Chapter 69
McKenna shoved a stray curl out of her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. Of all the times for Nate to get stranded away from Bugle. Really? Now? Why had he even left town in the first place?
When she’d tried texting him about it last night, his only response had been that he had car trouble and couldn’t secure a new rental until morning, and that he’d explain the rest once he saw her in person.
Well, now it was morning. She glanced at her watch. But apparently that in person conversation was going to have to keep waiting. Nate still wasn’t back, and at the moment, McKenna had a more worrisome concern staring her back in the face. One that had landed on the B&B’s doorstep late last night.
“Mr. Sullivan, I still can’t believe you flew all this way.” McKenna dished out a square piece of egg casserole onto his plate. “Why didn’t you just call if you wanted to check in on me?”
“What good is checking in on you to see when you’ll be coming home if you’re never ready to come home whenever I check in on you?”
McKenna needed some coffee before she could unscramble that question.
After Mr. Sullivan’s unexpected arrival last night, she’d had to make a quick turnover of her room, so that she could settle him there, then move her things over to Barb’s guest room, where she and Bobbi were now planning to stay.
Then she’d woken early enough to get back to the B&B and do both her and Nate’s share of the chores, fix brunch for the expanding guest list, and keep everyone from killing Georgie.
McKenna slid the casserole back in the oven and closed the door.
“Tell whoever gets up that they’ll have to help themselves to brunch.
” The Harrys must all be night owls. None had made a single peep or hoot so far.
“The casserole’s warming in the oven. Mixed fruit is in the fridge. Cinnamon rolls are on the table.”
She checked her watch again. “I’ve got to pick Bobbi up from the airport soon, and I’m not sure what traffic’s going to be like.”
“Same way it always is. Deadly.”
She patted his frail shoulder. “So great having you here.”
“McKenna,” he said as she started out of the kitchen. “If you have a quick moment, there’s something important I need to discuss with you.”
“Um . . .” She forced herself to not look at her watch again. “A quick moment.”
He motioned to the chair across from him. “Please have a seat.”
She bit back a sigh as she scooted around the island to join him at the table. Why did she have a feeling this would take longer than a quick moment?
He reached for his fork, his hand trembling, then set the fork down and clasped his hands together. “I can’t do it anymore.”
“Brunch?”
“The photography studio.”
McKenna sank in her seat. This was definitely going to take longer than a quick moment. “I know these past couple weeks have been an adjustment.”
“They’ve been a nightmare.”
“If you give her a chance, Kristi is more than ready—”
“Kristi quit.”
McKenna stopped mid-sentence. “She what?”
“Quit. Right after the bar mitzvah. Said it was too stressful. And it was. Which is why I can’t do it either. Not anymore. I need you to come back, so you can take over the studio as soon as possible.”
“What?” He couldn’t be serious. “Mr. Sullivan, no. I can’t just take your photography studio.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . because it’s yours. It’s called Sullivan’s Shots.” And this was not how this was supposed to play out. At all. She was supposed to be breaking free of her hometown, not gaining heavier cement blocks around her feet.
Footsteps creaked overhead. The Harrys must be up and moving.
McKenna rose from her chair. Grabbed her shoulder bag.
“Why don’t we talk more about this later?
” Or never. That would be even better. “I need to get Bobbi and hope Oliver shows up and that this proposal still happens and . . .” Well, all sorts of things that didn’t include taking over Mr. Sullivan’s photography studio. “I just need to go.”
“You could do weddings.”
McKenna froze with her hand on the back door handle as Mr. Sullivan continued. “You could do whatever you want. Hire whomever you want. Buy as many cactus plants as you want. You’re the only person I trust to take over. Please say you’ll consider the offer.”
“I’ll . . . I’ll consider the offer.” What other choice did she have? If everything fell apart tonight like her gut kept telling her it would, she may very well need Mr. Sullivan and his studio to keep her head above water once again.