LITMIR.BIZ

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to her ear.

      “So what’s the gossip?” Jayne said. “Tell me everything. I’m guessing Ben is out of the picture?”

      Jayne, like all of Emily’s friends and family, had never liked Ben. They’d been able to see what Emily had been blind to for seven years – that he was so not right for her.

      “Truly out of the picture,” Emily replied.

      “And is there anyone new in the picture?” Jayne asked.

      “Maybe…” Emily said coyly. “But it’s new and still a bit unsteady so I’d rather not jinx it by talking about it.”

      “But I want to know everything!” Jayne cried. “Oh, hold on. I’m getting another call.”

      Emily waited while the line went silent. A few moments later, the noises of a New York City morning filled her ears again as Jayne reconnected.

      “Sorry, babe,” she said, “I had to take that. Work stuff. So look, Amy said you have a B&B up there or something?”

      “Uh-huh,” Emily replied. She felt a little tense talking about the B&B, since Amy had been so vocal about it being a stupid idea, not to mention the whole switch in Emily’s life being ill thought through.

      “Have you got any rooms available at the moment?” Jayne asked.

      Emily was taken aback. She hadn’t expected such a question. “Yeah,” she said, thinking of Mr. Kapowski’s now abandoned room. “Why?”

      “I want to come!” Jayne exclaimed. “It’s Memorial Day weekend, after all. And I desperately need to get out of the city. Can I book it?”

      Emily faltered. “You don’t have to do that, you know. You can just come and stay as a visitor.”

      “No way,” Jayne replied. “I want the full treatment. Fresh towels every morning. Bacon and eggs for breakfast. I want to see you in action.”

      Emily laughed. Of all the people she’d spoken to about her new business venture, Jayne was being the most supportive.

      “Well, let me book you in officially then,” Emily said. “How long will your stay be?”

      “I dunno, a week?”

      “Great,” Emily said, a little ball of joy rolling in her gut. “And when will you be arriving?”

      “Tomorrow morning,” Jayne said. “Around ten.”

      The ball of joy grew larger still. “Okay, bear with me one moment while I log you in.”

      A little giddy with excitement, Emily placed her cell on hold and rushed over to the computer at the reception desk, where she logged into the room-booking program and entered Jayne’s details. She felt proud of herself for having technically filled up the B&B every day since it had opened, even if it only had one room to fill, and had only opened two days ago…

      She rushed back to her cell and picked it up. “Okay, you’re all booked in for one week.”

      “Very good,” Jayne said. “You sounded very professional.”

      “Thanks,” Emily replied shyly. “I’m still coming to grips with it all. My last guest was a disaster.”

      “You can tell me all about it tomorrow,” Jayne said. “I’d better go. I’m starting my tenth mile so I need to save my breath. See you tomorrow?”

      “I can’t wait,” Emily replied.

      The call ended and Emily smiled to herself. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed her old friend until she’d spoken to her. Seeing Jayne tomorrow would be a wonderful antidote to the disaster that had been Mr. Kapowski.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      Exhausted from her long, disastrous morning, Emily found herself sinking into unhappiness. Everywhere she looked she saw problems and mistakes; a messily painted wall, a poorly affixed light, an ill-fitting piece of furniture. Before, she’d seen them as quirks, but now they bothered her.

      She knew she needed some professional help and advice. She was in way over her head, thinking she could just run a B&B.

      She decided to call Cynthia, the bookstore owner who had once managed a B&B in her youth, to ask for advice.

      “Emily,” Cynthia said when she picked up the call. “How are you, my dear?”

      “Awful,” Emily said. “I’m having the worst day.”

      “But it’s only seven thirty!” Cynthia cried. “How bad can it be really?”

      “Really, really bad,” Emily replied. “My first guest just left. I missed serving him breakfast on the first day, then on the second day I didn’t have enough ingredients and he said the food was cold. He didn’t like the pillows or the towels. I don’t know what to do. Can you help?”

      “I’ll be right over,” Cynthia said, sounding thrilled at the prospect of imparting some wisdom.

      Emily went outside to wait for Cynthia and sat on the porch, hoping the sunshine might cheer her up, or, at the very least, the dose of vitamin D would. Her head felt so heavy she let it drop into her hands.

      When she heard the sound of crunching gravel, she looked up to see Cynthia cycling toward her.

      Cynthia’s rusty bike was a common and somewhat unforgettable sight around Sunset Harbor, mainly because the woman sitting atop it had frizzy dyed orange hair and wore bright and very uncoordinated outfits. To make things even more bizarre, Cynthia had recently affixed a wicker basket to the front of her bike in which she transported Storm, one of Mogsy’s puppies that she’d adopted. In many ways, Cynthia Jones was her very own tourist attraction.

      Emily was glad to see her, though Cynthia’s large red polka-dotted summer hat hurt her weary eyes somewhat. She waved at her friend and waited for the woman to reach her.

      They went inside and Cynthia wasted no time. As they ascended the stairs, Cynthia fired questions at Emily, about water pressure, about whether she was serving organic food and who her supplier was. By the time they reached the guest bedroom, Emily’s head was spinning.

      She took Cynthia inside. The room, as far as Emily was concerned, was beautiful. There was a mezzanine area at one end where she’d put a comfy leather sofa so that guests could sit there and look out at the ocean view. The room was mainly white, but with blue accents, a sheepskin rug, and distressed pine furniture.

      “This bed is too small,” Cynthia said immediately. “Standard double? Are you crazy? You need something grand and opulent. Something luxurious, beyond anything they’d be able to afford themselves. You’ve made this room look like a bedroom showroom.”

      “I thought that was the point,” Emily said meekly.

      “Absolutely not!” Cynthia cried. “You need it to look like a palace!” She paced around, touching the crumpled bed covers. “Too scratchy,” she said. “Your guests deserve to sleep in a bed that feels like silk against their skin.” She paced over to the window. “These drapes are far too dark.”

      “Oh,” Emily said. “Anything else?”

      “How many rooms do you have?”

      “Well, this is the main one that’s ready. There are two more that just need some furnishings. Then there’s a ton more that I haven’t even managed to clear yet. And the whole third floor could be converted too.”

      Cynthia nodded and tapped her chin. She seemed to be having some ideas, perhaps, Emily wondered, some grand plans for the B&B that would be impossible for her to achieve.

      “Show me the dining room,” Cynthia commanded.

      “Um…okay…”

      They went downstairs and with every step Emily’s dread intensified. She was beginning to regret the decision of asking Cynthia for help. Where Mr. Kapowski had dented her fragile ego, Cynthia was shattering it to pieces with a sledgehammer.

      “No,

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