea as a last resort? Cause I’ve got another one.”

Graydon Locke, brainstormer extraordinaire. “Just like that?”

“It’s been bugging me for a couple of days. The Memorial Day party you throw for the town—”

She cut him off with a pointed finger/steely glare combination. “I won’t cancel it. It means just as much to me as it does to the town. We have a symbiotic relationship.”

“Got that message loud and clear the first time we discussed it. Don’t get all pissy. I’m not suggesting you should. I found a work-around.” Gray rested his forearms on his thighs. “Why don’t you move it? From a business standpoint, it is insane to give up the guaranteed profit of a holiday. If you sold out for the entire three-day weekend, it’d give you a good bump to kick off the season.”

Ella didn’t hate the idea of a compromise. But she wasn’t sure others would have the same lack of reaction. The last thing she needed was to rile up her friends and neighbors. “Move it where?”

“When, is the question. You could still hold it at the Manor.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the hotel. “Just move it off your profit-center weekend. Turn it into something fun and themed, like moving it to National Hamburger Day. That’s the first week in June.”

“National Hamburger Day?” It tickled her that he knew. Ella happened to have National Donut Day—June 28—inked into her calendar.

A shrug full of nonchalance. God, it was sexy. “I looked it up. I wanted to be able to give you a viable option.”

“Tell me, how did you come up with this idea?”

“I had a mentor who drummed into me the theory that a filled room, even at a bargain price, is worth more than an empty one.” His thick, dark eyebrows slashed upwards. “You could even offer a discount if they return before Labor Day.”

Ella had to admit it was brilliant. Pack ’em in, then pack ’em in again. “Your mentor—was he the Obi-Wan of the hotel industry?”

“Basically. I started out working in a hotel. Then I got a better offer.” He pushed on his knees to stand up. Then Gray walked a few steps away, without a word, to peer down at another headstone. Or at least pretend to. Ella knew the grave. Knew it wasn’t historic or intricately carved or even held an interesting epitaph. Just an ordinary couple that died a few years ago. No, she suspected Gray walked away to signal an end to the sudden sharing of his history. She even wondered if he might label it oversharing.

The two of them had covered an amazing amount of ground in four days. But the connection they’d forged had a big, gaping hole at the center of it. Gray knew all about Ella. Her past, her family, her hopes and dreams. What did she know about Gray? None of the above. She knew he was a great kisser. A respectful listener. Caring and thoughtful. Funny. Sexy. Good with her friends, which was huge. And with an almost hyper-allergic aversion to small towns.

What she didn’t know was the usual first date minutiae they’d skipped. Where he was from, what he did for a living, what his major was in college. At first, Ella thought it cute they were avoiding those clichéd topics. Now she was starting to question if he’d embraced skipping them for a reason. What didn’t he want to share with her? Just what was Gray hiding?

The silence between them was growing weird, so Ella put her burning questions aside to concentrate on the hotel. But if they did have an official, by-the-books first date soon, he wouldn’t be able to escape her interrogation. She stood and bridged the few steps between them.

“Moving the party would work, in theory. I just don’t want to upset anyone by breaking with tradition. You should’ve heard the ruckus the year we finally got rid of carrot-and-raisin salad and replaced it with coleslaw. They look forward to it all year, like a touchstone. Some people have attended for literally decades. I feel such a responsibility to the town.”

Finally, he turned back to face her. “Sounds more like a burden than a responsibility.”

Ella looked around in an exaggerated fashion, from the butterfly landing on the sad spectacle of a teddy bear on a nearby grave to the flagpole spearing from the middle of the veterans’ circle to the drive winding a circuitous route throughout the cemetery. She lowered her voice to a whisper, and stood on tiptoe till her mouth was at his ear. “Some days, it is. A little.” It felt good to admit it out loud to Gray. He wouldn’t judge her for speaking the thought her parents would’ve branded as ungrateful and downright mutinous. He was the first person she’d been able to talk this candidly with about the Manor. With a rueful laugh, she stepped flat and brought her volume back to normal. “Not many days, though. The people of Seneca Lake are wonderful.”

“Then you lucked out. The ones in my hometown, not so much.”

She wanted to keep it light. Not run the risk of scaring him into silence a second time in as many minutes. But the words popped out anyway. “That can’t be true.”

He jammed his hands deep into his pockets. Began to pace, two graves down and back. “Want to know how I got all wise about blame and guilt and burdens? Because I lived it. Still would be, if I went back home. Doubt they’d even let me back across the city limits, though.”

Ella saw through the cold flippancy to the deep-seated hurt beneath. She ached for him, without even knowing the reason why. “When did you leave?”

“The day I graduated from high school. The town practically threw a parade and stuck me on a float to get me out of there.” Again, it was as if his subconscious reminded him not to go too far, say too much. He stopped pacing. Breathed in, and that breath brought a smile back to his face. “This isn’t the time for my sordid tale. We’re concentrating on you now. Fixing your problem. So move the party, Ella. What have you got to lose?”

“If I do it? How about the respect of everyone I know? People may say I caved to chase the almighty dollar. That I spat in the face of tradition.”

“It’ll be a blip. Forgotten as soon as the city planner screws someone else’s wife. And believe me, that scandal will break. Adultery is like a can of Pringles. Once you start, you can’t stop. So use that titanium backbone I know you’ve got. You can weather a couple of days of nasty looks.” Gray pocketed her hands between his. Warmth seeped into her, as if he were lending her some of his own strength to take this leap. “I repeat, what’ve you got to lose?”

“If I don’t do it?” Ella closed her eyes, but wishing away the truth hadn’t worked for three years straight. No reason to expect it would suddenly work today. She forced herself to confront the worst-case scenario that grew more likely every day she continued to do nothing. “I could very well end up losing the hotel, sooner or later. Probably sooner.”

In other words, she’d lose everything . Everything she’d never wanted in the first place, that is. Funny, once the first horrible wash of grief subsided, one of Ella’s biggest realizations about her new reality was that her parents were getting the last laugh. Despite her years of protestations to the contrary, she’d ended up in charge of the hotel. Parental control being wielded from the grave—how was she supposed to fight that?

Gray’s hands tightened around hers almost to the point of pain. Then, with a swift motion, he folded her into an embrace. “Since you’re not a quitter, I’ll take that as an affirmative to moving the party and taking bookings for the entire holiday.”

Strength and certainty flooded through her. Her decision not to run the hotel all those years ago had been the right one for her. And here and now, Ella decided—for herself and by herself—that just because she didn’t want to run the hotel didn’t mean she wanted to lose it. “You know what? It is. In fact, I’m going to fight tooth and nail to maintain my family legacy. If that means disappointing the town with a party three days too late, so be it.” Doing this wouldn’t solve all her financial woes. But it would be a start. Something to build on, with the dangling carrot of returning guests in the fall. Happy guests this early in the season also raved to friends, creating more reservations throughout the year. It was the first solid step towards turning things around she’d come up with…all thanks to Gray.

“It’s the brave and smart move, Ella.”

“We’ll see.” Brave? Sure. Smart? Only time would tell. But at least she’d have no regrets.

“I’ll even volunteer to help you word the change for the invitation. Breakfast tomorrow?”

“It’s a date…or not,” she said in an echo of his words the day before.