Chapter 8
D o you know where I can get an apple costume for a seventy-pound dog?” I ask Charlotte the next morning as we sit behind the front desk.
I jot that in my notes app, pleased that Charlotte just answered the question and didn’t ask me why. She gets me.
“We need to start selling apple costumes for dogs,” I say. “And stuffed apples for dog toys like the one Argos has. Pumpkins too.”
After my discussion with Aiden, I stayed up half the night brainstorming ways to make more money at the festival.
If Mom and Dad and the Parkers are in as much trouble as I think they are, we need to truly monetize this thing.
I did some reconnaissance in the parking lot this morning, and there was only a smattering of cars.
Sure, people could have taken the train out here from the city, but a quick glance at the number of keys on the wall in the back also confirmed my suspicion that we’re nowhere near full occupancy.
It’s obvious. This place is hurting financially.
I plan to ask Mom why she never mentioned anything was wrong. Even though I already know the answer. You’re so busy, dear. We didn’t want to worry you. There will probably be a lot of pish poshing, and she’ll try to quickly change the subject. But still, I’m going to try.
“Hey, Mom,” I call. She looks up from the computer screen she’s standing in front of. “Take a walk with me?”
Charlotte agrees to cover the front desk while we’re gone, and I loop my arm through my mother’s and head out the front door with her.
It’s the last day of September, and the chill in the air is even more pronounced than yesterday.
I breathe it in. I’ve missed this. Really missed this.
The way you miss something and don’t even know it until you’re back.
And not just the chill and the scenery, but walking around the property with Mom.
We used to do this all the time. We’d drink apple cider and talk and laugh.
It feels like just yesterday, and it feels like years ago.
As if space and time have merged, and there is only this happy feeling in my middle telling me how much I enjoy all these things I’ve been away from for so long.
“How’s it going upstairs with Aiden?” Mom asks as we take the little cobblestone path beneath the trees that leads to the back of the inn. A few leaves float down to land on the grass as we go. The wood smoke is in the air again today. It’s a perfect fall day.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Mom why she never told me that Aiden was hot, but that’s a subject I’ve decided I don’t want to broach. The rumor that wedding bells are in the air will spread before lunch.
“It’s good. We’re working on some great ideas for the festival,” I reply.
I don’t mention that Aiden brought me pumpkin-spice creamer for my coffee this morning.
He told me it was to convince me to give homemade coffee another chance.
It was truly thoughtful of him, and I had to admit it tasted great and that it was nice to wake up before I left the apartment.
It’s absolutely divine not to have a commute.
Mom sighs. “Oh, good. I’m so glad you’re able to help, Ellie.” She pats my hand.
“Me too, Mom.” I squeeze her arm. I wonder if she already knows there’s something wrong in my life or I wouldn’t be here.
The same way Aiden was suspicious. She’s probably just being mom-like and keeping her questions to herself.
I appreciate that. Meanwhile, I’m about to let ’er rip with my own questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me the inn and orchard are in trouble? ”
There. Might as well just toss those cards right on the table.
Mom stops and plucks at her ear. It’s a telltale sign that she’s flustered. “Who says the inn and orchard are in trouble?” Her voice wavers.
I raise my brows and plant a full-on skeptical look on my face.
Mom’s face falls. “Okay, the businesses could use a little marketing. We didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been so busy.”
“Marketing?” I repeat. That’s an interesting way to not say they’re in trouble. I need to be even more blunt. “Are you planning the festival to save this place?”
We continue to walk again. “Yes,” she admits. And honestly, that scares me more than any pish posh ever could, because Mom not trying to downplay it means it’s really bad.
“We tried a few new things, and... well, it hasn’t quite worked out the way we hoped. If it weren’t for those darned Airbnbs!” She shakes her fist and then sighs. “The festival is a last-ditch effort. Aiden came up with the idea.” Her voice sounds tired.
My stomach tightens. Last-ditch? Not great.
“If we don’t make enough from the festival, we may have to sell.
” Mom’s face is pale, and I feel like an ass for not asking more questions and listening more intently all these years.
I was in my own little world all about me.
I never thought the inn and orchard could be in trouble.
This place has just always been here. My whole life.
A stalwart. But that’s no excuse. Only, I can’t change the past. I’m here now, and I can help, and that’s what matters.
Plus, I have seven years of high-end event-planning experience under my belt.
I take a deep breath. “I’m glad you told me, Mom. Now that I realize what’s at stake, I plan to pull out all the stops.”
“What does that mean?” Mom looks a bit hesitant. I’m sure she’s worried about the expense just like Aiden was.
“It means I’ve got a lot of plans, and I’m going to help you.” Of course, I don’t tell her I’m skeptical that one festival will be enough to save this place. I haven’t seen the books, but if both businesses are a festival away from having to sell, it can’t be good.
I also have no intention of telling her that selling might actually be the best thing for all of them.
I can’t help but think that this place is just the sort of property the Bolt Hotel Group would love for their new Barn and Branch brand.
It’s bucolic. It’s homey. It’s set in a gorgeous location.
Close to the city. It would be perfect. Plus, I happen to know the Bolt Hotel Group is paying top dollar for places like this.
