4. Holly #2
“I believe the saying is ‘good bones.’ Like some poor former model who’s been put out to pasture.”
“You’re awful. I think what you really mean is that it has potential.”
He glanced about the room. “Like I said, in need of cosmetic work.”
It didn’t matter what Linus thought. Every time she stepped inside, Holly felt magic here.
There were plenty of nooks and crannies to explore in the inn, and as a child, Holly had imagined the former owners like characters in an epic story.
There was a little room beneath the staircase where Holly imagined the ship merchant’s children playing hide-and-seek.
There was also a turret with a whimsical porthole window in the room they’d named The Harwich Suite upstairs, from which she pictured the cranberry farmer viewing his bogs across the way.
But this room had always spoken to her loudest.
According to documents she’d obtained at the historical society, the library design was ordered from a Boston architect by the clipper ship merchant’s wife, Anna.
An avid reader and collector of books, Anna desired her own private library in 1860.
The subsequent addition housed all of her books and served as a schoolroom where the governess taught the children their daily lessons.
In later years, when the cranberry boggers owned the house, a small loft and a single spiral staircase were erected by the wall of windows, right where Holly sat now.
Whoever climbed up and sat in the loft had a sweeping view of the bay and the sailing vessels below.
Near the top of the window, where the view of the bay met the skyline, someone had painted two sailboats onto the glass surface.
The effect was magical; from any vantage point in the library, the painted boats appeared to bob atop the water outside like real vessels.
Sadly, both the loft and the staircase fell into disrepair and were no longer safe to climb.
Holly’s grandparents had removed them years ago.
Now, only the painted boats remained. Holly gazed up at them.
Faded by sunlight and time, the boats were mere whispers against the glass, like ghost ships sailing through mist.
“I’m going to fix this room up again,” she told Linus now, as he tugged at her hair with the brush. “Ouch. Be gentle!”
“Let’s get through the photo shoot and opening day first.”
Luckily, the photographer, Dan, was decisive and efficient upon arrival. “I like the lighting on the porch, so let’s start there.”
Having surrendered her hair and face to Linus, she wasn’t about to tell the photographer how to do his job.
They shot on the porch, then by the front door. Holly loathed having her photo taken, but Dan put her at ease.
“You’re a natural,” he reassured her. They finished up on the back patio, with the bay as a backdrop. “This place is making my job easy,” Dan said, looking around appreciatively.
“Thank you. We just finished renovations.”
“You did a great job. It feels both intimate and opulent.”
“That’s exactly what I was going for,” Holly said, brightening. “Are we all set then?”
“We are.” Dan checked his watch. “I’ve got to run to one last shoot. Like you, it’s a new local business we’re featuring.”
“Oh?” Holly was half listening, thinking of the staff meeting she was now late for.
“Yeah, this guy and his brother are starting up a shellfish company at the marina by Hardings Beach.”
This caught her attention. “My chef is looking for another shellfish supplier. What’s the name?”
“They specialize in oyster farming. I think the last name is Walters.”
Holly froze. “Walters?” It couldn’t be Ben Walters. Even if he did have a brother. No, Ben and Jonah Walters were strictly summer people, not wash-ashores like herself.
“Have you heard of them?”
Holly shook her head, but her mind was racing. “I don’t think so.”
“Can’t remember their first names, but they’re calling themselves the Oyster Boys. Like you, they open this summer.”
It couldn’t be the Walters boys she grew up with.
Ben was an attorney. The last Holly knew, his brother, Jonah, was working in a national park somewhere out west. Neither had any connection to the fishing industry, let alone something as specific as oyster farming.
She laughed with relief. “Whoever they are, I look forward to reading about the Oyster Boys,” she told Dan before she waved goodbye.
Everyone was gathered in the parlor room waiting for her, her head housekeeper, Josephine, fretfully circling those seated on the couches and chairs. “Don’t crush the cushions,” she warned, reaching around Linus to yank a bolster pillow from his backside.
“Hey, now!” he yelped.
Oliver, the gardener, hovered sheepishly in the doorway, away from the freshly vacuumed sisal. Everyone stole nervous glances at his dirt-covered Carhartts, except for Greta, who hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d walked in. Was there something going on there?
“I want to thank all of you for your hard work these past few months,” Holly said, standing by the fireplace to face them. “It wasn’t easy, but together we’re finally ready to reopen.” As their new leader, she smiled assuredly.
The faces staring back at her didn’t look so sure. “Are there any concerns I should be aware of this morning?” Three hands shot up, Linus’s among them.
“Sorry, but I can’t stay for the meeting,” Greta informed her. “I have scones in the oven.” At the mention, everyone lifted their noses to the air and smiled contentedly.
“Understood,” Holly said, relieved that was all it was.
Oliver cleared his throat. “The rabbits are back. I need to purchase more wire and fencing.”
Holly made a note on her clipboard. Expenditures were a problem, but hopefully it wouldn’t be much.
Linus raised his hand again.
“Just a second, Linus.” She wanted to get through important business before he took over, as she knew he would. “We have two early arrivals, the Henderson family and Mr. and Mrs. Russo, both expected in the next hour.”
Everyone nodded.
“Let’s make our guests feel special. Let’s anticipate their needs before they ask.”
Linus, now completely distracted by something out the window, started to interrupt her again, but Holly forged on.
“Today’s welcome cocktail is a blood orange spritzer.
Greta has prepared a charcuterie, which will be served by the bar.
Harvest dining room opens at five and the menu is posted. Reservations are fully booked.”
Now Linus was waving his hand like a second grader who needed to use the bathroom. Badly.
Holly shook her head. She was almost done.
“Josephine will replenish beach towels each morning at seven at the top of the back steps. This season we have a new beach chair service. They’re stored at the base of the steps in the new bin Oliver built.
Guests can help themselves, but, Oliver, you will likely need to collect them at end of day.
” Happily, everyone was still nodding, so Holly wrapped it up.
“As always, if there are questions or problems, please inform me.”
“Problem!” Linus hissed. All heads turned, following his gaze to the front window. “They’re here.”
From the circular drive came the sound of a car door slamming. Holly surged to the window with a handful of staff in tow. Bruce barked.
It was too early. No cocktails had been shaken. The charcuterie wasn’t out.
Sure enough, a giant SUV was idling in the driveway, its doors and hatch swinging open and lifting like wings on a giant steel insect.
“The Hollanders!” Holly gasped, and everyone scattered to their posts.
Linus pointed. “Look! A Henderson toddler has escaped its car seat.” Linus said toddler like one says vomit during dinner party conversation.
“Oh God,” Holly said, taking a deep breath. “We need to welcome them.”
“Not just the Hendersons.” Linus’s pointed finger veered from the Henderson child to the boxwoods along the driveway. “Your grandmother is hiding in the bushes.”