One #3
“Yeah, I guess,” she answered, even though she wasn’t exactly nursing a heartache over Jordan.
It was more like she was nursing a grudge.
Or maybe it was a little of both—a lot of both—but either way, meeting someone else was the last thing on her mind.
Molly had barely begun to grieve the loss of her grandmother; she didn’t have the emotional capacity to get involved with anyone romantically.
“So, what do you think? Will you keep the inn open for the summer?”
“I’d really like to say yes,” Savannah said. “But for some reason, I have a feeling it would be a bad idea.”
“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want to push you to do something that makes you uncomfortable,” bluffed Molly.
She had done her best to focus on the benefits of keeping the inn open for the summer.
But Savannah apparently didn’t really care about the guests or share Molly’s desire to honor Beverly’s memory by hosting them for one final season.
She wasn’t motivated by money, either. Feeling desperate, Molly made a last-ditch attempt to change Savannah’s mind.
This time, she focused on the potential drawbacks of Savannah’s decision, hinting, “I just hope the locals don’t cold-shoulder you. ”
“Why would they do that?”
“Hope Haven’s a tight-knit community and a lot of the residents depend on tourism for their livelihoods.
Grandma told me they feel like if one hotel or inn receives bad publicity, it reflects poorly on the island’s entire hospitality industry.
Once the guests start complaining because you canceled their reservations at the last minute just so you could renovate, some of the locals are going to be pretty ticked off. ”
“Pfft.” Savannah made a scornful sound, but Molly sensed she was wavering. Savannah cared too much about her reputation to risk annoying the permanent residents and business owners.
“Some of them might not be very accommodating when you need something, like a table next to the window in a restaurant or carpentry supplies and services for your renovations.” Molly was ad-libbing; the residents would inevitably gossip about how Savannah handled the inn’s closure, but she doubted they’d withhold services or goods from her.
However, her comments did the trick and any guilt she felt about her little fib disappeared when Savannah immediately back-pedaled.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t keep Hydrangea House open for the summer. I only said I’m nervous about you being the innkeeper. Do you really think you can manage it?”
“Absolutely.”
“All right, then, the volunteer innkeeping position is yours.”
“Really?” For the first time since she’d received word that her grandmother had died, Molly laughed aloud.
She could picture Beverly beaming, too, elated that guests would be able to enjoy their much-anticipated vacations at the inn and cottage for another season.
Despite her grief, the promise of being the innkeeper of Hydrangea House made Molly feel stronger and more purposeful.
She hoped that following in Beverly’s footsteps would help her feel closer to her grandma, too.
Her voice quavering with gratitude, she said, “Thanks, Savannah. I know this is what my grandmother would have wanted us to do.”
A couple weeks after their phone conversation, Savannah enlisted Molly’s help writing a human interest story about Beverly and Hydrangea House to submit to the local media.
Molly carefully crafted what she thought was a relevant tribute to Beverly’s service and the inn’s history.
However, Savannah was dissatisfied and she completely revised it.
The new version shone a brighter spotlight on the Frost family than on Beverly.
But knowing her grandmother as well as she did, Molly figured that’s how she would have wanted it anyway.
When the article was published, along with the photo that Savannah had included of herself and Beverly, Molly shared a copy of it with her mother, Carol.
“Savannah sure knows how to make herself look good,” Carol remarked in her usual straightforward manner. “The problem is, she’s doing it at your expense. It seems like she’s taking advantage of you, Molly.”
“Yeah, she probably is,” Molly acknowledged. “Or she thinks she is, anyway. But I don’t care about getting paid. I was going to spend most of the summer volunteering at the camp anyway, and I really want to do this—for Grandma and the guests’ sake.”
“I know you do, and it’s a very generous gesture. But this setup might be harder on you than you expect.”
Sometimes it seemed that her mother still thought of Molly as an adolescent, instead of as a very capable, confident thirty-five-year-old woman.
Suppressing her frustration, she replied, “Grandma managed to keep the inn operating smoothly, so I should be able to handle the workload, too. Especially since I won’t have to bake anything and there will be housekeeping staff to help me with the cleaning. ”
“I didn’t mean the workload—I’m sure you’ll manage that just fine. What I meant was that after breaking up with Jordan and losing your grandmother, you’re in a vulnerable position emotionally. Have you considered that returning to the inn might trigger a lot of memories of Beverly?”
“I hope it does. That’s partly why I want to go there.
Grandma died so suddenly and the funeral was such a blur I can hardly remember what happened that weekend.
Being on Dune Island again will give me a second chance to…
you know, to say goodbye to Grandma and the inn before Savannah closes it down.
” Molly paused to gather her composure, so she wouldn’t prove her mother’s point by breaking down in tears.
“Besides, the change of scenery will be good for me. It’ll help me get over what happened with Jordan faster than if I were hanging around town this summer. ”
“Mm. I suppose that’s true,” Carol agreed. “I just wouldn’t want you to end up feeling even sadder than you’ve been feeling.”
Suddenly Molly realized that her mother wasn’t doubting her abilities; she was concerned about her happiness.
Have I really seemed that sad? Molly knew how dismal she’d felt lately, but she’d been trying to put on a good face so her mother wouldn’t worry about her.
Molly’s father had died when Molly was twenty-four and Carol remarried three years ago.
Her husband, Ted, was recovering from a recent heart attack and Molly figured Carol had enough on her mind already, so she tried to minimize how distraught she was about Jordan and Beverly.
Apparently, Carol had seen through her facade.
“Thanks for looking out for me, Mom. But it’s like what Grandma always said… One of the best ways to feel better when you’re sad is to do something meaningful for someone else.”
“Another way to feel better is to call your mother,” Carol reminded her.
“I’ll call you whether I’m sad or not,” Molly promised with a chuckle. “But please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
A bumble bee buzzed near Molly’s ear, startling her.
She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t moved beyond the fence gate.
But now, she shook her long honey-brown hair over her shoulders, readjusted her grip on her suitcase and continued up the brick walkway toward the white, two-story gabled house.
The portico over the dark green front door was modest compared to many of the columned porches on the island’s other Greek-revival style homes, but Molly thought the entrance was the perfect balance of simplicity and classic embellishment.
She could picture her grandmother standing on the front steps, a welcoming smile on her lips and a twinkle in her green eyes. “I want every one of the guests to feel eager to come inside and sorry to leave,” Beverly used to say.
Even as her eyes smarted with tears, Molly smiled at the memory. Pushing the door open, she silently promised, I’ll never be as gracious of a host as you were, Grandma, but I’m going to do my best to give the guests a lovely, memorable visit.
And although she knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up, Molly found herself thinking, Who knows? Maybe before the summer ends, Savannah will decide she doesn’t want to shut down Hydrangea House and Peace Place after all…
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