14. Chapter 14
Dean
The prince was paid in pastries. He considered it a fair trade.
The next morning, I stand outside and watch as Rosie—wearing faded khaki overalls, her hair in a ponytail—guides the driver to back up the delivery truck carrying the tables for the festival to the now-empty garage.
Moving Hal’s truck was the right call. A few minutes before the delivery arrived, Hal texted Rosie. She stared at the screen, not wanting to open it, then handed me the phone and asked me to read it first.
All it said was: No problem, Rosie. Thanks for holding onto her for me.
“So, he wasn’t mad,” she said. I swear I could see the tension leave her shoulders.
It’s getting harder to watch her take on everyone else’s problems and stay out of it. Not because I think she can’t handle them. She clearly can. It’s the way she’ll make things harder on herself before asking anyone else for help, or space, or even her own garage back.
Which is probably why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the fact that last night, Rosie asked me to kiss her twice. And then asked for more.
When we got back to the inn, she asked me to kiss her one more time before we went to our separate rooms. I was more than happy to oblige.
“Dean?” Rosie asks.
Her brows are pinched, like it isn’t the first time she’s tried to get my attention.
“Yeah?” I say, giving her a no, I wasn’t staring at you and thinking about kissing you smile.
I think she can see right through it, because her cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink.
“Would you mind keeping an eye on things while I go inside? I need to make some calls. I’ve got to see who can bake pumpkin pies for the festival,” she says, tipping her head toward the garage.
Somehow, I missed that the men have already started stacking tables while I’ve been standing here. Like a moron.
What is happening to me?
“Of course,” I tell her.
She has to squeeze by me to get out of the garage, and as she does, she deliberately brushes her shoulder against my arm. Her hand grazes mine, and I catch it long enough to give her fingers a quick squeeze before letting go.
What was I doing again? Oh, right. Watching two men unload tables into Rosie’s garage.
There must be over fifty tables here. I figured the fall festival would be small and quaint, like the town. A few booths along the street and activities like bobbing for apples and face painting. This is feeling like a bigger event than I was imagining.
Standing around and supervising lasts less than a minute before I start helping, grabbing the folded tables and leaning them against the wall with the rest.
Once the tables are in the garage, I’ll help Rosie get started on the Snow White room.
I’ll have to take a break this afternoon to meet a company at the farm that can hopefully remove the raccoons.
They had a cancellation and moved me up to today, which is the first piece of luck I’ve had with any of this.
If they can’t do it, I may have to see if Rosie’s offer to call one of the Walker brothers still stands because I’m officially getting desperate.
I leave for Manhattan on the third. That’s only eleven days to get this done. Now that I’m pretty set on selling the farm, I wonder if I could just leave the raccoons and put in the listing Property includes occupants. Lease terms unclear.
That’s another thing I need to do: Find someone to list the farm.
Something I know I’m putting off because it still doesn’t feel exactly right.
Which is ridiculous. Maybe it’s the unknown parts of it all.
I’ve never sold a house because I’ve never had one to sell.
I’m sure once it’s done and out of my hands, I’ll feel better.
Rosie comes out twenty minutes later just as the delivery truck is driving away.
“Found some people to make pies,” she says, holding up her phone as if the proof is in there.
“That’s great,” I say, going over to the garage door and pulling it shut. The only light now is the morning sun coming through the small windows and some old-looking fluorescent strip lights mounted on the ceiling.
Rosie sighs. “It all fit perfectly,” she says.
“Yes,” I say. “And it didn’t have to go in your entryway.”
“You’re just saying that because you didn’t want to have to use the other doors.”
I shake my head at her, but I’m smiling. I would have used either door and never complained. And she would have apologized for the inconvenience every time.
It’d be so much easier if she’d just say no. Except that’s not fair. It’d be easier if people stopped asking.
“Thanks for helping with that, by the way. I wasn’t expecting you to pitch in,” she says. “Would you like some pastries from Keller’s as a thank you?”
I take a few steps toward her until I’m standing in front of her. “I’m getting paid in pastries now?”
“It’s a pretty fair trade,” she says, tipping her face up toward me with half a grin.
I hook a finger under her chin. “Keep the pastries.”
I lean in, softly touching my lips to hers.
