More to Give (7 page)

“I haven’t been in business for long,” Will admitted. “I set up shop halfway through the summer, so I’m still working on getting the word out and establishing Destination Anchor as a serious entity.”

“I hear you’re already bringing business our way. That’s a good sign.”

Will leaned an elbow on her knee and tapped her chin with one slender finger. “That’s what I’m here to talk about. I told Sam I could wait until next week to get a sense of what the end result will be after the renovation, but I’m afraid my client is less patient than I am.”

The tapping intensified, as did the rate at which the combat boot bounced. If Callie didn’t know better, she’d think Ms. Parsons was nervous about something.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asked again.
Like maybe a mixed drink or some antacid?

Will shook her head, but the tapping continued.

“Ms. Parsons—”

“Please, call me Will.”

“Right. Will. I’m afraid we don’t have a finished plan, as I’ve only begun the proposal for Mr. Edwards’s review today. But I can tell you that the inn will be elegant yet cozy, with quality furnishings and linens. The colors will be soothing but refreshing, in a way that I’m sure your wedding party will find quite appealing.”

“And it’ll be done?” Will asked. “By Christmas?”

Though Callie had aired her own doubts the day before, she’d given Sam her word the hotel would be ready for business in time for the wedding. And so it would be. But the question did explain her visitor’s frayed nerves. As a new business, she couldn’t make a promise to a client without complete faith that she could back it up.

Callie understood Will’s dilemma.

“Yes,” she said, happy to put the coordinator’s fears to rest. “I admit there is much work to be done in a very short window, but rest assured that the Sunset Harbor Inn will be ready when the time comes.”

They might require a Christmas miracle to make that happen, but Callie had pulled off miracles before. Not of this size, but there was always a way.

Will nearly collapsed under the weight of the breath she exhaled. “Ms. Henderson—”

“Call me Callie.”

“That really is a pretty name,” Will said, taking her by surprise. “I don’t mean to question your ability to do your job, but this hotel . . .” The words trailed off as Will glanced around the room.

“Yes, this hotel,” Callie said, leaning forward to set her elbows on the desk. “As I said, there is much to be done, but I’ve tackled similar projects in the past. With a thorough plan in place, it’ll all come together. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Henri didn’t call her Pollyanna for nothing. Whatever it was going to take to whip this hotel into shape, Callie would do it with a smile on her face and a positive attitude.

Will slowly relaxed into her chair, one muscle at a time. The tapping ebbed as a smile spread across her narrow face. “Sam assured me of the same thing, but I could tell he was speaking from ego. Few men can resist a challenge, but they rarely consider the reality of the situation.”

Callie couldn’t argue with that, but she also needed to back up her boss. “Mr. Edwards knows what he’s doing. He once turned an all-but-condemned old factory into a premier hotel in the heart of Charleston—something everyone said he’d never pull off.”

The wiry brunette sat up straight. “You knew Sam before he came to Anchor?”

Why did she have to be so damned honest? Not that she’d intended to lie to people, but Callie also wasn’t prepared to explain how she and Sam were connected. “It was a long time ago,” she said, rising from her chair.

“So he’s from Charleston?” Will asked, blue eyes bright with interest.

“That area, yes.” Strolling around the desk, Callie struggled to remain polite while giving a clear indication that their meeting was over. “I really do need to get back to this proposal if I’m going to have it done by Friday. The sooner we have a plan in place, the sooner we can start the work.”

“Yes,” Will said, gathering her bag from the floor beside her chair. “Of course.” Upon reaching the door, the taller woman turned. “I really don’t mean to be nosy. I’m not big on talking about
my
past, either. But Sam is the only person on this island that no one knows anything about. I guess I’ve been here long enough to have caught the curiosity bug of the natives.”

“I’m afraid any details about Mr. Edwards’s past will have to come from him,” Callie said, offering a smile to lessen the edge of her words. “I really am looking forward to working with you. Weddings are my favorite events to hold, and I can’t wait to see the inaugural event here at the Sunset Harbor Inn.”

Will returned the smile and offered her business card. “If you’re interested in getting to know the island, give me a call. I have some friends I’d like you to meet.”

The words sounded sincere, and Callie appreciated the chance to make a few friends on Anchor, even if her stay was temporary.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

CHAPTER 7

S
am entered the Anchor Inn at eight thirty Friday morning to find Callie sitting in the lobby, reviewing some paperwork in her lap. He appreciated punctuality in his employees, but a half hour early seemed a bit extreme.

As did the reaction of his body upon seeing her.

“Is there a reason you’re here so early?” Sam asked, the words harsher than necessary.

She glanced up, her mouth forming an O in surprise. Then she flashed a tentative smile, as if maybe she’d felt a similar jolt to her system upon seeing him. An idiotic imagining on his part.

“My mother is an early riser.”

She didn’t elaborate, indicating this statement should be an adequate explanation. Sam considered her words for several seconds before the truth set in.

“I see.”

