The Inn at Angel Island

Chapter Twelve

DANIEL started working on the roof very early the next morning. Liza heard heavy footsteps pass her bedroom door, then tramp up the next flight toward the attic. Hammering soon followed, making it impossible to get back to sleep. With a sigh, she got out of bed and quickly dressed.

Down in the kitchen, Peter and Will had already eaten breakfast and looked ready to start their workday.

“Daniel wants us to help his man with the exterior house painting today,” Peter said. “He’s concerned about falling behind schedule.”

Liza thought Daniel was probably concerned about having Peter and Will up in the tiny attic again, breathing down his neck as he hurried to fix the roof. But his diplomatic solution seemed to solve two problems at once.

“I’ll come outside and paint, too,” Liza offered. “It’s a perfect day. We can get a lot done.”

“My thought exactly.” Peter took one last sip of his coffee and left the mug in the sink. He seemed in a better mood today.

Liza quickly downed some yogurt and a mug of coffee, then took out her BlackBerry. She had woken up certain that she wanted to stay on the island a week more, or even longer. Now she needed to tell Eve she wasn’t coming back on Monday.

But when she called the office, she got bounced to Eve’s voice mail. Though she would have preferred to tell Eve directly, she decided to leave a message. “Hi, Eve, it’s Liza. We’ve had some set-backs here. A branch went through the roof during a storm, and we need to make a lot of repairs. Everything is taking longer than I expected, actually. So I do need to take some more time here. A week at least. Possibly more. You can call me if you’d like, or I’ll try you again on Monday.”

Liza ended the call and put her phone away. She had been anxious about asking for more time. But after the call she felt relieved, certain that it was the right decision.

She stepped through the back door and was greeted by the warm sunshine. The day was clear and very mild. Spring had arrived. She could actually smell it in the sweet air and damp, earthy scent of the garden. Even the sunlight seemed brighter and stronger.

She found Peter and Will at the side of the house, choosing from a selection of paints and brushes spread out on a canvas. A man from Daniel’s crew had started to spray a coat of paint on the building with a special machine.

“Let’s put you to work,” Peter greeted her cheerfully, talking above the noise.

“We need to follow with the brushes, Dad. Before it dries.” Will, holding a thick brush and a bucket of ivory paint, walked toward the clapboard.

“Hold your horses. Just wait until I show you,” Peter said firmly.

“Daniel showed me the other day,” Will insisted. “It’s not exactly brain surgery.”

Peter reached out and took Will’s brush away. “I asked you to wait. Now just calm down.”

Will scowled and stomped off into the house, slamming the door behind him.

“That went well,” Liza observed. Her brother arched an eyebrow at her. “We’re not restoring the Sistine Chapel, Peter. Let him paint with you.”

“I want him to paint. But there’s a right way to do this, Liza. You don’t want the house to look like a big mess when we show it, do you?”

“Of course not,” she replied. Though she thought Will had been painting pretty well so far. Maybe even better than Peter, who was so painfully slow and meticulous, he could have been doing brain surgery.

“I was working on the porch before the rainstorm. I’ll just keep going on it,” Liza told her brother. She was happy to have that territory staked out for herself. She didn’t need to be back here, in the middle of Peter and Will all day.

With a paint can in one hand and brushes and a tray in the other, she marched off toward the front of the house.

If you ran an inn, this is what you would be doing most of the time, she reminded herself, painting and repairing. You couldn’t call Daniel for every little thing.

Though she’d definitely want to.

Liza set her equipment on the porch, climbed halfway up the ladder, and started to paint the window trim in the bright sea green her aunt and uncle had used. She had always loved this color; it seemed so much a part of the island and the inn.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted. Eve might not like it, but Liza was glad she had asked for more time off. It hurt all over again to think about how she had been pushed aside. So much had been going on the past few days, she had been distracted. Now it all came rushing back. She felt so awful about the situation that she hadn’t checked her e-mails or messages in two days. That was saying something.

Maybe once more time had passed, she would see things differently. But right now there didn’t seem anything left for her at the agency. It was hard to imagine returning to her job. In two more weeks. Or ever…

“Whoa there, lady… You don’t need to paint the windows. I don’t think the customer would like that.”

Liza turned suddenly at the sound of Daniel’s voice-and smacked him on the side of the head with her paint tray.

“Daniel! For goodness’ sake… I’m so sorry…” She hustled down the ladder, sloshing green paint off the tray in all directions, drips falling on both of them. He stepped back, then sat down on the top of the porch steps, holding the side of his head with his hand.