I didn’t wait for her to ask this time. My patience can only go so far, and I’ve been thinking about kissing her again since the moment I saw her this morning.
What I do wait for is her response, which comes quickly, as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling my head down to hers, deepening the kiss.
“You sure you don’t want a maple bar?” she asks after a while. Her lips are swollen, her ponytail crooked, loose strands falling around her face.
I chuckle. “That’s still on the table?”
“Absolutely,” she says, arms still wrapped around me. “I’m a very fair employer.”
A couple of hours later, after Rosie actually did go to Keller’s and brought back a box full of pastries, we are in the Snow White room, working on the flooring. Rosie is measuring and cutting while I do the installing.
This room is slightly smaller than the others, but all the corners and awkward angles make the flooring more complicated. Still, Rosie and I are managing it like old pros.
“So what happens if the raccoon people actually show up today?” Rosie asks, handing me the next plank.
“They remove the raccoons,” I say, my voice flat.
“Thank you, Dean. Very helpful.”
She’s smiling. I like the way it takes over her whole face, crinkling the corners of her eyes and making her look exactly like herself.
I debate kissing the smile off her lips but take the plank from her instead. “Then, I’ll find someone to list it, I guess.”
“So, you’ve decided to sell?”
I pause, her question giving me that same hollow feeling I’ve had every time I’ve thought about it.
“Yeah. I think so,” I finally answer.
She looks down at the measuring tape in her hand. “Do you think it’ll be hard to sell?”
“Do you mean what kind of person buys a burned apple orchard?”
She laughs. “Maybe someone who’s always dreamed of owning several acres of dead trees. Wait.” She pauses like she’s just had the best idea. “You could advertise it as haunted.”
“That should improve the asking price.”
“Of course it will,” she says. “People will pay extra for ghosts.”
“You’re probably right.”
She pulls another plank out of the box.
“You forgot the best selling point, though,” she says.
“Which is?”
“Walking distance to a charming princess-themed inn.”
I look at her. “That might lower the value.”
She gasps and points the measuring tape at me. “Take that back.”
I grin as I reach for the next plank. “No.”
The alarm on her phone goes off, and she pulls it out of her pocket to turn it off. “Time to go,” she says.
When I told her about my meeting this afternoon, she insisted on setting an alarm on her phone so I wouldn’t be late.
She holds her hand out for the mallet. “I’ll take over from here,” she says.
“Hopefully it won’t take too long,” I say, handing it to her, and meaning it. I’d actually stay right here with her, working on the floor of a room that will soon be covered in apples. That’s what she told me, at least.
The apple is the only part of Snow White I know anything about. Rosie was appalled by this and insisted we watch it tonight. I agreed, but only because I figured she’d fall asleep in my arms this time. Or I’m hoping that’s a possibility.
“Go evict some raccoons,” she says.
I lean over and plant a kiss on her lips before going to my room to grab my keys.
It’s not until I’m in my car and on my way over to the farm that I realize how very domestic that goodbye kiss was.
The meeting takes a lot longer than I was expecting, and unfortunately, the raccoons get to keep their home for a while longer.
At least I finally got some answers. But none of them were what I was hoping for.
Basically, they can trap and remove the animals, but unless we find and seal the entry points, they’ll be back within a week. That means checking the roofline and whatever soffits are, then bringing in a contractor to make the repairs. Not exactly an afternoon job.
This whole thing has become much bigger than I thought it would be.
After the animal removal company left, Wendell stopped by, and we ended up talking for a bit. Before I headed back to the inn, he handed me a business card for his nephew, who happens to be a real estate agent.
I called him on the drive back, and now I have an appointment with him on Friday. I’m pretty sure the first thing he’s going to tell me is that I need to remove the raccoons.
It’s frustrating to be held hostage by a gang of wild animals.
Rosie will have some jokes when I tell her. Which is why I take the steps two at a time up to the Snow White room.
But when I get there, she’s sitting in the center of the mostly finished floor, the lights turned out, her face in her hands.
“Rosie?” I ask, walking over to her and squatting down.
“Oh, hey,” she says, wiping her face with her hands. “You’re back. How did it go? Did they remove the raccoons?”
