A Haven on the Bay: A Willa Bay Novel Page 5

  One thing was for sure—she dreaded telling her family they’d been right about her all along. Until she’d taken the job at the high school and met Brant, she’d been the baby of the family, the one who couldn’t seem to get—or keep—her life together. Now, in the space of a month, she was back to square one, struggling to find her place in the world.

  5

  Meg

  Meg leaned back in the cushioned chair on the Inn’s front porch and rested her feet on the edge of the coffee table. A Thermos full of coffee, two mugs, and a box of pastries from the Sea Star Bakery sat on the end table next to her. The Inn had been bustling over the past weekend, hosting two large weddings. They wouldn’t be offering overnight accommodations until after the grand opening at the end of the month, however, so at eight o’clock on a Tuesday morning, Meg had the place to herself.

  Boats dotted the serene surface of the bay, captained by fishermen who had probably been out on the water long before her alarm had gone off that morning. Meg hadn’t entered the Inn, but she could hear Celia bustling around inside. Zoe and Shawn lived in cottages on the premises, but neither of them had made an appearance yet.

  A sedan crunched over the gravel in the driveway and rolled to a stop in front of the house.

  “Is it okay to park here?” Taylor called out the window.

  Meg pointed to a short driveway about forty feet away that led to a gravel parking lot. “You can park in there. I don’t think there are any events today, but better safe than sorry.”

  He nodded in understanding and moved his car. When she saw his tall form walking back toward her, Meg grabbed everything off of the table, hooking her left index finger through the handles of the mugs so she wouldn’t drop them.

  He met her on the lawn in front of the porch and nodded at the yellow box she held in her hands. “Great minds think alike.”

  Until he’d said something, she hadn’t even noticed the white box he was holding.

  “Are those donuts from A Hole in One?” she asked, eying the box. She’d been craving donuts, but had decided it was better to support Cassie’s bakery. Not that Meg minded the absence of donuts—her friend was an amazing baker and had yet to make something that Meg hadn’t loved.

  “Yep, they sure are. Here, let me help you.” Taylor flashed her a bright smile and took the other box from her, stacking it on top of his.

  “Thanks.”

  He looked around and whistled. “Wow, you guys have done a great job on this place.”

  Her heart swelled with pride. “Thanks. It was mainly Shawn and Zoe, but I helped a bit too.”

  “So, where’s the barn?” he asked, craning his neck around. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

  “It’s on the other side of the property and kind of blocked from view by a stand of trees. Are you ready to get started?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been curious to see the barn after hearing you talk about it so much.”

  Her cheeks warmed. She’d probably been blabbing about it and her future restaurant far more than any of her friends had ever wanted to hear. “Sorry.”

  He stopped. “No, I’m serious. I really want to see it. It sounds interesting.”

  She checked his face for signs that he was patronizing her, but didn’t see any. After the disappointment she’d experienced when showing the barn to Theo, she had no illusions that other people would see it the same way she did.

  “It’s over here.” She led him to the path down to the old barn. The peeling paint, shattered windowpanes, and rotting shingles were painfully apparent in the harsh light of the morning sun. She slid the door open, then stepped aside to allow Taylor room to view the interior.

  He strode past her, as if eager to get inside. Sunlight streamed through broken windows, catching dust motes dancing in the air. He paused in the middle of the hay-strewn main floor and surveyed the interior, zeroing in on the stalls.

  “How many horses did they have at the resort back then?” he asked.

  She shrugged, loosening some of the tension in her shoulders. “I’m not sure. I think most of the stalls were for horses that the guests brought, but the Inn did have a few of their own for guests to ride on the beach.” She watched as he slowly turned a full circle, taking a painfully long time to see the barn in its entirety.

  His gaze landed on the ladder to the loft. “Can we go up there?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She led him over to it and stepped on the bottom rung. “Shawn said the ladder is sound, but just to be on the safe side, wait until I’m at the top before you come up, okay?” She stashed the coffee mugs and Thermos in her vintage fabric hobo bag, hoping nothing would break or spill as she climbed. The satchel she’d bought at a flea market in Portland was one of her most prized possessions. It was like a Mary Poppins bag, seeming to expand to hold everything she could possibly need.

  Taylor nodded, and she climbed to the top. While he followed her up, balancing the two bakery boxes with the agility of a monkey, she took a quick look down into the barn. Somehow, the objects stored below looked even worse from here. A thick layer of dirt or dust covered everything, and from this angle, all of the odds and ends that had been crammed in behind the larger items were visible. There was no way he’d be able to see her vision for the barn in this mess. Even Zoe and Shawn, who both had a strong passion for restoring the Inn to its former glory, were skeptical of her dream.

  He reached the top, situated himself near the edge, and let his legs swing loosely in midair. Just thinking about doing that made her queasy. She sat down next to him, a safe distance away from the ledge.

  He grinned at her. “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “No.” She peered at the cold, hard ground twenty-odd feet below her and laughed. “I’m afraid of falling.” She eyed him with curiosity. “You aren’t though, are you?”

