Always with you, p.7
Always, With You, page 7
When Kurt released her, Ariel turned to see that Rufus was now on the lawn with three kids—Katie, Peter, and Hannah—and he was in heaven with all the attention. Hannah was scratching his ears, Peter his belly, and Katie was scrunching a spot under his arm that was making one of his back legs pump.
“Hi, offspring,” Charlie said. “I’m home.”
Peter looked up and rolled his eyes. “We know, Mom. How else would Aunt Ariel and Katie be here?”
Peter was eight, bespectacled, and as geeky as they came. Ariel adored how her young nephew could rattle off comic book facts and video game lore in an encyclopedic way, but that wasn’t always something his total opposite, sporty (and beleaguered), older sister appreciated. And, apparently, the whole kid-put-upon-by-parent attitude was a thing here too.
Ariel chuckled. “So, it’s not just me that gets the eyerolls.”
“It’s sweeping the nation, I guess,” Charlie said, sighing. “Kurt, can you get the bags?”
“On it.”
As Kurt went to the van to retrieve their luggage, Ariel went inside with Charlie and the kids.
Hannah slid up beside Ariel and gave her a big side hug. “Aunt Ariel, will you come to the stables and see me ride horses this week?”
“Oh, maybe, honey.” Ariel looked down at Hannah, who at twelve, looked so much like a young Charlie that it was eerie. Where Peter had Kurt’s fair skin and features, Hannah was every bit Charlie’s olive tone and the big, dark eyes that were the trademark of both Charlie and Ariel. “It depends on the house, okay?”
“Yay! Okay!” Hannah turned to Katie and Peter. “You guys want to go watch TV?”
Katie, Hannah, and Peter immediately zoomed off with Rufus upstairs, happily chattering and leaving a trail of shoes and coats behind them on the staircase.
As Ariel walked into Charlene's living room, she was immediately struck by the cozy, welcoming atmosphere of the space. The room was decorated in a coastal bungalow style, with honey-colored wood paneling and white-washed walls. The open concept layout allowed the kitchen to flow seamlessly into the family room, where a large sectional couch faced a TV. The smell of soup simmering on the stove added to the homey feel of the room. Soft blankets were draped over the back of the couch, inviting anyone to curl up and relax. The room was not overly large, but it felt just the right size—not too cramped and not too spacious. It was a perfect space to spend a relaxing evening with friends and family.
Charlie, who had hung her coat up by the front door and hustled into the kitchen, lifted the lid on the large pot that sat on the stove and called to Ariel, “Take your jacket off! Sit!”
Kurt bustled in the front door, dropping the bags by the coat rack and taking off his boots. As Ariel shrugged off her coat, he stepped over to take it from her and hang it up.
“Heard we were getting a hard freeze tonight,” he said. “We might not be out at the jobsite in the morning. If so, I can go out and look at the heat at Leeside.”
“Leeside!” Ariel laughed, surprised by the old moniker. “I haven’t heard that name for the place since my dad was around.”
"Leeside at the Seaside,” Charlene sing-songed, just like Dad used to. “Oh my goodness, that house is a disaster," Charlene exclaimed, stirring the pot—in more ways than one, as far as Ariel was concerned. "It's going to take a lot of work to get it up to livable standards."
Kurt nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's definitely a fixer upper. I mean, it was a fixer upper five years ago. Ten years ago."
Ariel sighed as she sunk into the soft, cozy sectional. "I know, but I'm dead set on making it work. I will turn it into a bed and breakfast. And I will cook there, just like I used to, when I was happy and fulfilled and not forced to put up with the likes of a spoiled, nepotism baby of a CEO."
She didn’t miss when Charlene and Kurt exchanged worried glances. Kurt plopped down on the sectional diagonal from Ariel. "You should know that the mayor is buying up land to build a high-end spa resort on the other side of town," he said. "He's been pushing out small business owners like you intend to be."
"Yep. I heard that from Miles Clemens at the marina," Ariel said. “Almost verbatim. Still doesn’t faze me.” A thought struck Ariel. “Oh, hey. Richard Holcomb, did you ask him what he called me about?”
