Checking Inn (18 page)

The next thing I know, I am being taken to the police station.  Hours later, after answering the same questions over and over again, I am told by Detective Rice that I’m free to go home.  I haven’t seen Ben since he went with the team upstairs at the Inn, and as I exit with my mother I notice he isn’t around anywhere.

And to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure I want to see him right now.  I mean, I did solve his case for him and I nearly got killed for it!  And what thanks do I get?  None.  He has the audacity to yell at me after all I did for him today. 

I don’t think he appreciates that this wasn’t a walk in the park for me.

Honestly, you nearly sleep with someone because you’re drunk, and he happens to tell you that you’re the  most beautiful thing he has ever seen… and what… that gives him the right to tell you what to do? 

The least he could have done was say thank you.

As I sit in the passenger seat of my mother’s car I realize that this is the end.  Samantha’s murder is solved.

So, why don’t I feel happy?

Sixteen

This whole thing is ridiculous.  I’m never listening to my mother again.  She’s been nagging me to come here for the last two weeks, and though it is what I want to do, my fear keeps arguing with her. 

I stand in the front section of the police station, my eyes anxiously darting around to all the busy faces.  No one looks up from their desk.

Honestly, what if this was a real emergency?  They really should have a reception desk with a bell.  I wonder if there is a suggestion box around here somewhere.

“Need help with something?” A woman looks up at me from her desk.

“I– umm– I’m looking for Be– er– Detective Gable,” I say, and awkwardly move my weight from one foot to the other.

“Ben!” she yells at the top of her lungs.

My face goes red as head after head looks up from their desks.

“Oh, okay.  Thanks,” I say as she looks back at me and smiles before continuing her work.

I look up and see Ben weaving through the desks, his eyes never leaving my face.  His sandy hair is messy, as always, and his shirt looks like he has slept it in all week.  His face is a blank mask.

“Er– Hi,” I say and hold out the box in my hands.  “This is for you.”

He takes the box and lifts the lid.  “Donuts?”

“My mom said you would like them,” I try to control the blush spreading along my cheeks.  “I wanted to get you an agenda.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Ben says, turning around to put the box down on someone’s desk.

“I wanted to say thank you,” I say.  “For everything you did for me.”

“It’s my job,” he says, and I tell my heart not to be disappointed at his words.

“Well, I still appreciate it,” I say.  I look around the station, and although no one is looking in our direction, I still feel like I am being watched.  “Could we… umm… could I talk to you?  Somewhere a little more private?” 

He raises his eyebrow but doesn’t object.  He leads me into one of the rooms off the main entry. 

The room has a single table in the center with a chair on each side.  Neither of us makes a move to sit down, so I take a deep breath and turn to face him.

“Listen, I just didn’t want things to end the way they did between us.  I… umm… I didn’t want you to think that just because I went behind your back, I don’t trust you.”

He doesn’t say anything so I keep talking.

“I do trust you,” I say, just in case he didn’t get that bit.

He nods his head.  “Okay.”

I clench my teeth slightly but then tell myself to relax.  I mean, I didn’t expect him to make this easy.

“I just wanted you to know that I know you stuck your neck out for me for the past few weeks, and I should have come to you with my suspicions.”

He stares at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.  He’s being annoyingly relaxed.  And after I brought him donuts!

“Is that all?” he finally asks.

My temper flares at his flippant tone. 

“No!  I came here to say thank you, and I’m not even sure why I bothered,” I put my hands on my hips. 

“Well, you’ve said thank you already,” he points out.

“I also came to ask you if you would like to– I mean, if you’re not busy sometime–” I say, but I just can’t manage to get the words out.  If he wasn’t being such a jerk…

He continues to stare at me, watching my agitated movements.

“I don’t even know why I bothered though!  I made a very thorough pros and cons list, and the results weren’t good,” I say, throwing my arms in the air.  “It would never work out between the two of us.  You’re messy, disorganized, your hair is all over the place, you never iron your shirts, and it drives me nuts when you touch my business cards.”

