Barefoot Season Part 42

Mich.e.l.le was pleased for him and, oddly enough, worried about Carly. "You know you have a lousy track record when it comes to women, right?"

"Yeah, which is why I'm taking it slow. I don't want to mess up." He touched her face. "You okay with me and Carly?"

"Yes, but if you hurt her, I'll take you out in ways that will make you cry like a little girl."

"Fair enough."

Thirty-Five.

Mich.e.l.le left her office and walked through the inn. They were having one of those brief lulls, when the guests were out and everything was quiet.

Mr. Whiskers strolled into the south-facing room and gave a plaintive meow. Chance followed. He walked toward the cat, who wound between his legs before rubbing the top of his feline head against Chance's chest. Together they strolled to the big window seat and jumped up. Chance stretched out first, then Mr. Whiskers moved next to him, half lying on the dog.

Mich.e.l.le wasn't sure when the two of them had become friends, but they often spent sunny mornings together, basking. Occasionally she found Chance licking the cat, then enduring a kitty face wash of his own.

"Everyone in this place is weird," she murmured and headed toward the dining room.

"How's it going?" she asked Helen as she walked into the kitchen.

"The fruit tart is a hit. It doesn't seem to matter how many I bake, we sell out. I don't have any more time to devote to making them, so I've been teaching Cammie."

Cammie laughed. "I'm terrible with crust."

"It takes patience."

"It takes a skill I don't have, but I'll get there. I can do the rest of the tart with no problem." Cammie unfastened her ap.r.o.n. "I'm thinking of going to culinary school. Helen's been talking to me about it."

Mich.e.l.le smiled. "That's great. There are several really good schools, some even in Seattle."

Cammie headed to the back. "See you later."

Helen waved, then turned to Mich.e.l.le. "She has untapped talent, but I will hate to lose her help here. So what's new?"

"I heard from my lawyer." Mich.e.l.le leaned against the counter and sighed with contentment. "I love it when a plan comes together."

"Good news, I take it?"

"The best. Ellen's bank is being investigated. There will be a formal report and we'll know the specifics when it's made public. The bottom line is the bank has made some personnel changes and some people we know are facing criminal charges."

Helen stared. "Seriously? Ellen broke the law?"

"Big-time."

"You probably won't approve of me admitting this, but I like the idea of her in prison. It comforts me."

"Me, too," Mich.e.l.le told her. "I'm going to consolidate the loans into one, and if all goes well, I'll be paying them off in a few years."

"Excellent. Does Carly know?"

"Sure. I told her first."

Helen nodded approvingly. "I'm glad you two have figured out you belong together. Like sisters."

Which, Mich.e.l.le thought, they sort of were.

She thought about how Helen was more than a sensible sort of person, as she called herself. She'd become the backbone of the inn.

"I'd like you to stay," she said impulsively. "Permanently. Is there any way you'd consider relocating to the island?"

As she asked the question, she realized she wasn't being impulsive at all. She and Carly had never bothered looking for Helen's replacement. Mostly because Helen fit so well.

The cook turned to the stove and stirred something on the pot. "Mr. Whiskers and I would like that very much," she said, her voice a little gruff. "I was thinking we could get a little house with a view of the water."

"That would be great. You could still bring him to the inn, if you wanted. To hang with Chance."

Helen looked at her, amus.e.m.e.nt dancing in her eyes. "A playdate for the pets?"

"Why not?"

"It sounds perfect."

Carly carried two plates to the guests and set them down. "Chicken salad on focaccia bread," she said with a smile. "This is a favorite around here. I hope you love your lunch."

"I'm sure we will," the woman said. She looked around, then lowered her voice. "My husband and I have heard so many wonderful things about the inn. We've wanted to stay here before, but you were booked. The best we could do was come for breakfast and lunch. We've been here three times already."

Carly's heart gave a little flutter. "I'm sorry there weren't any rooms. You should come back to stay with us another time."

The woman glanced at her husband, who nodded. "We'll do that. Is there someone at the front desk? Can we check with them after lunch?"

"I'll be there. We'll pick a time and I'll make sure to reserve you a wonderful room."

"Thank you."

Carly nodded, then circled the room, checking to make sure everyone had drinks and seemed happy.

It was already the beginning of August. Only one more month until Labor Day and then the quiet of fall and winter. Based on how the past couple of months had gone, she was ready for a break. But happy. Times had been challenging, yet so much progress had been made.

The inn was doing great. Mich.e.l.le had shared they had just enough money to see them through the quiet months, even with her paying down the mortgages. Most of their guests had already booked a weekend or two over the winter. Leonard's grant had been extended, meaning he would be staying four more months.