“I know you’re not available until nine. It’s no problem,” she said, lifting the papers from her lap. “I’m fine out here.”

“Is that the proposal?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Is it ready?”

Her brows lowered. “Of course it is.”

“Then follow me.”

Sam led Callie through the lobby with the goal of making this a quick meeting and sending her on her way.

“Did you include financial specs?” Sam asked, pushing his office door open and motioning for Callie to enter first.

“I’ve created a full budget, but I’m sure the numbers will change, as I’ve no idea what resources are readily available here on the island and what we’ll need to source out.”

Sam took his place behind the desk as Callie stopped in front of it. He remained standing until she took the hint and lowered into her chair.

“As we’re doing this during a slower time of the year, finding manual labor on the island shouldn’t be a problem.” Sam pressed the
ON
button of his laptop as he took a seat. “Regarding the furniture you suggested we keep, there are craftsmen on the island who can likely handle refurbishment.”

Callie removed a pen from behind her ear, opened her folder, and made a note. The movement drew his attention to the way her gold-streaked hair shimmered in the morning sun. “Excellent,” she said, snapping him back to the moment. “I was hoping that would be the case. The more we can handle on-island, the better. For both cost and scheduling.”

“Agreed,” he said, not completely sure of what she’d said.

“Here’s your copy for review.” Callie slid the stapled sheets of paper his way. “If you’d rather read it all the way through before discussing, I can come back later today.”

Sam flipped through the paperwork, noting she’d included everything from color samples to flooring choices. The proposal looked thorough and well researched. As he’d known it would.

“This is fine,” he said, determined once again to get this meeting over with. “Let’s flip to the budget.”

Callie did as he asked. “The cost analysis is the final four pages. As I said, there may be options on the island I don’t know about, but for the most part these figures should be close, if not completely accurate.”

Turning to the last page first, Sam glanced at the bottom line. Not exactly cheap, but in the ballpark of what he’d been looking to spend. The shortened time frame would mean an increase in cost, but the number Callie had come up with was acceptable.

“You believe this number is realistic?” he asked, digging to make sure she hadn’t provided a number for his approval with the intention of stretching the amount higher during the process.

Golden brows shot up. “Very realistic,” she said. “For the amount of time we have and the condition the hotel is in, that’s a solid number. I fully intend to get the best deal possible on everything I can, but there are some corners that simply can’t be cut.”

“I agree,” he said. “Where is the color scheme?”

Surprise danced across Callie’s face before she flipped through her own packet to answer his question. She must have expected him to drill harder on the numbers, but he didn’t see any reason to waste time when he agreed with her estimations. They discussed the proposal for another twenty minutes and encountered only one speed bump, as they debated the shade of green to use for one of the room blocks. But all in all, the proposal was exactly what he’d been thinking, with touches he hadn’t even considered. Which is why he’d brought Callie in to begin with—to capture the boutique aesthetic.

“We’re ready to proceed,” he said, once they’d agreed on the outside color, which would be a blue gray close to the current shade, and the addition of a gazebo near the water. Sam hadn’t thought much beyond the initial building itself but appreciated Callie’s broader view of the entire property.

“Then I’ll get started,” Callie said, slipping the proposal into a slender briefcase at her feet. “There is one more thing we need to discuss.”

All his male instincts told Sam to brace for something bad. Callie’s words were the equivalent of the dreaded “we need to talk.”

“And what is that?” he asked, fighting the urge to say he had another meeting. Since she
was
his scheduled meeting, not meant to start for ten more minutes, the lie would be obvious.

“Us,” she said. The word dropped like the pin being pulled from a grenade.

Sam did what any man would have done. He played dumb.

“I don’t follow.”

Callie sighed. “We can’t keep pretending there isn’t unfinished business between us, Sam. I appreciate this job and am looking forward to the renovation, but we’re going to be dealing closely with each for the next three months. I can’t keep up the farce.”

“The farce?” Sam said, zeroing in on the word that struck him the hardest. “Is that what you think this is?”

“A poor choice of words on my part, but the last time we saw each other before Monday wasn’t exactly normal. Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” Not for lack of trying. At least not in the past few days. “But I’m not interested in revisiting ancient history. The past needs to stay in the past.”

“I’ve tried that,” she said, leaning back in her chair, as if settling in for a long, leisurely discussion. “If three years of therapy taught me anything, it’s that ignoring the past doesn’t work.”

“You’ve done therapy?” Sam had never been interested in examining his feelings and sure as hell had no intention of ever delving into the scars of his childhood. Both were the first requirements that came to mind when he heard the word
therapy.

Callie kept her head up. “You know how my marriage ended, and you’ve met my mother. If anything, I’d expect you to be more surprised if I’d
never
had therapy.”

While Sam had stuffed his demons into some dark recess of his mind, Callie had called hers out in a duel. Considering the confident, seemingly well-adjusted woman before him, he thought she’d clearly won the battle. Which left Sam feeling outgunned and ill prepared for what she expected them to hash out in a morning meeting.

