Chapter Seven Reservations and Revelations
Lucy.
For the first time all week, the inn was quiet.
Morning sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the kitchen, turning the table into a small island of calm.
I sat with my coffee, a stack of expenses, and a hopeful heart.
The wainscoting was sanded, the holes filled and ready for paint.
We had dusted and cleaned the wallpaper and decided it was serviceable.
Plus it was a lot cheaper to keep it than replace it. If only soap, water, and some scrubbing power could fix our finances, we would be in good shape. I sighed over the numerous online estimates for electrical work and roofing.
I flipped my planner open and wrote Inspection in neat blue ink. Two months from now I estimated that we would finally be ready. I had blocked off all the tasks in neat little rows in my planner of when each item would likely be completed and come up with a date two months from now.
Jane looked up from the counter, where she was popping some muffins out of their tin so they could be placed on a cooling rack. “You’re smiling.”
“I’m feeling optimistic. I’m hopeful that as long as the money doesn’t run out, we can start booking in about two months,” I replied.
She grinned. “Imagine guests actually paying to stay here. It still seems surreal with all that green shag waiting to go into the dumpster.”
"That's going to be so satisfying to get rid of. Did you know Braxton pulled up a corner of the carpet in the reception room and said there was hardwood flooring underneath? There’s a chance we might get away with simple repairs, sanding, and refinishing. I’m so happy for our budget,” I mentioned with a relieved sigh.
Just the thought of replacing all that flooring was costly and time consuming.
A voice rang down the hallway like a trumpet blast. “Good morning, family and accidental bystanders!”
I nearly spilled my coffee. Kitty burst into the kitchen, hair wild from sleep, wearing a sweater that could have doubled as a blanket. She waved her phone triumphantly in one hand.
“You won't believe what I did!” she declared.
I groaned. “That sentence never ends well.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” she said, sliding into the chair across from me. “I solved all our financial problems.”
Jane froze. “Kitty, what did you do?”
“I listed the inn online! There is this adorable local booking site called , and they were looking for new properties. So I uploaded photos, wrote a charming description, and bam! Our first guests arrive Friday!” she said brightly.
I blinked. “Friday as in… this Friday?”
She nodded, grinning. “Two nights from now. Honeymooners from Calgary. Isn’t it romantic?”
“Romantic,” I repeated faintly. “Illegal, uninspected, and uninsured.”
Jane gasped. “Kitty!”
“What? We are practically ready!” Kitty insisted. “The rooms look great, the lights work, and the beds are adorable.”
“Adorable beds don't pass safety inspections,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “We are not open yet. There is still too much to do.”
“Well, now you can call him for tomorrow. Problem solved!” Kitty said cheerfully.
“Problem created,” Jane corrected.
“Do you know what will happen if we fail again? He will lock us down for weeks,” I tried to reason with my younger sister but should have known better. Kitty’s natural optimism was a force to be reckoned with.
Kitty leaned forward, unfazed. “So we won't fail. We have you, Captain Organization. You will make sure everything is perfect.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Mom swept in, humming to herself as she headed straight for the coffee pot. “Did I hear we have guests this weekend? Wonderful! I will polish the silver.”
“Mom! We can’t have guests until we pass inspection,” I said, horrified at how out of control the situation was becoming.
She looked at me with pure optimism. “Then we will simply pass.”
I set my pen down before I gave into the urge to throw it at someone. “Kitty booked people. Actual people with credit cards who will expect a functional, charming inn.”
“Well, money is money. You can't turn it down. Call the inspector and get that stamp of approval,” Helen said, unbothered by the situation.
Jane whispered, “Lucy, remember to breathe. You’re turning quite red.”
I breathed. Once. Deeply, in and out. It didn't help.
“I need to make some calls,” I muttered, grabbing my phone and heading into the hallway before I said something uncharitable.
The call with Inspector Mercer went about as well as expected. He sighed heavily when he heard my name.
“You failed inspection once, Miss Bennet.”
“I am aware,” I said through gritted teeth before I lied. “But we have fixed everything on your list. I am requesting a reinspection before the weekend.”
“Tomorrow?” His tone made the single word sound like an accusation.
“Yes. Please.”
Silence. Then, finally, “Eight o’clock sharp.”
When I hung up, my hand was shaking. Not from fear… well, maybe a little, but mostly from adrenaline. Twenty-four hours to finish everything. I could do this. Probably.
I returned to the kitchen and announced the news. “Inspector Mercer will be here tomorrow morning.”
Jane nodded bravely. “We will make it work. The good news is the fire suppression guys are supposed to be here for the kitchen this afternoon.”
Kitty clapped. “See? Easy!”
Mom looked delighted. “I will make muffins for the inspector!”
I closed my eyes. “Muffins are not going to bribe us into compliance.”
“You don't know that for certain,” she replied.
I was still trying to convince her that baked goods didn't equal building permits when the sound of a car engine rumbled outside. Tires crunched on the snow. Jane looked up from the sink. “Are we expecting anyone?”
Before I could answer, the front door swung open and a gust of cold air swept in along with a voice that practically sparkled. “Darlings! Surprise!”
Lydia.
Of course.
She breezed in wearing designer sunglasses, a faux-fur coat, and boots with heels sharp enough to aerate the lawn. Her perfume arrived a full three seconds before she did. Behind her trailed an oversized suitcase and a sense of self-importance.