“No, they’re still there. It’s going to be harder than I thought.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “What will you do?”
I study her for a second. Her eyes are red, and she won’t quite look at me.
“Rosie, what’s wrong?”
She waves my words away. “Nothing,” she says. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”
“Rosie.”
A tear moves down her cheek. “Really, I promise. I just had a tiny breakdown. Totally normal under the circumstances.” She attempts a laugh and then hiccups.
I sit on the floor beside her, our shoulders touching.
I’d reach out and pull her into my arms, but I’ve never seen Rosie cry. I don’t know what she needs from me right now.
“I did the math while you were gone,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“This was an impossible task, trying to get this inn ready. I only have twelve days until all my rooms are full, and two of them aren’t even done yet, not to mention I have a festival I stupidly said I would run.
” She lets out a sob. “Who does that? Who says yes to something that big when they’re already drowning? ”
She leans into me, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close.
“Someone who gets asked a lot,” I say, holding her against my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin.
“No, it’s because I tell everyone yes too much.”
I chuckle. I can’t help it. “Because you’re much too helpful.”
That’s the thing about Rosie. I’m sure there’s something deep down, some deep-seated reason for why she does the things she does, but she also genuinely wants to do right by people. Her kindness is real.
“Look where it’s gotten me. I’m sitting here crying in a half-finished inn, drowning in festival details I’ve barely started, with no idea how I’m supposed to pull any of it off.
And then there’s the balloon payment coming up that I don’t think I’ll be able to cover, which no one knows about except Dominic and Emma, and if my dad finds out, he’ll worry himself sick.
Then they’ll all descend on this place and try to save me, and I’ll have to tell them I don’t need saving even though I’m literally sitting on the floor crying, so that argument probably won’t be very convincing, and—” She stops.
“Wait. What balloon payment?”
She lets out a breath. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Moving her head from under my chin, she looks at me. “I took out a loan to do the remodeling, and it wasn’t a very good one, and now I have a big chunk of it due in November. I need every booking to cover it. And if I don’t, I’ll probably lose the inn.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not something I like to share. The loan was risky and stupid. At the time, I figured I would easily get enough bookings during the festival and leaf-peeping season, and it would be covered. And now, I don’t know if I can do it.”
“What’s left to do?”
She wipes her face with the back of her wrist. “Snow White needs baseboards, trim, and a bathroom. Beauty and the Beast hasn’t even been started yet, and that room still needs some drywall, but Dominic hasn’t been able to get to it because it’s been holding all the furniture.”
“Okay, so—”
“And then there’s the festival,” she says, cutting me off. “That list is so long, I’m not even sure where to begin. I just don’t know how I’m going to do it all.”
She’s listing everything as if she has to do it alone. Of course she is. Rosie will give anyone whatever they ask for, but she’d never assume someone else would do the same for her.
Her voice starts to shake again, and something in my chest tightens. I reach for her, taking her face gently in my hands and turning her toward me.
“Rosie, you have me.”
She lets out a shaky breath, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.
“But I don’t, though.”
I pinch my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You’re leaving. I can’t monopolize all of your time. You have your own things to do.”
I shake my head. “I can’t even do anything until the raccoons are gone. I’m here to help. Whatever you need me for.”
“Until you leave.”
“Right,” I tell her.
It’s the truth. I have a contract in Manhattan, a farm I still don’t feel settled about, and a life that has never required me to stay anywhere for very long.
She pulls back, moving out of my arms. “Then we can’t, or maybe we probably shouldn’t—” She stops herself. “I don’t even know how to finish that.”
I nod, understanding what she’s trying to say: What we’ve started can’t keep going.
She’s right, of course. The timing isn’t great. I start work in Manhattan in less than two weeks. After that, there will be another job somewhere else, and another hotel after that. That’s how my life works.
Except, for the first time, I’m not all that excited to get back to it.
“Okay, so then we don’t,” I tell her. It’s the right call.
But I hate saying it. Because what I actually want is the exact opposite.
She nods, giving me a watery smile. “I don’t think we can.”
Neither of us moves for a minute. The room goes quiet except for the faint hum of the light overhead and the occasional creak of the old inn settling around us.
Then we get up from the floor, turn on the lights in the Snow White room, and without another word, get back to work.