Here to Stay (Where Love Begins Book #2) (23 page)

“Well, what can we help with?” Mom asked.

Betsy waved her hand. “Oh no, we’ve got plenty of help.”

“Ava, you haven’t been out to the inn since you’ve been home.” Autumn looped her arm through her sister’s. “I’m so excited to show you all the things we’ve done to spiff it up. Come on out to the dining room.”

“Your tour’s going to have to wait, Autumn,” Betsy countered. “I’m ready to serve. Don’t want the fish eggs to get cold.”

Ava’s nose wrinkled. “Fish eggs?”

“Inside joke. Let’s go. You too, Mom.”

Mom exited the kitchen, but Ava stopped Autumn with a hand on her arm before they followed. “Can we . . . talk sometime? I know I said some things that—”

“We both did, Ave. But tonight, let’s just have fun. All right, sis?”

It’s what Blake had said. Just focus on tonight.

She loved tonight.

Hesitance hovered in Ava’s smile, but she nodded.

When they entered the dining room, Autumn spotted Harry over by the bay windows and brought two fingers to her lips, motioning for him to whistle. He shook his head. The man hated it when she made him whistle. She flashed him a saccharine smile and mouthed,
“Do it.”

Harry’s piercing whistle brought the room to attention. Autumn moved to the front of the room. “Everybody, thank you so much for coming out tonight. Looking around the room, I’m reminded how much I love the people of Whisper Shore, and how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends.”

And family.
Ava hung back near the doorway. Had she
spotted Blake?
But she’s here. Even if she’
s uncomfortable, she’s here.

And Mom was over with Grady Lewis near the entryway into the lobby. Did she notice the polished floors and new window treatments? Would it make her angry to know Blake had been the one to help hang them?

“Those of us who are from Whisper Shore know this past year hasn’t been without hardship. Actually, the past five, six, seven years have taken their toll on our town.” Everybody had been affected when Ryan died. And then the economy crashed. And Whisper Shore seemed to lose itself, its personality and charm, right alongside its tourists. “But at Christmastime, we’re reminded that behind the industry and economy and business, beyond the pretty lake and sometimes nice weather, there’s always something to celebrate.”

As she paused, a creak sounded overhead. Who would be upstairs? She’d seen all the current inn guests mingling in the dining room.

“There’s Christ’s birth. There’s friends.” She couldn’t stop a glance Blake’s way. “There’s family.” Her gaze flitted from Mom to Ava. “Our awesome cook, Betsy, and her staff have prepared a mega feast tonight. She’s going to let us know what’s on the menu, and then we can all find our seats.”

Autumn stepped aside so Betsy could recite the meal items, and guests moved to find places at the gaily decorated tables that filled the room. Except . . . why were there wet spots on the red tablecloths of the center tables? Not the ceiling again.

Autumn started to lift her gaze, when Betsy asked, “Autumn, will you pray for the meal?”

“Of course.” Maybe no one else would notice the dripping. She waited until the sound of chairs knocking against the table stopped and folded her hands as another creak sounded from above “Father God, thank you so much for bringing
us all here tonight, for the chance to enjoy good food and fellowship.”

A longer, louder creak. And then a cracking sound. Worry chugged through her. “Thank you for the meal Betsy has prepared and for each person around the table.” Another crack. And—she peeked one eye open, then the other—dust? “Please help us have a wonderful . . .”

But she couldn’t go on. Because now everybody’s eyes were open, gazes fastened on the ceiling. Another cracking sound, only this time she could see it—one big crack and a hundred little ones branching out. A
thump, creak,
and . . .

Oh, Lord, help us.

A
crunch
sounded as the ceiling broke open, chunks of plaster and insulation hitting the tables in the center of the room, dust and debris fogging the air. People jumped from their chairs, gasps and shrieks drowned out by a final boom and thud as something heavy crashed into the room.

Coughs and a trickle of ceiling rubble hitting the tables and . . .

Autumn forced herself to look.

A bathtub.

A bathtub resting in the middle of the wreckage.

A giant hole in the ceiling.

Either of which she’d gladly climb into.

13

T
iny white flurries sputtered from the sky, carried on a brisk cold Blake hadn’t felt in years. It had been so long since he’d experienced a Michigan winter. But there was a zesty feel to the chill, something fresh and glinting, like the string of stars decorating the sky.

“I should really stick around.” Ellie stood beside the passenger door of a Nissan. “She’s so upset.”

Upset was an understatement. The flush of pink had seeped from Autumn’s cheeks as her dining-room ceiling caved. The gasps of her guests turned into shocked chuckles and then full-out laughter. Amazingly, no one had been hurt. They’d wiped the dust from their clothes and backed away from the wreckage. . . .

