"Where are we going, mammy? Tell us again," Callie commanded.
"When are we gonna get there?" Jessica whined. "We've been driving and driving forever. I want to go home!"
"It's barely been a half hour since we left the airport," Rachel told Jessica, her patience already frayed by the long security line at the airport in Utah and the even more tedious wait at the car rental place in Aberdeen. The flight itself however, had gone relatively smoothly. The girls had been excited to be on a plane, but now they were tired and grumpy and completely uninterested in the scenery as they drove north to Cove Bay. They might have been pacified by a stop for ice cream or some other treat, but Rachel was determined not to reward them for bad behaviour just to get a few minutes of peace.
"Why don't you try to take a little nap?" she pleaded, glancing in the rearview mirror for a glimpse of them in their car seats. "When you wake up, you'll be at grans, and I know she's going to have cookies and milk for you. Remember how much you loved those when she baked them for you when she came to visit us in Utah?"
"I like chocolate chip better," Callie grumbled, clearly determined to be displeased about everything.
"Well, I love normal cookies," Jessica countered. "So I'll eat them all."
"No, you won't!" Callie screamed. "Mammy, tell her she can't have all the cookies. Some are mine."
Rachel bit back a groan. "I'm sure there will be plenty of cookies for both of you. Now close your eyes. If you're this impossible when we get there, you can forget about those cookies. You'll be going straight to bed."
The girls fell silent, but another glance in the mirror revealed them making faces at each other. Rachel let it pass. She needed to focus all of her attention on the traffic, which had increased at least tenfold since the last time she'd driven home. She could hardly wait to turn onto some of Aberdeenshire's less-traveled roads.
Unfortunately, the traffic never completely let up. It seemed everyone had the same idea about heading to one of Aberdeenshire's many seaside communities. She got out her phone and clicked on Erin's name.
"The traffic is awful," she said when her sister answered. "At this rate, it's going to be another hour before we get there."
"I'll let gran know," Erin said. "I'm on my way over there now. Take a deep breath. I'm picking up crabs and I'll have wine waiting."
"Thank you, thank you," Rachel said. "See you soon."
It turned out to be an hour and ten minutes before she could make the turn into the community of Cove Bay. At last, though, the traffic had eased. She debated going straight to the house, but since the girls were finally asleep, she wound through downtown, getting reacquainted with the Main Street businesses that stretched from the waterfront to Drummers Corner.
There was one visible vacancy, but all the other shop windows were filled with colorful displays. Barb's Baby Boutique was next to Ethel's Emporium, which carried everything from souvenirs and sweeties to fancy hostess gifts and locally produced jams and jellies. The Kitchen Store, which sold every gourmet gadget imaginable, was next to Seaside Gifts, where all the items had a nautical theme. There was a designer clothing shop, which carried resort wear. And all of the shops had pots overflowing with colorful pansies and travelling vines by the doors and crisp blue-and-white awnings shading the windows. The pansies would be exchanged for bright red geraniums once spring turned to summer.
With her car window open, she drew in a deep breath of the familiar salt air, then heart the soft refrains of an outdoor concert drifting up from the banks of the bay. She'd forgotten about the tradition of free Friday-night performances in the band stand during the spring, summer and early autumn months when the weather drew crowds to the town. It was traditional Scottish tonight, a little heavy on the pipes, it seemed to her.
She smiled, thinking of the debates she'd once had with her father about the appropriate mix of music for the early concerts. If it had been up to Ian and Gran, every week would have featured Scottish singers and dancers.
"Mammy, I hear music," Callie murmured sleepily. "Are we going to a party?"
"Nope, but we're almost home," Rachel told her. "Five minutes and we'll be there."
She turned away from downtown and took the shore road to the very end where it began a winding climb up a gentle hill. At the top she made a left into the long driveway that ended in the back of a classic beachfront home with a wraparound porch, lots of glass to take in the spectacular bay views and lights shining from every window. Two figures, one spry, the other a bit more stooped, emerged from the shadows on the porch as she pulled to a stop.
"Gran!" Jessica shouted, already struggling to free herself from the car seat.
"And Aunt Erin!" Callie boomed, trying to get the door on her side open. Rachel released the child locks and Callie sprang free, racing across the grass to fling herself at her favorite auntie.
Erin stumbled back, then caught her niece up in a massive hug, even as Jessica reached up to her great-grandmother for a more demure embrace, as if she knew instinctively to take more care with the older woman.
