Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Things got tricky when one fell in love with both a musician and his music; an innkeeper and his inn. Hadn’t Aunt Dahlia’s tragic romance taught Ariel better?
Three days later, she gazed out on Lake Huron from the Grand Hotel’s presidential suite balcony, commiserating with her aunt in a video call, missing Island House, missing Caleb.
They’d filled her days and her life with comfort, warmth, and love.
Now that nothing on Jonathon Island held her interest anymore, she wished the concert was over and she could get on the plane and go back to Nashville, back to her old, safe life.
Back to the bubble.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, falling in love with a musician.” Ariel turned her phone around to show Aunt Dahlia the balcony view.
“Love shows up when and how it wants.”
Apparently, her aunt now considered herself a romance expert, having fallen for Mr. Augo, both at first sight and at her first sight of him in forty years. Seemed neither she nor Ariel knew the first thing about matters of the heart.
Aunt Dahlia’s tone had softened since she’d reunited with Mr. Augo. Whether she grew more tender after seeing him again or their reunion simply restored a previous gentleness, Ariel couldn’t tell.
She knew only that her aunt looked and sounded contented, her hair in a cute half-up style this morning and her smile bright as always.
“When Caleb brought me here the day they found the bugs, he hardly said a word the entire drive.”
“Give it time. You broke up only three days ago. You’ll work it out.”
Could she call it a breakup when they’d had only one date?
“Caleb and I are both dealing with social media disasters now. Some of Caleb’s guests posted reviews about the bedbugs, so the other festival bands moved their reservations to the Grand.” Ariel watched a few sailboats drifting by in the warming breeze. “I wish I could just escape.”
Because the fact remained that a disturbing percentage of her fans thought she’d faked the talent the Lord had given her. That hurt the most.
“How do you like the Grand’s renovations?”
Who wouldn’t love the Grand? “It’s beautiful. But I miss the simpler Island House Inn—its warm wooden floors and its parlor and its cozy atmosphere. I hope they got rid of the bugs.”
“Then call or text Caleb right away and see what’s going on bug-wise. Maybe you can rehearse there this afternoon. It’d be better than cramming everybody into that little basement room the Grand gave you. Do it now.”
Of course. After hanging up, she opened her texting app.
Ariel
Bug update?
Caleb
K9 inspector’s still here. One room to go, and she hasn’t alerted.
Ariel
Can a motley crew of musicians invade the parlor for rehearsal tonight?
Caleb
That would make my day. Social media is chewing us up more than the bugs are.
Of course. Caleb was struggling too.
She notified the band and writers, then called Harry and ordered a carriage. Soon she climbed in for the short ride to Island House.
“I’m glad you called.” The boy and his grandfather wore their usual red coats as they drove down Lake Shore Drive. “Those crazy bedbugs are cuttin’ into my business.”
“That’s all over now,” Ariel said. “A K9 inspector said so.”
“What’s that mean?”
“They brought in a trained dog, who gives a signal when she smells a bedbug.”
“I’d like to meet a bug-sniffin’ dog.”
When they paused at the Main Street stop sign, a crowd gathered as it had on their first day. A dark-haired man in his late thirties stepped through to the street, a teen girl following him.
The girl who’d mic-checked with Isaiah.
“We’re behind you, Ariel,” he said. “My daughter’s in your choir. We know you can sing.”
The twenty or so fans behind him shouted their support.
“Then tell everybody, mister,” Harry yelled.
Ariel’s eyes stung at the sound of both the man and boy defending her, not to mention the crowd on the corner.
“Get down and speak to the crowd, young lady,” Mr. Finley said in his Nordic-accented voice—firm, strong. “The lies they’re spreading aren’t just about you. They affect your fans too. You shouldn’t put up with that.”
“Yeah. Some of them were probably there and heard you sing,” Harry piped up. “They know the truth.”
Well, alrighty then.
Ariel opened the carriage door and stepped down to the sidewalk.
“We appreciate your support. And Harry’s right.
” She gestured toward the boy, who stood and gave a theatrical wave and a politician’s smile.
“If you were there Friday and heard me demonstrate the wrong way to sing, please tell your story. I would never deceive you, making you think I could sing when I didn’t know the basics. ”
“Guess we’ll never know for sure,” a man in a Sotally Tober hat called from deep in the crowd.