“It’s all right. I have a hard head, but you are dangerous. Don’t even look at the electric saw.”

He was right. She was dangerous with a paintbrush. Around him anyway. She took a step closer and tried not to laugh.

“Let me see your head. Take your hand away. Is there a bump?”

When he wouldn’t cooperate, she reached out and moved his hand with her own. His hand was wide and calloused, covered with sawdust and now some paint. Which was also on his face and in his hair.

“I’m so sorry. Let me wipe that off your head at least.”

Before he could answer, she grabbed a clean wet rag she had stashed in her back pocket and gently wiped the smear of paint from his skin and hair. He sat very still, tilting his head toward her.

It felt odd touching him so personally, despite the fact that he had kissed her. This was different somehow. She felt as if she were taking care of him.

“I see something, a little red spot where the tray nicked you.” She reached out with her fingertips and felt a small bump on his forehead near his hairline. Her fingers yearned to touch his thick dark hair again, but she quickly drew her hand back.

He stared up at her, and she forgot what she wanted to say.

“I’ll go inside… and get some ice,” she finally managed.

“That’s okay. I’ll be fine. Sit down. Take a break. Talk to me a little.”

He reached out and took hold of her wrist, tugging her down to sit on the step next to him.

Liza sat and stared straight ahead. He was very close, though they weren’t quite touching.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again. “Head injuries can be tricky. You don’t have a headache or anything?”

He laughed. “It was a paint tray, Liza, not a bowling ball.” He turned to look at her. “I guess I would have to wear some protective headgear, though, if we ever go bowling.”

Was he thinking of asking her out on a date? She hated bowling. But she would put up with the hardship if necessary.

“How’s the roof coming along?” She half dreaded hearing his answer, knowing fast progress meant less time to work on Peter.

“The hole is nearly patched. We still have to do the shingles. Fran can bring lookers around, I guess.”

“All right. I’ll tell her that if she calls.”

He studied her with a curious expression. “You don’t want to call her?”

Liza shrugged. “I’m busy now. Maybe later.”

“Your brother would call her in a heartbeat,” Daniel pointed out.

“Yes, he probably would.”

“Have you talked to him at all about your doubts?”

She looked away, wondering if she should confide in him.

It felt a bit disloyal to Peter. This was their private business, family business. But for some reason, she wanted to tell Daniel what was going on.

“We talked about it last night. I asked him to just slow down and try to consider the possibilities-keeping the place and having someone run it for us. Or letting me stay.”

“Some good ideas. Especially the second idea,” he said quietly. “What did he say?”

She turned to him, surprised to find that his face was so close to her own. Their shoulders were practically brushing. Had he moved closer at some point? Had she moved closer to him without realizing it?

“He said he would think about it. But I think he was just placating me. He still seems very intent on our original plan.” She swallowed hard and looked back at the ocean in the distance. “I just want to look at all the options and not rush into anything.”

Daniel nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Not according to Peter. He’s annoyed at me for changing my mind. He thinks I’m just being emotional, overwhelmed by everything. And who knows, he may be right. Maybe it is just pie in the sky to even consider it. This place needs a ton of work that will cost a ton of money-doesn’t it?”

Daniel considered the question a moment. “The place needs work, no question. But you could do the basics first, then manage the rest over time. Your aunt didn’t rent out all the rooms, you know. She just had a few on the ocean side ready for guests and the one large bathroom on the second floor. Renovating a big house like this is usually done in stages.”

“That makes sense.” Some of the rooms were in much better condition than others, and it wouldn’t take much to bring them up to quality standards. But there were certainly other concerns, beyond wallpaper and new curtains.

“What about the plumbing and electricity and the furnace? All the stuff you can’t see-and that I don’t know anything about?”

“Your aunt kept up with those repairs. You might need a new water heater and a new roof in a year or two. And new windows and insulation would save a lot of money on heating bills in the winter.”

He had told her that before. They were all important, costly changes, but there was nothing that was a big emergency.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Peter came around the corner of the house.

Liza suddenly stood up, feeling guilty, though she wasn’t sure why. “I was just taking a break with Daniel. I hit him in the head with the paint tray,” she explained.

“No major damage,” Daniel added. “But you should watch out for her.”

Was Daniel going to tell Peter that they’d been talking about the inn? She glanced at him. No, he wasn’t.

Peter still looked at them curiously. Did he suspect something? He probably just thought they were flirting, Liza decided. Which was partly true.

“How’s the porch coming, Liza?” Peter asked.

“Slowly but surely,” Liza said. “That’s more or less my painting style.”