Rachel took in the scene with a smile. Why hadn't she done this more often? Was she truly so busy? Or had she been making excuses because of hr mixed feelings about home and the way she'd forced herself to walk away without looking back? Until now she hadn't realized how much she missed being right here, with the sea breeze rustling through the trees, the sound of waves lapping against the shore and the promise of a whole pile of Scottish crabs a and cold wine waiting on the porch, along with whatever Gran had baked that day.
Her grandmother caught her eye and gave her a knowing smile. "It's good to be home, is it not?"
"It's better than I expected," Rachel admitted. "How are you, Gran? You look good." She certainly didn't look her age, which was somewhere near eighty by Rachel's calculations, though her grandmother wouldn't admit to it. Whenever any one of them had tried to pin her down, even for the save of genealogical research, the date of her birth shifted to suit her.
"I'm better with the three of you here for a bit," Gran said. "Shall we feed the girls first, then have our own meal when it's quieter?"
"That sounds perfect," Rachel said.
"Why don't I take them inside and show them their room, then? I've put them in Martin's room since he has the twin beds in there. I can't get your brother to take away a single one of his sports medals, though. It looks as it did when he was still sleeping there himself."
Rachel grinned. "Cluttered and messy, then," she said. "They'll love it."
After the three of them had gone inside, she turned to her sister and gave her a fierce hug. "Now then, are you ready to tell me why I'm here?"
Erin gave her a wry look. "Always eager to cut to the chase, aren't you? Can't you even take five minutes to relax?"
"Not if you expect me to solve this problem, whatever it is, in a few days."
"I think it can wait a little longer. I don't want to get into it until after Gran's gone to bed. I don't want her worrying."
Rachel frowned. "It's that serious?"
"I told you life or death, in a manner of speaking," Erin said impatiently.
"Come on. I need a glass of wine--maybe two--before we get into all this."
Judging from her sister's mood, Rachel had a feeling she might need a few glasses of wine herself.
-
Erin wasn't entirely sure how she'd made such a mess of things. All she knew for certain was that she dreaded admitting any of it to her confident, successful big sister. Still, when her plans had gone south and she'd realized just how deep a hole she'd dug for herself, calling Rachel -- the family's certified financial whiz -- had seemed like the only sensible thing to do.
She didn't want to lose the guest house. Even as a little girl, when she'd first seen the sprawling structure less than a mile away from their house, Erin had imagined herself owning it. Just over a year and a half ago, right before Christmas, in fact, she'd spotted the For Sale sign in front of the guest house as she was driving home. Bored silly by her job at Ethel's Emporium, her heart had immediately done a somersault. For the first time since she'd come home from university, she could feel a sense of anticipation and excitement building deep inside. This was it, her chance to grab the brass ring, to give herself a sense of purpose, to build the kind of future her family would approve.
Initially, she'd told no one in her family of her plans. She wasn't entirely sure why. Probably because she'd feared their ridicule or their lack of faith that she could possibly succeed. She was, after all, the baby and the wild child. She'd never stuck with anything for long. Unlike her sisters or brothers, she'd never displayed a real passion for work, never found her niche. She'd been drifting, and everyone in the family had known it. Worse, they'd expected nothing more of her.
"Oh, you know Ez. She never sticks with anything for long." How many times had she heard some family member say that, especially her father? When it came from Rachel or her brothers, she took it in her stride. When Ian said it, it cut Erin to the quick. She'd grown up believing she would never measure up to the high standards he set for all of his children. The guest house was her chance to prove him--to prove all of them--wrong.
Fortunately Erin, like her siblings, had a modest trust fund that had come due when she'd turned twenty-one. It had been invested wisely, the amount growing, especially since Rachel had taken over managing the account. It was enough, she'd hoped, for a down payment.
Impulsively, she'd made an appointment the next morning with an estate agent. Naively and because she was caught up in the dream, she hadn't asked to see the books or ay other proof that the guest house could be operated in the black. She'd done a cursory inspection and found it to be in good shape. After all, one thing she knew about her father and Uncle Jeff, they designed and built things to last.
She'd made a conservative bid, which had been accepted at once. The Pattersons were anxious to leave. All that remained was to get the financing in place.
