Thomas Kinkade - The Inn at Angel Island

“Yes, we did. A very bad day. I’ve made up my mind about a few things, though. No more fooling around. Not with Gail or Will… or with you, Liza. I want to sell this house, as we agreed. I’m going to call Fran Tulley tonight. If the Hardys don’t want it, maybe she can set up an auction. There’s got to be a way to sell it faster.”

Liza let out a long sigh. She had to tell him. She had to be honest. She had hoped they would have a chance to sort this out calmly and rationally, but that’s not how the pieces were falling.

“I have some news-if you could slow down long enough to listen,” she finally said.

“Okay, I’m listening.” He gave her a hard look.

“The Hardys made an offer.”

“An offer? That’s great! When did you hear?”

“A few hours ago. I guess it was around five.”

He looked surprised. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Oh, you were out on the boat. I didn’t think your phone would work. And I didn’t have the heart,” she admitted. “They want to knock the place down, Peter. That’s the deal. They just want the land so they can build a new house. That’s why they had the architect with them.”

Peter stared at her, and she wished she could read his thoughts. Did it bother him at all that the inn would be destroyed?

“What are they offering? Is it a good number?”

Liza told him the figure.

“Nice.” He nodded, looking pleased. “And that’s just a first offer. I expect we could get them to go higher.”

Fran had said the same thing, but Liza wasn’t about to mention that.

“Look, why don’t we go inside and talk this over a little?” she suggested. “Did you have anything to eat? I could heat up some of Claire’s soup. It’s really delicious.” She was hoping the good food would get him in a better mood, a more receptive mood.

“I’m not hungry, thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “I suppose it’s too late to call Fran back. I’m going up to bed. We’ll call her tomorrow, first thing.”

She didn’t answer. Peter brushed past her and headed up the stairs. “Good night, Liza. Tomorrow is a big day. You ought to get some sleep yourself.”

Liza didn’t answer. Tomorrow would be a big day. A sad day, she expected. She wished it would never come.

LIZA woke up slowly, a few minutes before her alarm clock sounded. She felt as if something had woken her, but as she opened her eyes, all she could see was early morning light sifting through the sheer curtains. The blue ceramic flower pot on the windowsill was just as she left it yesterday. The windows were open a little, and a cool ocean breeze filled the room.

She had slept well and felt full of energy, ready to tackle whatever dirty job the day tossed her way.

Then she remembered… The offer from the Hardys… Calling Fran Tulley to accept… Total strangers coming here to demolish the inn.

Was that really happening? As she rose from bed, she felt her heart sink. She dressed quickly, then went downstairs.

Crossing the foyer, she heard Peter’s and Claire’s familiar voices talking in the kitchen. Her brother had probably popped out of bed at the crack of dawn, wondering if it was too early to call Fran Tulley.

Had he told Claire what was happening? Liza felt a little pang in her chest. She had felt bad enough about telling Claire the inn would be sold when she first arrived and hardly knew her. But now… well, they had been through a lot together during the past two weeks, sifting through all of her aunt’s belongings, even being struck by lightning. Telling the housekeeper the place was sold and would be knocked down seemed a very hard task to face. Practically impossible.

Peter was the one pushing for this scenario; let him tell her, Liza thought. She hated giving in to her anger and frustration, but she couldn’t help it. Not when she thought about Claire.

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the local paper. He looked up with a sheepish smile. “Morning, Liza. Sleep well?”

“Not bad, all things considered.” Liza poured herself a cup of coffee.

Claire stood at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs. She turned to Liza and smiled. “I’m sure you were tired enough. After all the work you did out in the garden. When I looked out the window this morning, I could hardly believe my eyes. I bet the plants will double in size by the end of the week.”

Liza felt embarrassed by her praise. Yes, she had cleaned up the garden. For a bulldozer to plow it under.

Liza took a seat at the table. There was a basket of cranberry scones next to her plate. They looked tempting, but she didn’t feel hungry. Her nerves had stolen her appetite today.

“I think you may have inherited your aunt’s green thumb,” Claire said, as she brought a platter of eggs to the table and placed it between Liza and Peter. “She was quite a force of nature out there.”

“She definitely was,” Liza agreed. Aunt Elizabeth seemed to have an intuitive sense for helping plants thrive. Liza knew she would be lucky to have half that ability. Though I’ ll never know now if I do, will I? she mused.

Peter closed his newspaper with a snap, folded it, and set it down by his plate. “It’s a quarter past eight,” he announced, checking his watch. “Too early to check in with Fran, do you think?”

Liza nodded, forcing herself not to laugh. “I think so. She’s probably still at home with her family. I don’t think she gets in to her office until at least nine, Peter.”

He checked his watch again and sighed. “Guess you’re right. I was thinking of calling her cell, but that might seem a little too eager. We do want to bargain a bit if we can.”

Liza sipped her coffee without answering. She glanced at Claire and got the feeling that Peter hadn’t told her anything.

“We had an offer on the inn,” she told Claire quietly. “From that couple who came a while ago, the Hardys.”

Claire nodded. “I remember them. They were scared off by the lightning but came back Saturday.”

“Yes, that’s them. They made a good offer, and we have to talk to Fran about it,” she explained. She glanced at Peter, thinking, Jump in anytime, brother dear.

He met her glance, then quickly looked away and rose from his chair. “I’d better try to wake up Will. I don’t want him to sleep until noon again.”

Liza watched him go, leaving her holding the bag. Well, at least Peter seemed to have a few pangs of conscience about the situation. That was something.

She looked back at Claire. She didn’t have to tell her that the Hardys were knocking down the inn. That didn’t really pertain to her. Claire would lose her job, one way or the other, Liza reasoned. But Liza knew that Claire deserved to hear all of it. It just seemed right. In some ways, the inn seemed to belong to Claire more than anyone. Or maybe it was just that she seemed so much a part of this place.

Liza sighed and took another sip of coffee. “Well, we have to catch up to Fran and talk over the offer,” she said again.

“Don’t worry about me, Liza. I’ll find other work,” Claire said. She brought a cup of tea to the table and sat down nearby.

Liza looked across the table at her. “I am concerned for you, Claire. But it’s not just that. I don’t really want to sell the inn. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I want to stay here and run it.”

“Yes, I thought something like that was going on,” Claire admitted. “But I wasn’t sure.”

Though her arguments with Peter had mostly been private, Liza realized that Claire must have overhead or just sensed some of the friction between them.

“Peter does want to sell, and this is a good offer,” she repeated. “He’s got a lot going on right now. He just wants to settle this situation and get back to Arizona,” she added, trying to defend her brother.