Barbara Taylor Bradford - Her Own Rules

Meredith laughed. “I’m happy to, my darling Blanche.”

“Good.” Blanche sipped her drink, and then suddenly she looked across at Meredith and said, “Do you ever hear from David?”

“David Layton?” Meredith asked, slightly surprised.

“Yes.”

“Rarely. Why do you ask?”

“I thought of him just now…have you forgotten that you married him here and that I did the entire wedding?”

“No, I hadn’t,” Meredith said slowly, and began to shake her head. “Funny, isn’t it, how someone’s name is rarely, if ever, mentioned, and then it comes up twice in one day.”

“Who else mentioned David?”

“Catherine. When we were talking on the phone earlier this evening. She asked me if I’d been crazy in love with him, or words to that effect.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her the truth. I said that I hadn’t.”

“Of course not. You were only crazily in love once, and that was with her father.”

Meredith was silent.

“Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if he hadn’t—”

“I really don’t want to discuss it,” Meredith snapped, cutting in peremptorily. Then she bit her lip, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry, Blanche, I didn’t mean to bite your head off like that, it’s just that I prefer to leave that particular subject matter alone tonight. It’s been a long day and I don’t really feel like delving into the tragedies of the past.”

Blanche smiled gently. “It’s my fault. I brought it up and I shouldn’t have…now you’re looking sad…I’ve upset you.”

“No, you haven’t, I promise you, Blanche.”

Deeming it wiser to change the subject, Blanche put down her drink and said, “By the way, we’re going to have to order new carpet for the toile de Jouy suite, and the blue room. There’s been some leaks this winter, and the carpets are damaged. I hate to tell you this, but there’s also been a leak in your bedroom in the house. I’ll show you tomorrow. I’m afraid you’ll have to replace the carpet there as well.”

“These things happen, Blanche, we know that from years of experience. And even after we put in new roofs last year. I’ll call Gary at Stark tomorrow, before I go to London. He’s got everything on the computer, so it won’t be a problem.” Meredith frowned. “The carpets were from the standard lines, weren’t they?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Blanche said, and then began to walk toward the door. “It’s getting late. I’m going to the kitchen to bring you that bowl of soup.”

Meredith put down her glass and followed her. “I’ll eat in the kitchen, Blanche, it’s much easier.”

Hilltops, the inn Meredith owned near Sharon, was built on top of a hill, as its name suggested. The site was the highest point above Lake Wononpakook, and the views from the inn’s windows were spectacular: endless miles of lake and sky and wooded hills, with hardly another structure in evidence on the expansive land.

The inn started out as a mansion, the summer retreat of one of America’s great tycoons, who built it in the late 1930s, sparing no expense. He and his family spent summers there until his death in the mid sixties, when it was sold.

When Meredith bought it in 1981 it had been an inn for almost twenty years, and it was already well established. But it was her stylish refurbishing and the two new restaurants she created that gave it a certain cachet and put it on the map.

Hilltops evoked images of Switzerland in her mind, and turning to Paul Ince, who was the manager of the inn, she said, “I feel as if I’m looking down on Lake Geneva this morning, Paul.”

He laughed and answered, “I know what you mean, I always get the sensation of being in the Swiss Alps myself, especially in winter.”

Meredith had arrived at Hilltops fifteen minutes earlier, and the two of them stood together in the inn’s lovely old pine-paneled library, waiting for the Morrisons to arrive for the meeting.

Glancing out of the window again, Meredith murmured, “All this snow. It really came down this year, but it doesn’t seem to have affected business, does it?”

“No, not at all, Meredith. Well, I shouldn’t say that. As you know, we did have a few problems last week, and had to close the restaurants for a few days. But we soon got rid of the snow, once the bulldozer was up on the main road here. When it was shifted we were fine.” He paused, turned to her. “And we are fine,” he reassured her.

“What are your bookings like for the weekend?” she asked.

“Pretty good, twelve out of the fifteen rooms are taken. And both restaurants are almost full. Local trade as well as the hotel guests.”

Paul cleared his throat, briefly hesitating, and then said, “I know you’ll be able to sell this place, Meredith. Whether it’s to the Morrisons or someone else, because it’s such a good buy. And I just wanted to say this now…I’m really going to miss working with you. You’ve always been great, such a wonderful boss.”

“That’s nice of you to say so, Paul, thank you. And I’ve enjoyed working with you all these years. And I couldn’t have done it without you. You’re definitely a big part of the inn’s success, you’ve put so much of yourself into it, built up the business so well. And as I told you earlier, if the Morrisons do end up taking it over, I’m sure they’ll want you to stay on. If you want to, that is.”

“I do, and when they were over here last weekend they indicated they felt the same way.”

“What’re your feelings about them? About their intentions, Paul?”

“They’re more than interested, Meredith. I’d say they are extremely eager to get their hands on Hilltops, as I told Blanche the other day. It’s apparently what they’ve wanted for the last few years…a country inn in Connecticut, far away from the hectic pace of New York City and the rat race of Wall Street and Madison Avenue. New careers for them both. New lifestyles for them and their kids.”

“I didn’t know they had children,” Meredith said, frowning. “Does that mean they’d want to live in the cottage? Your cottage?”

Paul shook his head. “No, Mrs. Morrison’s indicated that they’re going to keep their house in Lakeville. But if they did want the cottage, Anne and I could always move into the inn until that apartment over the garage was made livable.”

Meredith nodded her understanding; she walked over to the fireplace, where she sat down, poured herself another cup of coffee. “Do you want a second cup, Paul?”

“Yes, please.” Paul joined her by the fireside.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their coffee, lost in their own thoughts. It was Meredith who spoke first, when she said, “As you know, the asking price for the inn is four million dollars, and so far I’ve not budged from that figure. Between us, I would come down a bit, just to make the sale. What’s your assessment of them regarding the price?”

“It’s hard to say,” Paul replied, looking thoughtful. After a moment or two’s reflection, he went on. “I’d stick to your guns for a bit and see what happens. But just be mentally prepared to accept three million.”

She shook her head. “No way, Paul, I’ve got to get three and a half million, at least. Anyway, the inn’s worth that…in fact, it’s worth four. My real estate people actually valued it at four and a half.”