Chapter Six
To Do:
Go through the Driftwood’s books and
assess financial situation
Organize office
Try to find the bright side so I can look on it
Monday morning dawned sunny and perfect. The sky was blue and the water was sparkling and Jenna could hear the gulls playing. Ah, life was good at the beach.
She showered and dressed and read a little of Muriel Sterling’s book on starting over for inspiration, then went to check on her daughter.
Sabrina was awake, sitting on her bed in her pj’s and drawing in her sketchbook. She seemed to have set aside her hatred of the day before and was ready to fly her kite until Jenna reminded her that they needed wind.
“There’s wind,” Sabrina said, pointing out her bedroom window to where the grass on the dunes was barely moving.
“That won’t take your kite very far.”
Sabrina’s mouth pinched tightly in irritation.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get some good kite flying weather,” Jenna assured her.
“Yeah, when I’m three hundred years old,” Sabrina grumbled. “What are we going to do today?”
“Well, one of ‘we’ has to go over to the motel and do some paperwork. But don’t worry, we’ll do something later,” Jenna hurried on before her daughter could protest. “The wind usually picks up in the afternoon. So, while you’re waiting for me to finish, maybe you can clean the upstairs bathroom for Aunt Edie.” Knowing her daughter, that would take her at least an hour.
“I guess,” Sabrina said with a sigh and a shrug.
At least there’d been no more talk of going home to Daddy. Jenna took that as a good sign. She was smiling when she went down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.
Aunt Edie had beaten her there and was pulling a coffee cake out of the oven. Ah, the aroma.
Eat, eat, eat! cried Jenna’s taste buds. Give us a break, begged her hips.
“You’re just in time,” Aunt Edie told her. “I’ve made blackberry coffee cake, your favorite.”
“Everything you make is my favorite,” Jenna said. “But just a cup of coffee for now. I want to get over to the office and start sorting through things.”
Aunt Edie didn’t look all that thrilled to have things sorted through. Jenna might as well have said, “I’m going to take you to the dentist and the gynecologist today. And when we’re done I’ll run over your foot with my car.”
“We need to know where we stand,” she reminded her aunt gently.
“I know,” said Aunt Edie. “But remember, I have that money in savings.”
“No worries,” Jenna lied. She grabbed a mug of coffee, then took her laptop over to the motel office to work.
A calico cat sat outside the office, licking a paw. It stopped at the sight of Jenna and regarded her curiously. It had no collar but it looked well fed. Hardly surprising, considering that the Seafood Shack was right next door.
“Hey there, kitty,” she said, and bent to pet it.
The cat pushed its head against her hand and mewed, then slid along her leg.
“Wouldn’t my daughter love you? But I don’t think Roger would.”
Okay, Jenna, you’re stalling. She gave the animal a final pat and went inside.
Her first order of business was to try and sort through the piles of paperwork that lay on her aunt’s desk. Aunt Edie may have had an iPod and iPad and smart TV, but her record-keeping methods were stuck in the dark ages, with receipt pads from decades ago and records kept in notebooks and folders in an ancient metal filing cabinet. A phone as old as Jenna sat on the office desk along with an answering machine that belonged in an antique shop. Jenna found loan papers stuffed in the desk drawer and, after looking at the figures made her bilious, she shoved them back in and shut the drawer. Catalogs for everything from linens to home decor cluttered the desk, and Jenna set those aside and opened the reservation book. It was sparsely populated.
Actually, it hadn’t been populated since the previous August. Hardly surprising considering the state of the place. She turned on her computer and checked the online reviews. They didn’t exactly lure people in.
What a dump. I thought I was staying at the Bates Motel...
After one look at our room we decided not to stay. The crazy old woman running the place offered us a discount. She should have offered to pay us to stay...
I wouldn’t put up my dog there let alone a person.
With such glowing recommendations, it was a wonder they even had one guest lined up for summer. Seth Waters. Was he clueless? Desperate? Broke? Aunt Edie had dutifully written down his contact information in her reservation book and Jenna decided to call him.
A deep voice that made Jenna think of Vikings or pirates answered on the second ring.
She cleared her throat. “Is this Seth Waters?”
“Yes,” the voice answered suspiciously.
“Oh.” Duh, of course it was. “Hi. I’m Jenna Jones and I’m calling from the Driftwood Inn.”