  “Nope.” He scooted back about a foot until he was even with her, then crossed his legs. “My dad is really into rock climbing, and he started teaching my sisters and me when we were barely able to walk. One of my earliest memories is him holding me against a short climbing wall to practice finding handholds. My arms were too short to do much, but I loved the idea of climbing high above the ground.”

  “Wow.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you ever told me before that you were into rock climbing. I’ve never been.” Her eyes darted back to the barn’s floor and she shivered. “Although, I’m not so sure I ever want to.”

  “Oh, I bet you’d love it,” Taylor said. “When you’re up there on top of a huge rock and can see for miles around, it’s all worth it.” He opened the box of pastries from the Sea Star Bakery and selected one.

  Meg unscrewed the lid of the metal Thermos and poured its contents into the two mugs, pushing one across the floor to him. He still hadn’t said anything about what he thought of the barn. She wanted to ask, but was almost afraid to hear his response. She grabbed a cinnamon twist from the box he’d brought and bit into it, showering her lap with crystals of spiced sugar. She eyed her pants with dismay. Although she’d worn her oldest pair of denim jeans to work in the barn, she hadn’t expected for them to get dirty quite so soon.

  Taylor laughed. “I think you’re wearing more of that donut than you’ve eaten.”

  Her cheeks burned and she brushed the sugar off onto the dusty wooden planks of the loft. What was a little more debris added to what had already accumulated over fifty years of neglect?

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He popped the rest of his bearclaw into his mouth and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’re usually so buttoned up.”

  She pulled her head back. “Buttoned up?”

  “Yeah, you know, like in control of the situation.” He shook his head. “You’re always so cool and collected in the kitchen, no matter what happens. And you seem so sure of what you want out of life.”

  She stared at him. He thought she had things together? Although she was in her element in the kitchen, she still sometimes fe
lt like she was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. “I wouldn’t say I have my life together,” she murmured under her breath.

  He cocked his head to the side. “What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

  She flashed him a smile, then took a swig of coffee before standing. “Nothing. Just something silly.” She gestured to all of the garbage in the barn. “So, what do you think?”

  Her stomach twisted as he stood slowly and put his hands on his hips, looking around again. His expression gave no indication of what he was thinking, and he took his time before speaking.

  “I like it.” He smiled widely at her. “I can see a lot of potential here.”

  She let out her breath in an audible whoosh.

  He looked at her with concern. “Are you okay? Is the hay bothering you? We should probably open all of the doors and windows while we’re working because we’re going to disturb a lot of dust.”

  She grinned like a fool, her heart filling with happiness. Taylor was an accomplished chef and restaurant manager. If he thought the barn had potential, her crazy dream might not be so impossible after all. “Actually, I’m great. Can I tell you what I’m thinking for organizing the space? Once we get everything cleared out of here, of course.”

  “I’d love to hear about it.” He tapped his chin with his finger as he regarded the space. “Actually, I was thinking the loft would make a great dining area. Imagine what it would look like with tables along a railing here and then a special table under the window.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Meg wanted to wrap her arms around him. After Theo’s lack of excitement, it felt good to share her vision with someone who understood. “If everything works out, I’m planning to put the kitchen under the loft, and then open up most of the main room for seating, although I may have a few other rooms along the sides for private dining. It’ll work well for larger banquets or for smaller parties.” Her ideal restaurant shimmered like a thin veil over the barn’s current condition as she glimpsed into the future.

  Taylor sneezed loudly, snapping her back to the present.

  “Gesundheit.” She grinned at him. “Maybe it’s time to open up those doors now and let a little fresh air in here.”

  They packed up their breakfast and brought it back down to the main floor, setting it on an old bureau by the door. She removed two dust masks and two pairs of leather gloves from her bag and handed one of each to Taylor.

  “So where should we start?” he asked, his eyes darting around to take in the massive space.

  She had that odd feeling again that the walls of the barn were closing in on her. After taking a deep breath, she focused on the task at hand. “I think we should try to do this in an orderly fashion. Let’s designate locations where we can have piles for things to keep, throw, or donate.”

  He nodded, and they got to work, removing small items from on top of larger objects and placing them in the appropriate pile.

  “Is this an old tractor?” Taylor lifted the corner of a tan canvas tarp off of an object hulking in the far corner and peeked under it.

  “Yep. Shawn mentioned there was one in here. I think he’s going to try to fix it up for them to use.” The green paint on the old John Deere had chipped in places and the rubber tires had long ago deflated and started to disintegrate onto the cement floor of the barn, but the metal frame appeared solid. “I don’t think we’re going to get that thing out of here by ourselves, so we should try to make an access path for Shawn. Once it’s gone, there will be a lot more room in here.”

  Taylor walked past the tractor. “I’m guessing we’re tossing these mattresses?”

  She took one look at the soiled, mildewy twin mattresses leaning against the wall and recoiled. “Yeah. Those are definitely trash.” They each grabbed a mattress with gloved hands and dragged them out in front of the barn. Shawn had ordered a large dumpster from the local refuse company, but it wasn’t scheduled to arrive until later in the day.

