I’d more or less discounted Jo Marie’s claims, but for the first time I sincerely prayed there was a bit of that miracle power left over for me.
The weeks crawled by and there was no word from Mark. I did my best to let go and let God. I’d promised Mark I’d get back into life when he left, and I had. Dana and I religiously attended spin class. She’d biked all the way to Paris and was now heading back. I figured our paths would cross somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, as I was weeks behind her.
My book club had a stimulating debate over the latest read, a mystery by one of our favorites, Mary Higgins Clark. It boggled my mind how my friends could form such opposing opinions reading the same book. I enjoyed hosting the event and my friends enjoyed my homemade cookies.
Now that it was October, the weather had turned cool and the inn wasn’t as heavily booked. This gave me time to make minor decorating changes in the rooms. Each room had a guestbook, and those who stayed often left me written messages, which I seldom had time to read.
This last month I’d taken part of each afternoon to scan through the books, making notes of the entries. I discovered there were far more incidents of changed lives and small miracles than I’d ever realized. The notes touched me.
I’d read that those who opened bed-and-breakfast inns rarely lasted more than three years because of the heavy toll on their personal lives. It had been three years for me. The physical demands on me were heavy. As the sole proprietor, I did all the cleaning and cooking, booking, and paperwork. When I needed a break I hired a high school girl, but those times were rare as I struggled to show a profit.
I understood why other owners quit after three years. Of course, there were exceptions. Bob and Peggy’s Thyme and Tide was a good example. This summer, my busiest season, I was fortunate enough to have Emily. She’d come to stay at just the right time. Without her, I don’t know what I would have done while Mark had been so desperately ill.
She was moving into that apartment this weekend and I hated to see her go. We’d become close over the last few months. She told me what she and Nick had decided—four months—I think she regretted that now. I had faith everything would work out for them. In fact, I counted on it, believing as I did in the healing powers of the inn.
On Saturday morning, I came out of my office and found Emily in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She’d returned to the inn late after sorting through the items in her storage unit. It didn’t look like she’d gotten more than a few hours sleep.
I reached for a mug and poured myself a cup and joined her at the small table in the kitchen. I’d already fed my guests and they’d left for the day.
“Mornin’,” I said. “It’s moving day.”
“Yeah,” she said with a groan. “I hate moving. I’d like to know when I accumulated so much stuff?”
“I know,” I commiserated. “I felt the same way when I packed up my condo in Seattle.” By the time I’d sorted through everything, made various piles, I was too tired to move.
I knew going through her storage unit had been just as much a challenge for Emily. “Are you taking Monday as a personal day?” I asked, knowing she could probably use it after spending the weekend moving.
“No, I might need it later. I’ll manage.”
“I can help, you know,” I offered. My goodness, I owed her for all the help she’d given me while Mark had been hospitalized.
“I got this. Don’t worry. Besides, didn’t you say something about former guests dropping by this afternoon?”
“You heard right; the Porters are on their way.”
Of all the guests I’d had stay over the last three years, Maggie and Roy had been two of my favorites. They’d contacted me about a month ago and said they would be in the Seattle area for a family wedding and wanted to know if it would be convenient to stop by. I’d been looking forward to their visit and was sad that Mark wasn’t here to see them. Mark had played a key role in the weekend the young couple had stayed at the inn.
“They didn’t give me a specific time, but Maggie said