But Autumn had just stood there. Frozen.

And he’d had the craziest desire to pull her close in an act of comfort—like she had for him the other night in her sister’s bedroom. But they’d been alone then. So instead he’d watched as she blinked, leaned over to say something to Harry, and then disappeared from the mess.

Blake stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black coat
and held his arms tight to his body. “You heard Harry, Ell. She wanted everyone to go home.”

Tim held the door open for his wife. “I’ll come back tomorrow to help clean up, hon. But you’re supposed to be on bed rest.”

The glow of the moon lit the mostly empty parking lot of the Kingsley Inn. Only a few cars still claimed spots. He didn’t know how he’d ended up being the one to see off all Autumn’s party guests. But for whatever reason, he’d stepped into the role when Autumn retreated to the second floor. Probably to assess the damage.

Or maybe have an emotional breakdown in private.

“But I feel bad leaving her here alone.”

“She’s not alone. I think her mom and sister are still here. I’ll make sure she’s okay. I promise.”

Ellie peered at him through ringlets frazzled by the wind, nodded, and ducked into the car.

Finally, as Tim and Ellie rolled down the lane, Blake climbed the inn’s porch steps. Warmth reached for him as he entered. The odor of dust and plaster leaked into the lobby.

Along with the sound of a determined grunt.

He glanced through the opening into the dining room . . . and it took everything in him not to break into chuckles. Autumn, still in her black dress and red heels, pushed against the cracked bathtub where it rested in the middle of the floor, one of the dining room tables broken underneath. Drips of water spurted from overhead. Several chairs were overturned and at least two other tables had been damaged.

“Come on, you stupid thing.” She breathed the words through another futile push.

Tendrils of hair had slipped free of her headband and fell around her face. And her cheeks were red from exertion. With a frustrated groan she stepped away from the
tub and kicked off one of her shoes, sending it skipping over the floor.

“Whatcha doing, Red?” He stepped into the room.

She turned, her other foot lifted midkick. Instead of chucking off the shoe, she stepped down, now at a tilting angle. “What’s it look like?” She shoved the hair out of her face. “Did everyone leave?”

“Mostly. Except for the people who are actually staying here.” Thankfully none of whom occupied the room overhead, according to Harry. Where was the guy anyway? And the rest of Autumn’s staff? Shouldn’t her mom and sister be helping her?

A burst of laughter sounded from the kitchen now. The sound of dishes clinking and the faint strains of music playing from a radio filtered through the door.

“They’re still laughing about it,” Autumn said, arms crossed. “Everyone thinks it’s so amusing. But it’s not. It’s embarrassing.”

Blake took a step closer to her, nudging a table leg out of the way. “Look at it this way. At least no one was in the tub when it fell.
That
would have been embarrassing.”

She should’ve giggled, but the poor woman was wound tighter than ever. She kicked off her other shoe, sending it his direction, then turned back to the tub. He could see the muscles in her legs and arms strain as she pushed against the claw-foot beast. Another piece of hair fell loose and trailed down her back.

His heart lurched at her disappointment “Red, come on. Don’t worry about the tub and the ceiling now. Let’s go raid the kitchen and get something to eat. We’ll take care of all this tomorrow.”

“Really? You’re worried about your stomach at a time like this?” She pushed again, the tub barely inching.

“There are sharp pieces everywhere, and you’re barefoot.”

She paused. Score one for his powers of persuasion. Except when she turned to look at him, renewed determination lit her ridiculously blue eyes. “My tennis shoes. They’re upstairs in the room I changed in. Could you go get them? Room Seven.”

And leave her alone to dislocate enough discs to make a chiropractor’s day? He reached out to take her hand and tugged. “Come on.”

“No, I’m going to clean this up.”

“You’ll ruin your dress.”

“I don’t care.” She attempted to pull away, but he held on.

“Well, I do. It’s gorgeous on you.”

Another yank and she freed her hand. Immediately her arms folded, and she stood as if in cement. He studied her for a moment, then reached into his pocket. “Fine.”

“What are you doing?” Her eyes narrowed.

He lifted his phone. “Taking a picture of this. Because one day, Autumn Kingsley, you are going to laugh about the fact that a bathtub fell through the ceiling and landed on your dining room table.”

“I will not.”

He snapped a photo of the mess. “Pretty sure you will.”

“You think you know me so well.”

He tipped his phone up to get a shot of the oval-shaped hole in the ceiling. “No, I think I know what’s funny. And this is funny.”

“Is not.”

He pointed the phone at her and tapped to take a photo. “Is too.”

