Chapter 3
Chapter Three
H e wasn’t in Kansas—or rather, Los Angeles—anymore.
Liam stared from the window at the approaching island beneath the “air taxi,” which was no more than a tiny puddle jumper that looked like it had seen better days—with a pilot to match. For some reason, the shape of the island reminded him of those beehive hairdos women had worn in the 1950s, though one that slightly listed to the right.
Dad had told him the hotel, along with the rest of downtown, was located on the southern tip of the island, and as they flew overhead, Liam saw a large harbor with boats dotting the white surf where the island met the surrounding Lake Huron.
The pictures he’d looked at on his phone had shown a quaint town, something almost out of another world—a town time forgot. According to his very quick online search, they didn’t even use motor vehicles, just bicycles and horse buggies to get around.
Hopefully they at least had Wi-Fi.
“Don’t get many visitors in these parts at this time of year.” The pilot’s voice came through Liam’s headset, crackly and tinny. Then, the guy—Pete—twisted slightly in his seat to look back at Liam. “Will you be here long?”
Hopefully not. The sooner he worked out the details of the hotel renovation with the town, the sooner Liam could get Rob out here—and get back to his own plans. “You know, Pete, I’m not quite sure.”
“Must be from the city, I’ll betcha.” Pete, who had the bushiest, wiriest eyebrows Liam had ever seen, looked Liam up and down.
“Los Angeles.” Liam smiled. “How could you tell?”
That made Pete snort and turn back around in his seat. “Don’t see too many suits is all. Most folks round here are all about functionality and comfort.” That was definitely true of Pete, who was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt with a puffy navy-blue vest and a weathered ball cap on his head. “And California?” He whistled. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you freeze while you’re here. Unless you were smart enough to bring a coat.”
“I packed one in my bag, but read you guys are having a warm snap, so I doubt I’ll have to dig it out.”
“A warm snap here is probably colder than the coldest day in your parts.”
“Thanks for the tip, but I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He’d worked at plenty of job sites around the world, after all. Sure, the only time he’d landed in the Midwest had been July and August, but how cold could it really be if the ferry was already running?
Speaking of the ferry, it was going to be one of Liam’s main challenges—specifically, getting building supplies from Port Joseph on the Upper Peninsula to the island. It could possibly cause some delays. But Liam was willing to figure it out for his dad’s sake.
For the sake of his future.
And really, it would most likely be Rob’s problem, since Liam would be long gone by the time it came to renovate.
“Who did you say you were visiting while you’re here?” Pete’s tone lilted up at the end, laced with curiosity and something else. Suspicion, maybe?
“I didn’t.” Because from what Dad had said, Seb wanted secrecy, at least at first. “I’ve got a meeting with someone, though, and?—”
“Ah. Attorney-client privilege. I get it.”
Liam wanted to laugh at the assumption, though he supposed to Pete he might look like an attorney in his favorite blue, two-piece, micro-pattern wool Armani suit and brown leather penny loafers. “Thanks for understanding, buddy. Hey, would you mind letting me get a good look at the island on our flight? It’s my first time here.”
“Sure.” Pete lowered the nose of the old bucket of bolts, and they got a bit closer to the island. “Hang on.”
Bracing himself, Liam peered through the filmy plane window. He still couldn’t make out many details of the downtown area, though most of the buildings seemed to be located on one main street.
To the east of downtown, there was an expanse of green—most likely a park of some sort—and more official-looking white buildings were north of that. Maybe a school too. Huge clumps of trees coming back to life after winter filled in any empty spaces. Liam’s very limited research—conducted on his two flights here—had shown that Jonathon Island had once been a popular, bustling tourist destination for hiking, horseback riding, and biking, so there were probably trails hidden under the trees’ branches.
Pete swung the plane westward, and they zoomed back over the downtown. Neighborhoods spread out from the main town into the island like veins and arteries branching off a heart, and Liam squinted in the direction of the hotel, which, according to the map on his phone, was west of the downtown. But then Pete turned north, and Liam couldn’t make out the hotel’s details. No matter. He and Seb would be getting a personalized tour by the director of tourism once Seb picked him up from the airport.
