The Inn at Misty Lake: Book Two in the Misty Lake Series (6 page)

“Of course it would be possible, almost anything is possible, and it’s not that I don’t want to, but it’s just a bad idea. Think about it. You’ve got the mess to deal with, you’ve got to be hauling wood in all winter long and, worst of all, you’ve got people who may have never used a fireplace trying to start a fire in their room. You’re going to have embers burning holes in the rugs, smoke filling the house when someone doesn’t do things correctly, and, who knows? You get a couple drinking a bottle of wine or two and deciding they want a little ambiance. Next thing you know the whole place is on fire.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Not entirely. Do you know how many house fires are the result of fireplaces? A lot. Just let them flip a switch and get almost the same effect.”

“Okay, I’ll go with gas. I’m letting you win most of the arguments tonight, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re not letting me win, my side is just the right side. But, thank you. Thank you for not putting up too big a fight. It makes me think we might be able to see this thing through. I was starting to have my doubts.”

“Not me, I knew we’d make a good team.” Riley coughed over the alarm that bubbled up in his throat, but Susan continued. “Now, you said ‘the last big thing.’ Are there more little things?”

Riley eyed her carefully, trying to be certain she was just talking about them as a business team and not something more, but couldn’t decipher her expression. He was becoming paranoid, he decided. “Just a few. I think we already agreed the chicken coop is a no-go, right?” When she gave a half-hearted nod, he continued. “Some of the little details I’ll leave to you. I’m not going to help you choose linens and china.”

“Fair enough. Anything else?”

“I’m curious about something.” He pulled out his notepad and glanced at it. “The sketches you did for the event center were…interesting. What exactly do you have in mind out there?” They had already discussed some of the basics of the construction, but her sketches had grabbed his interest.

“I just thought it should have a little of the same feel as the main building. I don’t think it would work to keep a lot of the original feel to the inn and then have some ultra-modern design in the event center, so I was playing around with ideas. I was thinking a bar top of reclaimed wood. I probably didn’t do a very good job of sketching it.”

“Reclaimed wood. Huh.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea? I know granite is popular and I could go that route, but I just was thinking I could sort of design everything around the bar. I’m thinking old, or at least old-looking, brick on some of the walls with some of the original wood exposed, a reclaimed wood floor.”

Riley was mystified as he responded. “I think it’s a good idea. Strange, though, as I’ve been toying around with the idea of building a bar top from reclaimed wood. I haven’t been able to talk a client into it yet so haven’t been able to try it, but I’ve been itching to.”

“Seeeee,” Susan deliberately drew out the word while waving her finger back and forth between the two of them. “We’ve got a connection, McCabe.”

He was afraid she was right. And it scared the hell out of him.

7

All Saturday, while Susan worked with Shauna sorting and sifting, she struggled to keep her mind from wandering. If she wasn’t thinking about her evening with Riley, she was peeking out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of the lonely looking puppy she’d spotted nosing around the dumpster.

Shauna was in heaven and kept Susan hopping. She quickly got down to business and established three rigid categories: garbage (get rid of it now), potentially useful but not valuable (I’ll leave it up to you to decide what to do with it), and treasure (don’t you dare get rid of it). She ruthlessly assigned every item to one of the categories and surprised Susan more than once when an item Susan had been sure would be headed for the garbage pile elicited oohs and ahhs and was deemed treasure. Thank goodness for Shauna.

With every trip to the dumpster, Susan kept her eyes peeled for the puppy. She filled a small bowl with dog food and set it where she and Riley had seen him. On her fourth trip outside she caught sight of him greedily devouring the food. Susan stopped in her tracks and quietly waited. After eating every bit of food and then licking the bowl until it flipped over at which point no amount of batting with his little paw was going to right it, he began sniffing around the dumpster, his tail wagging furiously. Slowly, Susan lowered herself to the ground and sat, leaving about fifteen yards between herself and the pup.

She watched for a few minutes, her heart melting, as he entertained himself with a small section of PVC pipe, rolling it, chasing it, barking at it, and, when it disappeared under the dumpster, plopping down on his backside and cocking his head as if wondering why the game had to end. Determined not to scare him off this time, Susan further lowered herself until she was lying on the ground, head resting on her folded arms, and making just the smallest amount of noise so as to get the puppy’s attention. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he studied her, inching slowly closer.

Susan took a couple of pieces of paper from the box she’d been carrying and gently crushed one into a ball. Tossing it lightly into the air, she caught it and watched as the puppy quivered with excitement. She tossed it again, this time forward a bit, before crawling and scooping it up. After a few more tosses she was closer to the dog who was now unable to contain himself and was jumping up and down in place, yipping enthusiastically. Ever so gently, she rolled the paper ball to him. He pounced on it, clenched it in his mouth with all his might, and swung his head back and forth prepared to do whatever it might take to vanquish that particular enemy.