Charlie raised her ladle and waved it. “Yes! Perfect timing. How funny you ask now. He was contacted with an offer on Leeside, an offer to buy it out for the very same development project that we’re discussing.”
Ariel felt her eyes widen. “He wants to buy it?”
“A third party, probably Stanton or his associates. But I turned him down—you wanted the house.”
“Oh. Well, was it a lot of money?” Not that she would sell, but she was curious.
Charlene nodded as she started ladling soup into bowls across the kitchen counter. "It was not a small amount. You can look at the offer if you want. But it you’re forging ahead with the renovation, then the mayor is going to put up a fight against your bed and breakfast. He wants to turn Endless Harbor into a tourist destination for the wealthy only."
Charlene added, "And the town is pretty worried about what that spa resort will do to the small-town charm of Endless Harbor. I mean, progress is nice, but who wants the Throwback Diner replaced by two cookie-cutter coffee shops at opposite corners of the same intersection? But the townsfolk never have a say in the matter. We’ll see what happens."
A knot formed in Ariel’s stomach. "What can I do then? I can't just give up on my dream. I’m committed. Or maybe I should be."
"You'll need to take up the fight at City Hall," Kurt suggested. "Go there first thing on Monday morning and make your case. The issue is that feet are dragging on operating licenses and such. You might have luck on the building permits getting approved. They don’t much care if you improve the house, I suspect. But the second you start letting it out that you intend to run the place as an inn, you’ll be on Richard Stanton’s radar."
Ariel nodded determinedly. "So, Stanton is the new mayor? The villain of the piece? I will go visit City Hall. Is there somewhere I can look to start interviewing contractors to help me with the house? Kurt, do you have any spare guys?"
But Kurt shook his head. "I'm sorry Ariel, but my crew is tied up for the next three months on an apartment complex job in the next county. And as for solo handymen, every tradesman in the area has already been hired by the mayor to work on his resort. You're going to have a hard time finding someone to help you."
Ariel lifted her chin. "Then I'll handle it myself."
Another worried look passed between her sister and brother-in-law as Charlene began to bring dinner to the long, eat-in counter that made up the near side of the kitchen island.
“Let’s worry about it tomorrow,” Charlene said. “Did you guys eat?”
“We did, but—” Ariel looked down at the steaming bowl of tomato soup, just what she had planned to eat for breakfast the next morning. It seemed even better now. A plate with a perfectly toasted, buttery grilled cheese slid next to her bowl. “This looks so, so good.”
Ariel dug in as Charlie called upstairs to let the kids know that food was ready. Her thoughts were already spinning toward tomorrow. She hoped that worrying would turn into solving, and that she would find Mayor Stanton less of an adversary than he was rumored to be.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ariel was ready to take on her opponent.
A hot, hearty dinner, followed by a good night’s sleep, topped off with a luscious breakfast of maple oatmeal and sausages did Ariel and Katie a world of good. In fact, Ariel was surprised to see Katie actually bouncing as she came down the stairs to breakfast.
Now, they were bundled back up and off to the hardware store again. When Ariel and Katie walked into the quaint, cluttered shop, the owner, Bob, the kind-looking older man with a thick, gray beard who had helped them the night before, recognized them immediately from their visit the previous evening.
"Ah, you're the ones with the broken boiler, right?" he said with a smile. "I hope that space heater kept you warm last night. How are things at the old Victorian?"
Ariel explained that they were making progress, but they were still having trouble with the boiler. “I’m sure the heater works great—thank you so much," Ariel said. "But we ended up crashing at my sister’s, so we'll bring it back tomorrow, if that’s okay. We’re just here to grab some supplies to fix up the house."
Ariel looked at the list that Kurt had given her. When she frowned at the list, the owner laughed and held out his hand. “Hand it here.”
She handed the paper over, and he seemed to know exactly what the list meant.