Helen was staying, Ellen was facing serious federal charges and Gabby was happy. Carly offered a little prayer of thanksgiving to whoever might be listening. Her life was good and she was grateful.

She seated two pairs of couples and got them their drinks. Working in the restaurant was a lot of fun. The fact that she only had to take a couple of lunch s.h.i.+fts a week kept it interesting rather than work. Okay, on her list of things to be happy about was her job. She couldn't imagine wanting to work anywhere else.

Mich.e.l.le strolled in. "How's it going?"

"Great. We're full, as you can see. The customers are happy and yet another couple is talking about booking after the season. Yay, us."

Mich.e.l.le nodded, but her attention seemed focused on something else.

"What?" Carly asked. "Is there a problem?"

"No. It's just... I've been thinking."

"Does it hurt?" Carly asked automatically, then waited for either the laugh or the rant. Either was fine. In truth, she enjoyed arguing with Mich.e.l.le. They were well matched and honest. Sometimes the honesty was a little painful, but it was always welcome.

"I'm sorry," Mich.e.l.le said abruptly.

Carly stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry our parents left us and I'm sorry I didn't tell what I'd seen. I'm sorry we didn't stay friends, because that was exactly when we needed each other." Her green eyes filled with tears.

Carly blinked against unexpected emotion. "No, it's not your fault. I'm the one who rejected you after my mom left. It's my fault. I blamed you because I couldn't blame my mom. She's the one who did it. Not you. You were a kid. We both were."

"I know. But I slept with Allen. I shouldn't have. I was just so hurt."

"I was a b.i.t.c.h," Carly admitted. "Okay, sure, I was happy someone loved me. Or at least pretended to. But there was a part of me rubbing your nose in it. You had everything-the inn, purpose, Brenda. I know now she wasn't any great prize, but at the time, she was so much better than my dad. I was jealous of you."

"Me?" Mich.e.l.le shook her head. "No. You were so s.e.xy and popular."

"I was pretending to be a s.l.u.t. That's not popular. It's stupid. Regardless, I should have believed in you."

"I should have believed in you, too," Mich.e.l.le told her. "I'm sorry."

One second they were talking, then they were hugging. Carly was aware of everyone in the restaurant listening, of Helen coming out of the kitchen.

"We should charge extra for dinner theater," Carly said, her voice shaky.

Mich.e.l.le laughed, then straightened. "You're my sister. I never got that before this summer. Isn't that weird?"

"I didn't get it, either."

"So we're both idiots?"

Carly laughed and wiped her face. "I guess."

Mich.e.l.le grabbed her hand. "I want you to have half the inn. I want us to own this together. Partners. Then, no matter what, we'll have each other. Because we're family."

The tears came harder now. Carly tried to speak, but couldn't. To own part of the inn-to have something that was truly hers.

"Are you sure? I'd want to earn my way in."

"Don't you think you already have? I trust you, Carly. And I need you."

Carly nodded, then they were hugging again. Around them, people applauded. Mich.e.l.le and Carly hung on to each other as if they would never let go.

Mich.e.l.le and Chance walked out to the end of the dock, where Jared sat. There was a picnic basket beside him. He faced the setting sun, his bare feet dangling toward the water.

She joined him, sitting next to him. Chance sat between them, greeting Jared with enthusiastic whines and kisses.

"Hey, big boy," he said, putting his arm around the dog. He glanced at her. "Hey to you, too."

She smiled and pulled a soda out of the basket. "How was your day?"

"Not as exciting as yours."

She wrinkled her nose. "Tell me you did not hear about what happened in the restaurant."

"The tears, the declarations, the group hug. Oh, yeah. It's all over town."

"I need to move," she grumbled, but was smiling as she spoke. "What about privacy? What about respecting a person's right to have a life?"

"Sorry, kid. You're not going to get that here."

"I know."

Chance stretched out between them. Jared leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.

"You did a good thing," he said. "Giving Carly half the inn."

Mich.e.l.le s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. "She earned it and it's not like I don't need her help." She sighed. "Okay. I wanted to. I love her. I didn't mean to, but how can I help it? She was there for me. You were, too."

Which brought them to a place she didn't want to go.

"You're probably thinking I'm better now. That I should move on so you can open your house to some other vet in need."

She kept her voice light, as if she wouldn't be hurt by whatever he said.

"I do think you should move," he told her, looking at her. "But I was thinking more about down the hall. Into my room."

She clutched the cold can and did her best to process the statement. He was asking her to...

"I'm out of the healing business," he said. "I'm ready for something different." One corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm ready for you, Mich.e.l.le. For us. For what the future brings. Stay with me. You and me and Chance."

She swallowed against a flood of emotion. "I'd like that."

"Good."