Homecoming Reunion (21 page)

She shook her head to dislodge the renegade thoughts. She couldn’t think here. Couldn’t think at all. Too many emotions too many memories.

“I don’t think I can be here,” she said, her voice breaking.

Her father nodded. “You’ve been working so hard the past couple of months. Sheila can watch the inn for you. You should take a break. Why don’t you just take a couple of days off? I’ll let you know what happens.”

Maybe she should. Maybe she should get away. Get some perspective. Give herself some room.

So she simply nodded, then gave him a quick kiss and left. No reason to stay here. Garret and her father together owned the majority share of the inn anyway. They didn’t need her to make a decision.

She wasn’t necessary at all.

When she got home she made a few phone calls, quickly packed her bags and left.

Two hours later she was pulling up to the parking lot of Lydia Porter’s bed-and-breakfast. Lydia had been a close friend of her mother’s.

She reached for her purse to call her father to tell her where she was and realized that in her rush to leave, she had forgotten her phone back in her apartment.

No matter. She didn’t need to talk to anyone. Didn’t need to find out what Garret and her father were planning. She would know soon enough.

She pulled her suitcase out of the car and walked up to the door, her heart sinking in her chest, memories of her mother’s friendship with Lydia surfacing. The two of them would travel together and twice a year went down to Mexico for what her mother called her ‘spa getaway’.

However Lydia had just stepped out, but the receptionist knew who Larissa was and quickly escorted her to her room.

Larissa tossed the suitcase on the bed and began unpacking. As she did, she pulled out the Bible she had put in her luggage. She had picked it up from the kitchen counter, where she had left it more than a few weeks ago.

Ever since they started getting ready for Pete’s conference.

Guilt weighed on her soul as she lowered herself to the bed, her Bible in her lap. She was quick enough to pray when she wanted something from God.

Lately she hadn’t been reading the Bible. The inn had absorbed all her time and had taken over all her waking thoughts.

And the past few weeks...so had Garret.

His voice now sounded in her head.
I don’t know where the inn quits and you begin.

His words crept around the periphery of her mind accompanied by remorse and self-reproach. She had made the inn a huge focus at the cost of her spiritual life. It had kept her busy.

But she wasn’t busy now and, if things went the way her father and Garret seemed to be hinting at, she might not be busy like that again.

She subdued the fear that spiraled up her throat and turned her attention to the Bible.

The pages flew through her fingers as she sought some scrap of comfort. Some portion of peace. She turned and turned and then she came to a marked spot.

Matthew 6. Part of the Sermon on the Mount.

Larissa read and then a verse jumped out at her. A verse so familiar, so well-known, her eyes almost slipped over it without letting its words register. Then one word caught her attention. Treasure.

She read,
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moths and vermin destroy.”
She stopped there, thinking about the work that had to be done on the inn yet. The slow deterioration of a place that she treasured so much. She eased out a weary smile and carried on.
“But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven where moths and vermin do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

She lowered the Bible, letting it rest on her lap as the words slowly seeped into her mind, bringing out other emotions. Had she really made the inn more important in her life than God? Had she really made it her treasure? Had she tried to find her worth in that place instead of in her Lord?

Still holding the Bible open on her lap, she let her thoughts go to a place she had never dared travel.

What would her life be without the inn? As she had told Garret it had been so woven in her life she couldn’t see herself apart from it.

But it wasn’t making money.

She thought of Garret’s comment about trying to provide for a family without money. Was he talking about their future? Or about his past?

She looked back down at the passage. Maybe she had made the inn too much of her “treasure.” Maybe she needed to learn to let go. What was more important? Her promise to her mother? Her changing feelings for Garret? Or her relationship with God?

She lowered her head, pressing her hands against her face.
Help me to let go of the things I need to let go of, Lord. Help me to trust in You. Help me store up treasures in heaven. With You. And be with Garret. Watch over him. Keep him safe.
She wasn’t sure what else to pray for.

