Chapter Nine
AT THE END OF a long day, Pru was dumping used linens from her massage practice into the washer, when Abbey pounced on her.
“Pru Reynolds, how dare you keep this a secret!”
Pru found herself pinned against the washing machine, her left hand held aloft, Abbey’s own load of linens in a pile around their feet. “Jesus, girl, give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”
“Heart attack my ass. Spill!” Abbey demanded.
This wasn’t how she’d planned on the news getting out. But if she’d really wanted to keep it a secret, she wouldn’t have put the ring back on when she was done with massages for the day. She just…liked it there. Tugging free of her friend’s grip, Pru bent to gather up the mess in the floor and add it to the load. “So, I’m engaged.”
“To who?”
“Flynn.”
“I knew there was something going on between you two. But engaged? Isn’t that kinda fast?”
She’d committed to the cover story now and found that it fell off her tongue with greater ease. “Two years isn’t fast.”
“Say what? But I thought—” Abbey waved a hand, dismissing whatever she was about to say. “Start at the beginning.”
She did, giving Abbey the tale of how they’d supposedly met. The beauty of the scenario he’d concocted was that if they had met on that trip, she’d very likely have done exactly what he’d suggested. Because Flynn was…amazing. “Kennedy doesn’t know anything about it, so we’re trying to keep this quiet until we can tell her in person and explain.”
“You can count on me. Man. Engaged.” Abbey pressed both fists to her mouth and danced in place. She was still dancing when Flynn stuck his head in the laundry room.
He went brows up. “Do I want to know?”
Pru just shook her head.
“Done for the day?” he asked.
“Only just.”
“Good. Then you’ve got time for this.”
“Time for what?”
Another head poked through the door. “Hey Pru.”
“Porter. I wasn’t expecting you.” Even as she strode toward her foster brother, she stuck her left hand behind her back and began rotating the ring.
He caught her motion and grinned. “Don’t bother. Maggie told me.”
Pru rolled her eyes. “Of course, she did. And are you here to give me the whole big brother routine in Xander’s absence?”
“Nope. Not here about that at all.” Wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “Congratulations.”
“That wasn’t the word Maggie used.”
“She’ll calm down.” Porter promised.
It was interesting that she’d called Porter to talk about it. “I didn’t know you two were all talky talky these days.”
“I wouldn’t say we are. She just remembered why we used to be friends while she was here for the wedding. Speaking of, promise me you’ll wait a bit to plan yours. I think another in a hurry wedding might send Maggie over the edge.”
“I can promise I won’t be planning a wedding any time soon.” There. A piece of truth. “Now, why are you here?”
“Flynn called me.”
“He did?” She glanced at the culprit for some kind of an explanation.
“I did. C’mon. You, too, Abbey. Your input would be useful for this.” Flynn took Pru’s hand and towed her toward the back door.
“Useful for what?” Pru asked.
“You’ll see.”
They all trooped out to the barn.
“What do you normally use this space for?” Flynn asked.
“It’s been mostly storage for years. We cleaned out a lot, got rid of stuff to make room for the wedding.”
“But there’s not farm equipment that’s coming back or anything?”
“No. This land hasn’t been farmed in near to a century. Why?”
“Because I think that this could be your new day spa.”
“A barn,” Pru repeated.
“Bear with me. You’ve got mostly unused space out here. Now unless you plan on turning it into an event venue for more weddings like Kennedy’s—”
“Please, God, no.” Pru shuddered.
With a smile, Flynn squeezed her hand. “Then you have an opportunity here. You said you need space to set up for the kinds of services you and Abbey discussed. That means either adding onto the house or building something new elsewhere on the property, both of which would be of considerable expense. But if you were able to convert an existing space, then the idea comes back within reach. It’s why I called Porter. To see what it would take to renovate the place.”
Pru didn’t even ask how Flynn knew Porter was a contractor. She could only suppose it came up at some point during the wedding. “You think we should turn the barn into a spa?”
“I think you want a spa, and it’s a space you haven’t considered.”
Porter turned in a circle, his face assessing. “It’s not a half bad idea. This thing was built back when things were built to last. Structure’s solid, and I helped put on that tin roof myself about eight years back, so it’s got decades more life in it.” He began to pace. “The walls would need to be insulated and covered in drywall or maybe shiplap. You could either totally empty out the hay loft and make a second floor for treatment rooms or office space, or keep that for storage and just close it off. It is a barn, but you could absolutely play on that vibe. Sort of a rustic chic. Lots of reclaimed wood and stone accents.”
As he talked, Pru began to see his vision, how it could be done. And she felt the first shoots of excitement begin to bloom.