Pete took them northwestward, skimming along the western coast, where a slew of large homes were clustered together. A paved roadway hugged the curves of the bluffs and vistas that likely created stunning views at sunset.
As they made their way toward the northern tip of the island, he glimpsed a lighthouse and a stately home sitting alone on several acres. “Who lives there?”
“That would be the Jonathon family, of Jonathon Island fame. They’ve been here for more than two hundred years, and Seb Jonathon owns almost all of the real estate downtown.”
“Wow, I had no idea.” Though he should have figured that, given Seb shared a name with the island, he would be an important man here. “Does that cause a lot of friction, one person owning so much?”
“I think you’ll find people here are much kinder than you might be used to.” Pete paused. “We look out for our own.”
Then the plane dipped, and Liam gripped his seat. Note to self: don’t make the pilot mad. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Liam’s heart rate slowed as the plane leveled out and Pete circled the northeastern shore, where a red barn sat on a stretch of farmland. “I didn’t know Jonathon Island had farms.”
“We don’t anymore. That’s the old Sullivan pumpkin farm. Abandoned years ago.”
Shame. Even from up here, it looked like a beautiful property.
A little farther south, they flew over a large section of land partially cleared of trees, with one large building and lots of smaller cabin-looking structures surrounding it. “That looks interesting down there. What is it?”
“The old MacBride adventure camp. An outdoors resort of sorts. It’s defunct now, but back in the day they offered some truly fabulous stuff for the outdoorsy among us. Used to give the Grand Hotel a run for its money—luxury versus adventure. Sad what happened to both of them.”
“And what was that?” He hadn’t been able to find any pictures of the Grand in recent years, save one small article in the local paper from a decade ago with a grainy photo of a gazebo and an article about a “small fire” that had taken out “a portion of rooms” at the Grand.
When he’d agreed to this, he hadn’t known he’d be dealing with a partial reconstruction. Then again, it would allow for a fabulous new wing with luxurious amenities—and that was Liam’s specialty.
Pete fell quiet. “We’re almost there. Make sure you’re buckled for landing.”
Guess he was done talking. “Will do. Thanks, Pete.”
Below, the trees suddenly opened up to reveal a runway that had to be half the size or less than normal, but Pete had no problem bringing it down. The plane clattered to a halt. As far as Liam could see, they were the only people here, though several small aircrafts lined the runway, which lead to a small municipal building that couldn’t have been more than a few thousand square feet. It probably had the world’s smallest waiting room.
When Pete gave the all clear, Liam pulled off his headset and climbed out of the puddle jumper. Ah, steady ground. Despite the sunny sky, wind whipped at Liam’s suit coat, and okay, yeah, maybe Pete had a point about the cold.
Pete wheeled Liam’s carry-on-size suitcase around and handed it off to him. “Guessing you’re staying at the Island House Inn?” He stuck his hands in the pockets of the jacket he’d pulled on over his vest.
“Yeah, how did you know?” Another blast of wind came out of nowhere, and Liam glanced toward the building, which he bet was much warmer than here. But the windows were dark.
“It’s the only place open this time of year.” Pete lifted his hat and scratched his nearly bald head underneath before replacing the cap. “The owner, Caleb, now there’s a nice guy. Loyal and as small-town as it gets. But he’s off island at the moment.”
“Wait. There’s only one hotel for the whole island?” No wonder they needed the Grand rebuilt.
“A few summer-only residents rent their places out to tourists, but we really don’t get many of those anymore in the off season.”
“Ah.”
“All right, well, I’m out of here. The missus has a pot of soup on for dinner. Need a lift to the hotel?”
Liam popped up the handle of his suitcase, turning his back to the wind. “Thank you, but I’ve got one.” Dad had told him Seb would be grabbing him from the airport—though the prospect of biking all the way to downtown sounded downright terrible.
Maybe he should have rethought the suit and loafers after all.
“Looks like they’re coming now.” Pilot Pete pointed toward the main road.
Liam turned to find a brown, double-bench golf cart headed their way. “I thought motorized vehicles weren’t allowed here.” That’s what the internet had said, anyway.