“Is there a problem?” asked the voice.
“No, not at all. I’m just calling to confirm your reservation.”
“I’ll be there,” said Voice, making Jenna’s nerve endings thrum.
“I felt I should tell you that we’re undergoing some renovations here.” That was putting it mildly. Jenna’s right eye began to twitch.
“That won’t bother me.”
“Your room is a little...” Subpar, pathetic, disgusting. “That is, well, it needs some work.”
“That’s not a problem. I’m not particular, and the price is right.”
Okay, good news. The nervous tic settled down.
“I told whoever I talked to earlier that I don’t know how long I’ll need it, probably for a few weeks. I’m starting a new business in town and I’ve got to get that going before I look for someplace to rent.”
“Not a problem,” Jenna said. “We can make room for you.” We have nothing but room.
“Good,” said Voice. “Thanks for calling.”
“Thanks for choosing the Driftwood Inn,” Jenna said, and ended the call. At least they’d have one paying customer. Maybe they could pay the electric bill. She decided to go to the local consignment store and see if she could pick up some cute bargain bedding for their guest’s bed. At least the bed would look good. She sure hoped he’d meant what he said when he told her he wasn’t particular about his lodging.
She sorted through more papers, looked at a pile of bills and decided it was time to meet with Aunt Edie’s accountant. She wasn’t sure what he’d be able to tell her that she hadn’t already figured out, but she called for an appointment, anyway. Whitley Gruber could fit her in at eleven. Should she be happy or terrified?
She set aside the pile of papers and went back into the house in search of more coffee. Sabrina had come down now and Aunt Edie was plying her with hot chocolate and blackberry coffee cake. Pete was present, too, enjoying a generous slice of the treat.
“Are you ready for some of this now, dear?” Aunt Edie asked Jenna.
“No, but I’ll take more coffee if there’s some left,” Jenna said, moving to the vintage coffeemaker. “I have a few more things I want to do in the office before I go see the accountant.”
“You’re going to see Whit?” Now Aunt Edie looked as if Jenna had changed her mind about running over her foot and was upgrading to vehicular homicide.
“It will give me a clearer picture of where we stand.” The picture was already ugly, but what the heck.
Aunt Edie scowled. “I hate talking with Whit. He’s always nothing but doom and gloom.”
“Yeah, but he saved you money on taxes last year,” Pete said to her. “When you run a business, you got to have an accountant, Edie, old girl.”
Pete, the fount of all wisdom. “So, Pete, what does Aunt Edie have on the agenda for you today?” Jenna asked.
He scratched the back of his head. “Well.”
“How about fixing that broken sign out front,” Jenna suggested.
“Oh, yes. Pete’s been meaning to get to that,” Aunt Edie said in the old loafer’s defense. “Haven’t you, Pete?”
“I have,” he said.
“And then maybe you can fix the broken front porch step,” Jenna added.
Pete glared at her. “What are you trying to do, kill me?”
They should be so lucky. “I think you can handle doing two things in an eight-hour period,” Jenna said.
“More coffee cake, Pete?” Aunt Edie put in quickly.
Jenna shook her head and left. They’d be lucky if the sign even got fixed.
The office of Gruber Accounting was located in a small building pretentiously called the Moonlight Harbor Business Complex on Sand Dune Drive. It shared the building with other businesses such as Williams and Weaver, Attorneys at Law; Drew Anderson, Architect; and Beach Dreams Realty. The landscaping was typical of the beach—pampas grass, river rock, shells.
Whitley Gruber was as plain as his office, a man somewhere in his sixties, with a high-tide hairline, glasses, a rail-thin body and an even thinner mouth that drooped at the corners, wearing black slacks and a white shirt complete with pocket protector.
He managed a smile for Jenna and shook hands with her, welcoming her to Moonlight Harbor. “I’m glad your aunt’s finally got some help,” he said as they settled at his desk.
“I’m not sure how much help I can be,” Jenna said. “It looks like we’ve got a cash flow problem.”
“You do. That’s nothing new. I’m afraid Edie’s had trouble managing since Ralph died.” He shook his head. “I’ve advised her more than once to sell the place before it comes down around her ears. The land’s valuable and if she sold it and invested the money she could live quite comfortably for the rest of her life.”
“She doesn’t want to sell,” Jenna said.