“Slowly but deadly, more like,” Daniel murmured, making her smile.

“Where’s Will?” she asked Peter.

“Still sulking in the house. He’s probably on his computer.”

“Maybe I can lure him downstairs with some lunch,” Liza suggested. “I’m about ready to go in for a bite.”

“Me, too,” Peter quickly agreed. He said good-bye to Daniel and headed through the front door.

Liza lingered a moment with Daniel. “Would you like to have lunch with us?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then he shook his head. “Thanks. I’m okay. I’d better get back to the roof. I’ll see you later.” He started down the steps and headed to his truck.

Liza watched him a moment before going into the house. It was probably better that he didn’t take a break with them, she decided. Peter might initiate some conversation about selling the inn and realize that she had turned to Daniel for advice.

No telling what might happen then.

THEY finished painting a little before five o’clock. Liza felt bone tired but forced herself to rally. They had promised Will a trip into Cape Light tonight, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

She took a quick shower and dressed in clean jeans and a plum V-neck sweater. She had a feeling that they would end up at the Clam Box for dinner, so there was no need to dress up.

There was never any need to dress up out here, Liza realized. Over the past two weeks, she had grown accustomed to not giving a thought to how she looked. It was a relief after life in the city, where she strategized every outfit, especially if she had a big meeting or was giving a presentation to a client.

She had never even realized how much time and money she wasted working on her image-always needing the right clothes, shoes, briefcase, handbag-not to mention the time she spent clothes shopping and at the gym and the hairstylist and getting facials and manicures. Personal maintenance was nearly a second job. It was so different out here. She glanced at her nails-a few were broken, the polish was chipped, all evidence that they had ever been manicured was gone. And that was fine. She needed so much less to get by.

She met Will and Peter down in the parlor, and they soon piled into Liza’s SUV and set off for the village. It was not quite six o’clock, and the sun was setting quickly. Will had never driven over the land bridge late in the day and found that part of the outing a big adventure.

“It’s like the road is practically floating on the water,” he said, staring out his window. “And the sky looks really neat, too. You should take some pictures, Dad,” he told Peter.

Peter seemed surprised by the suggestion but also pleased.

“I think this would make a great photo, Will. Why don’t you try it?”

Ever since they were kids, Peter had rarely left the house without some kind of camera. So Liza wasn’t surprised to see him take a small silver point-and-shoot out of his jacket pocket and hand it back to his son.

“I really can’t stop the car here, Will. There’s not much of a shoulder,” Liza told her nephew.

“That’s okay. I’ll just open the window. It might look more interesting with stuff blurred,” he added.

Peter glanced at Liza and smiled. She could see he was pleased at his son’s growing interest in photography, and Liza was pleased about it, too. It might create a new bond for them, something to help smooth over the rough patches.

Will found more interesting sights to photograph in the village. They walked down to the harbor and village green. Will ran out on the dock to take pictures. Peter and Liza stayed on the green, giving him some small measure of independence.

Liza noticed the old stone church. “I met up with Reverend Ben on the beach one day before you came,” she told Peter. “We had a good talk.”

“Really? What did you talk about?”

“About Aunt Elizabeth mostly.” Liza paused. It was still hard to talk about her aunt, even to Peter. “I asked him how it was with her, toward the end. I felt so bad that I never came out to visit last winter.”

Peter’s expression grew thoughtful. She sensed he felt the same way, but he lived so far away, he had a better excuse. “What did Reverend Ben say?”

“That she was always very positive and peaceful. She was satisfied with her life, the choices she made. And that she had great faith,” Liza added.

“We should all be so lucky, eh?”

Liza glanced at him and nodded. She did agree her aunt was fortunate, but she also knew it wasn’t a matter of luck. It was more a matter of Aunt Elizabeth knowing what she needed to make herself happy and sticking to her principles.

Will ran back to them, looking excited. “I think I got some really good shots of the harbor. Those big chunks of ice that are partly melted and the reflection of the water and the sunset…”

Peter looked impressed. “Wow, that sounds great. Can I take a look later when we get inside?”

“Sure. If you want,” Will said with a shrug.

Liza smiled. Will was obviously eager for his father to see the photos but couldn’t risk being uncool and actually showing that enthusiasm. It wasn’t easy being fourteen.

As she expected, they ended up at the Clam Box for dinner.

They all ordered the same meal, a cup of chowder and the clam roll with fries.

“This place is exactly the same,” she said to her brother. “They haven’t changed a thing.”

“For better or worse. Even the menu is the same,” he noticed. “I guess that Otto Bates has passed on by now, though. I think his son runs it.”