She sat a moment, but then felt restless and headed downstairs. Lydia was still gone so Larissa went into the room often referred to as the library. It was more of a sitting room and a tiny one at that, just off the dining room. A row of shelves lined one wall holding a variety of books that, Larissa was sure, hadn’t changed since she was a kid.

She and her mother would visit here from time to time and Larissa always liked checking the bookshelves in the hope that she would find something to pique her interest.

But the room was in an uproar. Books lay in piles on the floor and on the two small tables that flanked a couple of easy chairs. The chairs were also stacked with books. Obviously Lydia thought it was time for an update. Larissa smiled as she walked through the room, noticing books that she remembered reading as a young girl when her mother would come to visit Lydia.

She ran her fingers along the piles on the table, then, as she turned, noticed a number of older photo albums lying in one corner of the room.

She walked over, knelt down and picked one up and flipped it open. Her heart stuttered when she saw her mother smiling out of a picture, her arm flung around Lydia’s shoulders. The palm trees in the background, the line of breaking surf behind them and the turquoise of the water clearly showed Larissa this was not Hartley Creek.

Her mother wore capris, a bathing suit and the largest sun hat Larissa had ever seen. Probably one of their trips to Mexico, Larissa thought as she sat down on the floor, the album in her lap. She paged past a few more touristy photos—beach pictures, snorkeling and shopping photos.

The photos brought a smile to her lips and a gentle sorrow to her heart. Her mother was so happy. So healthy in these pictures. Larissa checked the dates on the photos, four years before her mother died.

She flipped through the album and then, puzzled, stopped at one of the pages. Her mother was wearing what looked like a hospital gown. An IV was attached to her arm. She sat on the edge of a bed and frowned at the camera, holding her hand up as if in warning.

Had she injured herself on this trip? Larissa couldn’t remember her mother talking about being in a hospital.

Larissa looked more closely at the picture. The room her mother was in looked more like a resort than any hospital Larissa had ever been in.

What was going on?

“Hey, honey, heard you were here,” Lydia’s cheerful voice called out as she entered the room.

Larissa looked up at her mother’s friend. Tall, slender and perpetually young-looking with her highlighted blond hair and tanned skin, Lydia never seemed to age.

“Just got here about forty minutes ago,” Larissa said, slowly getting to her feet, still holding the photo album. “I see you’re doing some changes in here.”

Lydia nodded, but when her eyes dropped to the book Larissa held, her smile drifted away. “Where did you find that?” she asked.

The faint note of panic in her voice only added to Larissa’s confusion.

“Just lying here on the floor,” Larissa said, feeling a beat of guilt. But another glance at the puzzling picture pushed that away. She held up the book, showing Lydia the picture.

“So, what’s happening here? Why is my mother in the hospital? What happened to her? Did she get sick on one of your trips?”

Lydia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, then slowly lowered herself to the edge of the couch. She sighed lightly and gave Larissa a careful smile.

“You weren’t supposed to see that picture.”

“When was it taken?”

“About eight years ago. Shortly after your mother was diagnosed.”

“Did she have some kind of attack?”

Lydia eased out another sigh as she held her hand out for the album. “No. She didn’t. She was there on purpose.”

Larissa’s puzzlement only grew with each thing Lydia said.

“What happened in Mexico, Lydia? What aren’t you telling me?”

Lydia cleared away some of the books beside her and patted the empty spot. “Sit down, my dear. I need to tell you something very important.”

* * *

Nana sat back in her chair, her hands folded over one another. “What do you think you should do?” she said, her voice quiet, calm.

Garret leaned forward on Nana’s couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin settled on his hands. He looked over at his grandmother and the gentle smile playing over her lips.

“I don’t know. That’s why I came here.”

When Garret left the inn, he had stopped at his apartment, packed a suitcase and was going to drive to Calgary. He had called his financial adviser who asked him to please come and talk to him before he made any rash decisions.

