Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
If Caleb had felt any sense of inn-keeping accomplishment, it disappeared at six o’clock Monday morning.
In his office—or Grandfather’s office, depending who was asked—Caleb opened the hotel’s reservation software and discovered most of his rooms vacant.
He strode to the lobby and found Sarah at the reception desk. “Have you seen our occupancy rate this morning?”
Sarah clicked the mouse and pulled up the program, looked up at Caleb. “Not good.”
Her response hurt more than his failure, which had nearly smothered her once-upbeat, cheerful attitude. “I expect to have lean Sunday nights, but this is disastrous. Especially since the Grand fixed its water problem and reopens today.”
“Most of the Grand guests reserved less than a week, so they’ve been gone a couple days. About half of them to the Grand, according to Harry. Only the rooms in Miss Dahlia’s name are occupied.”
Caleb groaned inwardly. “We need to learn to compete with the Grand. Today. First let’s look at our reviews and find out what’s going on.”
Soft footsteps sounded near the now-expanded breakfast bar, and he detected a familiar floral scent.
Ariel. He hadn’t seen her, and any woman could wear flowered perfume, but he sensed she was here. Serene, kind, gentle. Exuding calmness that helped him think when she was around.
Not to mention the fact that she understood him. As no one else ever had.
Before long, her name would stop appearing on the reservation screen. Her light footsteps would fall somewhere else. Her pretty lips would smile at others, not him.
Of course, he’d known all along that her stay was temporary. But the sad fact now felt real.
He’d grown accustomed to her routine. Her morning sourdough toast with butter spread on peanut butter. Blueberries. Sweet tea. Her smile and cheerful greeting, that crazy-cute Tennessee accent rolling from her lips, helping him take on whatever problem he faced that morning.
However, only Caleb could solve his vacancy issue. Time to start figuring things out on his own.
Ariel wandered over now, plate and glass in hand, wearing a pink “Goodness of God” T-shirt with jeans and high-heeled sandals, her dazzling smile knocking him a bit off balance.
“Where’d you spend your Sunday?” he asked for lack of a more interesting greeting.
“Out on the farm, digging up family secrets like gold doubloons. You?”
“Playing rummy with Granddad and listening to crickets.”
She laughed, clearly unaware of the inn’s dire straits. “Caleb, you made my day when you put a pitcher of sweet tea on your breakfast bar. I never dreamed I’d get to have my favorite drink every morning.”
Yeah, well, before long, that breakfast bar would disappear. Unless he could think of a way to entice more customers to his inn.
“Eat up and drink up, because there’s nobody here other than your crew to put away all this food.” He glanced at Sarah. “Might as well learn the bad news now. Maybe our reviews will reveal the problem.”
“What bad news? How can I help?” Ariel said, taking on his problem before he knew what it was. Then she peered into Sarah’s face. “You seem tired. Are you okay?”
Caleb glanced that way. Her eyes did look dull.
“I doubled back this morning. But I’m fine.”
“How often do you do that?”
“When we have a call-in. Maybe twice a week.”
Great. Now Ariel knew more of his ineptness in the hotel biz.
Ariel handed her plate to Caleb. “I’ll make a call, then if you want, I can meet you in the parlor in fifteen minutes to brainstorm a solution to the inn’s staffing problem and image.”
“Unfortunately, Sarah probably won’t need help handling check-ins, so okay.”
Pulling her phone from her jeans pocket, Ariel started back toward her rooms.
Fifteen minutes later, Ariel came into the parlor, where Caleb sat with his laptop, creating a few social media posts advertising a discount and free tickets to the old fort with a two-night stay.
She handed him a hot mug of cream with a little coffee and a bowl of fresh strawberries and a spoon, then sat next to him.
Caleb closed his laptop, tired of reading their two- and three-star reviews and rewording his ad.
“Now, about those reviews.” She opened her idea book and took notes with her fancy pen. “First, only the garden wing feels dated.”
“The new lobby furniture arrives Thursday.”
“What about the guest rooms?”
He lowered his voice. “The inn can’t upgrade them. I had to put up cash for the new lobby couches and chairs.” Might as well tell her the rest. “I’ve stuck a lot of money into this hotel since I got here. Payroll has to come out of my pocket this week too.”
“Think about this. My cousin Josie Denton Scott needs a change in her life, and you need to learn to run your business. Josie is about my age, a recent widow, and she just sold the Gatlinburg inn she and her husband owned. I called her earlier, and she’s willing to become your consultant and teach you to run your inn. If you’re interested.”