“Just golf carts and snowmobiles, and only in the off season. And of course emergency vehicles. Sometimes construction vehicles, but only for a very limited time and with a permit.”
Liam breathed a sigh of relief over that one. At least the hotel renovation wouldn’t have to revert back to the Dark Ages when they’d had to use pulleys and ramps.
“Otherwise, it’s bikes and buggies for us,” Pete continued. “Though we’ve only got a handful of horses on the island anymore, and they’re up on the Quinn property, so walking and biking are the only real options. Get used to using those things called legs.”
Liam laughed. “Thanks, Pete. I will.” He extended his hand.
Pete took his offering and shook. “Buckle up, Fancy Pants. Looks like Dani’s grabbing you today.” Then, whistling, he walked away toward another cart sitting near the building.
Danny? Maybe Seb had sent the director of tourism in his stead. The guy who, apparently, would be giving Liam a more in-depth tour of the island and hotel, and with whom Liam would be working to get the plans approved by the town council.
Turning, Liam lifted a hand in greeting as the golf cart, which was decked out with winter tires of all things, pulled to a halt beside him. A woman—not a man—climbed from behind the wheel.
A beautiful woman, tall and willowy, despite her white coat, jeans, and brown duck boots. Her long blonde hair hung nearly to her waist, and her big green eyes—framed over high cheekbones, a pert nose, and pretty lips turned downward—studied him. “Are you Mr. Stone?”
“Liam, please. Mr. Stone is my dad.” Liam stepped forward and shook her hand, which was much warmer than his, thanks to her lightweight yellow gloves. “And you are?”
“Dani Sullivan.”
“The director of tourism?”
“Were you expecting someone else? A man, perhaps?”
“What?” Liam coughed, caught off guard. “Not at all.” Then he flashed her a smile. “With all the great things Seb told my dad about you, I thought you must be older.”
She looked him up and down. “I could say the same about you. This is a pretty big project. I guess I expected your father to come.”
“He’s needed back at the office. But don’t worry, Ms. Sullivan. He sent the best.” Then he winked at her.
She frowned, clearly not impressed. “I hope that’s the case. There’s a lot riding on this.”
That’s what every hotel owner thought—and Liam had proven his worth to them all. “I know I’ve got a baby face.” Liam patted his cheeks. “But trust me. I’ve worked on hundreds of hotels, and every single one of my clients has been thrilled with the results. In fact, even though I just learned of this project yesterday, I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours drawing up some preliminary plans for the Grand.”
Dani blinked at him. “Maybe you should actually see the hotel first. And the town. They kind of go hand in hand.”
“Of course, of course. Don’t worry. Really. I’ve got this.”
She smiled, but it didn’t appear to reach her eyes. “All right, then. Well, we need to scoot if you want to see the hotel before sunset.” Dani thumbed over her shoulder toward the golf cart. “You can throw your suitcase in back.”
“Great.” Liam stuck the suitcase on the back bench and climbed in beside Dani. “Will Seb be joining us?”
“He planned on it, but something came up. He’s a busy man.”
Now that, he understood. “Of course.” He hung on to the grab bar while Dani pealed out like it was a NASCAR race. Then she came to a sudden halt. Started again. Mumbled something under her breath as she stared at the controls.
“Everything okay?”
She grunted. “This is Uncle Seb’s. I just don’t drive that often.”
Uncle Seb, huh? Interesting. “We could always walk. It’s only, what, a mile or so?”
“In those shoes?” She eyed his loafers, her lips twitching. “It’s paved, but early spring in the Midwest means more mud than usual as things are drying up. Though we’ve had warmer temps than normal this year, there have still been a few storms. Just had one a few days ago.” She got the golf cart going again. “The point is, I wouldn’t want you ruining your fancy shoes.” Then she gave him some serious side-eye. “And sorry in advance, but you might be kind of cold on the drive if you aren’t used to this climate.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Liam laughed. “Pete already razzed me about my choice of clothing and lack of a coat.”
“Yes, well, the weather here can change on a dime in the spring, so I hope you packed something a bit warmer just in case.” Dani adjusted her rearview mirror, though why she felt the need was beyond Liam. They were literally the only “vehicle” on the road, which was now quickly moving from open airfield to forested land.
