27. Sydney
“What do you think?” Neal asks the group, sliding a hand across the new bar top in the nearly finished dining room. I stand off to the side and study every facial expression that my dad and Shirley make, hardly able to contain my excitement.
This right here.
This is why I’m doing this.
Not only to honor my family’s legacy but also for this moment. To see firsthand how it will bless the members of my family that are still here.
“This is incredible, Neal,” Blair gushes, even though she and Graham already got the tour of this part of the lodge yesterday. Graham walks behind the bar to get a closer look at the new amenities back there, including a wine fridge, top-of-the-line ice maker, and two working dishwashers.
“Wow,” my dad breathes, looking around in awe.
Emotion swells in my throat as I watch his eyes gloss over when he spots the same piece of art that was hanging above the original bar. The one of a cowboy on a horse that my grandpa bought at an auction many years ago and was always a staple conversation piece in the lodge.
My own eyes well up as he spins a slow circle, taking in every last little bit of the renovation. I watch as he takes note of the spacious open floor plan, the scattering of modern tables and chairs with leather seats in the same color that the old chairs were, the expanded bar top with trim made out of the original piece. It’s a more modern space with touches that honor the past and true heart of Ruby Lodge.
That’s been my goal all along. Nerves bubble in my stomach as I hope I executed it sufficiently. Judging by their faces, I think I may have.
“I was worried it would look too different,” Dad admits quietly, glancing at me. “But it’s not. It still has the same heart. It’s pretty amazing, Sydney.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I grin as I slide my arm around his shoulders. He pats my forearm, and we rest our heads together to take a moment.
“Electronic pull-tabs?” Graham asks, picking up a tablet from the charging station behind the bar. “I didn’t see these yesterday—and I don’t remember seeing those on the master list.”
“Those were a last-minute splurge.” Neal winks at me and I smile.
“Want to see the kitchen?” he asks.
“Yes!” Shirley exclaims, clapping her hands together.
I trail behind them with a subtle smile still playing on my lips. I knew it would feel good to see their reactions, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. It’s a kind of satisfaction that runs incredibly deep, one that appeases some deep-rooted self-doubt I felt about completing this the right way. The perfect way.
Dad lingers back with me as the others head into the kitchen.
“You know, Graham and Blair are coming out to see your mother tomorrow. Maybe you could come? We could tell her about this,” he suggests softly with a hopeful gleam in his eye.
My smile slowly fades as an ache forms in my chest. A foreign, primal urge that comes from the very bottom of my heart pushes me to say yes, but again…something heavy holds me back.
“Maybe,” I tell him, although I know I likely won’t. As the words come out of my mouth, another subtle urge hits. One that feels an awful lot like bravery. A strength that has me questioning if maybe I actually could do this. Maybe I should just try.
I haven’t been able to write in the journal Blair gave me—as much as I’ve tried to. Yet I feel some sort of connection to it that has me carrying it around everywhere I go. I’ve been patiently waiting for the urge to write something to strike. It hasn’t yet, to my frustration.
He nods sympathetically, accepting my words. Then he pats my back before turning to follow the others. A low whistle escapes him as we walk into the upgraded kitchen that’s now double the size of what it used to be.
“Oh my,” Shirley drawls, admiring the section of brand-new stainless-steel appliances. There’s also ample counter space and floor-to-ceiling cabinets along the back wall for the pantry. It’s nothing fancy, the kitchen, but it does give Shirley anything she could ever want back here.
“Is it functional? Ready to run?” she asks, the eagerness clear in her voice.
“It is,” Neal boasts. “The whole front of the lodge is operational. There’s still a bit of work left to do on the apartment and the rest of the addition—the library and exercise rooms—but it’s minor work, and we can easily work around you while you’re here.”
“Really?” Shirley exclaims while Graham nods enthusiastically, seemingly ready to get back to work in here.
“Yup,” I answer her. “I have some interior work to do on the library, laundry, and exercise room this week, but the kitchen and the dining room are fully functional and ready to be used.”
“So I can move back down here?” she asks, looking positively thrilled.
“Yup,” Graham cuts in. “Neal gave us the green light to move most of our stuff out of your cabin and into the apartment upstairs yesterday. I’d say you can make the switch whenever you’re ready.”
“I’ll do it right now,” she says, eliciting a laugh from us all. “Besides, I’m sure Cole is itching to have his cabin back.”
The mention of his name makes my mouth go dry, and heat flushes the skin of my cheek when I notice Graham flick his gaze to me. I can’t tell if he’s gauging my reaction or not, but I avoid eye contact all the same.
The truth is, I’ll be sad to see Cole go. I know he’s not going far—as he said he wants to stay on the island for a while—but still. I’m getting used to having him around cabin twelve with me. It’s been really nice.
