Beth Carpenter - Alaskan Hideaway

Ursula sniffed. “I wouldn’t know. The Forget-me-not doesn’t have mice. But Rory likes him.”

“Rory likes every animal, the uglier the better.” Marge chuckled, but then her face sobered. “Is she doing any better?”

“I thought so. But her teacher called me in for a meeting this week. Rory’s distracted, doodling instead of listening.” Ursula sighed. “It’s almost like I’m pushing a boulder up the hill and every time I get anywhere, it rolls down again.”

“Well, I think you’re a saint for taking her in.”

“I’m not a saint. I’ve loved that little girl from the minute she was born. Coby and Kendall were so happy.”

“I know. You’ve told me the story. But her own grandparents—”

“When Rory was tiny and I was helping out, Kendall told me a little about her parents and the way she was raised. From what she said, it’s a good thing they’re not around Rory. After losing her mom and dad, the last thing Rory needs is to be stuck with people like that. She needs to belong. And she belongs with me.”

Marge nodded and sipped her coffee. After a moment, she looked up. “Oh, I almost forgot what I came to tell you. Did you hear the news about Betty’s place?”

“I haven’t heard anything, but I saw the Mercedes parked out front, so I guess Betty’s granddaughter is finally putting it up for sale. The real estate agent was standing on the porch, but I couldn’t get his attention.”

Marge’s lips curved into her I know something you don’t know smile. “That’s not an agent. That’s the new owner.”

“What?” Ursula set down the creamer without adding any to her coffee. “But it wasn’t even on the market. Are you sure?”

“That’s what I heard. From Penny.”

Shoot. If Penny said so, it was a done deal. Married to the only attorney in town and heading up the tourist information center, Penny knew everything happening in and around Seward. And since she and Marge had been best friends since kindergarten, Marge knew most of it. Ursula tapped her nail against her coffee cup. “After Betty’s funeral, I told her granddaughter I was interested in the property once she was ready to sell.”

“Maybe he offered her more.”

“I never got the chance to make an offer.”

Marge shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Ursula added cream to her cup and stirred. “So who’s the new neighbor?” Based on his behavior, not someone interested in making friends. A loner? Perhaps he’d decide a cabin situated between two bed-and-breakfast inns wasn’t remote enough. “Maybe he’d be interested in a quick resale.”

Marge leaned closer. “Penny’s being mysterious. She knows, but she won’t tell me the owner’s name. She says I’d recognize it if I heard it.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “What if it’s a movie star?”

Ursula snorted. “What would a movie star want with Betty’s old cabin? She didn’t even have cable.”

“Well, he could get it installed. Besides, he probably wants it as a remote getaway, to recharge after filming a movie. They must get tired of always being on.”

“If a movie star wanted an Alaskan getaway, he’d buy a luxury fishing lodge on the Kenai, not a rundown cabin along the Seward highway.”

“Who knows what they’d do? He didn’t look familiar to you?”

“No. Of course, I only saw him from a distance and he was wearing a coat.”

“Not that you’d recognize him anyway. You hardly ever watch movies that aren’t animated. You’ve probably had famous actors staying with you and never even known.”

“If I did, they didn’t let on. But seriously, I doubt Betty’s granddaughter rubs elbows with actors. Doesn’t she live in Kansas?”

“Wichita. You’re probably right.” Marge sighed, but then her face brightened. “Although, if a celebrity from California wanted to stay under the radar, buying a cabin in Alaska from someone in Kansas would be a great way to throw the paparazzi off the track.”

Ursula laughed. “I can’t argue with your logic. So how long do you think it will take your movie star to get tired of the cold and dark, and sell me the property?”

“If he’s used to California winters, he’ll have cabin fever in no time.”

“I can only hope. In the meantime, I need to talk him into opening the gate to the ski trails.”

“He blocked off the trails?” Marge’s face grew serious. “But Betty and her husband let that trail cut through their property probably forty years ago. Don’t you have some sort of legal access?”

“I don’t know. It never came up when Betty was alive. I’m not sure it was ever set down as an official right-of-way.”

Marge sipped her coffee and considered. “You’ll still chip in to maintain the trails, won’t you?”

“Of course. I promised I would, and it’s not your fault if he cuts off my access.”

“That’s good, because I didn’t budget for your share of the grooming.” Marge paused. “Your guests can park at the Caribou and ski from there if they want.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t ideal. Marge might be a friend but she was also a competitor. Ursula didn’t want her guests wondering why they should patronize the Forget-me-not and drive or hike half a mile down the road to access the ski trails at the Caribou B&B when they could just stay there instead. But it was nice of Marge to offer. “Let’s hope it’s not necessary. Tomorrow, I’ll drop by and explain about the ski trail access. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.”

“What if he isn’t?”

“He will be. I’ll take cinnamon rolls and welcome him to the neighborhood. Movie star or not, I’m sure he’ll want to get along with his neighbors.”

Marge didn’t look convinced. “Well if you figure out who he is, get his autograph for me.”

“We’ll see.” Ursula had no intention of bothering their new neighbor with autograph requests. “If he seems busy, I’ll just leave the food, mention the ski trails and hint that if he ever decides to sell, I’d be interested.”

“You really think this RV park thing is a good idea?”

“Yes, I do. In order to compete with the new resort they’re building in Seward, I need to offer something they can’t. It will be good for the Caribou, too, since you’re next door. This way groups can vacation together even if they don’t all have RVs.”

“We can always lower our room rates. The resort will probably charge a pretty penny.”

Easy for Marge to say. She and her husband inherited their B&B from his grandparents years ago. They didn’t have a mortgage to consider. “I need to make at least enough to cover Sam’s loan payments and ongoing expenses.”

“There is that. You wouldn’t want to drag down Sam’s finances. Especially since they have a new baby.”

“Exactly. And if Sam sold the inn, I’d have to move back to Anchorage. I don’t want Rory to have to change schools again, when she’s just starting to make friends. Let’s just hope our mysterious neighbor is open to possibilities when I stop by tomorrow with the rolls.”

Marge adjusted the position of her coffee cup. “I hope he’s not gluten free. Most of those actors are, you know. He’s probably on some weird acorn and kiwi fruit diet or something.”