Chapter 14 #2
“Half a million in the past hour.” Josie laid her hand on Ariel’s arm. “I’m sorry. It’s hard telling how many versions will come out. A couple hundred people were there, and probably at least half of them recorded some portion of the rehearsal.”
Ariel rested her head in her hands for a moment, then lifted it again. “Is my reputation ruined? Have you found other videos like this?”
“Honey, there are dozens of them floating around, taken from different angles.”
“And my reputation?” she repeated.
“I have tons of experience with issues like this,” Josie said. “We can take some measures that might help.”
Good. Maybe one of them would remove the stone that had somehow landed in the pit of her stomach. “Does Aunt Dahlia know?”
“I texted her but she didn’t answer.”
“Don’t try again. I’ll handle it.” Ariel had just wanted to bless a bunch of kids and help Caleb’s inn. What a mess it had become.
“We’ve all seen things like this on social media.” Caleb chose his words slowly, carefully. “It’ll blow over.”
Was there a place where she could get away from everyone and every social media platform, where nobody paid attention to such things?
In her suite ten minutes later, Ariel started a video chat with Aunt Dahlia. Her aunt sat at the table in her Gatlinburg hotel suite, eating yogurt, granola, and dates. “Josie texted me. I just watched some of those hateful videos.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Pray, then call Paxton.”
Take it to the Lord then their manager. Good plan.
On her tablet, she saw Aunt Dahlia opening her Bible—the most tattered and abused-looking Bible Ariel had ever seen. Her aunt opened it to the middle of the book. “After that, I’ll call Stan.”
Ah. The junkyard-dog lawyer who’d been with Aunt Dahlia throughout her whole career.
Now that they had a plan, Ariel’s stomach settled a little, and she could think.
Aunt Dahlia went to prayer in that bold, brassy, Southern way of hers. And when that woman prayed, heaven listened.
As Ariel agreed with her in prayer, adding her own voice to her aunt’s vibrant, faith-filled petitions, a sense of calmness fell upon the room, and she breathed it in. By the time they said their amens, her sense of panic lifted.
In its place settled a fierce determination to prove them wrong.
Aunt Dahlia read aloud the passage she’d selected. “‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.’ Hide yourself away with the Lord in prayer, darlin’.”
She sure would.
A knock sounded on the door. She peered through the peephole, then opened the door.
“It’s Caleb and Josie. Paxton is coming down the hall.” So was Lucy, who’d tagged along. She invited them in, dog included.
A half hour later, the five of them reviewed their new plan as the little dog lay on the floor at Ariel’s feet as if wanting to bring her comfort. She picked her up and set Lucy on her lap, ran her fingers through the silky fur.
The little dog was right. Petting her did make Ariel feel better.
“I’ll make a public statement, giving facts.” Paxton made notes in his iPad. “Then I’ll contact the choir members’ parents and ask for videos showing the context of the nasal singing.”
“I’ll start a social media blitz of positive posts and videos that will help bury the negative ones.” Josie made a note in her planner.
“Ariel, write a couple of posts every day for your fans,” her aunt said. “Let them know you still love them.”
Yes, she did. And she’d always known social media had a dark side, just like Nashville. But while this would eventually pass, what would it do for concert sales? For their band’s reputation?
“I’ll come back as soon as Uncle Clarence stabilizes. If he had kids, it’d be different. But he needs me here.”
Ariel groaned inside. Aunt Dahlia had left her in charge of the band, and this happened. She should have realized someone could take her actions out of context.
On the other hand, she’d done the same thing with Veronica, just trying to demonstrate how not to sing. How was she to know what would happen? Truth was, some people were just mean, and you never knew when someone would act “ugly,” as Aunt Dahlia would say.
Truth was, today proved the band couldn’t get along without Aunt Dahlia. Ariel would always live in her shadow.
At this moment, that shadow grew a little darker.
Failing to take care of his obligations—namely, this inn—was one thing. Bringing Ariel down with him was another.
Caleb stretched out his legs, sitting on the secret porch’s top step that afternoon, his guitar in his hands.
He’d propped his framed land-grant document against the wall, wanting to hang it today.
Caleb would have given this whole pathetic hotel for the chance to go back in time and stop Ariel from forming that teen choir.
He’d add his white—make that all his guitars—if he hadn’t suggested she demonstrate a nasal tone.