That's when she should have called Rachel, she realized now. Or her father. Even her brothers could have offered some advice, but, stubbornly independent to the end, she'd handled it all herself. To keep the payments within reason, she'd accepted an interest-only loan for the short term, then planned to refinance once the guest house was open and operating at a profit.
Best-laid plans, she thought now, sipping her wine as she waited for Rachel to come back from putting the kids to bed. Nothing had gone as she'd anticipated. The Pattersons never installed any kind of up-to-date reservation system. The heating and air conditioning systems were barely functioning and needed to be replaced with something more energy-efficient. While the building itself was sound, the rooms were shabby, the curtains faded, the linens unacceptable. The exterior looked dilapidated, which had been easy enough to fix, but even a coat of paint cost money.
The down payment had depleted her funds, so she'd applied for a business loan, using the guest house as collateral. She'd been approved easily,
Filled with excitement, Erin had finally revealed her purchase to the rest of the family. Predictably, Gran and her siblings had been delighted for her. Ian had asked a thousand and one perfectly reasonable questions for which she didn't have adequate answers. That was when she'd gotten the first nagging sense that she was in over her head.
Then, a few months ago, while she was still trying to complete the necessary redecorating, she'd gotten a letter from the bank pointing out that she was behind on her payments for the mortgage and for the business loan. She'd scrambled to come up with the money, embarrassed that in her zeal to spruce up the place, she'd overlooked the due dates for those payments. It had happened again a couple of months later. With her funds depleted, she'd missed two payments in a row after that.
That's when she'd received the warning notice that she was in violation of the terms of both agreements, her mortgage and her small-business loan.
"Meaning what?" she asked James Alexander when she'd called the bank in a panic.
"Meaning with your very spotty payment history, we could start foreclosure procedures. I've been keeping an eye on things at the guest house. You have no cash flow."
"I'm redecorating. The grant opening is meant to be July first. It was meant to be June, but it just wasn't feasible."
"How do you expect to make these next payments or the ones the month after?"
"I'll find the money," she assured him, even though she had no idea where.
"Maybe you should speak to your father," he suggested. "I'm sure he'd willing--"
Erin cut him off. "This is my project. My father's not involved."
Her comment silenced him, which she thought was a good thing. But then he said, "If I thought your father was backing you, I could look the other way for the short term...."
"Well, he's not," Erin repeated. "You'll get your payments, Mr. Alexander. You know what potential the guest house has. You know it's going to be a success."
"With the right management, yes," he said. "I'm no longer convinced you're the person who can accomplish that."
His condescension and lack of faith infuriated her. She would have told him off, but even Ez was wise enough to recognize her already precarious standing with the banker.
"Please, be patient," she said instead. "These are good loans, Mr. Alexander. You know me. You know my family."
"As I said, if you want to bring your father in, we can discuss--"
"No," she replied fiercely.
"It's your decision, of course. I'll expect the payments on my desk on time," he said. "Good day, Erin."
That conversation had taken place on Tuesday. She'd called Rachel on Wednesday, the minute she'd realized there was no way she'd have the money on time. She knew Rachel was going to flip out when she heard the kind of deals Erin had made without consulting her, but in the end she'd help her fix things, because that was what Rachel did. Even when her marriage was falling apart, she'd found a way to keep her equilibrium, stay on track at work and give the twins the king of attention they needed to get them through the turmoil. If she'd handled all that, this would be a piece of cake, Erin thought confidently.
Of course, that was before she'd realized that Lee was part of the equation. She had no idea exactly what had happened between her and Rachel all those years ago, but it hadn't been good. There was a history there, and despite Lee's assurance that she wouldn't let it interfere with the banks decision, Erin wasn't a hundred percent sure she could believe her. Nor was she certain how Rachel would feel once she knew she'd be dealing with her old flame. It might be better not to mention that at the outset.
When Rachel finally joined her on the porch, Erin asked about work, how the girls were doing in school, whether there were any new women in Rachel's life. Rachel finally regarded her with impatience. "You're stalling," she accused.
Erin flushed. "Maybe a little, but I did want to catch up. We never get to have a real heart-to-heart anymore. I miss that."
Rachel's expression softened. "Me, too. But a life-or-death problem tops catching up. Talk to me."
An hour later, after Erin had spilled her guts and see the dismay in Rachel's eyes, she wasn't so sure this was going to be as easy to fix as she hoped.
"We can straighten this out, can't we?" she asked her sister, unable to keep a plaintive note out of her voice. "I know I've made a mess of things so far, but when you see the guest house again, you'll understand why I had to do it exactly this way. It's going to be amazing."