As Bob gathered her materials, moving from aisle to aisle with Ariel and Katie following, his expression turned serious. He asked, "Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into? The mayor's got big plans for this town, and I'm not sure it'll be easy to compete."
"What kind of plans?" Ariel asked, her curiosity piqued. Of course, she’d heard from both Miles and Kurt about the resort, but maybe there was a detail that Bob had that the others hadn’t. She knew playing dumb wasn’t entirely her strong suit, but maybe this fellow had information that she could use to her advantage.
"Oh, he's caused quite the stir in the community. Some folks are excited for the potential boost to tourism that all his proposed developments would bring, but others worry it'll change things too much. In fact, there’s a small rebel faction out there who are trying their best to get up opposition to the whole deal.”
That’s new information, Ariel thought.
“You’re out at Leeside, right? Lee Briggs was your daddy?"
Ariel felt queasy as he said was your daddy, as though her father were dead. "He is my father, yes,” she said. She could feel Katie watching her, watching the exchange. “And thank you for the warning," she said with a determined smile. "But I'm not going to give up that easily."
Bob studied her for a moment, perhaps expecting that she was going to say more. Ariel just lifted her chin and stayed silent.
Mr. Jenkins gave her an encouraging smile. "I have no doubt you'll make it work. And if you need any more help or advice, don't hesitate to come back and ask."
They followed Bob to the front, where he rang them up and passed over a large paper bag weighed down with supplies. Ariel rolled down the top and stashed it in the oversized canvas bag she had brought just for that purpose. With another thanks for the loan of the heater, Ariel and Katie left the shop.
The queasiness intensified. She had worked so hard to put her broken heart behind her and start anew, but now it seemed like her dreams of a successful B&B were going to be thwarted by the mayor's plan. But she was determined to make it work.
As they took their supplies and headed back to the house, Ariel thought about her father, her chest tightening. One day, he was talking to her about revamping the greenhouse in the backyard of Leeside. The next, he was gone from their lives—his old sedan gone, his credit cards and every other trace of him inactive for the years since.
She pushed the pain away, mulling over in her head instead what Bob had said—there was a rebel faction in Endless Harbor? If so, how did she find them?
***
Ariel had never been the handy one in her family. When something broke in her old house, she was always the first to volunteer to call a repair service to fix it. So, when the lock on one of the doors in her father's old house wouldn't turn, Ariel felt less than confident that she could handle it. But now, bag full of spray lubricant and rubber mallet and whatever else Kurt had asked her to get for the boiler, Ariel was armed and ready to try, at least.
She dug through the toolbox she had found in the basement—a scary trip that had involved flashbacks to the racoon attack—pulling out a screwdriver, a hammer, and a set of pliers. The lock was old and rusted, but Ariel was determined to get it working again.
The living room of the old Victorian house was dimly lit, with tall bay windows on either side of the room letting in streams of sunlight. The walls were in sore need of a fresh coat of paint, with ornate crown molding and baseboards that Ariel knew would stand out in a crisp white. The hardwood flooring was worn but still gleamed with a hint of its former grandeur. A fireplace with a marble mantel dominated one wall, with a large painting of a countryside scene hanging above it. A set of French doors led to a small porch overlooking the garden. The furniture was a mix of antique and modern pieces, with a plush velvet couch and armchairs in shades of deep purple and navy, right alongside the old recliner that her dad had loved. Ariel didn’t have the heart to take that old recliner out. A large bookshelf filled with an eclectic collection of books and trinkets stood in one corner, and an upright piano sat in another. The room had a musty, old-world charm that was both inviting and slightly eerie at the same time.
She undid the screws holding the lock in place, pried the hardware off the door, and set to work, carefully removing the rusted pins and cleaning them up. She replaced them with new ones she had picked up at the hardware store earlier that day and reassembled the lock, giving it a good test turn to make sure it was working properly before she attempted to put it back on the door.
Feeling proud of her accomplishment, Ariel hung the lock back on the door and stepped back to admire her handiwork. But as soon as she let go of the door, it fell off its hinges with a loud crash. Ariel jumped back to avoid being hit by the door, and her heart sank as she looked at the door, now lying flat on the ground. She could see where the ancient wood of the door frame had splintered, causing the hinges to give way.
