Chapter Eight Caffeine, Carbs, and Delusion
Dex.
I woke to the sound of a hammer. The clock on the nightstand read six. Inspector Mercer was due in two hours.
The smell of fresh paint drifted under my door. I pulled on a shirt and shoes before I stepped into the hallway. To my left at the exit someone had mounted the fire ordinance code in a frame. No doubt the hammering I had heard had been to put the nail in the nearby wall.
As I approached the main part of the inn, I could hear the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen, muffled footsteps, and low voices.
When I reached the foyer, I stopped. Two cocoa mugs sat empty on the front desk beside a half-used paint roller and Lucy’s clipboard. A list was taped to the counter, every box checked in her small, precise handwriting. The last line read Mercer 8 a.m.
She had stayed up all night to finish the list. Of course she had.
I really should have known. Lucy had stayed late many times as needed to make sure tasks were done when she had been employed by me.
The reception room looked different. New outlet covers gleamed.
The baseboards had been scrubbed and repainted.
Even the chandelier leaned less than usual.
The Bennet’s had done everything on Mercer’s list by sheer force of will, caffeine, and probably divine interference.
I could feel a small tug of admiration underneath my irritation. The woman was relentless.
It really was too bad Lucy was determined not to return as my secretary, I thought with a pang.
Helen’s voice floated from the kitchen door as she spied me. “Dex, dear, pancakes?”
I followed the smell of butter and caffeine.
The kitchen was a study in barely controlled chaos.
Kitty stood at the stove in a flannel robe, flipping pancakes with the flair of a game-show host. Braxton was pouring orange juice.
Lydia filmed both of them, narrating into her phone like an over-caffeinated news anchor.
Jane sat at the table, hair in a messy bun, eyes glazed from lack of sleep while William calmly sipped his coffee and read the newspaper.
“Where is Lucy?” I wondered, looking around.
“Painting the hallway,” Jane mumbled, reaching for a pancake without looking. “She has been up since… well, technically, since yesterday.”
“Of course she has,” I muttered, a little annoyed that we had been left out. I realized that I would have stayed up later to help. “No one thought to wake the rest of us?”
“Waking you would have slowed her down,” Helen said cheerfully. “We plan things. She executes them. It is a good system.”
“It is an inefficient system. She should have delegated some of the work. Lucy should have given us the opportunity to help,” I replied, taking a mug from the counter.
“Tell her that, if you want to lose an argument,” Jane said dryly, pulling a piece off of the pancake and popping it into her mouth.
I found I preferred Jane when she had a lack of sleep. It made her far less shy and she said what she was thinking.
Before I could respond, Lucy appeared in the doorway, clutching a paintbrush like a weapon. Her hair was pulled into a knot that had given up halfway, and a streak of pale blue paint decorated her cheek. She looked like exhaustion personified and infuriatingly alive.
“You’re up,” she said when she saw me. “Good. Can you tighten the railing by the stairs? I expect the inspector will check the integrity of the railing and I ran out of battery on the drill last night. It’s plugged in where the rest of the tools are.”
I set down my coffee. “You could have asked last night for us to help.”
She blinked. “You were asleep.”
"That's usually when people rest. I had assumed that you would be going to rest as well,” I admonished with a frown.
“I will rest after we pass.”
“Assuming you survive the next hour. You realize this level of obsession is unhealthy,” I mentioned.
“Coming from a man who color-codes his files?” A perfect eyebrow arched upward as she looked at me.
“You color-code your schedules so I don’t find that to be an insult,” I said evenly.
Her mouth twitched, the smallest spark of humor. “Kitty, I need you to take out the last of the trash to the dumpster. Meri? Where is Meri?”
“She is shoveling the walk and salting it,” William mildly supplied. “She refused to let me do it.”
“As she should. You’re getting on in years. I would hate to see you fall and break a hip,” Helen admonished.
“I was on a ladder just yesterday,” William murmured but no one else seemed to hear it.
“Jane needs your help with the kitchen Lydia. Braxton, if you could plug in all the emergency lights since you’re so tall,” Lucy half suggested, half ordered.
“I’ll take over breakfast,” Helen announced.
Lucy and Jane shared a pained look before Jane got to her feet. “I can finish making breakfast.”
“Come with me,” Lucy requested before she marched back into the hallway. I followed, finding the drill and fixing the railing. Lucy adjusted the placement of a nearby fire extinguisher. Braxton wandered past and down the hall to complete his assignment.
At precisely eight, tires crunched on the drive. From the foyer, Lydia shrieked, “He’s here!”
The family scrambled. Helen pulled off her dusty apron, hiding it under a couch cushion. Jane grabbed the paint roller and bucket, putting them behind the reception counter. Kitty darted out of the kitchen, lugging a trash bag down the corridor.
Mercer entered with the solemn air of a man arriving to deliver judgment. Clipboard, tape measure, expression carved from granite. “Good morning.”