Mom and Dad and the Parkers could cash out and retire.
But I know Mom doesn’t want to hear that right now. So I say the only thing that is comforting and true. “I’ll do my best, Mom.”
“I’m glad you’re home, Ellie,” Mom says. She smiles at me and her eyes crinkle, and for the first time since I’ve been back, I realize she looks seven years older than when I moved to the city.
“I’m sorry I was gone so long, Mom.” I squeeze her arm again.
Now would be the perfect time to tell her that Geoff dumped me, stole my ideas, and got me fired.
But it’s not about me right now. Mom has enough on her plate.
She’s spent all these years trying not to worry me. Now it’s my turn not to worry her.
“This will always be your home, Ellie.”
I can’t help but think that it won’t be, though, if they have to sell. But I know what she means so I blink away the unwanted tears. There’s no time to be sad or take a trip down memory lane. If we’re going to turn this festival into a moneymaker, I need to get cracking.
***
Fifteen minutes later, I’m back inside, firing off orders to Charlotte, who is rapidly taking notes on her own phone. Dad is there, and so is Mom. Aiden and the Parkers come in when I text them.
Lyn hasn’t seen me yet. She’s a short woman with dark hair shot with gray.
Dark eyes and a perpetual smile on her face.
It’s no mystery why Charlotte is so lovely.
Lyn rushes over and gives me a big hug. She smells like cinnamon and home too.
They all do. Well, all except Aiden, who smells like hotness. But that’s not the point.
“Oh my goodness, Ellie, look how beautiful you are. Isn’t she beautiful, Aiden?”
I turn to him expectantly, batting my eyelashes mockingly. Aiden rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, of course.” It’s pretty funny, given the fact that we both admired each other’s looks last night.
“We’ve missed you, Ellie,” Lyn says next. “Haven’t we missed her?” she says this to the whole room, and all of them say yes at the same time.
“I missed all of you too,” I say, and I really, really mean it.
But we need to concentrate on the festival, and I refuse to cry, so I clear my throat, pull out my phone, and start reading my list.
“Okay, we need flowers, props, and temporary staff. I’m hiring a sketch artist and a country rock band. I know a fabulous LED artist who can light up the trees.”
“Light up the trees?” Aiden echoes.
“Yeah, the pathways under the apple trees will look so romantic if we add twinkling lights.” I snap my fingers. “Oh, and we’re going to turn the brewery into a full-on German Oktoberfest Biergarten. Jesse will love that!”
Mom and Dad and the Parkers are grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte is still busy typing on her phone. But Aiden has his arms crossed over his chest again and is looking more than a bit skeptical.
“Anything else?” he asks. He’s kidding, but he doesn’t even know I’m just getting started.
“Yes!” I say. “We’re also going to have a Harvest Ball outside in the food barn on the last night of the festival.”
Aiden’s eyes bulge. “A what, now?”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be fun. We’re going to offer a special to couples getting a room for two nights. To get away from their kids. The kids will be in one of the other barns in tents with childcare provided from the inn.”
“Oh, let me run that!” Charlotte exclaims, looking up from her phone for the first time since I began talking. “Two of my best friends are kindergarten teachers. They’ll help. I know they will.”
“Excellent.” I turn to Mom. “The couple’s special will include two nights at the inn, dinner, dessert, drinks, and admittance to the dance in the barn. Can you add a code for that to the reservation system?”
“Sounds good to me,” Mom replies. She scuttles off toward the computer.
Aiden scrubs the back of his neck and groans. “This all sounds expensive.”
“Leave it to me. I have some favors to call in,” I tell him.
Mom, Dad, and the Parkers all look at each other as if they’re impressed.
I feel a surge of energy shoot through me.
This is what it feels like to be in your element.
I know because I’ve been here before. But this time it feels even better.
This time I’m doing it for my people, my family, my home.
And the best part is, I still don’t have to run any of this past the bosses at GMJ.
Out here, I’m the boss. I never realized how tiring it was to make sure the partners were on board with my ideas.
I mean, Geoff could usually be counted on to agree with me, but he’d still have to get approval from the other two.
But I don’t have time to think about any of that now.
I swivel toward Charlotte. “First things first,” I say.
“We have to begin with the PR. We’re going to need to publicize the festival if we’re going to get people from the city and the surrounding areas out here to spend money.
And it just so happens that I know a PR genius named Maria Agostini. ”
A few rapid-fire questions to Charlotte uncover the fact that she has already created social media accounts for the inn and orchard.
Which is great. I ask her to get started taking pictures of the most homey-looking things around the inn.
The mums. The gourds. The cinnamon sticks.
The chandelier. And Pumpkin! Because Pumpkin the Pug is about to get famous.
“Make him an account,” I tell Charlotte. “Stat.”
“Sure thing!” Charlotte’s fingers fly over her cell phone, while I turn to my laptop to begin designing the flyers.
In addition to all the things we’ll do online, I’m about to paper this town with the news about the Honeycrisp Orchard Inn’s Autumn Harvest Festival.
The biggest news this town has seen since the doggie day care opened yesterday.
Then I text Maria. It’s time for the big guns.