Holly #2
Now, these four Ben-free years later, Holly knew better.
Sitting on the dock as the sun moved across the water in that late-afternoon shade of gold she loved best, she glanced back up the hill at the inn.
Here, she was staking out her own life and her own career doing something she felt passionate about.
The Cranberry House took all she had to give and would for some time, if she was to make it a success.
There were running costs and marketing goals and guests to take care of.
There was a developer who Holly knew still called her grandmother, even though Francine never let on.
And back up inside that inn was a magical chef and a snarky manager and a whole family of staff she counted on.
Ben Walters, whether here or there, was not one of them.
There was no time to think about Ben. Holly had more present problems, and one was walking through the door. Francine had behaved herself by staying away from the inn all week, so of course it would be the afternoon of the Suttons’ arrival that she chose not to.
“I used the front door this time,” she said cheekily. “And I dressed up to blend in with the guests. You won’t even know I’m here.” Doubtful, Holly watched as her grandmother twirled twice in the center of the lobby. Her friend Bee was in tow.
“Sorry, honey. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep her away.” Bee shrugged. “Figured the next best thing was to join her.”
“Right.” Holly regarded them both. Neither one looked very sorry.
Busybody that he was, Linus had already sniffed out Francine’s arrival and sailed into the lobby. “Ah! We have missed you.” He glanced sideways at Holly. “Though she’s doing fine, of course.”
“Of course.” Francine glanced around the foyer, hands clasped expectantly. “So?”
Holly knew what her grandmother was asking, and she had no time for it. “I’m expecting guests for a tasting at any moment.”
“A tasting! Would that be your wedding family?”
Holly really did not want to divulge. It would only lead to Francine inquiring about the menu, which would lead to snooping in Greta’s kitchen, and ultimately sticking around to spy.
Linus, however, had no such reservations. “We’re expecting the Suttons and their daughter, Sissy, at one o’clock,” he reported happily. “She’s the bride-to-be and a popular social media influencer. We’ve planned a four-course tasting with dessert. Not so sure about the key lime pie, but…”
Holly threw him a look. “Aren’t you supposed to be prepping the welcome drinks?”
The reminder only served to spur Linus into spilling more details. “Ooh! I’m doing a lemongrass mojito called In the Weeds and a honeyed gin with grapefruit called Bitter Truth.”
“Craft cocktails with unique names,” Francine said approvingly.
“Hang on,” Holly said, eyes narrowing. “Didn’t Greta insist on wedding-friendly names? Bitter Truth doesn’t exactly scream romance for Sissy.”
Linus rolled his eyes. “The girl’s getting married. We shouldn’t sugarcoat.”
“How is our dear Greta?” Francine went on, milking her stay. Holly wasn’t having it.
“Busy,” Holly huffed. “Like me. I will call you later, Franny. At Bee’s house.” She glanced warily toward the staircase from which the Henderson family were now noisily descending with all their luggage.
Just then one Henderson twin rolled into the lobby dragging an unwieldy bag at full tilt.
Holly turned in time to witness it glance the tall chinoiserie vase by her desk.
The vase wobbled, and Holly lurched to right it.
In the pandemonium, her grandmother and Bee had strayed swiftly into the bar area and pulled up chairs to watch Linus mix Sissy’s welcome cocktails.
He shrugged at Holly as both women held out empty glasses for a taste.
“Thank you for a wonderful stay,” Mia Henderson said, strolling up to the front desk. The young mother was tanned, her hair released from its slick bun and falling about her shoulders in soft waves. The Cranberry had worked its magic.
“How was your stay?” Holly asked.
Mia handed her a credit card. “Too short. We will be back, sans children!”
As much as Holly enjoyed the Hendersons, she was relieved when they loaded their kids into their oversized SUV and swung out of the drive.
The Shore Birds followed shortly after, each one, even Mary, raving about her stay.
Predictably, Francine was still at the bar with Bee, and out of earshot for the compliments.
There would be no getting them out of there before the Suttons arrived.
In the kitchen, Greta had everything running on time. Back at the desk, Linus was waiting for her. “Cocktail prep is done. Your grandmother and Bee voted for the Bitter Truth.”
“Of course they did. Where are they?”
“You’ll be pleased to know Francine found her visit satisfactory and has left us to the tasting.”
“Thank God for small favors.” Holly nodded to the front, where the crunch of tires on gravel sounded. “And look who just rolled in.”
Holly had thought she was prepared for the Suttons, after the barrage of inquiries and emails she’d endured before they made the booking.