Whit removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. “I know she doesn’t. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
This wasn’t how Jenna had wanted their meeting to go. Although, really, what had she come in expecting to hear?
“The good news is, right now she’s got a tax write-off,” he said.
“You can’t live on a tax write-off.”
“Talk to her. The Driftwood Inn has seen its day. She should move on.”
Seen its day. How sad. It seemed that, eventually, everything unraveled. But if they pulled the plug on the Driftwood Inn it would be the same as pulling the plug on Aunt Edie. The old place had potential. Surely there were still memories to be made there.
Jenna sighed, thanked Whit for his time and left, discouraged but determined.
Not watching where she was going, she found herself colliding with a tall man with a broad chest tucked inside an expensive shirt. The slacks and shoes didn’t look cheap, either. Hair bleached blond from the sun, tanned firm skin, baby-blue eyes with only a few crinkles at the edges, probably somewhere in his forties. He smelled like expensive aftershave and success.
“Sorry,” she said.
“My bad. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“I wasn’t, either.”
He nodded at Whitley Gruber’s door. “Meeting with your accountant can do that to you. Are you new in town?”
“I am,” Jenna said, and introduced herself.
“Ah, the amazing niece has arrived,” the man said with a smile. “I’m Brody Green. I own Beach Dreams Realty. We make your dreams a reality,” he added with a grin.
If only he could do that for her and Aunt Edie. “Nice slogan,” she said.
“Thought it up myself. It came to me in a dream.”
“Really?”
He chuckled. “No, but it sounds good. So, how long have you been in town?”
“Just got here on Saturday.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Then you probably haven’t had a chance to enjoy any of our fabulous restaurants. How about lunch?”
Newly divorced and going out to lunch with a good-looking man. Was this wise?
Probably not. “I’ve got a lot to do,” she hedged.
“Me, too. But hey, we’ve got to eat, right? How about it?”
She threw caution to the beach breeze. “All right. Why not?”
“Good. How about the Porthole?”
“Sounds great. I haven’t been there in years.”
“Come on,” he said, “we can take my car.”
She’d as soon follow him in case she wanted to make a fast escape, but he was already walking out the door so what the heck. Once she saw him opening the door on a late-model red Mustang convertible she decided she’d made the right decision. A good-looking man who had a great car and probably plenty of money to fill it with gas, as well as money for incidentals like lunches out. Ha! Take that, Damien.
“Edie tells me you spent a lot of time down here as a kid,” Brody said as they roared off down the street.
“I did.”
“My family came down here a lot, too. Funny we never ran into each other.”
“Who’d remember someone you saw on the beach as a kid?” Jenna said.
He shot her a grin. “As pretty as you are now, you had to have been cute. I’d have remembered.”
Oh, yes. Flattery will get you everywhere. “Is this how you sell houses, by flattering your clients?” Jenna teased.
“No, I sell houses by showing people great places to live. It’s not hard. Who doesn’t want to live at the beach?”
“For sure. I always loved it here. It’s good to be back.” And it felt good to be zipping down the road in a nice car with the wind whipping her hair and the sun on her face. Ah, this was the life.
Jenna and Sabrina had passed the Porthole coming in. Its location between the Best Western and the Quality Inn made it popular with visitors to town and the food made it popular with locals. In addition to good food, it offered a view of the dunes and the water beyond from the second story, which was where the fine dining area was situated. They passed the café and bar down below and went up the rough-hewn wooden steps to the main restaurant. Brody obviously knew the skinny woman with jet-black hair and red lipstick standing at the hostess podium.
“Brody,” she purred. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.” This was accompanied by a not quite so welcoming once-over of Jenna.
“I wanted our newest citizen to see our best restaurant,” said Brody the schmoozer. “Can you squeeze us in by a window, Laurel?”
The restaurant was nearly full, but Laurel managed to get them a table in a far corner where they could watch the surf roll in.
“This is Jenna Jones, by the way,” Brody said. “Edie’s niece.”
“I heard you were coming,” Laurel said to Jenna. “Good thing. Old Edie could use some help over there.”
That was putting it mildly.
“So, what are your plans for the old place?” Brody asked after their waitress had taken their orders for shrimp sandwiches and tossed salad.
“We’re going to try to get it up and running again.”
