Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Millie! Millie! Come quick!”
Camille thundered down the stairs, bounding two at a time. It was pure luck that she didn’t twist or break an ankle as she skipped over the last few and rounded the corner into the reading room.
“Skip?” She feared what she might find when she burst through the doorway. The sheer panic in and volume of Skip’s voice was enough to scare her senseless. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“They’ve found them!” He flipped his laptop around, the words that headlined the article reiterating his declaration. “All five fisherman. Just this afternoon.”
“Who found them?”
“It doesn’t say, but my guess is a commercial fishing boat. Don’t know who else would be seventy-five miles off the coast, ‘specially with a storm like this about to hit. It’s dangerous water out there.”
“Are they okay?”
“Heading to the hospital for evaluation.”
She nodded, knowing the protocol. “That’s great news. I’m so glad that’s over.”
“Me too.” Skip’s head swung back and forth, not quite a nod, not quite a shake. “Me too.”
Camille gave the old sailor a sidelong glance. “I would never suggest that you liked the thought of a missing boat at sea, but I don’t think I’m misspeaking when I say you enjoyed following along with the story. Is there maybe a little truth to that?”
“It added some excitement to my days.” His hunched shoulders did a little waggle. “I can’t deny that. But of course, this was the ending I always hoped for.”
“Of course. It’s what we all wanted.” She looked at her dear friend thoughtfully.
Lately, she felt like the light had gone out of his eyes, like his grin was a little more forced and his words a little more curt.
She didn’t expect him to be in a state of constant joy—that wasn’t possible for anyone—but she had started to worry that maybe something was bothering him. “Are you happy, Skip?”
The man’s white brows tugged together. “’Course, I’m happy, Millie. Silly question for you to ask. I know I don’t always show it. Sometimes it takes a lot of energy at my age to keep a big smile on my face, but I’m happy. Happiest I’ve been in a long while.”
“And you’re still happy with how things are going with The Getaway?”
She couldn’t help but feel like sometimes she’d barreled in and taken over.
It was what he’d hired her to do, but at the end of the day, this was still his house and his business.
And now Camille lived there with Foster, too.
They were taking over, at the very least in number.
The last thing she wanted was to squeeze Skip out of the place that was home to him and had been for so many years. She had no right.
“I think things are going great with The Getaway.” He stood from his chair and placed his computer on the table nearby while Camille fought the urge to help him.
She’d been scolded a few too many times for rushing to his aid simply because his legs were a little shaky and his joints were a tad creaky.
He could still do things on his own, and that involved sitting and standing, he’d firmly explained to her.
But Camille just wanted to do what she could to make her friend’s life easier, all the way around.
“Sure, we’re down some reservations because of the storm,” he continued, “but that’s to be expected. Things will pick up once this passes through.”
“And you don’t feel like I’ve taken over too much? Like I’ve taken something that was yours and made it entirely my own?”
“That’s the goal, isn’t it Millie?” He stepped close and reached for her hand, not to steady himself, but as a gesture of endearment.
“When I’m gone, it’ll all be yours. Might as well start practicing now while I’m still around and can tell you what you’re doing wrong.
” He gave her a big wink, but Camille’s head hadn’t caught up to that part yet. It was stuck on his previous statement.
“When you’re gone…?”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought that far ahead. Truth be told, it’s probably not that far off anymore, really.”
“Skip.” Camille wouldn’t hear any of it. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I’ve got my ducks in a row, Millie. Don’t you worry about any of that.” Skip swiveled his gaze about the room. “All of this will be yours—and Foster’s now, too—once this old sailor has kicked the bucket.”
She could scarcely draw in the breath necessary to keep her head from blacking out. “What? We haven’t even talked about any of this.”
“You saying you don’t want the Inn?”
That wasn’t it at all. She just hadn’t been prepared for this sort of news, even though it made sense that Skip was. Not that he was knocking on death’s door or anything like that. But he was getting up there in years, and planning for these sorts of things was the responsible thing to do.
But still…
“I don’t know what to say.” Meeting this precious man had already been one of her life’s greatest gifts. And now he wanted her to live out his legacy, here in this house with Foster. She couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. It was equal parts bittersweet and too good to be true.
“Say you’ll continue to make The Getaway your own, and that when the time comes, you’ll give this place your all, just like my Gertie used to.”
She simply fell into Skip’s arms, the old man catching her in a huge embrace. “Skip, no one has ever given me anything like this before. I don’t have words to express what this means to me. Words to convey my gratitude.”
“And no one has given me what you have: the gift of finally having a daughter.” He smoothed a hand over her hair and then patted her gently on the back.
“My Gertie wanted to be a mother so badly. I wish she would have had the chance to meet you, Millie. She would have loved you like you were her own.”
Even if she had wanted to, Camille couldn’t keep the tears from spilling over her cheeks. She cried, that lip-quivering, shoulder-shuddering type of cry that was impossible to bottle up.
“Don’t go doing that now, Millie. You’re going to crack this old curmudgeon exterior of mine if you keep at it. Wouldn’t want any of that.”
“I love you, Skip.” She wiped her tear-soaked chin on his shoulder.
