Chapter 3 #3
Was he doing it on purpose? Charming her. And where had he been the last fifteen years? She didn’t see a ring or a ring tan line, so she assumed he wasn’t married. But in love? Engaged? Entangled?
Cami paused by a large bulletin board posted outside the kitchen. Papers of every color and size were haphazardly pinned to it. Apartment for rent, dinner specials at Angelo’s, Fourth of July at the Scott Farm, and a huge flyer announcing the square dance next weekend at the old community barn.
“The lobby furniture is relatively new,” Ben said, and Cami followed him into the open space of the lobby. “But the rest needs a bit of work.”
Cami walked behind the sofa, which faced the large wood-burning fireplace. “I sat here in the lobby with Mama and Dad and my sister one Christmas Eve. Didn’t your grandparents go all out?”
“Every year, without fail.”
“We had so much fun,” Cami said. “We didn’t know it’d be our last—” The memory lane tour must end. None of it would bring Mom back or restore the years since. Memory lane wouldn’t change what had transpired with Dad. She was here to do business. “What kind of business does the inn do?”
“To be honest, not a lot. The books are a mess, but I’ll get into it. Granny was the charm of the inn. Granddaddy was the businessman. After he died, things got lax.”
“I understand.” Her entire family had let things go, everything really, after Mom died. Took Cami years to figure out who she was, who she wanted to be.
Cami inspected the bookshelves where guests left behind their paperbacks. On the oak table was a book on Tennessee wildflowers.
“I think you’ll find my offer is fair.” She turned toward the reception desk, and that’s when she saw it.
Mama’s painting. The pastoral scene of the inn’s grounds showing a silhouetted couple in the bottom third.
They sat on a wrought iron bench, his arm lovingly around her shoulders, their heads leaned together.
“That’s the painting,” Ben said.
“Yeah, I know. I watched her paint it.” The emotions swirling in her were sentimental, messy, and chaotic. “The bench…” She stepped toward the painting. “The bench in the garden… It’s gone.”
“Don’t know what happened to it. I can’t remember when I last saw it.” Ben stood next to her. His warm skin carried the scent of sawdust. “When I was in college, maybe.”
“College? Where’d you go?”
“UT.”
“What? I was a Georgia Dawg.”
“Well, I won’t hold that against you. I bet you were one of the cool people. I was in my dorm studying, wishing I was cool.”
“You were always the coolest, Ben.” Cami shook her head and stared back at the painting.
Mama was gone. The bench was gone. In a few months, she’d be gone. But this inn? It had to remain.
“Ben?” She fixed on a smile, swallowed her feelings, and turned to Ben. “Let me show you my offer.”
Ben was starting to loathe folders. He settled onto the couch in the lobby of the inn and stared at the folder. This one from Cami was worth a look. She’d morphed from the girl he used to know into a hardened businesswoman.
“The offer is more than fair. I can email you a copy if you give me your card.” Cami’s professional smile splashed across her face like a million-watt light.
As she held out the blue folder, he hesitated. Did he want to know? Was he ready to sell? Despite the pressure to return to Sydney, he wanted to do right by his grandparents’ legacy. His legacy.
Then there was this woman, Cami Jackson, pricking his curiosity. She’d been his first major crush. His first kiss. He had a memory of her loose hair glinting in the sun as she sat on the lawn painting with her mother.
Now her dark curls were slicked back into a sleek ponytail, her business suit looked tailor-made, and she carried the same case as the European director of VJR had in Italy last year. And she never did anything cheap.
Life and death had changed her. Just like it was changing him.
She was beautiful, with her eyes the color of coffee—the good stuff, not Walt’s mud—and a charming smile she worked with expertise. Bet she won a lot of deals for Akron.
If he opened this folder, would she turn all of her charm on him? He might not survive.
“Ben?” She waved the folder, then set it on the table in front of him. “Nine hundred thousand. All cash. We close in a week.”
He snapped up the folder. Take that, Frank Hardy. “Cash?”
“Is that a yes?” Yep, there was that smile.
“No, not yet.” He closed his eyes and braced for her best pitch. But he needed to think. Close in a week? Why the rush? “What do you want to do with this place?”
“Fair question. Akron is not in the restoration business, but I’ve been wanting to acquire some different projects. The inn could be my test project.”
She hesitated like she wanted to say something, and for a moment her professional persona waned and he could see the girl he remembered.
“What are you not saying? Do you doubt your idea?” If he was going to sell, he had to make sure he sold to the right person. Even if that person was Cami Jackson. He set the folder on the table, not ready to hold on to it.