“Don’t worry about me, Ms. Sullivan,” Liam teased. “I’m used to being in a variety of climates. Just call me Mr. Flexible. And this suit coat provides more warmth than you’d think.”
“Hmm.” Dani’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Guess we’ll see.”
The cart bumped a bit as it descended down the hill. Sunlight glinted through the canopies of the tall oaks and firs, spotlighting the ground. The lush smell of wet earth mingled with that of cedar bark, and over the hum of the golf cart, birds chanted a merry tune.
It almost made Liam forget how cold he was. Would it be too obvious if he sat on his hands? “So Sullivan, huh? I think I saw your pumpkin farm during my flyover.”
A flicker of a frown, gone so quickly he maybe had imagined it. “Yes, it used to be run by my uncle and aunt.”
“Pete said it was no longer open?”
Dani’s fists rotated on the wheel. “Unfortunately.”
Hmm. Not overly chatty, this one. Or maybe he’d hit upon a sore subject.
A cyclist worked his way up the hill, a toolbox affixed to the back of his bike. “Hey, Dani,” he called as he pulled to a stop.
“Hi, Cody!” Dani idled beside him. “You headed to fix the toilet at the airport office?”
“How’d you know?”
“Doris was complaining about it at church on Sunday.”
Cody, who looked five to ten years younger than Liam, laughed good-naturedly, adjusting the strap on his helmet. “She hounded me about it, and my schedule finally freed up. That storm took down a few trees, and I was needed to help haul them off.” Looking past Dani, he nodded at Liam. “Hey, there.”
“What’s up, man.”
Then back to Dani. “Who’s this?”
“A guest of Uncle Seb’s. I’ll see you later.”
“Have a good one.” Cody waved again and took off, powering his way up the hill.
“Friend of yours, I take it?” Liam asked as Dani continued down the hill, halting at an all-way stop before continuing straight. “Or do you just know everyone here?”
“Yes and yes.” Dani lifted an eyebrow his way. “It’s a small town.”
“Right.” Liam laughed again, despite the breeze scraping across his cheeks. “Just how small is small?”
“Small enough.”
Just below the tree line, Liam could make out flat gray- and blue-shingled roofs. From what he could tell, they were coming in the back way, making a straight shot across the middle of the island toward the southern tip, where the downtown area was located. And it appeared they were coming down through a neighborhood of older-looking homes.
“Have you ever been to Jonathon Island before?”
“First time.”
“Then prepare to be mesmerized.”
And that’s when the trees fell away and the road opened up to the heart of the island.
Liam sucked in a breath. Compared with the bustling metropolis of Los Angeles, it was a blip, but the history showcased in the residences on the path toward the downtown business area was enough to make his heart stutter.
Several Victorian homes sat on large plots of land facing each other, competing for grandeur despite their weatherworn paint. Enormous porches wrapped around the fronts and sides, hugging the homes, which boasted sweeping, multi-gabled roofs.
Closer to the edge of town, a hulking Greek Revival-era home with a crooked bed-and-breakfast sign looked abandoned, its full-height white portico cracked but still proud, its gable arched and towering over the Queen Anne-style cottage just beside it. Ivy wound up the side of the cottage, thick and resilient despite the low temperatures.
“This is Jonathon Boulevard, one of the first residential streets built by our town. With seven historic homes and one bed-and-breakfast, it’s a hallmark street.”
“Who owns these houses?”
“Many of them are second homes that used to be owned by Chicago and Minneapolis residents who would vacation here for the summer.”
“Used to?”
“Yes.” Dani turned left down a residential street called Lilac Lane. “I’ll take you the long way around so you can see more of downtown before the main event. The homes here aren’t as stately, but they house a lot of the downtown workers. Fishermen, restaurant and shop owners, that kind of thing.”
The difference in size was stark, with most of these homes being small craftsman bungalows that couldn’t have more than two or three bedrooms. Many of the windows were dark, though others had signs of life—flower boxes beneath the windows, bicycles and kids’ toys strewn in the yards, a fresh coat of paint on the front door.