Mom squealed. “Lydia! My baby!”
“Mom, you saw me last month,” Lydia said, hugging her awkwardly. “I needed a break from the city. Things have been so stressful since... you know.”
We all knew. The boyfriend break up. The influencer drama. The hashtags.
Lydia turned in a slow circle, taking in the kitchen. “It’s so rustic. Like a Hallmark movie. This will be perfect for my next brand campaign.”
Kitty perked up. “You are going to post about the inn?”
“Of course. Hashtag #SnowDropStaycation. I will make us go viral,” Lydia confidently said, already taking selfies.
Jane whispered, “Please not literally.”
Within minutes, Lydia had commandeered the best lighting and started filming a video tour, narrating each room with unearned confidence.
“This was built in the late nineteenth century. You can still smell the history,” she told her phone.
“That’s paint fumes,” I muttered.
The next few hours blurred together in a frenzy of repair and damage control.
Dad reattached outlet covers. Jane oversaw the kitchen repairs.
Mom polished the chandeliers and cleaned the windows.
Kitty and Meri got their hands dirty, ripping up the shag carpet while I put the needed safety rail on the steps to the basement.
Lydia alternated between filming and offering opinions about color palettes no one had asked for.
Dex appeared in the hallway midafternoon, sleeves rolled up, expression calm. He and Braxton had been pulling panelling from other walls and demoing drop ceilings to find more beautiful walls and moldings that had been covered up years ago. “You look like someone on the brink of combustion.”
“I’m fine,” I said, probably too quickly as I pulled apart the packaging to install some handicap rails in our bathrooms to make them more accessible for guests.
“You haven’t taken a break all day,” Dex observed.
I shrugged. “Details.”
He studied me for a moment. “You’re going to need professional help if you plan to pass that inspection tomorrow.”
“I am well aware.”
“I can make some calls. An electrician, a plumber, maybe a painter,” he offered
“No,” I said immediately. “I have it under control.”
“Do you? Because I think the electrician is a must at the very least for the laundry room,” Dex pointed out.
The way he said it in that quiet, steady, infuriatingly reasonable tone made my pulse spike. “I don’t need rescuing, Dex.”
“I wasn't offering to rescue you. I was offering efficiency.”
“Same thing.”
A long pause stretched between us. Finally, he nodded once. “Then I will let you handle it.”
I almost told him I appreciated it. I almost told him I had an electrician lined up who would be here in a couple of hours. Instead, I turned back to my checklist, muttering, “Thank you for your permission.”
Braxton leaned in from the doorway, grinning. “You two are my new favorite show.”
“Go fix something,” I told him. Although, how I had the audacity to order my former boss’s business partner around when he was a paying guest, I didn’t know.
“Gladly,” he said, though his eyes drifted toward the kitchen where Jane was laughing at something Mom had said. “Actually, maybe I will help Jane with the new countertops.”
That evening, the chaos finally slowed. The lights flickered on, warm and steady.
Mom declared it “the most productive day in Bennet history,” which wasn't necessarily saying much.
Lydia had set up her camera in the foyer for a “renovation reveal” livestream.
Dad was snoring in his armchair. For the first time since morning, I sat down and looked at my list to see what else might be done before the dreaded inspection tomorrow morning.
Braxton entered the sitting room quietly, hands in his pockets. “Lucy, I wanted to ask a favor.”
I looked up, wary. “What kind of favor?”
“Permission to stay another week,” he said. “Just until you pass inspection and get things settled. I can help with final repairs.”
“Or with Jane’s kitchen,” I said lightly.
He smiled, not denying it. “That too.”
I studied him . “You really like her.”
He shrugged, his grin softening. “She is easy to like.”
When he left, I caught sight of Dex leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. His expression was unreadable. “You are recruiting permanent staff?”
“He offered and we could use the help,” I replied
“Of course." His tone was polite, but something flickered behind it, something almost like tension. He turned away before I could read it.
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I found Jane in the kitchen making cocoa. The smell of chocolate filled the air. She smiled when I entered. “Long day.”
“Understatement,” I said, sliding onto a stool. It was also going to be a long night because there were still things to do and I meant to get them done to give us the best chance of passing tomorrow’s inspection.
She handed me a mug. “Braxton told you he wants to stay, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
Jane stirred her cocoa thoughtfully. “He is kind. Maybe too kind. I am not sure if that's interest or just his nature.”
“He’s interested,” I said simply. “Trust me.”
She blushed, smiling into her mug. “You think so?”
“I know so. He looks at you like you are his favorite recipe.”
She laughed softly. “That'sa very Bennet way to describe romance.”
We sat in companionable silence for a while. The inn creaked softly around us. Snow tapped at the windows.
Jane set down her mug. “And what about Dex?”
“What about him?”
She gave me that gentle, knowing smile only older sisters could manage. “You fight with him too much for someone who doesn’t care.”
I sighed, staring into my cocoa. “He is... impossible. Critical. Annoyingly competent.”
“Sounds awful.”
“And he makes me feel like I am doing everything wrong, even when I’m not.”
Jane’s smile widened. “That sounds very much like how you used to describe the people you ended up liking.”
I glared at her. “You have paint on your cheek.”
She laughed. “Give me part of your list.”
“Jane,” I protested, but she held out her hand patiently so I ripped the list in half, and handed one part to her.
“It’s going to be a long night,” she commented. “We had better get it done.”