"It will only be amazing if you can keep the bank from foreclosing," Rachel said direly. "Why didn't you come to me sooner? I would have loaned you the money."
"I don't need your money." Erin insisted. "I can do this on my own. I just need to buy a little more time. A couple of months, max."
"You have reservations coming in?"
"We're booked solid the rest of the summer, and we're starting to get reservations for autumn." Erin said proudly. "Plus, once word of mouth kicks in about how cozy the place is and how fabulous the food is, that should take care of the rest of the year, at least on weekends. I'm going to offer some holiday specials, too, to try boost bookings in November, December and even the long weekends in January and February. I really do have a great marketing plan, Rachel."
"In writing?"
"No, but I can put it on paper, if that will help."
Rachel nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Do that. Maybe it's the bargaining chip you need. First thing tomorrow morning I'll meet you over there and we'll go over all your financials. We can put together some realistic budget projections, then I'll go with you to the bank on Monday."
Which meant, Erin knew, she'd come face-to-face with Lee. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. "I know how busy you are. Once we put everything together, if you need to go back to Utah, I can take the paperwork to the bank."
"It'll be okay. Let's face it, I speak their language and you don't. This is your dream, and you tend to get sidetracked by all your plans. I can talk hard, cold facts and numbers."
Erin gave in, because she knew Rachel was right. She'd get emotional, while her sister could keep her cool. "If you're really sure it won't be too big an imposition, then thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for doing this for me, Rachel. I have to keep the guest house. I just have to. It's the first thing that's really mattered to me, ever. It's my chance to prove I'm as good as the rest of the Corsies."
Rachel stared at her with a shocked expression. "What are you talking about, Ez? Of course you're as good as the rest of us."
"Come on. I've always been the screw up, the hyper one with no ability to focus. You probably expected me to mess this up from the beginning." The belated diagnosis of attention deficit disorder had come when she was ten and struggling in school. From then on, it had been her curse, and all too often, an easy excuse for her failure to follow through on things.
"That is not true," Rachel said, though her expression said otherwise. "Sweetie, you have ADD. We all understand that. Despite that, look at all you've accomplished. You finished Gordonstoun at the top of your class. You got your university degree. Those are huge accomplishments for someone with ADD. You'll figure out how to manage everything at the guest house, too."
"I barely got through university because I kept changing my degree. And I've drifted through half a dozen jobs since then," Erin reminded her, determined to keep it real. "I'm twenty-two and I've never even had a relationship that's lasted more than a few months."
"Because you haven't found the one thing or the one person you were passionate about," Rachel argued. "Now you have the guest house. I remember how you used to talk about it when you were little. You loved going over there. I was so excited when you told me you'd finally bought it." Her expression turned determined. "Stop worrying. I intend to do everything in my power to see that you keep the guest house."
"Short of bailing me out with money," Erin reiterated. "I won't let you do that."
"Let's just see how it goes, okay? I have the money to invest in a sure thing and I have faith in you."
Tears welled up in Erin's eyes. "I love you, sis."
"Love you more. Now let's get some sleep, so we can get started on all this first thing in the morning. What time should I meet you at the guest house?"
"Nine?" Erin suggested. She owed her sister one lazy morning at least.
"Make it eight."
Despite her emotions being all over the place, Erin grinned. "Not bad. You must be relaxing. I was figuring you'd say seven."
"Watch it, kid. I could change my mind."
Erin was on her feet at once. "See you at eight," she said hurriedly, then started down the steps. At the bottom, she turned back. "I'm glad you're home, Rach, but I'm sorry I dumped all this on you."
"That's what family's for," Rachel said. "Don't ever forget that."
Despite her sister's words, Erin wondered if she'd ever truly believe that, at least where her disapproving father was concerned. Once Ian heard about this, there'd be plenty of I-told-you-so's to go around.
And once Rachel realized that she was going to be dealing with Lee Alexander and that Erin had kept that fact from her, Erin was very much afraid she might walk away and leave Erin to fend for herself.
-
Rachel walked into the kitchen shortly after the sun started to rise, awakened by the sound of the birds outside her open bedroom windows. She'd forgotten how noisy nature could be, especially in spring. As early as it was, she wasn't surprised to find her grandmother there ahead of her.