I look down after my angry outburst and take a deep breath before looking into his eyes.  “But I like you.  You drive me crazy, but I like you.  And I wanted to know if you were free sometime, maybe you would like to go out with me.”

He studies my agitated movements and I try and stop my eye from twitching.  Which is completely his fault, if he hadn’t got me so worked up…

When he finally opens his mouth, the door opens and Detective Rice pops his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the Captain wants to see you right now Ben.  He’s pissed off about the Capley case.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding, and turns back to me.

“It’s okay,” I say, moving my purse higher onto my shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

I give Detective Rice a forced smile as I walk past him, back into the main office area.  The lid on the box of donuts is open and there isn’t a pastry left inside. 

Mom was right again.

I really don’t feel like going to the Inn, but I promised Mom I would stop by today after I went to the police station.  She said she had exciting news and needed to talk to me, but I know she just wants to check up on me and see if things worked out between Ben and me.

I pull into the parking lot and look at my Inn.  It’s been over two weeks since the incident and I haven’t stepped inside since.

I haven’t been avoiding it. 

I just needed time to, you know, come to terms with everything.  Though I’m not sure I’ve really come to terms with anything yet, which is why coming here is a really bad idea.

Mom has been looking after everything for me, though there really isn’t anything to look after.  We haven’t had one guest check in for the last two weeks, and as far as I know, no one has booked for the upcoming holidays either.

Yet, I reassure myself.

It’s not over until it’s over.

And I refuse to believe it’s over.

I have come up with some great ideas over the past few weeks while I’ve been at home, and I think I might be on to something.

So far I’ve got:

1.
     
 Hire Martha Stewart to come and stay at the Inn, give a great endorsement, and be swamped with all the new reservations.

2.
     
 Hire Simon Cowell (I would even settle for Demi Lovato at this point) to come and stay at the Inn, give a great endorsement, and be swamped with all the new reservations.

3.
     
 Hire Meryl Streep (This is really my number one choice, but I have not been properly assured by my mother that she will act appropriately and not stalk poor Meryl) to come and stay at the Inn, give a great endorsement, and be swamped with all the new reservations.

I feel I have a solid plan.  Now all I have to do is get someone to return my phone calls, which honestly I blame on the lack of coordination in the entertainment industry.  When I questioned Meryl’s assistant if she really had written down my number, she hung up on me.   

I gather my bag and walk to the front doorway of the Inn.  It looks just as beautiful as it did the day we opened; my mom has even put our holiday wreath up, and strung the twinkle lights on the trees outside.

My heart sinks, but I shake off the feeling.  Whatever it takes, I am going to save our Inn.

I open the front door, hear the familiar jingle of the welcoming bell, and see my mom and Tracy behind the reception desk.

The guest book is sitting on the hall table, the reception desk is gleaming, and my business cards are sitting straight.  I breathe in the smell of apples and cinnamon, and feel I am home.

“Honey!  You’re finally here.  We’ve been waiting for you,” Mom says and shoots Tracy a sly smile.

“Well, I’m here,” I say.  “What’s the big news?”

“Well–” my mother starts.

“Your mother has done it!”  Tracy squeals with excitement.  “The Inn is saved!”

“What?” I look at my mother.

“That was my line,” she frowns at Tracy.

“Tell her, then,” Tracy says, gesturing her arms towards me.

“Well, I know you have been saying we need a good endorsement to fight the bad publicity,” my mother says.

“And she got it!” Tracy blurts out then immediately covers her mouth.

“You did it again!” my mother says to her.

“Sorry,” she shrugs guiltily, but looks too pleased with the events.

“You got Meryl Streep?” I say in disbelief, dropping my bag to the ground.

“No,” my mother says regretfully. “Though her assistant did promise that I will be Meryl’s first call when she gets back from Vale… wonderful woman.”

“So, who did you get, then?”