“The beams could be left exactly as is—exposed. We’d add some better lighting for a sort of central atrium, with individual rooms off all sides. And I’m totally taking over your design without even asking what you’d want. What do you want, Pru?”
She took a few steps and looked at the space with fresh eyes. “I hardly know. This was mostly in pipe dream territory for way down the line. Everything you just said sounded awesome.”
“What would you actually need for a day spa?” Porter asked.
“Abbey, this is more your territory than mine.”
Face bright with interest, Abbey began to pace from one end to the other. “At least half a dozen treatment rooms. There’s room for more on this first floor.” She began to reel off prospective services, the necessary space and equipment requirements.
“How would we staff all of that?” Pru asked.
“You could do it one of two ways. Either hire people directly or set it up where the spa provides the facilities and equipment and charges basically a rental fee to practitioners, plus a percentage of their service costs.”
“Like a booth rental in a beauty shop,” Pru said.
“Exactly. That’d be the cheaper way to go. Let them be independent contractors, in charge of their own benefits and the like. The space rental would help cover renovation costs, and once that’s paid for, you could always change the model as business grew. Most of the rooms could be customized as you were able to add more services.”
“It could be done, mo mhuirnín,” Flynn murmured.
Pru took a firm grip on her excitement before it could run wild. “Yeah, but for how much?”
Porter crossed his arms and gave the whole place a considering stare. “I’ll have to work up an estimate. A lot of it could be done with reclaimed materials. Not a whole lot in that but sweat equity. The lion’s share of cost will be labor, and you’ll certainly get the family discount.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I’ll put together some numbers, draw up some designs,” he promised. “I know they have to pass Maggie, so I’ll do two versions—a phased renovation that would allow you to start sooner and expand as business improved, and a whole shebang, all-at-once version. You pair that with a business plan, and I think you’ve got a good shot at making her agree to this. It’d be good for the town and good for the inn as a whole.”
“Thank you, Porter.”
“No problem.” He looked to Flynn. “It’s a good idea.”
“The idea is all hers. I just saw a way to maybe make it happen sooner.”
“Either way,” Porter said. He stuck his hand out. “Welcome to family, man.”
Surprise flickered over Flynn’s face before he shook. “Thank you.”
“We should put our heads together about the business side of this,” Pru said to Abbey. “Your extra treatments have been booking up. I think the interest is there.”
“Definitely. I’ll put my thinking cap on tonight. You wanna talk numbers tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Her mind already calculating outlay and service costs and prospective profit margins, Pru grinned. “Yeah, I do.”
“You pull this off and I just might move home for good.”
“Incentive!” Pru declared.
When they were alone, she turned and slipped her arms around Flynn. “Thank you.”
“For what? All I did was point out a possibility.”
“I would have put that off. I’d have told myself it was entirely out of reach and that it had to wait until a million other things were taken care of first, and I wouldn’t have even asked.”
“I know it’s something that’s important to you. It would make this family business more yours, I think, than what you have now. Certainly more to your interest. You deserve that.”
“You’ve made me think a lot about the things I deserve, the things I want.”
“Have I now?”
“I think maybe it’s time you move into my room.” Realizing he might like having his own space, she added, “If you want.”
His eyes went hot and sharp. “Oh, I want. But aren’t you worried about the Coogan woman?”
With a wry smile Pru shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed and cannot get any worse. I don’t know what’s going to happen or how long we’ll have. The fact is, I want you with me. I want to go to sleep with you and wake up next to you in the morning.”
He skimmed a hand through her hair. “Your face would certainly be a fine thing to see of a morning on the pillow next to mine. Let’s go get my stuff.”
~*~
“Keep everything nice and loose. No, make sure your elbow is aimed directly at the floor.” Flynn adjusted Ari’s stance. “Better. Don’t tuck your wrist in as you hold the fiddle. Straighten it out. There’s a girl.”
Ari reached for the bow.
“Not yet. You have to make sure you’re holding things properly, while you get to know your strings. You’re going to take your finger and pluck, like this.” He demonstrated on his own fiddle, plucking the bottom string. “This is a G. Then D. Then A. Then E.”
Ari followed suit.
“Good. Now each of these is tuned—”
“A fifth apart. I can hear that.” The impatience simmering in her voice made him smile.
“That’s right. Okay, pick up your bow.”
She did, and he patiently corrected her hold.
“Good, now we’re going to go with the G. You’re going to place the bow on the string down by the frog.”
“The what?”
“Down the bottom there, where the bowstrings are attached. That’s it. Mind your elbow. Most of the action is in the wrist. You’re going to play the G, drawing the bow down all the way to the tip.” He demonstrated and she repeated. “Now the D going upbow. Then the A all the way down. Now the E all the way back up.”
Ari mimicked his motions, drawing out a shaky note from each string.