Liam crossed his arms. “They remind me a little of the homes down by the beach back home.”
“How so?”
“Small, functional. And with a kind of island charm that comes from being near a body of water.”
“Hmm. I like to think Jonathon Island is unique, but I guess I can see that.”
“I sense a pride when you talk about it. You lived here long?”
“My whole life. And I’m never leaving.”
The surety in her voice zinged through Liam and left him feeling hollow. Strange.
A few seconds later, they were turning right onto Blueberry Boulevard and hooking another right onto Main Street, just where it ended at the opening to the park he’d seen during the flyover. It looked much bigger from down here.
Multi-story white-and-gray storefronts with pops of color on their tattered awnings lined either side of the wide road. As they bumped over the cobblestones, still the only golf cart in sight, Liam couldn’t look away from the faded signs in darkened window shops, the sidewalks with weathered benches, the crumbling columns and banisters on the pop-out storefront porches. The street was dotted with old-timey-looking lampposts that boasted tear-drop globes with what appeared to be hand-blown crackled glass. Many of the shops were multi-storied, which would have provided extra apartments for residents—once upon a time.
And Liam could see it, in his mind’s eye…what once was.
A fresh coat of paint, repairs to the cracks, flowers by the benches, and shops reopened—plus the charm it clearly had in spades—and this town could be brought back to life.
Not by him, of course. He was here to draw up sufficient restoration plans for the hotel, and the hotel alone. A hotel that needed the Stone touch. That needed to be grander than grand.
Even so, his fingers itched to sketch out his vision for a restored downtown Jonathon Island.
“Well?” Dani’s voice brought Liam back to himself. “What do you think?”
“It’s like another world.”
Here and there were signs of life. A woman and her little boy stepped out of the tiny market—Doug’s—with a paper sack. The boy flashed a gap-toothed grin at Liam, and Liam waved.
Liam squinted down the side streets as they passed the Tourism Bureau and a coffee shop. “Can you get fudge in there? I heard your island was famous for it.”
“No, they only offer coffee and some pastries. And yeah, we were famous for it, once upon a time. There’s an old fudge shop at the end of Main Street on the right side—we’ll pass it on our way to the hotel. It used to be run by the Hart family, who also had a fishing company down by the marina. Then there was another up just behind that, on Jonathon Boulevard, started by the Kelley family. They own all of the other restaurants in town, and let’s just say thus began the great Fudge Wars of Jonathon Island.”
Liam chuckled. “A real-life feud? Like the Hatfields and McCoys?”
“Kind of. If you take away the guns and killing. But they definitely don’t like each other.”
“Why not?”
“Loaded question. Homer and Melinda Hart came over from the mainland and started their shop in 1951. Their second oldest son William became friends with Barry Kelley in the sixties. Barry even worked in the Harts’ shop for a few summers alongside William. But then, in 1970, when both of the men were in their mid-twenties, Barry Kelley started Kelley’s Classic Fudge, mostly at the behest of his dad and the family patriarch, Casey Kelley. Rumor has it that the fudges tasted very…familiar, if you catch my drift.”
“Yikes.” So much drama in one little town. “Do you think Barry stole the recipe?”
Dani shrugged. “No idea. I personally think the whole feud is based on the fact the Harts felt like the Kelleys already had a corner on the food market and didn’t need to encroach on the thing they’d been doing for nearly twenty years at that point.”
“I guess I can understand that. Though as a businessperson, I also understand how a little competition can be a good thing.” Liam studied the buildings as they passed more. “Now, though, it doesn’t look like a lot of restaurants are open. Are the Kelleys still around?”
“Oh yes, and all three open restaurants belong to them. Kelley’s Bar & Grill, Good Day Coffee, both of which we just passed, and Martha’s on Main. It’s coming up here on the left.” She pointed at the second-to-last building on the southern side of the road. Bikes lined the front of the white building with clapboard siding. Black stately awnings stretched over the black front door and panel of large windows flanking the front. White scripted font on the main window boldly declared the diner’s name, as did a round sign extended high over the door from a white, wooden post. People stood just outside the door in their jackets, leaning against the building and chatting as if they were waiting for a table.