“Nothing. I was going to say no—” She laughed softly. “I’d never vocalized my idea to acquire small projects for Akron. Felt good to say it. Ben, I know this place means a lot to you. Me too. But more than our sentiment, the inn is a good property and has a lot of potential.”
He considered her confession. Then, “But Akron has a reputation of tearing things down. You know, pave paradise, put up a parking lot.” He’d gotten an earful from Granny when Akron bid on the Wedding Shop downtown. They’d wanted that corner for a parking lot. She’d been hopping mad.
That Brant Jackson is going to knock it to the ground. Why, I bought my wedding dress from Cora in ’56.
“You can’t just tear down history,” he added.
“You’re right, Akron does tend to tear old buildings down to make room for new development projects.
But not always. This will be my acquisition, and I don’t intend to tear it down.
” Her hesitation was gone, and her professionalism was locked back into place.
“If you keep the inn, what are you going to do with it? What do you do for a living, by the way?”
“I work for Viridian Jewel Resorts. I open hotels for them around the world. I’m supposed to be in Sydney right now setting up to open our South Pacific marquee hotel. The Emerald. Got a great view of the Opera House. If all goes well, I’ll be opening a second resort in Hong Kong next year.”
“Viridian.” She arched her brow. “Very nice.”
Ah, so he’d impressed her. The VJR had a reputation of five-star quality. Jobs with them were as coveted as a night in one of the resorts.
“How long have you been with them? Dad tried to acquire one of their older hotels, but they refused to negotiate.”
“Their properties never depreciate, if you can believe it. I’ve been with them seven years. Started not long after college. I’ve opened marquee hotels in Budapest, London, Manhattan.”
“But you should be in Sydney?”
“My director gave me the summer to take care of Granny’s estate. But I’m answering emails and texts all night long.”
She grinned. “I bet. You can’t open a marquee hotel for Viridian when you’re halfway around the world.” She picked up her folder and offered it to him again. “It’s a good offer, Ben. Accept it and you’re on a plane back to Australia by the end of the week. You don’t have any other worthy offers.”
“I should ask how you know that, but you’ll tell me you did your homework.”
“Keith Niven told me.” Her smile was genuine, not the practiced one that could seal a deal. He liked her real one even better. “He said he’d tried to get some people interested in case you wanted to sell. No one would bite, so he called me. He knew I used to come here as a kid.”
“I had an offer from Frank Hardy, but it was very lowball.” Ben reached for the folder again.
“My grandparents devoted their lives to the inn. Got married in ’56, bought this place in ’59, the year Dad was born.
Selling makes me feel like—” A rotten grandson.
It was bad enough he’d not been there for Granny when she needed him. Now to sell her beloved inn?
“Makes you feel like a bad grandson?” So, the girl with gorgeous eyes was also a mind reader. “Life goes on. You can’t stay in the past. This was your grandparents’ life work. Yours is with Viridian. Go, enjoy, have fun. Live your life and sell me this place.”
“True, but are you going to take care of it personally? Keep an eye on things? What are you going to do with the inn?”
“I won’t be in charge of the property personally. I’m heading to Indianapolis, but it’ll be good, trust me.”
He laughed. “Solid answer, Jackson.” He handed back the blue folder. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“What? I’d think you’d recognize a good deal when you see one. You can’t just let the inn sit here and go to rot.” She shoved the folder at him again. “Do you have the money to pay the bank loan?”
“So you know about the loan too?”
“Give me a few more days and I’ll tell you your shoe size.”
He laughed. “The great Cami Jackson knows all.”
“Tell you what. Take some time to think it over. You have forty-eight hours.” Cami extended her hand to Ben.
Her grip was firm and confident, and fit perfectly with his. He had a crazy urge to hold on to her a bit longer. But she pulled free and turned for the door.
“Call me.”
“I’ve got your number.” He held up the folder.
Watching her go, Ben wished he was fifteen again, sitting with her in the tree house, leaning in for a kiss.
With a sigh, he dropped to the desk chair and reviewed her offer. It was a good offer. He bet he could negotiate some, get a higher price. He’d divide the money between his parents and Myrtle May. She could buy a small house in town. He’d set aside some for Walt and Ray.
“Well, well, all your barking at me about leaving the reg desk vacant, I return to find you in here and not out front.”
Ben jumped up. “Oh man, I totally forgot. I was talking to Cami and—”
“She’s a nice girl,” Myrtle May said. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”
The woman was fishing, but he wasn’t biting. He held up the folder. “She wants to buy the inn.”
Myrtle May stepped back, eyes wide. “Really? What did you say?”
“That I wasn’t sure. But she wants an answer in forty-eight hours.”
“Well, goodness, she doesn’t give a man much time.”
True, but life never gave a man much time.