good idea. If she bails, or is just a screwup, we’ll know before it’s too late.”
“And if I could toss some of the phone calls, the lists, the grunt work to her, I’d have more time here and in the shop. We give her the apartment and a small hourly wage.” Owen nodded. “This could work. If she’ll agree.”
“Tell Mom,” Ryder suggested. “She’ll get her to agree.”
“I’ll go run it by her. My idea,” Beckett added, and took off.
He caught them at the base of the outside steps. “Hey! Hold on a minute. Did you get the full tour this time?” he asked Clare as he came down.
“Yes. It’s going to be wonderful. I’ve got more ideas.” She tapped her notebook. “Justine and I are going to talk about them once I get them in some sort of order. Thanks for taking me through. I really need to get going.”
“Can you wait a minute—you could weigh in on this. Mom, how about asking Hope if she’d move up here now, or as soon as she can? We could give her the apartment across the street. It would give her time to acclimate to the town, get to know the area. And she could help you and Owen with the stuff you and Owen do.”
Justine tipped down her sunglasses, eyed him over the top. “Whose idea is this?”
“Well, mine, but Ry and Owen—”
“It’s a good one. You are, temporarily at least, my favorite son. I’ll talk to her about it over lunch. We’ll talk soon, Clare. Just email me some of the copy whenever you think you’re ready.”
“I will.”
“I’m going to call Carolee.” Justine pulled out her phone as she walked away.
“Sorry about the family drama.”
“We have plenty of our own. Does Ryder really not want Hope?”
“He’s just pissed Mom didn’t consult him.” Beckett left out issues like city, suits, and five-inch spikes. “Listen, I thought maybe I’d swing by later, give you a hand with the yard work.”
“The yard work?”
“Get the grass mowed for you. I miss mowing grass.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I mowed this morning.”
“This morning? It’s still morning.”
“The kids never sleep in on Saturdays, especially summer Saturdays. The advantage is, I can get a lot done before noon. Which is good as Saturdays are my get-it-all-done day, with Sunday for what didn’t. But thanks.”
“Anytime. Really.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I have to go, pick up the kids from my mother’s, hit the grocery store. I’m so glad you hired Hope. She’s going to be perfect for the inn, and the inn’s going to be perfect for her. Well, I’ll see you.”
“Yeah. Come here.” He pulled her around the steps, under the side porch roof. “I missed doing this yesterday.”
He closed his mouth over hers, nice and easy. Lingered a moment longer when her free hand curled up around his shoulder.
“That’s nicer than help with the yard work,” she murmured.
“You can have both, anytime.”
She thought both would take some time to get used to.
“I guess I’ll see you Monday.”
He ran a hand down the sunny tail of her hair. “I’ll call you later.”
“All right.”
It would all take time to get used to, she thought as she got into her car. Phone calls and kisses and Friday night dates. It was almost like being in high school again—well, except for the kids, the grocery store, the laundry waiting to be folded, and the checkbook that needed balancing.
She gave the inn a last glance as she drove away. The place had been there for over two centuries, she mused. And somehow it was changing everything.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SINCE YARD WORK WASN’T ON THE WEEKEND AGENDA, AND he couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse to drop by Clare’s, Beckett put some extra time in at the family shop. With the dogs and his iPod for company, he set to work building the wood frame that would cap in the stone arch leading from The Lobby to the entrance hallway.
He didn’t do as much fine carpentry or cabinetmaking as his brothers, but enjoyed it when he did. And for the moment, he liked having the shop to himself.
He remembered his father teaching him how to use the saws, the lathe, the planer. Thomas Montgomery had been patient, but expected precision.
No point in doing something if you’re going to do it half-assed.
A motto to live by, Beckett thought now.
God, his dad would’ve loved this project. Everything about it would have appealed to him, challenged him. He’d loved the town, the old buildings, its rhythm,