“What do you want to hear?” Sam asked, happy to say whatever it was she needed to get this over with.

Callie’s ice-blue eyes dropped to the edge of his desk as she considered her answer. After several seconds she said, “Maybe we could find some kind of reset button. Something that will clear out this cloud of awkwardness around us.”

Sam felt relieved. Dealing with the present, he could do.

“What did you have in mind?”

That soft smile crossed her lips. “Ironically enough, we weren’t all that close back then. Back when we were part of two couples who spent a lot of time together, each unaware there was a third couple in the mix.” Her words carried a trace of sadness. “But we
were
friends. I know you’re now my boss, but maybe we could also be friends again?”

Friends. Could he be friends with a woman he’d once had sex with? A woman he wanted to have sex with again and who happened to work for him?

“That doesn’t sound too difficult,” Sam lied.

The lie earned him a full-on smile. “Good.” Callie exhaled, blowing a lock of hair off her forehead. “I feel better already.”

So long as one of them did. “Then we’re finished here,” he said. “Now, I believe you have a hotel to renovate.”

The last guests of the season would be checking out on Sunday, which meant the renovation could begin in earnest on Monday. The first order of business was the exterior of the building, and for that Callie needed workers familiar with stripping paint and getting it back on, in a hurry, but properly. No shortcuts or sloppy work.

Where was she going to find that? Surely there were other weathered buildings on the island that required maintenance. In a fishing village, there must be someone with the skills she needed. But who? Callie considered asking Sam, but if she couldn’t take the first step without him, what tone would that set for the rest of the project?

Then she spotted Will’s business card on the pegboard she’d installed the day before. Offering to show Callie around the island might not have been the same as offering insight for the project, but then, the renovation of the Sunset was as important to Will as it was to Callie. Maybe more so. Callie dialed the number before she could chicken out.

Will picked up on the second ring. “Destination Anchor. Willow Parsons speaking.”

“Good morning, Will. This is Callie Henderson over at the Sunset Harbor Inn. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all. What can I do for you? And please don’t tell me this is bad news.”

“No bad news here,” Callie was happy to relay. “But we’re starting the renovation on Monday, and that means I need a workforce on short notice. I need someone who knows how to handle the exterior first. Do you know who could do that?”

If they’d kept to the original schedule and stuck with a completion date in the late spring, Callie could have taken as much as a month to bring in the right team. She no longer had that luxury.

“I know the exact person you need,” Will said.

“Really?” Callie had expected her to have to think about it. Maybe toss out a couple of names for consideration. Then again, on an island this size there might not be multiple candidates for this sort of thing.

“Yep.”

When Will failed to elaborate, Callie asked, “Where can I find him?”

“Probably on the front porch,” Will said.

“The front porch of what?”

“Your hotel. His name is Bernie Matheson. He and Olaf play checkers over there.”

Callie sat back in her chair. That curmudgeon outside her door could not be her only option. “I’m not sure he’s the person I need. The exterior of this building is going to need a complete revamping—”

“He’s your guy,” Will said with finality in her voice. “Bernie is a native and knows everything and anything that has to do with construction, carpentry, and repairing what the elements do to buildings around here. If you want the best, you want Bernie.”

Scrubbing a hand over her face, Callie wallowed in frustration and dread for five seconds. Then she wrote Bernie’s full name on a Post-it. “Sounds like you’re right. I guess I need to head out and have a talk with him, then.” Remembering his toothless checkers adversary, she asked, “What about Olaf?”

“He’s a bit slow,” Will said, “but I’ve seen what he can do with a piece of furniture. Whether he’s building it himself or fixing up an older piece, his work is amazing. Floyd sells it up at the Trading Post if you want to check it out for yourself.”

No wonder they’d offered to help out with the renovation. But Callie never would have thought her grumpy welcoming committee would turn out to be her go-to guys for this job.

“Then at least I don’t have to go far,” she said. Now she had to hope the men were willing to do more than offer casual help. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Call anytime. And that invitation is still open,” Will said. “My friends and I are meeting at Opal’s bakery tomorrow around noon. Stop in, and I’ll introduce you.”

Since Henri and her mother were heading off the island before nine in the morning, Callie would be free the rest of the day. Though she’d need to start placing orders for the reno, a quick break for lunch wouldn’t hurt anything.

“That would be nice. So long as I’m not intruding.”

“Of course not. Opal’s is on Silver Lake Drive, near the harbor. A few blocks before the Anchor Inn on the right, coming from your direction.”

Callie pulled out the tourist map she’d been using to find her way around. “Got it,” she said, circling Opal’s on the map. “Noon tomorrow, then?”

“One thing,” Will said. “If you have any finer sensibilities, you might want to leave them at home.”

“Excuse me?” Callie asked.

“You’ll understand when you meet Sid. See you tomorrow,” she said; then the line went dead.

Callie had expected Will’s friends to be women, but that had been a silly assumption on her part. She couldn’t help but wonder who this Sid guy was, and what was so offensive about him.