I can transform into the Everleigh I always wanted to be, but could never figure out how to be.”
Wow. Quite a speech. Quite a life-turnaround. “I have faith in you.”
“Thanks. That means a lot. Anyway, that’s why we have to start today, on the precise day we’re supposed to. Asking the retirees to help with our pillow and linen needs will automatically get them excited about the inn’s reopening. They’ll talk it up to everyone.”
“That they will. Not just everyone in town, but everyone they know outside of town.” Sydney hadn’t connected the dots that way, and it had been her idea. “That’s smart, Ever.”
“Theoretically, anyway. So I get off on the right foot and impress everyone with how well I do it. With your help, of course.”
“The only thing I’m going to do is introduce you to my gram and a few of her friends. They’ll adore you. And my work will be done.”
“No, Sydney.” Ever grabbed at her arm, which made Sydney’s grip on the steering wheel veer the car practically off the shoulder. Her touchy-feeliness was heartwarming, but a little bit overzealous. “You can’t abandon me. I need your help. I need you to stick with me and watch. Stop me if I put my foot in it, or say something totally off the rails. You’re so smart. I think you could help me, um, level up. If you don’t mind.”
Sydney’s first instinct was to remind Everleigh that she’d be out the door in precisely fifty-nine days. Sticking around was the opposite of her plan.
But as long as she was still here, she’d help her all she could. Starting with a pep talk.
“You have to be more confident. That’s the starting point for you. Do you remember that movie about a guy who built a baseball field just because a voice told him to?”
“Field of Dreams. Yeah. ‘If you build it, they will come.’”
“Well, the hot farmer believed in himself, in what he was doing. You have to do the same. Believe that as long as you work hard, you’ll get your dream.”
Or so she used to think.
Before Excursions 365 screwed her over after making her bend over backward to write that article as one final hoop to jump through for the promotion that never came…
Everleigh sighed. Swiped her hands back and forth against the blush-pink dashboard. “You and Alex really are a good match. He used to tell me the same thing. Dig in, do the work, and you’ll get rewarded.”
“See? We both say it because it’s true.”
“But then he got fired and blackballed by the hotel he managed back in Pittsburgh all because of a stupid magazine article. And they got the facts all wrong. And he wasn’t a screwup at all. So what shot do I have?”
Sydney barely stopped herself from veering into the shoulder again at Everleigh’s words. She did manage to hork up a banal platitude through her shock. “Cut it out. Fresh start, remember? You’ll do great. No more self-doubt.”
Then she turned up the volume and let U2 blast through the car.
Because she had to think.
Hard.
What were the chances that the facts Everleigh tossed out added up to Alex getting fired because of something Sydney had done?
This was very, very bad…
*
“Gram, this is my friend Everleigh. She’s one of the owners of the Three Oaks Inn.” Sydney had warned that her gram wouldn’t shake hands because of the risk of germs while under treatment.
But her hazel eyes sparkled with warmth, and she clapped her hands as she beamed at them in her small living room.
“Aren’t you the lucky one?”
“Ha!” Ever followed that up with a snort. “Not generally. But I’m okay with all the luck I’m supposed to get in my whole life being lumped together to give me the inn. That’s enough.”
“Gratitude is good. You’ll do fine. And I’ll bet you haven’t run out of luck quite yet.” She adjusted the green felt cap accented with a black leather edging. Gram didn’t want to be ‘one of those sad sacks with handkerchiefs on their head.’ Sydney had scoured eBay with her three nights in a row to amass a collection of jazzy, spunky hats.
“Where’s your quilting bag, Gram?” She was antsy to move them along. The need to do some immediate detective work to determine what had actually happened to Alex—and her part in that—had Sydney jittery and restless.
And, well, scared.
“Don’t need it. I do need my wallet for my mahjong club. Be a dear and grab my purse from