Chapter 30
“So, that’s the story,” I said to my parents the next morning. Since they were still the owners of record of the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast, I figured I had to let them know about the letter. I’d waited until it was a decent hour in Phoenix, then called them on the computer’s FaceTime app.
My mother frowned, obviously disturbed by this turn of events.
“I knew your father and I would have to sell the business,” she said.
“But I never thought we’d have to sell it like this, to developers who are just going to level the place and erase its whole history. To build a stadium, of all things.”
“Well, hold on,” I said to the screen. “This isn’t a done deal yet.”
“You know what they say,” said Dad with a sad shrug. “You can’t fight city hall.”
“Of course you can,” I shot back. I waved the letter in front of the webcam. “I’ve got a ticket to the fight right here.”
“Hannah,” said my mother. “I’m just as upset by this as you are. But…”
“But what?” I asked.
“A fight like this could drag on for years,” said Mom.
“Do you really want to put yourself through that?” asked Dad.
That hit a nerve. Yes, okay, maybe I’d begun to question the strength of my commitment to the Sunny Side. But I didn’t like them questioning it.
Are my parents trying to protect me? I wondered. Or do they just not believe in me?
“You know what they say,” I said, tossing my dad’s line of argument back at him. “No pain, no gain.”
My parents glanced at each other then, and even watching them on a computer screen, it was clear they didn’t need words to communicate.
It was the same kind of silent exchange I’d seen pass often between Drew and Garth.
There was no translation charm at work, but it struck me that maybe mutual love and devotion created a type of magic between two people that wasn’t all that different.
My mother and father turned back to me, and Mom cleared her throat.
“Sweetheart,” she said. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“A girl with your talents—”
“I’m not a girl anymore,” I said, cutting off whatever else my father was going to say. “I’m an adult woman. And whether you two believe it or not, I can do this. I can keep the family business going.”
Somewhere at the back of my mind, it dawned on me that I was fighting for something I wasn’t even sure I still wanted. But I couldn’t help it. My anger was on automatic pilot.
Maybe what I was really fighting for was my parents’ respect.
My mother shook her head. “You misunderstood me,” she said. “I never—”
“Hannah?” called Xander, coming in from the kitchen.
“There you are,” he said, grinning when he spotted me.
“I tightened the bolts in the handrail out back,” he continued, ambling over to where I stood behind the front desk.
“But I’m going to need fresh lumber to replace the…
” His voice trailed off as he stopped short next to me.
I couldn’t tell if he knew I was on a video call—or if he even knew what a video call was—but he definitely knew he’d walked in on something.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes moving between me and my parents’ faces on the screen. “Am I interrupting?”
He was—not that it was a bad thing. For me, his appearance was like a soothing balm, diffusing my anger before it became a full-blown rage.
I hadn’t exactly planned on introducing my mother and father to my boyfriend, the merman, today. But then, I realized there was no reason for them to suspect he was a merman. Or my boyfriend.
“Xander,” I said, regaining my composure. I gestured to the screen. “These are my parents.”
“Hello,” he said in his usual affable way.
“Mom, Dad,” I said. “This is Xander. He’s been doing some work for me around the B and B.”
“Well, Xander,” said Dad, “you must be part circus elephant. Because if you’re working for the Sunny Side, you’re working for peanuts.” He grinned. “Get it?”
Xander and I exchanged a knowing look.
“I do get it,” said Xander, turning back to the computer. “I’ve been using your library.”
“He found one of your joke books in with the fix-it manuals,” I explained.
“And I’ve just been repairing the wooden deck,” he said. “I nailed it.”
I looked at Xander, laughing. He grinned back at me. We lingered like that for a moment.
When I turned back to the screen, my folks seemed to be regarding me differently. Regarding both Xander and me differently.
“I get it too,” said Dad with a wink and a smile.
Was he talking about Xander’s joke? Or…something else?
Whatever.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway,” I said, getting back to our original topic, “I happen to think it’s important to keep the Sunny Side standing. As well as Kneadful Things, Matzo-Rella, and all the local businesses that give this town its character.”
My parents exchanged another glance.
“If you really want to take this on,” said Mom, “then of course you have our full support. But honey, this is nothing new. Over the years, I’ve seen more than one real estate developer come in with their fancy plans and their petitions to force out the current owners.
And even when the little guys fight, they don’t usually win. ”
“It’s true,” added Dad, nodding. “Atlantic City has a history of granting eminent domain to the big guys.”
“Understood,” I said. “But the Sunny Side Bed-and-Breakfast has a history too.”
* * *
That night, as I locked up, I found myself staring at that old photograph of my great-grandparents again. I didn’t know what I was looking for. But what I found surprised me.
I’d always thought of this as a picture of my ancestors. And yes, there they stood, dead-center, arm in arm, in front of the Sunny Side. But what I’d never noticed before was the banner draped across the roof of the porch behind them. It read, “Welcome Miss America Contestants 1921.”
And they were in the photo too. The contestants. Fresh-faced young women wearing old-fashioned bathing suits and high heels with sashes across their torsos. There were seven of them, by my count, all hanging out together on the front porch.
On impulse, I pulled out my phone and did a quick internet search. According to the top results, the Miss America Pageant had started in 1921 to attract tourists to Atlantic City and extend the Labor Day weekend. The first pageant had been small, with just…seven contestants.
Did that mean all the original Miss America contestants had stayed here at the Sunny Side? And if so, might that be somehow significant?
I turned to head up the stairs to Xander’s room.
But this time, I went slowly. I stopped to really look at each of the photos lining the stairwell.
My whole life, I’d thought these pictures just showed my family’s history.
But now, I could see they depicted the history of an entire community.
And maybe—just maybe—the Jersey Shore wouldn’t want to see over a hundred years of its history bulldozed.
By the time I got up to the fourth floor, I was almost giddy with excitement.
I burst in on Xander, a huge grin on my face.
“I don’t know if my ancestors had anything to do with saving my sixteen-year-old butt from drowning or not,” I said.
“But if they did, I think I have a way to make us even. I think I have a way to save the Sunny Side.”