  They moved a kayak to one side of the barn to evaluate for seaworthiness, then added a set of brass light fixtures to the keep pile. “Zoe might like some of these for the guest rooms in the Inn.” Meg rubbed away a patch of dust from one of the frosted light shades to appraise their condition. No visible cracks. She set it down with care. “I saw something similar to these in one of the antique shops on Main Street.”

  Taylor stopped what he was doing and nodded approvingly. “I bet there’s a lot of old furnishings in here that would be nice for the Inn. George Camden may have his faults, but I admire how much thought he put into the decor of the Willa Bay Lodge. He managed to keep a historical feel for much of it, while still making it modern enough for current-day guests.”

  “Me too. I always loved walking the halls of the Lodge. It was like taking a step back into history.” She closed her eyes briefly, envisioning the bare interior of the Inn at Willa Bay. They’d had some issues getting the roof replaced, so Zoe was behind on getting the rooms renovated. “I think Zoe plans to do the same with the Inn. I know she’s really curious about the resort’s past.”

  “What about this?” Taylor rested a gloved hand on the scratched top of a chest of drawers hiding behind a few round tables leaning up against it. “This might be nice to have in one of the rooms.”

  Meg narrowed her eyes at it. “Hmm. I don’t know. It’s pretty beat up, but I bet it’s solid wood. I’ll have to ask Zoe what she thinks about refurbishing it. Let’s leave it and the tables here for now.”

  They continued moving things out of the barn into piles until late afternoon, only pausing for a quick lunch. When the dumpster finally arrived, they threw away what couldn’t be salvaged, leaving behind a much smaller pile of furniture and other odds and ends they’d dragged out that day that could potentially be used at the Inn.

  Taylor stood back, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I don’t think I’ve worked this hard in a long time.”

  “Me neither.” Meg took a slug of water from the bottle she’d refilled at the Inn when they’d eaten lunch. She’d cancelled her gym membership soon after the purchase of the resort and hadn’t regretted her decision for a moment. There was more than enough physical work to be done on the property, so she had no need for scheduled exercise.

  Taylor walked back into the barn, and she followed. What she saw was disheartening. Although they’d half-filled the dumpster and removed a bunch of furniture, they’d barely made a dent.

  “This is going to take a while,” Taylor observed.

  “No kidding.” She bit her lip, hoping she wouldn’t start crying. After the long day of physical exertion, her emotions were close to the surface. With both of them working all day, they’d only gotten through about ten percent of the junk. How was she going to get the rest of it done by October?

  “Hey,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

  He’d spent one of his few days off helping her clean out an old barn that he had no stake in. That was a true friend. His kindness overwhelmed her, and tears slipped down her cheeks. He rubbed her back to comfort her. All she wanted to do was to collapse into his arms, but she couldn’t. While he may no longer be her boss, he wasn’t her boyfriend either.

  She wiped her eyes with the cleanest part of her sleeve she could find and unsuccessfully attempted to smile. “Thanks. I'm just a little overwhelmed by how much there is to do.”

  He pressed his lips together, gazed up at the rafters, and sighed, then returned his attention to her. “If you’d like, I can come out here to help you again next week.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she mumbled, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “I’m sure you have a million other things to do.”

  He took another look around the barn, sighed again, and ran a hand over his jet-black hair as he gave her a small smile. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than help a friend in need.”

  “Thanks.” Although she’d detected hesitation in h
is offer, she wasn’t in a position to turn him down. Getting the barn ready for renovations by October was a long shot at this point, but it was all she had to hang onto, and she needed all of the help she could get.

  6

  Tia

  “Hey.” Tia moved a chair directly in front of a young bride sitting sideways on the couch in the living room of the Inn, carefully avoiding the skirt of her puffy white bridal gown, which took up most of the couch and spilled out over the floor. “What’s going on?”

  Another woman, wearing a long, strapless purple bridesmaid’s dress, paced over to the window, then back to the couch. She sighed loudly. “I think she’s got cold feet about marrying Derek.”

  That was fairly evident. Although she was dabbing at her eyes with a soggy Kleenex, the bride’s face resembled a raccoon’s. Jet-black mascara formed blurred rivulets as it streaked down her pink cheeks. The rims of her eyes were red from crying and errant strands of golden hair had plastered themselves to her wet skin.

  The mother-of-the-bride stood behind the couch, frantically attempting to fix her daughter’s ornately arranged updo. “Melinda, you’ve got to stop crying. Your makeup is running and your hair’s a mess.”

  Melinda didn’t appear to hear her. If she did, her mother’s admonition hadn’t helped, because a new surge of tears and loud weeping followed. “What if I’m making a big mistake?” she wailed. “What if Derek isn’t The One?”

  “Oh, honey,” her mother said. “I’m sure you’re not making a mistake. You love Derek.” She gave up on fixing her daughter’s hair, came around the sofa to sit next to her, and squeezed her hand.

  “But…” Melinda’s words dissolved into another fit of blubbering.

  The pacing bridesmaid sighed again, and Melinda’s mother glared at her. “Missy, your sister is upset, and your attitude isn’t helping.”