“I got–”

“Oh, you’re going to be so excited!” Tracy cries.

“Are you telling the story, or am I?” My mom turns to her with her hands on her hips.

“Okay, okay,” Tracy says, “you tell her.”

“Someone tell me!” I say, throwing up my arms.

“I got–” my mother turns to Tracy to makes sure she isn’t going to interrupt her before she turns back to me, her face animated, “Dr. Chural.”

They both look at me with huge smiles on their faces, waiting for my reaction.

“
Who?
”

My mother shakes her head.  “Dr. Chural! Honestly Kate…”

“Should I know who that is?” I ask.  I’m not very up on the latest celebrity gossip.  I haven’t been able to bring myself to read magazines since Brad and Jen broke up.  I know it’s old news, but it still hurts.

“Dr. Chural is only one of the leading plastic surgeons in New York City,” Tracy says, clasping her hands together.

“What does that have to do with the Inn?” I ask.  Obviously I have missed something, because the way Tracy and my mother are acting you would think they’d got Meryl.  And don’t get me wrong, I’m desperate at this point, so I will take doctor whoever if he is willing to come. 

But, I did have my heart set on Meryl.

“He’s going to endorse our Botox treatment program!” My mother says.

“Our 
what?”

“
Our Botox treatment program,” she says.  “I told you about it a few weeks ago.”

“And I said I would think about it,” I say, looking from her to Tracy.

“Well, you thought about it and you never said no, so I figured that was a yes,” she says.

“That’s not what it means,” I say.  Honestly, my mother can be exasperating.  “Where would we even do it?  We only have one room in the spa.”

Tracy and my mother look at each other again but they don’t seem as enthusiastic as before.

“What?” I ask.

“Well, we… umm… expanded a little,” my mom says.

“You what?”

“We expanded,” she says.  “We converted the boarded up rooms into four treatment rooms, a sauna and expanded the main entryway in the spa to accommodate the manicure and pedicure stations.”

My eyes go wide.  “You 
did
 the renovation, or you 
plan
 on doing the renovation?”

“We… umm… we did it,” my mother says.  “Tracy agreed with me.”

Tracy opens her mouth to protest, but my mother shoots her a look.

“Where did you get the money from?” I ask, trying to control my temper.

“We got all that money from the insurance company,” Mom says, her tone getting a little lighter.  “So really, it’s like the renovation was free.”

Thank god my mother isn’t in charge of doing our accounting.

“Mom, it doesn’t work like that!  I was planning on using that money until we figure out some way of getting new reservations.”

“Well, I already told you how we are going to get the reservations,” she says as though I’m not following.

“Mom, we live in Summerside.  People here won’t get Botox, and even if they would they would never admit to it!  Mrs. Phelps was nearly ostracized last year when she was caught using pesticides on her lawn!”

It’s true.  The poor woman nearly had to move.  It probably didn’t help that her neighbor’s dog ate her flowers and nearly died.

“Yes, I don’t suppose people that live here would come in for Botox,” my mother admits.

“This is exactly why I have a suggestion box!  You haven’t thought this through properly and you’ve already done all the renovations.”

Oh God, I need to sit down.

“Katherine Foster, you never have any faith in me!” my mother accuses.

Okay, maybe that statement is slightly true.  But she obviously doesn’t see that right now might not be the best time to bring up this argument.

“Okay, it’s going to be okay,” I say, bringing my hand to my forehead.  “You didn’t use all the money, right?”

My mom and Tracy exchange guilty looks.

“
Right?
” I repeat.

“Of course not,” Tracy says, looking at my mom.  “There’s some money left, right Tara?”

“Yes, definitely.” My mom doesn’t make eye contact with me.

“How much?”

“Oh… I don’t know the 
exact
 amount… We had to pay extra to have it done so quickly…”

“
How much
?”

“Twenty-five dollars,” she admits.  “But I just ordered some new magnetic nail polishes so I actually need five dollars out of petty cash to cover the shipping.”