“Love you too, Millie. Very much.”
“Hey, you two. Is everything okay?”
Camille lifted her head at the sound of her concerned husband’s voice coming from the Inn’s entryway. “Foster.”
“What did I miss?” Foster peeled out of his raincoat and hung it on the hook near the door, his worried eyes locking in on Camille’s. “What’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine,” she assured. She stepped out of Skip’s arms. “We’re just having a moment.”
“Told your wife that The Getaway is all yours.”
Foster’s eyes rounded, clearly just as shocked by the news as Camille had been. “Skip. You’ve got family and friends you should pass this down to. We couldn’t take that from them.”
“Eh, I’ve got a few third cousins and maybe an old college football buddy still hanging around, but no one that I love as much as the two of you.
And if you ask me, there’s no one that loves this place as much as you two do, either.
If the saying is true and you both will want me to rest in peace, that will only happen knowing you’re at the helm of this ship. ”
Camille and Foster didn’t even need to discuss it.
“We would be honored,” Foster said. He took Skip’s hand and clasped it firmly as though sealing the deal.
“Good. Because I’ve already put the place in your names.”
Camille whirled around. “What? Skip, it’s too soon for that. You said we would get it in your will.”
“No, I said this place would be yours once I’m gone. Just forgot to add that it’ll be yours while I’m still here, too.”
And that’s when it hit her, worry striking her right in the chest. “Skip, you’re not—?”
“Dying? No, not any more than anyone else. We’re all marching our own way toward death, I suppose. I’m just a little closer to the finish line.”
“So why hand over the Inn now?”
“Because I want to, and I can. I still haven’t given you two a proper wedding gift, you know.”
“This is not a proper wedding gift. A salad spinner or a duvet cover. Those are suitable wedding gifts,” Camille said. “Not entire houses.”
“You telling me you don’t want it?”
Foster placed a hand on Camille’s shoulder. “No, of course, we want it, Skip. We’d be honored to take over the place.”
“Good, because it’s a done deal and those sorts of things aren’t all that easy to reverse.”
She wasn’t sure if that was true, or if it was just a line to gain her compliance.
She still couldn’t believe any of this was happening.
One minute she was racing down the stairs, worried Skip had collapsed or worse, and now she was the one very close to having her knees unhinge. She couldn’t keep herself steady.
“There’s some paperwork you’ll have to do, but we’ve got time.” He gave the couple a big, toothy grin. “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”
While Camille prepped for dinner, Skip and Foster played a game of gin at the kitchen table, their laughter and ribbing the sweetest sound to Camille’s ears.
At least, what she could make out over the whistling hum of wind outside and the steady downpour of rain that had only increased in intensity over the course of the day.
She had a marinara sauce simmering on the stove and a salad prepped and ready in the fridge when Josh came in later to join them, fresh baguette in hand.
“Brought this from Morgan’s place. Figured it might go well with the pasta.”
One thing Camille hadn’t managed was the art of baking. Running a bed and breakfast required some proficiency in the kitchen, but she relied on Sugar Blossom Bakery heavily to meet their pastry needs.
“Thank you. That’s perfect. How are things going over at her place?”
“Great, actually. A little slower with the storm, but we’re keeping her busy with the tasting menu for the gala. She seems really excited to work on it.”
Camille took the baguette when Josh passed it off, then placed it on the cutting board to slice up for their meal. When she ran her knife through the crusty exterior, steam rose up in hot wisps. Her mouth couldn’t keep from watering.
“You get along better with her than Cal?” She pitched her brow at her half-brother.
“Cal and I get along fine.”
Foster looked up from his hand of cards but wisely refocused his attention on the game. He was smart to stay out of things. Too bad Camille was never good at exercising that same type of restraint.
“You and Cal do not get along fine, but I suggest you start. For Edie’s sake, at the very least.”
Josh looked at his sister knowingly. “I’m aware, and I’m doing my best.”
“Your best needs to get better.”
“I’m working on it, Camille. I really like Edie, and I know that this disagreement Cal and I have only adds stress in her life, which is exactly the opposite of what I’m trying to do.”
Camille put the bread knife down. “Edie is my best friend. You are my brother. I care about both of you, obviously, but my allegiance is to Edie. It has been for more years than I can count. So you need to try harder, okay? Because I’m not sure if you realize it, but you and Cal are pushing her away.
And if you keep it up, in the end, you both are going to end up without her. ”
Josh nodded, swallowing. “You know, I’ve never had a sibling pep talk before.”
Was that what this was? She hadn’t intended for it to be one but supposed that’s exactly what it came across as. “I am the older sister, after all. It’s my duty.”
“Well, I appreciate it. What can I help with in here?” Josh rubbed his palms together. “It smells so good.”
“You can set the table if you can get those two to relocate their game.”
“We’re almost done,” Skip piped up, eyes focused on his handful of cards. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Then I suppose we’ll just have to wait and eat this delicious meal cold.”
“I’m just about to beat this youngin’,” Skip rallied. “Give me a minute.”
She pressed her hip to the counter, smiling. She would give him a minute. She would give the old man whatever he wanted considering he’d given her one of the greatest gifts her heart would ever know.