“Looks busy .”
“T ry her chicken salad and you’ll see why. It’s island famous.”
“I’ll do that. Maybe we can grab a bite after you show me the hotel.” Speaking of, they must be getting close.
She glanced over at him, her lips pursed. “Maybe. But I’ve got a lot of work to do after our meeting.”
They rounded the corner, and Liam got his first glimpse of the most beautiful—and maybe the most tragic—thing he’d ever seen.
His jaw dropped. “Is that…?”
“Yeah.” Dani parked the golf cart and sat there a moment before exhaling a deep breath. “Welcome to the Grand Sullivan Hotel.”
“This isn’t a hotel.” He climbed from the golf cart and stared at the pile of debris and charred wood in front of him. He knew this place had been a lovely four-story resort at one time, set on three acres with a fabulous view of the lake plus its very own golf course. He knew that, and yet, that knowledge did not compute with what he was seeing. “This is an ash heap. A scar.”
And there was no way this project was going to take three months. Try three years.
Did Dad know about this? Seb wasn’t one to lie, was he? Had he lured Dad—Liam—out here under false pretenses?
“Excuse me. I need to make a phone call.”
* * *
Liam Stone was in way over his head.
Dani had known it from the first moment she’d seen him standing there in his fancy suit and charming dimples. She didn’t care how experienced he claimed to be or how handsome he was with that heart-shaped face, that clean-shaven jaw, and those deep chocolate eyes.
He was way too young to handle this massive of an undertaking.
Maybe he realized it too, given the fact he’d just spent fifteen minutes on the phone with his dad, arguing in hushed tones before marching back, that fake smile in place as he rubbed his hands together and said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Unfortunately, whatever her objections, Liam Stone was all she had. No other developers had agreed to Uncle Seb’s terms.
Which meant it was up to Dani to make sure he understood her vision for the project—and just how much was at stake.
Now his appraising eyes were back on the hotel, taking it all in. Four stories high and built of strong, white Michigan pine, the Grand Sullivan Hotel stood sentinel on a grassy bluff overlooking the harbor. Its slim lines and curved roof, the veranda that ran along the third story, the white columns lining what had once been a six-hundred-foot summer porch—they all served as reminders of what the hotel had represented, both to Dani and the community at large.
But where once there had been symmetry on either side of the hotel, now one half was charred or missing, merely ruins thanks to the decade-old fire.
“You said this was the Sullivan hotel…as in Dani Sullivan?”
Liam’s question jarred Dani from her thoughts. “Yes.”
His frown was enough, and he didn’t have to even say it—this was another failed family property. Though the reasons for her Uncle Bryan, Aunt Mary, and three cousins abandoning their farm were a lot less complicated than the situation with the hotel.
He scratched the back of his head. “And you’re Seb’s niece?”
“I am. On my mom’s side. She’s a Jonathon. My dad’s a Sullivan.” She pointed to the hotel. “And this ash heap, as you called it, is my family’s legacy.”
Liam winced. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I was just taken aback. The only recent article I could find about the hotel claimed there was a small fire, but not…this.” His hand swept toward the structure, which had once been so magnificent, but now bore the marks of greatness on one side alone.
“The fire was an embarrassment to the community, as was the fact we had to cancel so many reservations and could no longer house seasonal employees or most of the tourists who wanted to visit.” Dani started walking the perimeter. “We didn’t exactly want to advertise that fact to the world at large. The people who needed to know, knew.”
Liam quickly caught up with her. “I’m assuming that includes you. You know what happened here, right?”
“I know enough.” The memories were an ice pick to her heart. “But that’s in the past. I’m more interested in what we can do to rebuild. To bring this place back to its former glory so that all of Jonathon Island can be restored.”
And so her family would have a path to come home.
“I like that. I’m all about creating a better future.”
She frowned. “The past is still important. I didn’t mean that. Just…”
“I understand.” He smiled at Dani again with those dimples of his. Did that really work on others? This guy sure was slick.