“Good luck with that,” said Brody. Their waitress returned with iced tea and he dumped a bunch of sugar in his and gave it a thoughtful stir. “You know, even though the motel’s got issues, that property’s really valuable. If Edie sold it she’d make a nice bundle.”
This was the second person in an hour who’d told her that. The accountant had no hidden agenda. Jenna had to wonder about Brody. If he handled the sale he’d make a fat commission.
“Have you talked with my aunt about this?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s attached to the place, which is understandable. But sometimes you have to let go of things.”
Like bad marriages. But, unlike a bad marriage, the Driftwood Inn could be saved. “Sometimes you have to fight for things, too.”
He smiled. “A woman with drive. I like that.”
“A woman who’s not looking to get involved with anyone,” Jenna warned him.
“And why is that? I thought your aunt said you’re divorced.”
“Just barely. Not in a hurry to jump into anything new.”
Brody nodded. “I get that. I’m divorced myself.” He picked up his iced tea and shook his head. “Eighteen years down the tube.”
“Have you got children?”
“A boy and girl, both in high school. College right around the corner.”
And wouldn’t it be nice if he could convince Aunt Edie to sell the Driftwood Inn? That commission would help with the college tuition.
You’re being cynical, Jenna scolded herself. Still, she couldn’t resist saying, “I guess you’ll have to sell a lot of beach homes.”
He shrugged. “Not that many. My boy’s looking good for a football scholarship and my daughter’s a killer on the basketball court. I think she’ll probably get some kind of scholarship money, too.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, no pressure beyond the usual paying whatever the ex can suck out of me.” His cheeks suddenly flushed. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be. My ex is sucking me dry.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Didn’t your aunt say you’ve got a kid?”
“I do. And an ex who’s an artist. I was the main earner, so I’m the one paying spousal support until he can get on his feet. He can’t even support himself right now, let alone our child.” But who’s bitter? She ripped open a sugar packet and dumped its contents into her tea.
“Well, equal rights, I guess,” Brody said dubiously.
“He shouldn’t have any rights. He’s a bum and rat and doesn’t deserve anything,” Jenna snapped. Way to make a good impression. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m still adjusting.”
“I get it,” Brody said. “I put my ex’s picture on a dartboard and used it every day for the first six months after we split.”
That made her smile. “Is it still there?”
“Nah. I moved on. You’ll get there,” he added.
“The sooner, the better.”
Their sandwiches arrived and they left behind the unpleasant topic of exes, focusing instead on the future, mainly Jenna’s.
“You really should try to talk your aunt into selling the place,” Brody said, making Jenna suspicious of his friendliness all over again. Until he added, “But if you’re determined to make a go of it, I can recommend a roofer. It needs a new roof,” he added, just in case she hadn’t noticed the missing shingles, water stains and musty carpets in the rooms.
“I figured as much,” she said. “I wonder what that will cost.”
“Well, fortunately for you, the motel’s not that big. Maybe you could get by for forty or fifty K.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” Jenna repeated weakly. So much for Aunt Edie’s three thousand and her eight hundred. That was just the roof. It didn’t count new paint and carpet and all the other needed improvements. Quicksand. They were in quicksand. Was there a way she could make blue tarp attractive?
Jenna suddenly wasn’t hungry.
“Eat up,” Brody encouraged her. “You’re going to need your strength.”
“I need more than strength,” she said. “Maybe I should try and find an investor.” She looked at him hopefully. Maybe Brody Green would like to invest in a motel.
He didn’t take the bait. He was too busy digging into his sandwich. “You don’t have to do everything all at once,” he said around a mouthful of shrimp. “Take it in stages. Get one of those Pardon Our Dust signs. People will understand.” He motioned to her untouched sandwich. “Try it. It’s really good.”
She did. It was.
She ate the whole thing while Brody filled her in on the nightlife in Moonlight Harbor. In short, there wasn’t much of one.
“The Drunken Sailor is still the favorite hangout at night,” he said. “They’ve got line dancing there on Sunday nights. Austin Banks, who owns the kite shop, teaches it. She’s from Texas. If you couldn’t tell by the name you sure could by the accent. Her husband, Roy, does the music for it.”
“That sounds fun,” Jenna said. She’d always thought she’d like to take up line dancing. Maybe she would. She could do anything she wanted now. As long as it didn’t cost money.
“I’ll take you sometime if you like,” he offered. “Introduce you around.”
