Thomas Kinkade - The Inn at Angel Island

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…”