Everyone groaned. The estimate might as well have been millions.
They talked through the possibilities and drank their champagne.
“The carriage house suites could be a little more modern. We could keep the furniture lighter and bring in the garden theme.” Bess nibbled on her thumbnail until Dolley slapped her hand.
“Great idea, but the carriage house renovations will have to wait.” Abby’s chest ached. “Third floor first.”
“I agree,” Dolley added.
Bess covered Abby’s hand. “When you moved back from New York, all you talked about was opening a restaurant.”
Abby shrugged. Realism had set in the minute she’d sat with the B and B’s accountant.
She was the reason Maurice had received the rising star designation. She wanted a real star rating to show him up. Without a restaurant, she would never be rated. She would just be...a B and B cook. Nothing special.
Dolley stuffed a tart in her mouth. “We have to finish the rooms in the main house first.”
Bess shook her head. “Shoot, what if we can’t get them booked?”
“We will.” Abby swallowed the lump forming in her throat. They had to. “Samuel’s bid has an option that allows us to finish one room at a time. If Nigel helps during the day, the short-term cost will be lower. In the long run, though, it will cost more, because the subcontractors would have to keep returning, rather than doing everything in one go.”
Bess cradled her head in her hand. “Why can’t this be easy? How about a loan?”
“Dolley?” Abby asked.
“I’ll make some inquiries next week.” Her sister grew thoughtful. “Maybe there’s a development loan we can tap.”
“We should extend that darn balloon,” Bess complained. “It’s hanging over our heads like a...”
“Noose?” Dolley filled in.
“That pendulum sword thing.” Bess waved her hand back and forth.
“Wow, you guys are morbid.” Abby figured she shouldn’t have held this meeting after a long day of work for all of them.
The kitchen door creaked as someone pushed it open. The sisters turned in unison.
Gray’s dark hair appeared in the doorway, and Abby’s stomach fluttered as if the champagne bubbles were tickling her.
“Hi ladies, still—” Gray frowned and looked at the bottle, the flutes and papers covering the table “—working?”
“Yeah. All work and no play—that’s us.” Dolley waved him over. “Hey, you know about our renovations. Can you tell us if these bids are reasonable?”
What? Abby kicked Dolley’s shoe.
Dolley glared. “What was that for?”
Abby tipped her head toward Gray and frowned.
He leaned against the dining alcove’s half wall. Those steely blue eyes held hers as he took of sip of the cognac he’d carried in with him.
“He’s a guest,” Abby hissed. A guest she’d kissed. The best kiss of her life.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
But Abby did. This was Fitzgerald business.
Gray moved to the table. Dolley scooted over to make room for him as he took a seat. “What’s going on?”
“Samuel’s just finished the last second-floor room, but we want to open up the third floor,” Dolley said.
He nodded.
Dolley shifted the papers in front of him. “We don’t have the cash to do the whole floor, but can you tell us if the room-by-room costs look reasonable? Maybe you have some ideas.”
Abby wanted to snatch the papers out of his hand. Guests shouldn’t know about their financial situation.
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