A consultant. “That’s what I need.”
Ariel laid her hand on his arm, its warmth somehow comforting. “Josie has loads of experience. She could hire more employees and manage their workloads and work on your social media. For the past five years, she’s managed ours.”
“Tell her to come for an interview. Monday, if she can.”
“Texting her now.”
When she’d finished, and Josie had confirmed their meeting, Caleb showed Ariel the weekend reviews.
“The two- and three-star reviews focus mainly on the dated rooms.” She had that look in her eye, the one that said she’d latched on to an idea. “Why not close the garden wing and use the parlor wing exclusively?”
“The parlor wing doesn’t have an elevator. Even as strong as Uncle Augo is, I don’t want him packing luggage up the stairs.”
“Fair enough. That leaves twenty rooms on this wing’s first floor.” She tapped her pen on the table in an erratic beat, then stopped suddenly as her eyes lit. “What happened to the furniture they used before the 1980s remodel?”
“Stored somewhere in this hotel, since Grandma refused to get rid of it. Probably in this wing.” He lifted his hand for a high-five. “Ariel, you might have just solved our reviews problem.”
Caleb took off for the office to grab the guest room keys.
When he sprinted back into the parlor wing, Ariel stood at the top of the second-floor stairs.
Checking each room in the first hallway, they found the rooms ready for occupancy, other than linens and towels.
Around the corner, they found a room packed with disassembled antique poster bedframes stacked in rows.
He propped open the door, and they stepped inside.
“This is the same style furniture we saw in the first-floor rooms.” Caleb squeezed through a narrow passageway between the rows. “I count sixteen bedframes.”
“You did it, Caleb. You solved your dated-rooms problem.” Ariel glanced around at the furniture. “As long as we find another room filled with mattresses.”
For the next half hour, Caleb and Ariel unlocked rooms filled with leather and wood chairs, benches, tables, nightstands, vintage artwork, brass lamps, and antique area rugs rolled up in perfect condition—and mattresses.
Caleb ran his hand over a silk-and-wool rug in shades of blue. “This is nothing like your gold doubloons, but I think these treasures might help us save the inn from extinction.”
Ariel’s eyes grew wide as she turned from admiring the portrait of a woman with a Victorian-era hairstyle and dress. “What if the Lord meant this as your contribution to the family legacy? Not to run daily operations but to restore this place and save it for future generations?”
He could see it.
Once again, she understood him, knew his heart. His mind raced as he considered the idea, and for the first time, it felt as if things might work out with the inn, with Granddad—even with Ariel.
Letting an experienced innkeeper manage the hotel and publicity while Caleb focused on restoration? It felt a little like heaven on earth.
Except it would mean someone other than a Kennedy would run the inn.
And what part would his music play in this theoretical new venture?
She laid her hand on his upper arm, the gesture that always made him believe he could do the impossible.
The simple touch—her special touch—brought an ache to his chest. Helped him believe he might actually turn this place around against all odds.
More than that, it warmed a spot so deep and cold within him, he’d thought it would remain forever frozen—a place he’d kept locked since the night his parents walked out the parlor door.
A space he’d reinforced when his own brokenness had driven Stephanie away.
Caleb wouldn’t let it happen again.
This time, he’d make it work. He’d hire Josie, if it seemed right, and if she agreed. He’d take her advice and work to make this old heap successful. Then, no matter what happened, he’d take the next step. Whatever that was.
Regardless, he realized he wanted to take those steps with Ariel. Make a life with her. Wake up with her every morning.
Then with sudden clarity he hadn’t expected, he knew he wanted to settle down. Not just to have a wife, but to be a husband—to this woman. Not a man traveling from city to city, bunking with musicians in five-star hotels.
He made up his mind. Time to ask Ariel for a date.
“Would you consider—spending some time with me one evening soon? Alone?”
A soft look crossed her face. “A date?”
He nodded. Stepped closer.
Her soft intake of breath nearly stole his. “I’d love it.”
“You would?” A smile crept across his mouth. “You’re sure? Even if we have to sneak away from your aunt?”
“I’m sure.”
Caleb gazed first at Ariel’s pretty, delicate lips, then her blue eyes. “Ariel, I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave.”
He’d spoken the truth. He couldn’t imagine rattling around this place without her to ground him, steady him. To help him find his way out of this maze the Lord seemed to have dropped him into.