Dan glanced in the direction she’d indicated toward the corner of manicured side lawn visible from where they stood, accessible by three stone steps and a wheelchair ramp. “Did your uncle leave the place in this condition? Eighteen years after closing?”
She grimaced instinctively, but quickly smoothed her expression into a bland smile. “He kept up the basic maintenance, but the decor and gardens had always been Aunt Helen’s department.”
“So, the answer is no. You and your brother and sister have put a lot of work into the inn and the grounds.”
“Yes, we have.” Her hands still bore a few small scars from some of the manual labor that had gone into those renovations. She, Bonnie and Logan had all put hours of sweat and effort into the restoration, saving money whenever possible by doing what they could themselves. She figured she would be manning a shovel for the planned koi pond eventually. Considering how much they’d had to do, they still considered it close to a miracle that they’d been able to open only a year after inheriting the place.
“A big investment, too. Must have been intimidating.”
“A bit,” she said, a major understatement. To help them with the transition, Uncle Leo had made them equal beneficiaries of a generous life insurance policy. Every penny of that had gone into the restoration, along with some extra contributions from their private savings. More than intimidating, the commitment had been terrifying, but Bonnie’s persistent optimism had persuaded her siblings to stay the course.
Dan made another, slightly tentative attempt to turn the conversation again into a somewhat more personal direction. “What did you all do before becoming innkeepers? Was it always your plan to reopen the inn?”
She knelt to snap a broken branch from a rosebush. Had someone stepped on the branch? Or was this the work of her brother’s dog, Ninja, the bane of her existence? She looked around suspiciously for the mutt, but saw no evidence of him. Logan had promised to keep the dog penned up for the weekend, but Ninja was notorious for escaping the most seemingly secure enclosures.
Remembering that Dan had asked her a question, she straightened and pushed her nemesis to the back of her mind. “Bonnie has a degree in hotel management. Since she was just a kid, it’s been her dream to reopen the inn. She worked for an established bed-and-breakfast inn in Knoxville from the time she was in high school all the way through college to prepare herself for this. Even though he didn’t want to run it alone, Uncle Leo loved telling stories of the inn in its heyday and it’s Bonnie’s goal to re-create that time. As you commented yourself, we’re well on the way to achieving that end.”
Dan nodded toward the tidy caretaker’s cottage just visible downhill from the gazebo. “And was it also your brother’s dream to run the inn?”
“My brother trained in computer software development and ran his own business for several years. He still works as a small business consultant, but he was ready for a new challenge and the inn came along at just the right time. He’s taken on the grounds, and served as the contractor for the construction and remodeling we took on. He’s designing plans for the Meditation Garden and another couple of projects we’d like to undertake in the future.”
Dan lifted an eyebrow. “Software developer, landscape designer, construction contractor and groundskeeper? That’s quite a range of talents.”
She smiled and shrugged. “Logan is what you might call multifaceted.”
“I look forward to talking with him.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’ll want to be interviewed for your article. My brother prefers to remain in the background.” Some people accused Logan of being downright antisocial. He had his reasons, but there were plenty of times when she was exasperated with her brother’s muleheadedness.
“You told me earlier that you enjoy the business part of running the inn. That’s your background? Business?”
She nodded, comfortable again now that the topic had turned to her work. She never should have let it stray into such personal areas in the first place. “I have a degree in business and a real-estate license. I worked full-time in real-estate sales in Knoxville, Tennessee, until we took over the inn, and I still work part-time for a broker in Blacksburg. I work the occasional open house, take a few listings, do some private showings.”
“So both you and your brother have other professional responsibilities outside the inn.”
“For now,” she conceded lightly. “We both enjoy our other interests.”
Whether the inn would ever clear enough to fully support all three of them remained to be seen, but she was satisfied for now that most months ended in the black. The time and financial investments they’d made thus far seemed to be paying off for them. Dan would hear nothing from her that wasn’t cheerily positive.
“You put in a lot of hours here and you work part-time selling real estate,” Dan remarked after they’d walked together to stand beside the large fountain. Recirculating water spilled musically downward from the six-foot-high top into three increasingly larger fluted bowl-shaped tiers and finally into the shallow pool that surrounded the base. “You’re pretty much working seven days a week.”
“Pretty much,” she answered, smiling to show that she wasn’t complaining.
“And what do you do for fun?”
“I enjoy my work. That makes it fun.”
Dan shook his head with a chuckle. “Not what I meant.”
Absently fishing a leaf from one tier of the fountain, Kinley tried to decide what to do with him next. They had completed the basic tour; it was too early for any of the other scheduled events, and she had a few things on her schedule before lunch. Muffled sounds drifting from the front of the inn indicated that her brother and his crew had already started working on repairs to the portico, which would hinder access there for now. It wasn’t that she minded spending time with Dan—just the opposite, in fact—but she had other things to do.
As if in echo of her thoughts, her phone alarm beeped discreetly, reminding her of the meeting with the prospective bridal party who had stayed in the inn last night. She silenced it quickly.
“I don’t want to keep you from your plans for the day,” Dan assured her. “I know you weren’t expecting me until tomorrow. I can entertain myself for the next few hours.”
“Yoo-hoo, Kinley. There you are.” Eva Sossaman’s shrill voice sliced through the peaceful quiet of the gardens as she bustled toward them from the inn with daughter and grandson in tow. “Serena and I were just going to take a few more photos, but I wanted to make sure you remembered to order the patio garlands for the prerehearsal cocktail hour.”
Kinley wasn’t sure she was entirely successful in swallowing her low groan. Had Dan heard? She spoke quickly. “Yes, of course, Eva. Everything’s under control for the wedding. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mr. Phelan and I have a meeting scheduled. Please let Bonnie or Rhoda know if there’s anything at all you need before you go.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Eva looked disappointed that Kinley was taking the handsome writer away when she would probably have loved to entertain him with endless descriptions of the upcoming wedding.
“I’ll see you later,” Kinley promised, edging toward the inn and nodding discreetly at Dan to accompany her.
“But I—”
Eva’s attempt at protest was interrupted by a splash from the fountain behind them. They all turned to see Grayson standing in the shallow pool at the base, stomping the water with his now-sodden sneakers, bending to reach for one of