“What do you think, Will?” Liza asked him.

“It’s pretty cool. Sort of retro,” Will said.

“Very retro,” Peter echoed. “And I’ll bet they don’t even mean to be.”

After dinner they walked up the street to the movie theater.

There was a movie playing that Will wanted to see-a sci-fi plot about a deadly virus sent by aliens who wanted to take over Earth and a small band of survivors who fight off the space creatures and find a cure.

Liza was sure most of the movie would have her either cringing or snoozing, but she happily agreed to her nephew’s choice. Who knows, I might learn something… about aliens.

There was time before the movie, so they bought ice-cream cones and walked down Main Street. “Look, there’s that antique store Claire keeps mentioning, the Bramble. Let’s look in the window, okay?”

Peter agreed, and Will followed without comment. The store was on the first floor of a Victorian house, painted pale yellow with white trim and dark purple shutters. Liza could see that in the warmer months there was a garden in front. She stepped up on the porch and peeked through the windows. The shop was crammed with antiques, from furniture and quilts to china teacups.

“Wow, this place is stocked,” Peter said. “Claire’s right. They’ll probably take some stuff we want to sell. Maybe we don’t need an estate sale after all.”

That he wanted to sell, Liza nearly corrected him.

But she stopped herself. No need to get into all that tonight. She turned away from the window and headed back down the steps. “I’ll call them tomorrow. Maybe someone will come out and take a look at what we’ve got. I want to keep a few pieces from the inn for my new apartment. I’m tired of all the modern stuff I picked out with Jeff. I’d really love to redecorate with antiques.”

Peter glanced at her. “That’s fine with me. I guess there are one or two things I’d like to take back to Arizona.”

Liza stood at the end of the walk and looked back at the Bramble. “I love the way this place is painted. Maybe we should try a different paint scheme. Wouldn’t the shutters on the inn look great with that color?”

“It’s not just the paint,” Peter pointed out. He gestured at the rest of the street, at the row of beautifully kept nineteenth-century buildings. “It’s the way all these Victorians have been maintained.”

“The inn could look like that again, given half a chance,” Liza argued.

“And half a million dollars,” Peter added.

“Oh, not that much.” Liza started walking down the street and took a lick of her ice-cream cone. Will ran up ahead, taking photos of the old-fashioned streetlamps.

When Peter didn’t answer, she said, “Daniel says the building is pretty sound-the electricity and plumbing and all that. A lot of the work is just cosmetic.”

“You were talking to Daniel about this?” Peter’s tone sharpened.

Liza took a breath. She hadn’t meant for that to slip out, but now that it had, she wasn’t sorry. “I did talk to him a little. It just… came up.”

“I thought we were in this together, not pulling in different directions. Of course Daniel is going to tell you there are no big problems. That inn has been a gravy train for him. It probably supplies most of his income. Of course, he doesn’t want to see a stranger take it over, someone who might not hire him.”

Liza didn’t think that was true. She doubted Daniel would lie to her for that reason. Or any reason, for that matter.

But she did understand why her brother was upset.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. I just wanted his opinion. He knows the building inside and out. It doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?”

“It does if you think it will change my mind about selling the place,” Peter said bluntly.

He had her there. Liza felt a lump of the cold ice cream stick in her throat. She swallowed it down, telling herself to remain calm.

“I’m trying to figure out the very best thing for us to do,” she explained. “I know you’re concerned about money, but the inn could make money for us. In the long run. Much more than we would get from selling it now, especially when it’s such a mess.”

Peter took one last lick of his ice cream and dumped the rest in a trash can. “Liza, what you’re saying might be true. The problem is, I need money now. Not five or even ten years from now. And even if we did keep the place and make a big investment, fixing it up enough to bring in guests again, we just come back to the same questions. How would we run it long distance? Who would manage the place for us?”

Liza had been thinking about this, too. More than she wanted to admit. “I think Claire North could do it. She would probably be happy to stay. And I know we can trust her.”

And I could help run it, she added silently. I could take the summers off. Or even quit my job and work as a freelance graphic artist and designer again.

Peter stared at her, his mouth twisted to one side. “Liza, I know you’re still upset about your job. You definitely deserved better. But don’t toss the baby out with the bathwater.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, I think you’re fantasizing about quitting your job, some showdown scene with your boss that will give you a lot of satisfaction-for the moment, anyway.”

Liza glanced at him, then looked away. Well, that much was true. She did have a fantasy of returning to the office just to quit and tell Eve what she really thought of her.