He strummed a few chords and hummed an impromptu melody line. A dozen or so guests had checked in last night, and now he ignored them as they sat on the main porch, asking each other where the music came from.
What did it matter where it came from or who made it? For the first time, he wondered whether music truly was his friend.
The sun had warmed the island this afternoon and given them a summery day.
The cloudless blue skies overhead reminded him of Coronado Island off the coast of San Diego, where he loved to relax in his vacation condo.
He played a few measures of “Surfin’ Safari” and, for a moment, wished he was there.
Wished he’d never left and come to this island that held on to winter as long as it could.
Maybe the problem was that winter had taken up residence in his heart.
He transitioned to the key of C-sharp minor and played the opening chords of “California Dreamin’.” It fit his mood better.
For that matter, why had he chosen Arsenic and Old Lace for their one and only date? Cary Grant’s Mortimer character in that movie just had to make a big deal about loving Elaine and wanting to marry her, but couldn’t because of his job.
With those lines, the long-ago actor had stolen every moment of peace Caleb might have had.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor inside, then the porch door opened behind him, interrupting his dreary song and drearier thoughts. He considered ignoring whoever it was, but he stopped playing and turned around, facing Josie. She wouldn’t have let him ignore her, anyway.
“I need you in your office, Caleb. Right now.”
Sounded like another catastrophe. At the rate this hotel was going, they’d soon run out of disasters. “I’ll come in a few minutes.”
“This could wait only if the hotel was on fire.”
“At this point, a fire might not be the worst thing to happen to this heap.”
“Look, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we can talk about it here, if you insist.” She pulled in a deep breath, lowered her voice to a whisper. “We have bedbugs.”
Bedbugs…
Caleb let out a groan. He’d never catch a break in this hotel gig.
He grabbed the land-grant document and gripped his guitar as the two all but ran through the lobby as if they were on the lam. And while they raced into his office, Caleb wasn’t sure which problem to think about first—Ariel’s dilemma or the bugs.
Josie closed the door, he set the giant document against the wall, and they both took a seat. “Are you sure they’re bedbugs?”
“They look like the ones we had in our inn in Tennessee. But we don’t use the word ‘bedbugs.’ To avoid panic, we call them jelly beans. Michelle found them, and I checked them.”
“Show me.”
They took the circular staircase to a second-floor room. There Josie pointed to the side of the bare mattress. “See those flat, tan ovals? We call them exoskeletons—dead bedbugs. No telling how many other rooms are infested.”
This couldn’t happen. “What do we do?”
Josie drew a deep breath and let it out in an audible sigh. “Michigan has vague laws about infestations in hotels, but we need to notify the guests.”
“Of course.”
“Then post notices on all the doors. Call one guest from each room. Contact the Department of Health and call an exterminator. Some of them have dogs who can sniff out the, uh, jelly beans.” She shook her head, sorrow in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Caleb. You’ve worked so hard, trying to make the hotel succeed. ”
It would’ve been better if he’d never agreed to try to revive this failing old inn, because losing hope somehow seemed worse than never having it.
Josie already knew their books, and she could probably see where this was headed, so he had to ask. “Will this shut us down for good?”
She lowered her gaze to the desk. “My late husband, Wes, and I barely made it after this happened to us.”
Her words shot straight through his heart. So did his limited choices.
Caleb could give up, go back to LA and Derek’s band. Hit the road with him again, which would kill any chance he had with Ariel.
But he couldn’t go back. This inn and his staff had become his responsibility. He’d have to finance Island House Inn himself until it could turn a profit. But not forever.
“I saw in your bookwork that the inn doesn’t have any debt. I’m sure the bank would give you a loan.”
Caleb puffed out a breath. “That seems like an easy solution, but Granddad always said that if his great-grandfather hadn’t borrowed money against this place, he wouldn’t have lost it during the Depression. Granddad will never agree to a loan, and honestly, neither would I.”
“I also saw that you’ve already contributed a hefty amount of money toward upgrading the inn.” She softened her voice. “That’s noble, Caleb, and I respect you for it. But you can’t prop it up forever.”
She had a point. “Go ahead and print some signs for the doors. I need to relieve Sarah for her break.”
“First I’ll notify the County Health Department.”
“It’s July fourth. Nobody will answer.”
“They’ll have someone on call.”