Lifting her head up, Vashti looked into the sky as the sound of the gulf filled her ears. The sky was a beautiful blue and the few clouds she could see appeared a snowy white. A part of her believed at that moment her aunt was looking down at her smiling. Or was she? Did Aunt Shelby have anything to smile about knowing Vashti had decided to let someone destroy the home that had meant so much to her?
Vashti bristled at the thought, reminding herself that at no time had her aunt asked her to not sell the place. But still, there was that niggling thought that wouldn’t let her be now that she was here. Was it something her aunt just assumed she wouldn’t do?
She rubbed a hand down her face, hating she’d begun second-guessing her decision. Especially when ten million dollars were at stake. That was the only reason she had returned to the cove and no matter what, she must not forget it. Nothing else would have brought her back here.
Turning, she moved toward the steps, taking them two at a time like she’d always done. Bryce had given her the code to the Realtor lockbox and within seconds she was opening the door to go inside. Although the house had been closed up for a while, the scent of gardenias was in the air. It was a good smell and one she remembered. It came from all the gardenia bushes planted around the side of the house. Magnolias were another of her aunt’s favorite flowering trees and you would catch their scent when you walked in the backyard toward the gazebo.
Vashti stepped from the foyer into the living room parlor and glanced around. All the furniture was covered. Now that she knew if the Barnes Group did buy the inn they would tear it down, she hoped they planned to sell all the furnishings. Most of it was costly and were original pieces.
“Stay focused,” she told herself after seeing how run-down the place looked. Paint was peeling off the walls and there were brown stains on the ceiling that indicated some type of water damage. The inn had been vacant for about six months. At least it hadn’t been vandalized or anything and she was grateful for that. She headed for the stairs, deciding to check out the kitchen and dining room later. “Whatever the developer decides to do is not your business. Remain detached from this place,” she muttered to herself.
When she reached the landing to the second floor everything looked the same. Like downstairs, paint was peeling off the walls and she noticed a number of items needed to be placed on a “to be repaired” list. In addition to the bedrooms downstairs, there were ten bedrooms on the second floor, five on the third floor, and two huge studio-sized bedrooms on the fourth. The majority of the bedrooms faced the cove and provided a panoramic view of the gulf. From there you could see the boardwalk that led to the beach. She recalled when that boardwalk had been constructed with steps that led down the marshy path to the cove. In the evening lanterns were timed to come on at dusk to light the path. Vashti remembered how she would sit on those boardwalk steps for hours to stare out at the gulf.
She took the stairs down to the living room. Too many feelings were crushing down on her, but she refused to give in to emotions she wasn’t ready to deal with.
Squaring her shoulders, instead of moving toward the front door, she turned toward her aunt’s bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and drew in a deep breath. The room didn’t smell of gardenias but of vanilla, her aunt’s favorite scent. Vashti was convinced the aroma had seeped through the floors and walls. Inhaling it now reminded her so much of her aunt and so many cherished memories.
She’d always loved her aunt’s bedroom with the massive bed and complementing furnishing. The triple windows provided a beautiful view of a number of oak trees covered in Spanish moss. There was also the gazebo where many weddings had been held over the years. With the gulf as a backdrop, it was the perfect place for such celebrations. Leaving her aunt’s room she saw the guestroom that had been Vashti’s. Same furnishings, same decor and noted repairs needed.
She glanced at the trophy rack her aunt had bought to hold all the trophies Vashti had received in baton twirling. There were a number of them for all the years she’d aced the competitions and had once even gone on to win the national championship before finishing high school. Funny, she hadn’t twirled a baton in years. She knew somewhere in this room she would find her baton.
Vashti smiled when she saw it hanging on a rack on the wall. She was not surprised her aunt had kept it and her trophies. When the inn was officially sold, she wasn’t sure what she would do with them. She could donate the trophies to her high school since she’d represented them at all the competitions. The baton was hers. It had been a gift from her aunt on her tenth birthday along with six months of baton-twirling lessons. Her instructor had convinced her parents she was a natural and should continue the lessons and so they had.
Leaving the bedrooms, she crossed the living room and entered the section of the inn where the dining hall and kitchen were located. The inn was always filled to capacity on any day of the week. Some reservations were made a year in advance, especially from those planning their weddings and wanting to come here for their honeymoon.
There were visible scratches on several tables in the dining hall and several chair backs needed repair. The floor could also use a good polishing. There were ten tables neatly arranged. Each was covered in a white netted tablecloth. A set of double French doors opened to a beautiful rose garden. It was obvious her aunt’s prized roses hadn’t been tended to in quite a while. That made her wonder if perhaps her aunt hadn’t been feeling well lately but hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.
She had asked her mother if she’d suspected anything wrong with Aunt Shelby’s heath in case Vashti had missed something during her and Aunt Shelby’s weekly talks. Her mother said she hadn’t suspected a thing, but then her mother and Aunt Shelby didn’t talk often. Vashti had a feeling the sisters had had a disagreement about something and when she broached the subject with either of them they’d said she was imagining things. Vashti wasn’t so sure about that and knew for a fact they weren’t as close as they used to be.
Leaving the dining room, she entered the kitchen. This was where she had spent a lot of her days helping her aunt assist Daisy, her aunt’s prized cook, while preparing meals for all the guests. That was another plus in booking a room at Shelby by the Sea. You got to eat Daisy Blanchard’s delicious food. Everybody living in the cove and beyond knew Daisy had been the best cook anywhere.
A stroke last year had left Daisy paralyzed on one side and her children had moved her to live with them in Baton Rouge. Her aunt hadn’t truly been satisfied with the cooks after Daisy.
It was obvious to Vashti that all the appliances—all industrial-size—needed replacing. She wondered why she was thinking about that. She had told Bryce to sell the inn as is. The buyer, she’d assume, would make any necessary repairs, changes or updates. Now if she were able to sell it to the Barnes Group, appliances or anything else wouldn’t matter since they planned to tear it down.
Dear heaven, why was the thought of that suddenly troubling her? Why was she letting it? She wanted to cut this last tie to Catalina Cove, but she had a feeling that coming here and seeing the place for what would be the last time had not been a good idea. Deciding to leave well enough alone, she turned and left the house. After relocking the front door, she got into her car and drove off and refused to look back.
SAWYER ENTERED THE meeting room and glanced around. It was full. Evidently there was something on the agenda that piqued a number of people’s interest. Trudy had printed the agenda for him before he’d left the office, but he hadn’t had a chance to look at it.
“Evening,