“Oh, so ferocious,” Susan crooned, as he happily shredded the paper. She crumpled another piece and immediately had the puppy’s attention. Unable to control himself, he charged at Susan and launched himself into her lap. He licked her face and bit at her hair while she laughed and hugged him tight.

That’s how Riley found her, rolling around on the ground and giggling while the dog jumped on her and over her. He couldn’t tell who was having more fun. Susan looked so carefree, the stress and worry that went along with the remodel forgotten for the moment, and it pulled at Riley’s heart. He wanted to fight it, even tried to tell himself it was more about the puppy than about her, but he couldn’t. When she spotted him and her face lit up even more, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her looking just that way.

“Look, he came back!”

“I see that,” Riley said, taking a seat beside her and getting a dose of puppy love for himself.

“Why are you here on a Saturday? You’re always accusing me of working too much.”

“I don’t know, a little bored, I guess.” And, he realized, he had wanted to see her. “Frank’s working so the house was quiet. I thought I’d see how you and Shauna are doing then maybe put in a couple of hours.”

“Hmmm.” Turning her attention back to the puppy she asked, “How old do you think he is?”

“He doesn’t look very old, I’d say a few months. It looks like he still has his puppy teeth,” Riley added as the pup chomped playfully on his finger.

“Do you think he’s lost? Abandoned?” Susan asked hugging him protectively.

“From the looks of him, it seems like he’s been on his own for a while. He’s thin, dirty, and apparently starving.” They watched as he tried to eat the cardboard box Susan had been hauling outside. “If someone was trying to find him you’d think they would have. It doesn’t seem like he’s roaming too far.”

“I suppose we should check?”

Riley guessed she wanted to hear that it wasn’t necessary, but he knew it was. “We can check with Doc Fischer. If someone is missing him, they probably contacted the vet. We can ask Jake, too. Sometimes people will call the sheriff’s office to try to find out if a stray has been picked up.”

“Okay,” Susan answered half-heartedly. “Well, I’m not going to think about it right now.” She scooped up the puppy and stood. “I’m going to take him inside until I’m done here. I don’t want to take the chance he runs off again.” She nuzzled him and he buried his head under her chin. Riley found himself hoping there wasn’t a little boy somewhere crying for his lost puppy.

After Shauna had her chance to fuss over him and he lapped up a bowl of water, Susan got a blanket from her trunk and settled the puppy into a corner where he promptly fell asleep. Work continued around him but not even Riley’s electric saw roused him.

Inquiries to the vet, the sheriff’s office, the nearby animal shelter, as well as online searches all turned up nothing. Susan had taken the pup to Dr. Fischer who determined he didn’t have a microchip then checked him out, gave him a clean bill of health, and put his age at around three months. Susan knew she’d have to wait a bit longer to see if anyone responded to the lost pet notices she had posted in town and online, but with every passing day, he felt more and more like hers.

Sam was more than happy to welcome the puppy but her dog, Rigi, was nothing short of ecstatic. Rigi took it upon herself to train the puppy in the house rules and soon had a willing and able partner to help patrol the yard and keep it safe from all unwanted birds and squirrels. The fact that the puppy had to work twice as hard as Rigi to run the same distance was a blessing. He was usually so tired after a romp with Rigi that he was more than ready to climb in his crate and sleep, continuing the war on critters in his dreams.

Frank clicked and explained. “So you just drag the photo you want into this box and it will show up on your home page. You’ll be able to add photos later on if you want to have, say, a separate section for each room or for special events, whatever you decide.”

“It’s really that easy?” Susan was skeptical. She could use a computer, but building her own website seemed daunting. When Frank had volunteered to spend an afternoon helping her get started, she had jumped at the chance.

“It really is. I didn’t know much when I started either, but with this web page builder, a lot of the work is already done for you. It’s really just a matter of adding photos, adding content, details that make it your own. For the B&B, I would guess you’d want a number of photos to showcase the property and the different rooms. You’ll want to add pricing information, and here,” he pointed to the upper right-hand corner of the screen, “you’ll put your contact information.”

“Wow. I think I can do this.” Susan beamed as she clicked on the contact information tab and added a link for email. “I’m not going to put a phone number in yet since I only have my cell phone and I don’t want to give that. As I get closer to opening, I’ll set up a business line.” She kept talking as she keyed in information and continued to browse photos in an attempt to decide what to put on the home page.