“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.”
“Hey, we like to make the newcomers feel welcome. This is a friendly town.”
“Yes, it is,” Jenna agreed. “So, what else is there to do?”
“We’ve got a movie-plex with four whole theaters. The community club sponsors bingo once a month and we’ve got a bowling alley, which is great if you like playing on lanes that never get oiled. There’s a group of old guys who play tennis over on the courts three times a week.” Brody shook his head. “I played with them once. Thought they’d be easy pickings. They kicked my butt.”
“I’m not very sporty,” Jenna confessed.
“Well, if you like to read, the library sponsors a book club. And a bunch of the women hang out at your aunt’s place every Friday night. You’ll meet a lot of our movers and shakers there. You know, your aunt’s been a fixture here for as long as I can remember. Everybody loves her.”
Was there somebody who loved her enough to float her a loan? Probably not. All those movers and shakers had their own businesses to keep afloat. Business at the beach was seasonal and Jenna suspected that some people barely hung on from season to season.
Could she and Aunt Edie hang on? Once again, her appetite evaporated.
She passed on the offer of dessert, so Brody called for the check and they zipped back to the Moonlight Harbor Business Complex. The wind was still playing with Jenna’s hair and the sun was still warm on her face, but reality had doused her earlier feeling of euphoria.
“Don’t get discouraged,” Brody said, reading her worried mind. “Things always work out somehow.”
Yes, they did. And if worse came to worst, good old Brody would be right there to help her sell the Driftwood Inn. Sigh.
She returned home to find Aunt Edie on the living room couch, crocheting, Jolly Roger perched on the back, looking over her shoulder.
“No solicitors!” he greeted her.
Aunt Edie looked up with a worried smile. “You were with Whit a long time.”
“Actually, I wasn’t with him the whole time,” Jenna said, plopping onto her favorite seashell chair. “I met Brody Green and he took me out to lunch.”
The smile got sunnier. “Brody is a sweetie. He’s single, you know,” Aunt Edie added oh-so-casually.
“Yes, so he said.”
“Nice man. Oodles of money.”
“Aunt Edie,” Jenna chided. “You’re not suggesting I go after a man for his money.”
“Oh no, of course not. But money is always a nice bonus. It greases the wheels.”
And heaven knew, their wheels could use some greasing. Still. “I’m not in the market for a man. I just got rid of one.”
“Well, he was a poor excuse for a man,” Aunt Edie said. “Sometimes the first try doesn’t work out but you can strike gold on the second. I certainly did with Ralph.”
“Yes, you did,” Jenna agreed. “I don’t think I ever want to try again, though.”
“You’re much too young to be saying things like that.”
“I don’t feel young.” In fact, she was sure she’d aged ten years in the last hour.
“You need to get out and have some fun, and Brody’s just the man to do it with.”
Do it. It would be nice to have sex again sometime in her lifetime. But celibacy was safer. In so many ways.
“First things first. Maybe I’ll have time for a man after we get this place whipped into shape.”
Maybe.
Or not.
“I wouldn’t wait that long,” cautioned Aunt Edie. “Life’s too short.”
“Life’s too short,” Roger agreed. He and Aunt Edie must have had many a philosophical discussion.
“Where’s Sabrina?” Jenna asked, changing the subject.
“She’s cleaning the upstairs bathroom. Isn’t that sweet of her? I didn’t even ask her—she did it all by herself.”
Yes, all by herself. With a little nudge from Mom. But at least she was doing it.
Doing it. Do it. Sex.
Stop it, Jenna! Focus.
Focusing on everything they had to do was enough to give her a headache. She took two ibuprofens, and then spent the afternoon beachcombing with Sabrina. They didn’t get enough wind to fly the kite but they did find an agate, which helped Sabrina temporarily forget her hatred for her mean mom who had ruined her life.
Time on the beach with her daughter was good medicine, and by the time they returned Jenna was feeling much better.
Until she saw that Pete still hadn’t fixed the sign or the broken step. They were no closer to getting the Driftwood Inn in shape and that dangling sign mocked her.
With a growl, she went in search of Uncle Ralph’s old toolbox. If you wanted anything done you had to do it yourself.
Half an hour later the sign was properly hung and swinging in the breeze. There. Now they were one step closer to having the old place up and running.
Hahahahahahaha.