“Basically, there was a fire ten years ago. As you can see, it burned down or damaged half of the main building. The half without visible outer damage still has some water damage on the inside due to the sprinklers. Thankfully, the ballroom and gazebo were spared because they’re separate from the guest room areas. But essentially, this renovation would be a nearly complete reworking of the hotel at large.”
“Good to know. Will you show me around? I’d love to see the extent of the damage to get a feel for the scope of the project.” He paused. “To be honest, it’s much larger than what I expected.”
“I gathered.” She cocked her head. “Does that mean you’ll be calling in the big guns to help?”
He blinked. “No. I can handle it. It’s just a shift in expectations is all.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Hmm. They’d see about that. “Come on.”
They started ambling around the structure, and Dani went into tour guide mode, something she’d been doing since she was first hired at the Tourism Bureau in high school. In the island’s heyday, Dani had given six or seven walking tours a day during the season and at least one a day during the off season. Now, she gave exactly zero in the off season and maybe one per week during the season.
“The hotel was first built in the 1890s. It was a huge boon to tourism from the first season it was open. People loved coming to Jonathon Island to experience rest and rejuvenation. And for the locals, the hotel’s long summer porch became a principal gathering area. Islanders used to come here and walk the porch with their romantic partners, and it was dubbed the Flirtation Walk. The elderly used to use it as a way to get exercise and have somewhere to go—kind of like how city dwellers will walk shopping malls nowadays.”
She spent the next several minutes spouting various facts about the hotel, including all the big-name guests they’d hosted (like Mark Twain), renovations and additions that had happened over the years (the West Wing had been added quickly after the initial opening thanks to an increased demand for room availability), and how the hotel had celebrated 125 years with a smashing party attended by former Michigan governors just a few years before it had burned.
“And your family owned the hotel that entire time?” Liam pushed a hand through his tapered brown hair, which was as neat and tidy as the two-piece suit beneath the black overcoat he’d casually grabbed from his suitcase after the phone call with his dad.
“Yes. The Jonathons have always owned the land, and the Sullivans paid rent on it.”
“And what happened when your parents got married?”
Oy. That was the problem, wasn’t it? “They decided to make the arrangement permanent in solidarity. To keep it all in the family. Which meant that as long as my dad wanted to pay rent on the land, the Jonathon side had to let him. And once the hotel burned, they couldn’t do anything else with it. The rent they’d locked in had been low. So poor Uncle Seb lost his shirt on that land every month because my father refused to give the Jonathons the satisfaction of clearing his hotel off the land and selling or renting it to another buyer.” She paused. “Basically, it’s complicated.”
“I’ll say.” He kept walking before stopping in front of the colonnades lining the porch up ahead. “It’s really remarkable. I’m a big fan of the Colonial Revival style.” Liam placed his hand reverently on the outer wall, his face lifted upward. “It’s just so graceful.”
A thrill ran up her spine. Someone else understood her enthusiasm. “I couldn’t agree more. Are you into architecture? Not that I’m more than a hobbyist myself.”
“Studied it for my undergrad, actually.”
“But you didn’t pursue it?”
“Not solely as an architect, but I do use it in my work now.” He shrugged. “Dad wanted me to come work for him, and I couldn’t say no. Family’s gotta stick together, right?”
“Right.” Though as much as she believed the words, not everyone in her own family did. In fact, she might be the only one.
That’s why she had to get this project right.
“I’ve watched countless documentaries on the Travel Channel about the architecture in Europe, how much history there is to be seen. So much still preserved. The United States’ history pales in comparison.”
“Yeah, it really does. You definitely have to see the cathedrals especially. St. Paul’s in London is exquisite. Have you ever been?”
“Haven’t really had much of a chance to travel. But I want to. Someday.”
Liam studied her for a moment. “I hope you get to do just that. The world is a wonderful place.” Then his gaze shifted back to the hotel. “But so is your little town. I can see why you like it here. And this hotel, it’s got real potential. You can tell it used to be really grand.”
“I’m glad you recognize that.” And hopefully, he recognized how important it was to preserve that history for generations to come. She pivoted away from the hotel and pointed in the distance. “That way is a golf course, which actually is in decent shape. And out there is the island’s famous gazebo. You see it?”