“Yes, you will. Sing for us, Ariel. Right now.” The mic-check girl stepped to the curb, a holy fierceness in her eyes as she defended Ariel. “Prove what you can do.”
Ariel wanted to hug her. “Let’s sing together. What’s your name, and what should we sing?”
“Nevaeh. ‘The Long Way.’”
“Do you want melody or harmony?”
“Melody.”
Ariel hummed the opening note, gave a four-count. Started the song.
Nevaeh nailed her part, singing with confidence and passion, emotion in her eyes and voice. The young lady had stage presence. Had potential.
Halfway through the first verse, she caught sight of the Main Street crowd hurrying toward them as the two sang with perfect pitch and timing. It seemed everyone on the street had pulled out a phone to record the impromptu concert.
When Ariel and Nevaeh finished the song and the wild cheering and clapping died down, Ariel snatched her handbag from the carriage seat and pulled out an autograph sheet.
She signed and dated it, added her phone number, and gave the paper to the girl.
“I’d like to coach you. Have your dad call me if he’s interested. You have potential, Nevaeh.”
The man in the drinking-slogan hat trudged away, muttering something off-color.
“Ariel is my friend! So don’t ever call me for a ride, mister!” Harry yelled at him, twice as loud as necessary.
The fight wasn’t over, but at least she’d won this battle.
The time had come to admit—once again—that Caleb was in over his head.
The day of the Grand Hotel’s water leak—the day Ariel Sullivan walked into his hotel and into his heart—he’d thought he’d drown. However, that day couldn’t compare to today.
Because this time, Ariel wasn’t there to help.
Caleb took one more look at his daily financial report—the one that confirmed his fear that the inn was worse off than before Granddad’s stroke.
None of Caleb’s ideas had worked, and none of his improvements had changed the fact that he was going to lose this inn.
He’d known it the day they’d discovered the bugs. Now he could no longer ignore either facts or bugs.
Caleb reached for his phone and dialed his financial adviser. On the second ring, Sheila answered in her no-nonsense voice. “What can I do for you, Caleb?”
As always, no small talk. Which suited him fine today. “I need to sell some assets.”
“I can help.” A moment of silence, unusual for Sheila. “Are you okay?”
Oh. She had the wrong idea. “I need to put some money into my family’s business. A struggling old inn. Appreciate the concern, though.”
After arranging to sell some stock for immediate cash, he put his Coronado Island condo up for sale to cover upcoming hotel repairs.
He glanced across the room, where his guitar sat propped against the wall, the land grant still sitting next to it.
If he didn’t move one of them soon, Josie would quit for lack of decent office space.
But for now, the time had come to let Granddad know Caleb had failed to keep the inn afloat, even for the few weeks he’d worked here. He dreaded this conversation more than he’d dreaded coming to Jonathon Island to begin with.
Because although this run-down place represented failure to Caleb, it had been Granddad’s life since the day he was born.
Caleb stopped at Granddad’s door, understanding at last the real reason the older man left it propped halfway open every day. He hoped someone would stop by, because life in the hotel biz got lonely. At least, the way the Kennedys currently lived it.
Their way had worked for a while, back when they all had apartments in their third-floor family complex and interacted all day long, every day.
But then, after Granddad’s stroke, Uncle Augo spent his time on his boat or fishing off the shore, and Aunt Annabelle worked at her volunteer positions all over the island, leaving Granddad alone.
When Ariel had left for the Grand, Caleb felt that kind of loneliness. Drake’s band had functioned as family for him, but now, other than occasional phone calls, that tie had loosened.
Later, Caleb entered Granddad’s room and found him puttering around in the kitchen, pushing a rolling walker and setting a bottle of Russian dressing and a partial bag of shredded cheddar in the refrigerator. A salad bowl of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cheese sat on the counter.
“When did you start using a walker? And moving around by yourself?” And when had he ever prepared a meal? Caleb had sometimes wondered if Granddad knew a kitchen existed in this apartment.
“Walker’s been here all along.”
“So has the kitchen, but you never used it.” What was happening here? “Did anybody ever have a reverse stroke? Because that’s kind of what this looks like.”
Granddad just grinned at him.
