Chapter 1
Present Day, Ten Years Later
With the phone cradled between my shoulder and my ear, I squatted down and sifted through the contents of the lost and found box that we kept behind the front desk.
At the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast, we’d learned to save everything left behind that wasn’t perishable, illegal, or off-the-charts gross.
Sunglasses…swim trunks…hair extensions…
Aha!
“I’ve got a pink sweatshirt that says bitch in black letters,” I told the woman on the phone.
“No!” she cried, getting distraught. “It’s a black sweatshirt. And it says bitch in rhinestone studs.”
As I dug around and did another quick search, Casey, my parents’ big, shaggy rescue mutt, strolled over and poked his nose in the box to help.
“Sorry,” I said into the phone. “We don’t have it.”
From the way the woman groaned, you’d have thought she’d lost a valuable family heirloom instead of a novelty item that could be purchased at any T-shirt shop along the Jersey Shore. “Thanks for nothing,” she said in a tone befitting the moniker on her missing shirt.
“You have a good day too,” I said. But she’d already disconnected.
With a sigh, I stood and hung up the landline. Then, I looked down at the dog. “Who wants to go for a walk?” I asked.
As if there were any other possible answer, Casey began to yip happily and dance in a circle. Watching him, I had to wonder… In all my twenty-six years of life, had I ever been that excited about anything?
* * *
Despite the occasionally rude or difficult guest, I should have been excited about taking over the reins here at the Sunny Side.
But in my defense, the transfer of the family business from my parents to me wasn’t yet a done deal.
There were still a lot of details for us to figure out.
And the conversations we’d had around the subject had been, well… awkward.
At the close of this past summer season, my folks had sat me down at the kitchen counter to have A Talk.
For starters, they’d dropped the bomb about my father’s arthritis.
Apparently, it was getting worse, and the cold, damp New Jersey winters weren’t helping.
So, they’d been kicking around the idea of snowbirding it in Arizona with Dad’s sister, my Aunt Barb.
They’d even started looking into flights to Phoenix right after the new year.
I’d been annoyed with them for not telling me about the decline in Dad’s health sooner, but even more annoyed with myself for not noticing.
“Whatever you need,” I’d said immediately, hoping to make up for my oversight.
“After the holiday guests check out, it’s always slow around here until spring break anyway.
I can hold down the fort for a few months until you two come back. ”
Then, they’d dropped bomb number two. “What if we decided not to come back?” Mom had asked. “To work at the Sunny Side, that is.”
I’d been surprised, but I shouldn’t have been. After all, Mom was forty-one when she had me, and Dad was three years older. Funny. I did the B and B’s books every week, but until that moment, I’d never done the math that put both of my parents right around normal retirement age.
We’d talked some more—or rather, they’d talked, and I’d listened.
Before long, they’d dropped the third and final bomb, the bomb that had threatened to blow up my entire life as I knew it.
If my folks were going to have sufficient funds to retire to someplace warmer, they’d need to sell the business.
“We’ve had an offer on the place,” Dad had said. “A fair offer. From a young man named Jack Lee. You might even remember him. When he was a kid, the Lees used to spend the first two weeks of August with us every year.”
I’d gaped at my parents, dumbfounded. “But…it’s the family business,” I’d said.
“Of course it is,” Mom had said quickly. “And nothing would make us happier than to keep it in the family. But,” she’d added, giving me a serious look, “only if that would make you happy too.”
“You’ve been doing a wonderful job around here,” Dad had piped in. “But with your education and experience, I’m sure you could get a job at one of the big hotel-casinos. Or at a resort anywhere in the world. So, if there was something else you wanted to do—”
“What else would I want to do?” I’d demanded.
Okay, when I was a teenager, maybe I’d looked down my nose at the Sunny Side.
I’d had these vague dreams about a life beyond the B and B, beyond the Jersey Shore, beyond…
everything. But after that near drowning, I’d grown up.
I’d come to appreciate the bed-and-breakfast and the safe, predictable life it provided.
And I’d quit the daydreaming and become a lot more practical.