"You're up early," Gran said, her tone chiding. "I thought you'd sleep in for a bit on your first morning home."
"I have a lot to do today," Rachel said, pouring herself a cup of the strong tea Gran had brewed. She laced it with milk, then sighed with pleasure after the first sip. "It never tastes like this when I make it."
"That's because you use tea bags and brew it in the microwave, I'll bet."
Rachel grinned. "Could be."
"A good pot of tea takes time to steep. If you put a little time and love into it, it shows."
"I have enough trouble finding time to love my girls without worrying about how my tea feels," Rachel replied.
"Which means you're working too hard. You never have learned how to relax. Why don't you grab a book and take it outside to the hammock this morning. I'll keep an eye on the girls. I'll take them into town and show them off."
"If you wouldn't mind watching the girls, I'll take you up on that," Rachel told her. "But the hammock will have to wait. I promised Erin I'd meet her at the guest house in an hour."
Gran's expression immediately sobered. She sat down across from Rachel and stirred her tea, then lifted her gaze to Rachel's. "She's in trouble with that, isn't she?"
Rachel didn't want to betray her sister's confidence, but she'd always been a terrible liar. She settled for asking, "What makes you think that?"
"For one thing, this is Cove Bay, where gossiping is everybody's favorite hobby. For another, Carol-Anne Stewart's sister works at the bank. She told Carol-Anne she'd seen something about foreclosure on a file with Erin's name on it. Of course that old gossip couldn't wait to spread the word. The Stewart's are still furious that Ian bought up all their family's land to develop this town. Never mind that it was their good-for-nothing father who sold it to him because he needed money, somehow it's Ian's fault that they don't own all that acreage anymore." She waved off the topic. "None of that matters. Is Erin going to lose the guest house the way Carol-Anne said?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Rachel told her firmly. "And please don't tell her you know. She's so afraid of letting all of us down."
Gran shook her head. "Does she honestly believe we care more about that guest house and whether she succeeds or fails than we do about her?"
Rachel nodded. "I think she does. She wants desperately to prove herself, especially to Dad."
"Now that I understand," Gran said, her mouth set in a grim line. "Why those two can't communicate without starting a fight is beyond me."
"It's because they're exactly alike," Rachel said. "They both have more pride than sense and a mile-wide stubborn streak. And neither one of them can stand to be wrong about anything. Even though I wasn't around when Ez bought the guest house, I'm sure Dad was the first to suggest she was making a mistake and will be the first to say I told you so if she fails."
"That's it in a nutshell." Gran agreed. "I don't remember him being that ornery with the rest of you."
"Trust me, he was," Rachel said. "But with the rest of us, we could let it roll off our backs. We know we had you and Ma in our corners, no matter what. With Ma gone, Erin has always taken everything Dad said to heart, even offhand comments he's forgotten about as soon as he's made them."
"You're right. I've talked to him about that myself, but he doesn't see the problem. Your father's always believed that blunt honesty is a virtue, even when it hurts. He thinks mollycoddling is a waste of time. He believes you children should know without a doubt that he loves you, no matter how harsh his criticism might be."
"That worked fine with the rest of us, but not with Erin. She's had too many obstacles to overcome."
Gran regarded her worriedly. "Are you going to be able to help her to straighten this out?"
"I'm going to try," Rachel said. "Don't worry, Gran. I know how important this is. The bank won't take that guest house away from her without a fight from me."
Gran's expression turned thoughtful. "Maybe it would be better if she had to save it for herself, instead of letting you rush to the rescue."
"It probably would be," Rachel admitted. "But based on what she told me last night, I don't think that's going to be an option. She's waited too long, and now there's not enough time for her to pull everything together."
"Does she want to borrow money?"
Rachel shook her head. "She's adamantly opposed to that. All she's asked for is my business and financial expertise."
"Is that going to be enough?" Gran asked.
"I won't know until I see her books," Rachel said honestly.
"Well, Erin made the right decision when she called you," Gran said. "She's been counting on you since she was an little bitty thing, and you've never once let her down."
"Pile on the pressure, why don't you?" Rachel replied as she stood up. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to her grandmother's cheek. "Thanks, Gran. I love you."
"I love you, too. And Erin. It's going to be okay. When Corsie's stick together, there's nothing we can't do."
"That's what you've always taught us," Rachel agreed.
Unfortunately, she was very much afraid it was going to take a lot more than family spirit and loyalty to save Erin's guest house.