But even before he went to Calgary, he wanted to make another, more important stop. Nana Beck’s place.

All his life Nana had been the voice of sanity and reason in his life. She had been his guiding light, his conscience and spiritual beacon.

Right now he needed all the above to make the right decision.

“I’m going to ask the obvious, but have you prayed about this?”

“I don’t know what I want, so how can I pray?”

“God isn’t a vending machine,” his nana said, her voice holding a gentle note of reprimand. “Prayer is not a matter of choosing what you want and then putting in your request. God wants us to communicate with Him, have a relationship,” his grandmother continued. “Not so He can give us what we want, but so that in the praying we acknowledge where our hope really lies. And right now I’m thinking that part of that hope is wound up in Larissa Weir.”

Garret released a dry chuckle. “A lot of that hope is wound up in her. I love her.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Nana said. “But I’m not sure why that’s a problem.”

Garret looked over at his grandmother who sat back in her easy chair, her hand resting on the arms, her blue eyes holding his intently.

“Because she wants so badly to keep the inn and I know it can’t support us.”

“I thought things were going well. You were getting busier.”

“I thought so too but the numbers don’t look good. At least according to Orest.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“I don’t trust the guy. I’m so sure the inn can turn a profit, but he’s completely in charge of the bookkeeping.”

“Weren’t you getting an audit done by Albert?”

“We’re supposed to get the results back from him next week.”

“So why don’t you wait until then?”

“Because Jack Weir wants to buy my share of the inn and he wants to close the deal before we see Albert.”

“I understand.” She tapped her fingers. “What do you want to do?”

Garret sighed as his mind shifted back to the conversation he’d just had with Larissa. It was unsatisfying and he’d walked away not sure he’d said or done the right things.

“I want to be with Larissa, but I want to support her. To take care of her. But I also want to make her happy. “

“And you think that means keeping the inn?”

“I think it’s what she thinks. But in order to do that, in order to keep the inn going, I have to sell my investments and plow that money into the inn. And right now is not a good time to sell. I’ll get almost half of what I put in. And I’m not sure it will help.”

His grandmother sighed, then got up and walked over to his side, settling beside him on the couch. She put her arm over his shoulders, like she used to when he was much younger and much smaller. She had to reach up to do it now, though.

“It’s just money, Garret.”

“But I worked so hard to get it together,” he said.

“Did you do it all by yourself?”

Garret felt the faint rebuke in her voice and he knew she was right. While they were growing up his grandparents had always told him that money was a gift and a tool given to them by God. He had heard it but it had never really sunk in. Until now.

“Wouldn’t I be a poor steward if I simply threw good money after bad?” he asked.

“I keep hearing you say that you feel the inn can make you a living. It wouldn’t be poor stewardship if your money could make the difference.”

“Even if I do that, I don’t know if it’s enough to support Larissa. She’s been getting money from her grandparent’s estate. That’s the only way she’s been able to live off what the inn makes.”

“Do you know how much it is? Because from the way she lives, I don’t think she’s spending a lot of money. Her car isn’t exactly top of the line and I never see her in fancy clothes or shoes.”

“I never paid that much attention to the quality of Larissa’s clothes,” Garret said.

“Of course not. You’ve been distracted by other things,” his nana said with a smile. Then she took Garret’s hand in hers. “I think you know what you want to do. And right now, I think you need to let go of the idea that Larissa needs to live a certain way in order for her to be happy. If she really loves you, then it won’t matter how much money you have or don’t have. How much money you make or don’t make,” she said, a stern note in her voice. “Right now I think you’re more concerned about the money than she is.”

Garret nodded, acknowledging the rightness of his grandmother’s comment, so similar to Shannon’s awhile back.

“So. We need to take care of one thing first,” his grandmother said, giving his hand a light shake. “We’re going to pray together and then you’re going to go talk to your money guy. On the drive to Calgary I’m sure you’ll discover what needs to happen.”