“Coffee?” Helen offered immediately with a nervous smile.
“No, thank you. You requested a reinspection within seven days of a fail . That'sambitious." He looked around, pen poised as he took in the changes.
“Ambitious is our specialty. You will find all listed violations have been corrected,” Lucy said, stepping forward. Her voice was steady despite the dark circles under her eyes.
Mercer raised a brow but gestured for her to lead the way. The entourage followed with Helen wringing her hands, Kitty whispering commentary, and Lydia live-streaming until Lucy shot her a glare that could have melted her phone.
The tour began in the laundry room. Mercer inspected the new wiring, the replaced outlet, and the fire extinguisher tag. “Acceptable.”
Lucy exhaled. One down.
He moved through the kitchen next. Jane’s domain gleamed. The ovens were spotless, the vents freshly cleaned. Mercer checked the hood for the new suppression system, asked to see the receipt, nodded once, then scribbled something on his pad.
Helen whispered to me, “He is nodding. That's good, yes?”
“It’s promising,” I replied. Even though I had seen the tradespeople about their jobs, and witnessed the determination of the Bennets, plus having done a good deal of work myself, I found I was just as nervous about the inn passing inspection as Helen was.
Not that I would ever show it.
The reception room came next. The newly revealed wainscoting looked proud beneath a fresh coat of varnish. Mercer ran a finger along the molding, inspecting it for any sign of rot, mold, or termites. He found none.
“You have done proper restoration starting here. Well done,” Mercer finally said.
Helen clapped her hands in delight. “You hear that, William? He said, ‘well done!’”
Mercer cleared his throat. “Let’s continue.”
Exits were now properly labelled and backup batteries with emergency lights were functional. Solid railings graced the cellar steps. A servicing sticker now graced the old boiler, indicating it was safe to use.
They moved upstairs. The sisters followed like anxious students waiting for grades.
I stayed back a moment, studying the sunlight sliding through the window, touching the hardwood floors.
It wasn't my project, not technically, but I felt the same tight pull of anticipation in my chest that the others did.
There was so much more work still to do.
We had only been able to complete the public rooms downstairs.
Guest rooms needed refurbishment, personal quarters would be last, and the roof needed attention.
We had taken off the haphazard shudders which would have to be properly rehung sometime in the future.
Mostly, this inspection was to deem the inn safe for guests.
When they returned, Mercer flipped his clipboard closed. The silence stretched. Lydia, unable to bear it, whispered, “This is more suspenseful than an episode of The Gorgeous and the Botoxed .”
“Miss Bennet, to my surprise, you have corrected every violation on my list,” Mercer grudgingly admitted.
For a second no one moved. Then Helen let out a squeal, grabbing William’s arm as his laugh filled the hall. Jane hugged a bouncing Kitty. Lucy pressed a hand to her chest, her face a mix of disbelief and relief so pure it made something twist inside me.
Mercer handed over a copy of his report. “You are officially cleared to open. There is still a lot you need to do but you may have guests. Also, remember to pull your permits first in the future.”
“Thank you,” Lucy replied as she took the sheet.
The instant his car pulled away, chaos erupted. All of the Bennet’s seemed to talk at once, the majority of the group heading to the kitchen to celebrate.
I stayed near the doorway, watching Lucy. She stood by the window, sunlight giving her a halo around her hair. The exhaustion hadn't left her, but pride had replaced it. When she turned, our eyes met.
“We did it,” she said softly.
“You did,” I corrected.
Her smile deepened as she corrected me. “We. You helped.”
“I tightened a railing,” I dryly remarked.
“And offered a minimum of twelve unwanted suggestions while tearing down panelling," she teased.
I hesitated. “You should rest.”
“Later." She brushed past me toward the kitchen, already fielding questions from her sisters. Her energy seemed limitless, but I could see the faint tremor in her hands. Pride and worry tangled somewhere between my ribs.
Braxton joined me, balancing his glass. “You know, you might as well admit you are impressed.”
“I am evaluating,” I dismissively replied.
He grinned. “Sure. Evaluating. That's what I call it when I can't stop staring either.”
Before I could answer, Helen called everyone to the table.
The room filled with laughter, overlapping voices, and the smell of coffee and cinnamon buns.
I took the last seat, still half in observer mode, half drawn into their orbit.
The Bennets didn't make sense. They were messy, impulsive, and loud, yet somehow the sum of them worked. The house felt alive because of them.
I found myself tuning out the chatter. Lucy leaned her head against Jane’s shoulder, eyes half-closed, content at last. I finished my coffee slowly, watching snow drift past the window. Somewhere inside that relentless drive and chaos was a kind of beauty I hadn't realized I was missing.
And for the first time, I thought that maybe, just maybe, Maple Ridge and the SnowDrop Inn were beginning to feel less like a project and more like a place I wanted to stay, which was absurd because I had a business and a life elsewhere.