Apparently, having Ariel as a caring friend and Caleb to spend time with him, now that he’d realized Granddad needed it, had changed him.
Regardless, the inn was in trouble, and Caleb had to tell him.
He carried the meal to the table, along with a cup of old-fashioned Sanka, Granddad’s favorite drink. “Truth is, I came with bad news. We have bedbugs.”
His grandfather sat at the table and paused for his silent prayer for a few moments as usual. Then he made a little shooing motion with his hand and jabbed at his salad. “All hotels have jelly beans every once in a while.”
So he knew about jelly beans.
Caleb took the seat next to him. “Maybe so. But that was before the days of social media.”
“People need to stop trusting anti-social media.” He shot a pointed look at Caleb.
“Did you hear what they said about Ariel?”
“Yes, and I didn’t believe a word of it.”
Caleb looked into his grandfather’s deep-brown eyes. “Who told you?”
“Nobody.” Granddad reached in his pocket, then held up a cell phone Caleb had never seen. “I read it.”
His grandfather—with a cell phone? “You hate those things. What changed your mind?”
“I heard I could watch Miss Dahlia and Ariel on it, so I asked my friend to buy me one.”
“Your friend Ariel, I’ll bet.”
He just grinned. “She’s a lot like your mother.”
Until now, Caleb hadn’t recognized the similarity, but Granddad was right. Ariel had the same kind and gentle voice as Mom. A tender and generous heart, a meek and quiet spirit.
Granddad had loved Mom like a daughter and lost her. As Caleb recalled, that was when he’d gotten grumpy. Now, since Caleb had lost Ariel before he even had her, Granddad would feel it too.
Caleb wasn’t the only one who’d faced loss back then. Or who faced it now—of both the inn and the woman.
Might as well tell him about their current not-dating status and get it over with.
“Ariel and I had a—disagreement. She moved to the Grand, but I think she would have even if the bugs hadn’t forced her out.”
Granddad dropped his fork into his salad bowl, his eyes wide, sad. “You mean you broke up?”
“You can’t break up if you don’t have a commitment.”
“Why didn’t you ask her to go steady?”
Go steady? He hadn’t heard that phrase for a while. “I haven’t even known her a month.”
He grunted. “I knew your grandmother for a month when I proposed.”
That might not have been the best idea, though, since Grandma turned grouchy right after the wedding, according to Aunt Annabelle. “I’d rather talk about the inn and how we can fix it. Because, truthfully, it’s not doing well.”
“No hotel does in the middle of a bedbug scare. Business always picks up again in a couple of months.”
His grandfather didn’t understand. At all. Caleb scooted his chair closer. “The inn wasn’t doing well even before the bugs. The guests from the Grand got us through a couple of weeks, but we can’t continue this way.”
Granddad put down his fork and held Caleb’s gaze, his hand now a little shaky. “How bad is it?”
Should he tell him? If he did, his grandfather could draw from his lifelong experience and maybe find a solution. If he didn’t, Caleb’s next update might involve telling him they were bankrupt. “Bad enough that I have to invest my own money.”
“How much?”
Saying the large number out loud to his grandfather made the situation seem even worse. Might as well tell him the rest. “I also put my Coronado Island condo on the market.”
“What about the weddings and events we had earlier? They gave us some income.”
“Those helped, but not enough.”
His grandfather’s shoulders stooped.
“I didn’t want to tell you. But it’s not fair to keep it secret.” Caleb covered his eyes, his elbow propped on the table. He’d let his grandfather down again. Spent a lifetime letting him down, it seemed. How foolish to think he could do something right…
“No, this isn’t the end.” Granddad lifted his head. “I’m not ready to give up this hotel. Get my Bible off my nightstand.”
Caleb got up and headed that way, brought back the worn old Bible, and set it in front of Granddad. He opened the book to the middle and flipped through the pages.
“‘I will love thee, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower. I will call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies.’ That means we shouldn’t look anywhere else for our help before we look to Him. ”
Look to Him.
Caleb thought of the brick and the guitar pick he’d given to Him. Lord, that’s about all I have to work with here. My money will run out, Ariel will go to Nashville, and I’ll be alone in this shabby hotel without enough guests to keep it going. But I’m choosing to trust You with it all.
Whether it worked out the way he wanted or not.