She just stood there, rooted to the floor for another couple seconds, until finally her arms flopped to her side and she dropped to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He watched the lines of her forehead smooth away, one corner of her mouth
tug upward. She lifted her eyes. “Did you see the way Chester Johnson’s eyes bugged?” She gave a squeak of a laugh.

He pocketed his phone as a grin pinched his cheeks. The town’s postmaster
had
turned frog-eyed. “I’m surprised he didn’t lose his toupee.”

“I’m not sure anyone would’ve noticed if he had. Not with this thing making an entrance. Talk about crashing a party.” She bent over, a raspy burst of giggles finally surfacing.

“My mom always used to tell me to wash up before dinner.” He sat beside her on the edge of the tub. “This gives it a whole new meaning.”

Her laughter mingled with his, rising until she no longer held back.

“Just think if Ellie had gone into premature labor,” she pushed out between breaths. “The bathtub would’ve been right there.”

“Oh, Red, get that picture out of my head.”

“Hey, you rhymed.” She hiccupped.

He steadied himself with both hands on the rim of the tub. “It’s a special talent of mine.”

She tilted her head back, laughter stilling into a sigh. “My sides hurt.” Another hiccup. “You do know I’m going to demand you delete whatever pictures you took of me, right?”

“Not going to happen. I’m going to save them for the perfect occasion.”

“You better not.” One more giggle, and then she lifted her hands and swiped them under her eyes. A tear escaped down one cheek.

She had either laughed so hard she’d teared up or . . .

Another tear trailed down her face.

“Aw, Red.” He reached an arm around her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

She stiffened only a moment before relaxing into his grip.
“I really wanted to impress him.” Another hiccup. “First he shows up early and finds a half-naked kid streaking through the place.”

Oh.
Dominic Laurent. A reminder of what he’d learned earlier today batted his conscience. He’d waffled all day as to whether to tell Autumn the investor she thought she had in her back pocket was really in town for
his
family’s hotel.

Would she feel at all better about what had happened tonight if she knew Laurent had never had any interest in the inn?

Not likely. At all.

“And now he sees what truly poor shape this place is in. I thought tonight would be the spark we needed, but . . .” She sniffled, and he wished he had a tissue to offer her. “Maybe I just . . . don’t have spark.”

With his free hand he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Red, you’ve got spark. Trust me.” It radiated from her whether she knew it or not.

She shivered then, and he felt the goose bumps rise on her bare arm under his fingers. The tears had stopped, but not her shaking. How could she be cold when he felt warm enough to heat the room?

And when she was close enough to . . .

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he could feel Autumn tense. But she didn’t move. His fingers strayed across her cheek. “Red.”

Her voice came out a whisper. “I’m still moving, Blake. And there’s going to be an entire ocean—”

“Yeah, well there isn’t one now.” Despite the mess, despite the wreck of their situation, this moment . . . it felt like a second chance following yesterday’s moment in the haymow.
Was that just yesterday?

“True.” The word feathered from her lips just as he tilted toward her.

The kitchen door burst open. “Autumn, Betsy asked me to tell you she’s saving some dinner for . . .”

Blake jumped to his feet, and the movement sent Autumn wobbling.

Ava stopped halfway across the room. “Oh.”

Blake reached for Autumn’s hand before she could fall backward into the tub and pulled her to her feet. She bumped against his side before steadying and practically jumping away.

“We were just—” he began.

“Right. Dinner. That sounds good,” Autumn blurted at the same time. She threaded her fingers through a messy wave of hair and brushed past him, disappearing through the door Ava had just entered.

He couldn’t read Ava’s expression. Didn’t have long to try, because she turned to follow her sister.

Leaving him to stand in the middle of the wrecked dining room beside a bathtub, wondering if he had any chance of making things better.

Something tapped in an uneven rhythm, like Morse code against a windowpane.

Autumn blinked one eye open, the glare of sunlight creating a haze around her even as cold burrowed under the blanket covering her.

Where in the world
 . . . ?

She opened her other eye. Her office at the inn. The couch. She peeled her cheek from its cool leather and lifted her head. Why hadn’t she slept in one of the empty guest rooms instead of the office?

The tapping at the window continued as she slid to an upright position, a thrumming in her temple matching the branch nearly beat for beat. That was some wind outside.

“Oh, Lord, please tell me it was a dream.” The wish came out a whisper—and a futile one at that. Because she wouldn’t have slept in her office if last night’s calamity had been the stuff of nightmares instead of pure, pitiful reality. Nor would she be wearing such a mismatched outfit—yesterday’s tennis shoes and last night’s dress, topped with a sweatshirt that wasn’t hers.