“Remember that the transition from one string to the next is a very small motion. You don’t want to expend a lot of unnecessary energy. Try again. You’re going for a clear, bright sound from each string.”
She repeated the motions until she finally coaxed forth the tone he was looking for. “I did it!”
It was a small thing, but he felt an absurd amount of pride and pleasure at seeing her excitement. “You did indeed! Now—”
“Flynn!” Pru’s shout echoed from the hallway.
He was half out of the family room, Ari on his heels, before he registered the tone as excitement rather than alarm. “What?”
She raced out of the office, eyes wide. “The whole house. They’ve booked the whole house.”
“What?”
Pru took his hands and danced him in a circle. “I just got a booking for every remaining room in the house for this weekend!”
“You mean we’re full up?” Ari asked.
“For the first time since we opened, other than the wedding. And none of these people are related to us or former fosters of Mom’s!”
Ari whooped and did an impromptu dance of her own. Then she stopped. “Wait a minute. But we were airing everything out and in the middle of that deep clean. Almost none of the beds are made.”
“And everybody will be showing up for the jam session at six,” Flynn added. Perhaps today hadn’t been the best time to try making that a more regular thing.
“I know,” Pru said. “We’ve got a thousand things to do. It’s a group of women from Nashville coming for a girls’ weekend. They were already packed when they called, so they’ll be here in four hours.”
“How will we get everything done?” Ari asked.
“Divide and conquer,” Flynn told her.
They made a list, prioritizing tasks and assigning them via time-honored tradition: Rock. Paper. Scissors. When Ari’s rock crushed Flynn’s scissors and he got stuck scrubbing toilets and cleaning showers, he accepted it with considerably more good humor than he ever had when he lost to his sister. He’d hated this duty more than anything growing up and had often spent the time honing his cursing skills. By the time he’d turned eighteen, he’d developed astounding proficiency and creativity in that arena.
He hauled the caddy of cleaning supplies up to the third floor and waited for the resentment and irritation to kick in. It didn’t. Instead, as he moved from room to room, he found himself lifting his voice in song, testing the acoustics of each bathroom. He was cleaning bathrooms and singing. His mother would be immediately checking him for a fever, maybe calling up Dr. O’Dwyer. But it just didn’t feel the same. Instead of that envy of the very guests he prepared for, he felt an odd satisfaction. It was different with Pru. Everything was different with Pru. He was contented here in a way he’d never imagined he could be.
Hearing her laughter, Flynn went to the window and looked out. She and Ari were gathering sheets from the line. It was a thing he’d seen his own mother do a thousand times and never thought a thing about, but he found himself staring as they worked to neatly fold the sheet. Pru added the square to the basket, then stroked a hand down Ari’s hair. The girl tipped her head to Pru’s shoulder, one arm around her waist, as the two of them looked off toward the mountains. The quiet moment hit him right in the gut.
He wanted this. With Pru. All of it. Ari, the inn, the life he’d fallen into. Not for the next few weeks or months, until the threat of Ari being taken was over. He wanted them for real. He wanted to make this home. Because he was in love with them both.
He was down the stairs and striding off the back porch before he could think better of it. They were back to the sheets.
“Ari, you may want to cover your eyes,” Flynn told her.
“Why?”
“Because I need to kiss your mother.”
He didn’t wait to see if she did, instead diving his hands into Pru’s hair and laying his mouth over hers. Over the past weeks, he’d felt so many things for this woman. A driving need to possess. A devastating gentleness. An unwavering fascination. Here was something else altogether—a quiet homecoming that vibrated down to his very marrow. Perfect harmony. Flynn reveled in it, in her, as he sank into the kiss and gathered her close. Her hands fisted in his shirt, sheet and all, as her mouth opened under his on a quiet sigh.
He wanted the moment to go on forever. But he remembered they had things to do and an avid audience of one, so he eased back, pressing his brow to hers.
Pru trembled a little in his arms. “Wha…what was that for?”
Because I love you. The words were right there, waiting to spill out. But making that announcement while laundry billowed around them was hardly his style. Such a declaration merited more forethought on the method of delivery. That should matter nearly as much as the words themselves the first time they were spoken.
“I saw you from the window. You made such a pretty picture, I had to come down.”
Pru tipped her face back, one dark brow raised. “The sight of clean laundry had you overcome with amorous intent?”
Flynn raised her hands to his lips and smiled. “Just you.”
“Smitten,” Ari declared. “The word you’re looking for is smitten.”
“Quite.” With reluctance, he let her go and stepped back. “I’ll get back to my cleaning. I just needed that to tide me over.”
Whistling, he turned his back on them both—Pru staring and Ari grinning from ear to ear—and headed back inside to plan.