“Of course you want to escape from your life. To run away and try something completely different. Anybody would,” he added in a kinder tone. “But a week or two more on that island and you’ll be dying to get back to work. I know you. You should use your extra time off to look for a new job, and then you’ll really show them.”

“I already thought of that. I don’t want a new job. It will just be more of the same. I’ll be working my tail off and dealing with the same old office politics. Another Charlie Reiger-or Charlene-will be out to get me.”

All she wanted to think about now was the inn, how she could improve it and open it again.

Peter sighed and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I want to help you. I really do,” he insisted. “But I just don’t think you’re being realistic.”

“Hey, I think it’s time for the movie,” Will called out to them, as he ran back up the street. “I heard the opening is totally awesome. The aliens, like, land on the Pentagon in these huge pods.”

“That does sound awesome,” Liza said. “I definitely don’t want to miss that.”

Just as they reached the theater, she felt her BlackBerry vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID.

“Fran Tulley?” Peter asked eagerly.

“No, it’s Eve, my boss. I’d better take this. You guys go ahead.”

“Okay, we’ll save you a seat.” Peter and Will went into the theater, and Liza took a few steps away from the entrance for some privacy.

“Hi, Liza, I’m glad I caught you,” Eve greeted her. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all. Did you get my message about needing to stay here longer?” Liza asked.

“Yes, I did. Sorry about the roof. What a mess. You really didn’t need that on top of everything else, did you?”

“No, we didn’t. It’s almost fixed, but it’s slowed things down a lot.”

“I understand,” Eve said in a surprisingly patient tone. “It’s fine if you need to stay longer. But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. It really can’t wait.”

“Is there some problem?” Liza asked, suddenly feeling anxious.

“Not at all. It’s about the promotion,” Eve replied.

Liza felt like a fly that was about to be hit by a giant swatter. She could barely focus on Eve’s words.

“I’d rather give you this news in person, but we’ve made a decision, and I need to talk to you about it. We’re promoting you to vice president, Liza. This will be effective on the first of the month. There’s a substantial raise in salary, of course”-Eve gave her a figure, which was even more than Liza had expected-“as well as more vacation time and additional benefits.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Liza said. She knew that sounded ridiculous, but it was all she could manage. “I-I thought Charlie was getting the promotion.”

“Charlie? What in the world made you think that? This was yours all along, Liza. I thought you knew that.”

“The last time we spoke, you said something about big changes and getting along with Charlie better. Letting go of my accounts?” Liza rambled, trying to explain. “I thought you were trying to tell me that he was going to be promoted, and I would be reporting to him,” she confessed.

“Oh, Liza. You had it all backward. Charlie will be reporting to you, along with some other account execs. You will need to trim your client list, however, so that’s what you should start thinking about. You’ll be managing a big staff now and playing a bigger role in decision making. That’s what I meant to say. I just wasn’t allowed to tell you yet,” Eve explained.

“I see.” Liza took a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t get her mind around this. A few short days ago, this conversation would have sent her jumping and shouting with joy. But now she just felt stunned. And confused.

“I know this is a lot to spring on you,” Eve went on in her usual brisk tone. “Why don’t we talk on Monday, and I’ll give you more details, okay?”

“Um, sure. I-”

But Eve had already clicked off. She was probably speed-dialing her next power phone call.

Liza put her phone away and stood for a moment, staring at Cape Light’s quiet Main Street. People passed, making their way to the movie theater. She hardly noticed.

Had this really happened? Liza still couldn’t believe it. She had gotten the promotion after all. That should have smoothed out all the wrinkles in her life, untangled all the knots. She and Peter could sell the inn to anyone who offered, and she could return to Boston in triumph.

Was this the sign she had asked for-telling her to give up on the inn and return to the city?

Clearly, that’s what she should do. As Will would say, this was a total no-brainer. She had worked years for this promotion, sacrificed everything. How could she even consider giving it up? And for what? A broken-down house and a faded sketchbook? A fledgling relationship with a carpenter?

Eve hadn’t asked if Liza wanted the job. She assumed that Liza would take the promotion, that she would be back in Boston in a matter of weeks to become a vice president of Barkin & Carr, one of Boston’s most prestigious ad agencies. And why wouldn’t she?

Because something was stopping her. Something was holding her back.

All this rushing, she heard her aunt say. Everyone is rushing and rushing and not getting anywhere. Ever notice?

Eve would call back on Monday. The decision could wait until then, Liza decided.

This was too important a choice to be rushed. A life-altering fork in the road. Liza stared down both paths-and had no idea which way to go.