“You’re right about your cell number, you definitely don’t want that on the website. With the email address you’ve created for the inn, people will be able to contact you easily enough.”

“I can’t imagine getting inquiries into the B&B before it’s even ready to open.”

“I bet you do. Maybe even a reservation.”

Susan’s stomach gave a little lurch at the thought. It was exciting and terrifying in equal measure. She allowed herself a few minutes to fantasize then asked, “So, what do you think? Put the conceptual drawing of the inn on the front page or this one?” She indicated a stunning photo Frank had recently taken of the lake from her property with the fall color at its peak, lining the shores and reflected on the clear, smooth surface of the lake.

“I guess I’m partial to my photo,” he grinned.

“It is incredible, definitely a contender.” Turning, she studied him. So much like his twin. From the way they walked to the way they both tended to run a hand through their hair when frustrated to the rich sound of their laughter, it was clear they were twins. But there were subtle differences, she was learning. Riley liked to think about things, to take his time before answering or making a decision. Frank tended to go with the flow, a little more easy-going than his brother. But, at the same time, something told Susan Frank might be the more softhearted of the two. Frank also seemed to have more patience as evidenced by him sitting with her for hours teaching her how to set up and manage a website. She couldn’t picture Riley sitting still for so long. It fit, she figured. A photographer needed patience, needed to be willing to wait for the perfect shot. For a contractor, on the other hand, it wouldn’t do to spend much time waiting.

Physically, there were differences as well. Susan had seen pictures of the two as children when they had been, in her opinion at least, identical. Now, as men, each had his own look. Where Riley’s brown hair leaned toward auburn, Frank’s was a slightly lighter shade, with, she noticed, a few golden tints. Susan guessed their heights would be within a fraction of an inch of the other but Riley had a few pounds on his brother. Frank’s face had sharper angles; Riley’s was fuller. The eyes, however, were identical in their dark, almost navy blue, intensity.

She noticed him looking at her, probably wondering why she was staring. “Frank, I really can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. The pictures you’re taking of the inn as it moves through different phases of reconstruction are amazing. I’m going to use them on the website and also plan on having some framed to hang once the place is done. And now you’re helping me get my website up and running…it’s just so much. I am truly grateful.”

“No problem. Since I went through setting up my website not that long ago, it only makes sense I pass on what I learned. Besides, you gave me your okay to use some of the photos in my advertising, that helps me out, too.” He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before continuing. “There’s another project I’ve been tossing around in my head and I may ask you for permission to use some of the before and after photos I’m taking of the inn for that, as well.”

“Oh, of course. What is it?” she asked. Then backing off some, added, “Or don’t you want to talk about it yet?” She didn’t want to push too hard but, as usual, curiosity was eating at her.

“It’s in the very beginning stages, I haven’t even mentioned it to my family. There’s this magazine, a very famous one, that approached me about submitting some photos as a sort of audition for a feature they’re doing on restoring and reviving old farmhouses and barns, like what you’re doing here. The editor who contacted me said he had come across my work from an advertising shoot I did a year or so ago, that brought him to my website, and when he saw the early photos I took of your place, he contacted me. If they want me, and if I do it, it could open up a lot of doors.”

“That’s fantastic, Frank. You must be so excited.” She couldn’t miss the guarded look in his eyes. “But you’re not sure you want the exposure?” she guessed.

“I’m not sure. If they like my work, I’d be traveling all around the country collecting photographs for their story. It’s an incredible opportunity. Not only would I be on their radar for future projects, but having my name attached to this publication would virtually ensure I’d be known in all the biggest photography circles.”

“Which would mean leaving Misty Lake, probably heading to New York or Los Angeles or somewhere, and adopting a completely different lifestyle.”

“That’s about right. I’m not sure it’s me. A few years ago I would have jumped at the chance. When I first started out I dreamed of an opportunity like this. Now? I do a good business, I’m near my family, I’m happy, content. Makes me sound old and boring, doesn’t it?”

“No, it makes you sound like you know what you want, what makes you happy.”

Frank shrugged. “I have some time to think about it. My submission wouldn’t be due until spring.”

Susan laid a hand on his arm and smiled. “Then think about it. I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision.”

“You really need to give him a name,” Riley said as they watched the dog race in circles trying to catch his tail.

“I know, I’ve just been afraid to. If I name him it seems permanent and I’ve been so afraid someone is going to claim him.” It had been almost two weeks and though she was cautiously hopeful, Susan still couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d wake up one morning to a message that someone had lost a dog matching his description.

“Doc said two weeks, we’re almost there.”

“You’re right. Let’s name him right now. I can’t keep calling him puppy and sweetie.”