I’d majored in hospitality management at Rutgers University here in New Jersey, and I’d been working full-time at the Sunny Side since graduation.
Lately, I never even thought about doing anything else.
“It’s just…you’re so young, Hannah,” Mom had said.
“When your grandparents were ready to retire, your father and I were already in our forties. We’d both had other careers, and together, we had the means to purchase the business from Nana and Pops.
We saw it as our chance to slow down, start a family.
But because we waited to have you, well…
the timing now is different. We’re ready to retire, but you’re just a few years out of school.
We’d hate to see you rush into a decision and take on more than you can handle. Financially or otherwise.”
My heart had dropped. Despite my college degree, I was so, so stupid.
All these years, I’d just been assuming that one day, the Sunny Side would be mine.
But I’d never stopped to consider the logistics of how exactly that would happen, never had an honest dialogue about it with my folks.
It made perfect sense that Mom and Dad would need to sell the business to retire.
But with my meager savings account and the modest salary I made at the B and B, there was no way a bank would ever grant me a mortgage.
And even if by some miracle they did, there was no way I could swing the payments.
My head had started to spin, thoughts tripping wildly one over the other. Would the new owner even want to keep me on staff? If not, I’d be out of a job. Plus, the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast wasn’t just where I worked. It was where I lived. So, if my parents sold it…
“It’s our fault,” my father had said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “We should have discussed this a long time ago.” He’d flashed a cajoling grin. “I’d tell you a retirement joke,” he’d added, “but it doesn’t work. Get it?”
Usually, I acknowledged his awful dad jokes with a playful groan or an eye roll. But at that point, I hadn’t been able to muster a reaction at all.
“Well, the important thing is, we’re discussing it now,” Mom had said decisively. “Yes, we’ve had an offer on the Sunny Side, but we don’t have to accept it. If you really, truly want the place, I’m sure we can find a way to make it work. For all of us.”
* * *
Casey and I had the beach to ourselves today—not surprising for mid-January.
As the dog trotted ahead of me, leaving his paw prints in the damp sand, I pulled my oversize sweater coat tighter against the cold breeze coming off the ocean and thought about my parents in the Arizona sunshine.
Before they’d departed for their trip, we’d all agreed that I would run things at the B and B while they were gone.
It would be a trial run, so to speak. Then, when they returned in the spring, if I still wanted to take over the Sunny Side, we would all visit a financial planner and, together, we’d figure out some way to transfer ownership that would give them the retirement income they needed without crushing me under a pile of debt.
Unfortunately, just two weeks into this experiment, I was already feeling the crush.
Maintaining the Sunny Side was like playing a nonstop game of Whac-A-Mole. Practically every day, a new problem popped up—a loose shutter, a leaky faucet, a blown-out electrical outlet—but my father, the resident handyman, had always been on top of things. Or so I’d thought.
Now that my parents were away, I was discovering lots of little issues Dad had neglected, allowing them to become bigger issues.
As a daughter, I was heartbroken to realize he must have been slowing down for a while.
But as a businesswoman, I was beginning to panic.
The Sunny Side made most of its profit during the summer season, so everything needed to be up to scratch by Memorial Day weekend.
Thanks to YouTube videos and what I’d picked up over the years from my father, I was able to take care of the small stuff.
For the major repairs, though, I was going to need a professional.
Only, the Sunny Side couldn’t afford a professional.
No matter how many times I reviewed the accounts, I couldn’t find enough working capital to hire a general contractor.
But I couldn’t just let the place linger in disrepair, further deteriorating.
The B and B was my parents’ nest egg. Not to mention, my future. I had to do something.
But…what?
Suddenly, Casey started barking and went charging down the beach, the retractable leash unspooling behind him.
“Casey, no!” I shouted, trying to regain control as he disappeared over a sand dune.
I hurried after the dog, doing my best to reel in the lead, fiddling with the button on the handle. My father was the one who usually walked him, so I’d never really gotten the hang of how this thing worked.
The leash finally stopped unspooling as I hiked to the top of the dune. It looked like Casey had reached whatever he was after. He was standing next to something, sniffing away.