As disappointed as she’d initially been that the wedding was too large to host at the Cranberry, she was now relieved that the family had selected a separate venue.
The rehearsal dinner was already turning out to be more than seemed manageable.
Mrs. Sutton strolled through the front door first, followed by her husband on his phone. She was tiny, tightly wrapped, and on a mission. “Welcome to the Cranberry,” Holly said, meeting them in the middle of the foyer with a tray of mint-and-cucumber spritzes. “I’m Holly, the innkeeper.”
Mrs. Sutton peered past her. “Powder room?”
“Right over there,” Holly said, gesturing to an alcove by the sitting area.
Mr. Sutton still had not looked up from his phone. When it rang, he took both a mint spritz and the call and walked back outside.
Linus joined Holly, straightening his bow tie. “They seem… friendly.”
There came the click of heels on the lobby floor. “Here comes the bride,” Holly said.
“Her shoes!” Linus breathed. “Good God, I need those shoes.”
Sissy’s kitten heels were patent red, a bold daytime choice for the shore, but Holly had to agree, somehow they worked with the white sundress and navy tote.
“Sissy Sutton,” she said, with a flick of her dark mane as she extended her hand.
“We’re thrilled to have you,” Holly said, trying not to stare at the rock on Sissy’s finger. It was the size of an ice cube. She glanced over Sissy’s shoulder. “Will your fiancé be joining us today?”
“Alas. Harold is golfing.”
“Alas,” Linus echoed, passing Sissy a spritz.
With Sissy on her heels, Holly led the family on a tour of the first floor and outside to the patio where Pleasant Bay sparkled quietly in the backdrop, all the while sharing the inn’s history and pointing out amenities they could make use of over the wedding weekend.
“We could do welcome cocktails for your family out here Friday afternoon,” Holly suggested.
“Another option is a firepit after the rehearsal dinner, under the stars.”
“A pit?” Mrs. Sutton said, brow furrowing.
“Sounds smoky,” Mr. Sutton agreed.
“With s’mores?” Sissy asked brightly.
“Of course,” Holly said. “We source our marshmallows and dark chocolate from the Candy Manor on Main.”
“Harold and I adore the Candy Manor!” Sissy said. “Let’s do s’mores!”
Another happy customer for s’mores. Smiling, Holly made a note on her clipboard. “Let me show you our gardens.”
Sadly, Sissy’s ardor ended with the s’mores. All the way to the garden she wobbled in her heels in the grass. At the gate, she swatted away a butterfly.
“We source all our produce here, on the property,” Holly said proudly.
“This is our first summer offering farm-to-table service, and we feel especially good that it’s all organic.
” When they said nothing, Holly continued along the garden fence toward the perennial beds.
“Over here we have another small patio with a lovely fountain, that might prove a good spot for photos?”
Sissy was lagging behind in her heels and out of earshot, but neither of her parents seemed enthused.
As they waited for Sissy, Holly surged on with fun facts about the property.
“These cast iron urns are original to the property. We have photos of Mrs. Spicer standing beside them with the children. If you’d like, we could customize plants for the wedding weekend that might be special to the family or to you, Sissy? ”
Sissy shrugged. “I’m not really big on plants.”
“Oh.” Holly’s idea had fallen as flat as the look on Mrs. Sutton’s face.
“Shall we go back inside?” she asked, dabbing at her brow. “It’s a bit muggy.”
With a prompt return indoors and upstairs (“Is there no elevator?” Sissy asked as Holly trudged ahead), the Suttons proceeded to scrutinize the furnishings of the Captain’s Suite, which Josephine had just fluffed and opened for their viewing. Holly allowed the Suttons to walk in first.
Instead of gushing over the romantic four-poster bed or the stunning water view or the luxury linens, Sissy stared up at the ceiling. “I hear something,” she said, her big brown eyes darting back and forth. “Do you have bats?”
“That would be a wind gust coming off the bay,” Holly reassured her, opening one of the windows. “The antique shutters sometimes rattle a little.”
Sissy did not look convinced. “You’re sure this place isn’t haunted?”
Holly wasn’t entirely, but she wasn’t about to say so. “I’ll have the shutters checked,” she said, making a quick note. “But I do recommend opening your bedroom windows at night. The salt air breeze is so restorative!”
“I have a sea salt scrub for that,” Sissy said.
“Besides, let’s not invite West Nile in,” Mr. Sutton joked tightly. He went to close the window Holly had just opened.
Holly didn’t bother to say that a good sea breeze kept mosquitoes at bay.
“Are the bathroom floors heated?” Mrs. Sutton wanted to know.