“I’ll let him know,” I say, avoiding Graham’s stare.
“Where do we go from here, Neal?” Blair asks. “What’s next?”
“Well, I’ve got a crew finishing up the recreation area,” he starts.
I make a mental note to swing by that area again tomorrow to sign off on the completion.
“And I’ve got a crew working on your apartment and one that’ll start on the individual cabins tomorrow.”
“Perfect. We’re starting east and working our way west, right?” Graham asks. “I’ve got my bookings staggered so we can still rent the ones not being worked on.”
“You got it,” Neal confirms. A pang hits my chest as I realize that time is running out on my time here. Granted, we still have the individual cabins to finish, the glamping area, and landscaping, which will take a while, but I have a feeling it will fly by. I don’t like that thought. I’m not quite ready for it to be over.
“Awesome,” Graham says before turning to Dad. “You’ve got to see the exercise room.”
“Show me,” Dad says eagerly.
I bite my lip as I jog to stay close by. I want to be able to see my dad’s reaction when he sees the rest of the lodge.
My feet ache with each step I take along the dirt path, tired from standing most of the day. By the time I reach cabin twelve, my eyelids feel just as heavy. A hungry grumble comes loudly from my stomach just as I push open the door.
“Hey,” Cole says from the kitchen where he’s standing over a sizzling pan.
“Hi. Wow, it smells amazing in here.”
He throws a subtle smile over his shoulder. “Grilled cheese—it’s about as gourmet as I can get in this small kitchen.”
“I’m so hungry I would eat your sock right now. But your grilled cheese sounds much better. Thank you,” I say while slumping down into a chair to untie my boots.
“Busy day?” he asks.
“Yes. We showed my dad and Shirley the lodge, and then I spent the entire rest of the day working on the interior. I stocked fresh supplies in the laundry room, moved some furniture around in the entryway, and helped Shirley get settled into the new kitchen. Oh…she’s officially out of your cabin, by the way, so you’re free to move back in.” I hold my breath, waiting to see his reaction, hoping he doesn’t seem overly excited about it. I’m expecting him to move out, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt to see him eager to.
He pauses ever so briefly but doesn’t say a word. Then he resumes flipping the sandwiches as if I hadn’t said anything at all. If it weren’t for a slight dip of his head, I would wonder if he even heard me at all.
“How was your day?” I ask him after a few quiet seconds.
“Pretty good. I went into town to drop a few client invoices in the mail, and”—he points his spatula at the pan—“picked up a few groceries.”
I stretch my neck from side to side and roll my shoulders to ease the tension when he slides a plate in front of me, next to the puzzle.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I smile gratefully as he sets his own plate in the spot across from me. As we eat in silence, I think back on the events of the day and to seeing my dad. Once again, the mixed feelings that were brought up about seeing my mom arise, and I glance up at Cole.
“I, um…I think I’m getting closer to wanting to see my mom,” I admit quietly. He pauses, looking up, then sets his grilled cheese down altogether.
“Seriously?” he asks, staring intently at me.
“Yeah. I’m scared, though,” I admit, trying my best to push down the emotion that threatens to surface.
He leans against the back of his chair while uneasiness swirls in my stomach. I don’t know what else to say or, more accurately, how to put my feelings accurately into words, so I let the seconds stretch between us.
“I’m starting to feel anxious about leaving here at the end of the renovation without ever having gone to see her,” I finally admit the root of it.
“What happens if you never do?” he asks softly.
“Never go see her?” I clarify, my brows furrowing.
“Yeah. I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. Could you live the rest of your life not ever seeing her in person again?”
The thought makes the pang in my chest twist painfully sharp.
No.
The answer is a resounding no. I don’t know how to get myself to go there, but for the first time in years, the thought that gives me the most pain is the one where I never see her.
I push my lips together and shake my head. He lets me sit with my words as I blink back a wave of tears.
“All I’m saying is, as someone who doesn’t have much family left…I don’t want you to have any regrets about not seeing a family member, especially one who’s right in front of you.”
“Yeah,” I agree quietly, acknowledging the point he’s making.
“But nobody would blame you if you can’t. You need to do what’s best for you. Whatever feels right.”
“I guess I need to think about it some more.”
He squeezes my arm as he stands, bending over to plant a kiss at my hairline. I stand too, ready to help clean up dinner, and offer to help with packing his things so he can head back to his cabin.
Except, after the dishes are all put away, he doesn’t move to pack his bag. Instead, he pulls his sweatshirt off, slips off his socks, and lowers onto the cot—all without saying a word more than goodnight.
I bite the corner of my lip to stifle a smile, feeling a warmth course through me that he would choose to stay even when another option would be far more comfortable for him. Holding onto that warmth, I dim the lights and quietly head for the ladder.