This whole place felt ready to crash down around her ears.
"I can't believe it," Ariel muttered to herself, feeling a wave of frustration and disappointment wash over her. "I should have known better. This house is falling apart!”
“I told you!”
Ariel spun at the sound of her sister’s voice. Charlie stood in the open front door, the handle of a wheeled cooler in her hand.
“You eavesdropped too soon,” Ariel said, sputtering. “I was about to say good thing I have the patience to fix it all."
Charlie grinned. “Well, how about a break, oh saintly sister of mine, for a sandwich and some potato salad?”
Ariel was actually famished. She picked up the door and leaned it against the nearby wall, trying to figure out how to fix it. But it was clear that it was beyond her capabilities. She wouldn’t admit that to Charlie, though. She’d just search up a DIY video later on and learn what she needed to do—after her sister left. As soon as she made her plan, though, Ariel felt a twinge of guilt. Charlie hadn’t been unreasonably mean-spirited about Leeside—it was a hot mess. It was really Ariel’s pride that kept her from agreeing with her sister’s correct assessment of the old place.
“Food sounds so good. Your husband is down in the racoon maze of doom getting the electricity and heating working. Should we throw down a sandwich? I’m afraid the racoons will eat it. If they haven’t already had their fill eating him.”
“I texted him that I was here. Nothing like the siren call of turkey and provolone to pry him away from the intriguing puzzle of the malfunctioning boiler. He said the electric is just a busted breaker. Should be easy to fix with this.” Charlie held up a paper bag from Bob’s hardware shop. “New one.”
As soon as Charlie said it, Kurt came tromping up the basement stairs. Ariel could hear his heavy boots against the worn treads. Momentarily, his head popped through the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “Turkey?”
Charlene had already started to unpack lunch onto the coffee table in the living room. She put out two wrapped sandwiches, one on top of the other, and pointed to them. Then she pointed to the paper bag. “Turkey there, breaker there.” Kurt happily followed her directions to the stack.
Ariel took the next offered sandwich from Charlie, and Charlie set out a big, plastic bowl of potato salad and a stack of paper plates next to Kurt’s sandwiches. Katie, perhaps hearing the same siren song that Kurt had, came down the stairs with a bundle of old curtains in her arms, dust flying off the stack with every careful step that she took down the stairs. When she made it down to the living room, she dropped the bundle unceremoniously and then sneezed three times in a row.
“Eek,” Ariel said. “I think I saw brains fly out on that last one.”
Katie rubbed at her nose and swiped at her watering eyes. “It’s okay. The racoons eat brains. They’ll clean it up.” Then she bounded toward her aunt, who held a sandwich out to her.
After they were all settled with food, Charlie asked Kurt, “So, what’s the diagnosis on the old heat bucket in the dungeon?”
Kurt chewed, swallowed, and said, “It was the racoons. There’s a nest down there. Three babies.”
Katie shrieked with delight. Charlene’s mouth fell open. Ariel almost dropped her sandwich. “You have got to be kidding me. We were down there. We saw nothing!”
Kurt shrugged. “They’re inside the boiler. The whole back panel is off and looks like it has been for many years. Wasn’t hard for mama to get in. She probably came through the house, to be honest. Lots of gaps up top that would get her into the attic, and from there, it’s just a matter of finding the holes that lead down. You’re missing heat register vents on both floors, so …”
“That’s why the mama raccoon was so aggressive to us,” Katie observed. “She thought we would hurt her babies.”
“Well, we gotta evict them,” Ariel said. “Right? We can’t fix the boiler with live baby racoons in there.”
Katie whined, and Charlie reached over and patted her. “Honey, we’ll call the local wildlife rescue. They’ll take good care of them.” Charlie took the last bite of her sandwich, dug her phone out of her pocket, and stood. She started tapping the screen and then wandered out to the porch as soon as a cheery, muffled voice answered.