He stepped closer to her, and hints of his expensive-smelling cologne drifted toward her. Then he squinted. “Oh, yeah. I feel like I saw pictures of it during my brief research. Wasn’t it built as part of a movie set?”
“It was! Still the One . Fabulous movie if you haven’t seen it. About a small town, just like this one, and an Army Ranger and wedding planner slash single mom who used to be childhood friends, and now…” She laughed. “Anyway, that gazebo is my favorite place on the whole island. And there used to be picnics on the lawn held out there for hotel guests every weekend evening under the stars.” She sighed. “They were magical.”
Liam hummed. “I can definitely see that being a big attraction back in the day.”
“Really?” Her heart squeezed. Maybe Liam was catching her vision after all.
“For sure.” Liam pivoted and pointed to the hotel’s front porch. “Think it’s safe to walk on?”
She nodded. “Uncle Seb had someone out to evaluate it once we knew we were going to pursue the redevelopment project. There’s tape around the sections that are unsafe. We can walk about halfway down the porch before we reach that point.”
They took the steps together, and even though the porch granted a very similar view as the spot where they’d just been standing, there was still something magical about it to Dani. “This is my second favorite place on the island.” So many memories revolved around this porch.
Watching fireworks with her family.
Painting terrible artwork on easels with Mom and a group of guests.
Taking in the sunset with her older brother James before he left for college. Him telling her that he’d always come back, for this, because the hotel was the greatest spot in the world—and his family, the safest landing place.
Of course, that had been before .
“Wow.” Liam leaned against a column, hands in his pockets as he stared out at the boats bobbing in the harbor. “I could totally picture eating a lazy Sunday brunch out here with that view.”
“Pretty spectacular, right? And look up.” She pointed at the porch ceiling, which was painted a turquoise color—her favorite part of the whole thing. “That color was chosen to keep the birds from nesting on the porch roof. But to me, it’s always been like a secret, something you only know when you take the time to step out and look up. And there’s something special about the hidden things. The special things. Being in on the secret when not everyone is.”
Liam angled his neck upward and whistled. “That’s really something, huh?”
“Yep.” The sun had started its descent toward the horizon, and the moon was already trying to grasp for dominance as the sky darkened. With the encroaching darkness came a chill that settled deep in Dani’s bones. She tried to shake it off, but maybe it went deeper than the physical. “I’ll show you the inside when you’re ready. But now that you’ve seen the outside, what are you thinking in terms of scope? Can you do this?”
“I get the feeling you don’t believe I can do this.”
“What? No.” Yes, exactly that. But she couldn’t scare off the only person willing to help. “I just wondered if seeing the place had you reconsidering at all.”
“No.” He pursed his lips. “But what kind of timeline are you thinking?”
“I’d love to finish by Christmas.”
“Of this year?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to be straight with you. Even Christmas of next year would be aggressive. A project of this magnitude will take three years—maybe two—at a minimum.”
“That won’t work.”
“I can’t make it go much faster than that. Maybe we could speed it up a bit, but you’re asking for eight months. Less, since we still need to get the town council on board with our plans, find contractors, and get the site manager updated on all the details.”
“Wait. Aren’t you going to be the site manager?”
He looked out across the lake. “That’s normally how it works, but I’ve got another project I’m due back in L.A. for.”
“When?”
“A few weeks? I don’t know. The point is, you’ll have to get the idea of this Christmas out of your head, or I’m afraid Stone Development can’t help you.”
“So you’re just going to back out?”
Liam leaned closer. He studied her through eyes now hooded by the darkness. “Look, Dani, I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker. This place, it’s got potential. I can picture it. My fingers are itching to go sketch up some fabulous new plans right now. But what you’re asking is impossible.”
“Fine. It’ll take longer than I’d like. I can deal with that. But are you sure you’re up to the task?” How could he be? Maybe she was asking too much.
But she had to try.
“I’ve already got ideas brewing up here.” Liam swirled his hand around his head. “So yes, I’m up to the task. Trust me, okay?”
Ha. Like trusting him was so easy. But at this point, it looked like she didn’t have a choice.