Page 36 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

Besides, planning ahead didn’t usually pan out for me. Like when Pops had planned that big campout with some of my friends for my fifteenth birthday, and we’d gotten rained out. When I’d concocted all those great ways to get Lucy to like me in junior high, and instead she’d hated my guts.

Or when I’d planned to go to Disneyworld for fall break in eighth grade, and had spent hours making small talk with a social worker instead.

Nope. Plans weren’t my friends. So, I would make this decision when it was a present issue, not a future one.

I slammed the computer shut. What was Lucy doing? We had an outing with the tour group that afternoon, but it had nothing to do withAnne of Green Gables, so she might not come. And there wasn’t enough time between now and then to make up another location to visit.

Agh. I needed her, though. Something to pull my mind from that stupid, tight feeling in my chest that had me glancing back at the laptop with guilt, or my phone for news of Pops. He was out of the woods following the surgery, and though they wanted to keep him another few days, they’d transfer him over to a short-term care facility for some PT before he came home. So, in the meantime, Gram might come back and stay in a place with a mattress more than two inches thick.

That was good. I was worried about her sleeping on those uncomfortable pull-out couches at the hospital.

But what if half of why she was coming back was to get a better look at future bookings and talk more about selling the B&B? I had a mental list of all the reasons they shouldn’t do that, and was ready to gently remind Gram of all the things she loved about this place, but Gram was a get-it-done personality as much as Pops was an on-my-own-time personality, and if she decided to sell… she was going to.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I was so against them selling. Like Lucy said, I wasn’t planning on being here and doing this forever—I’d had life goals I never got around to that I could get going on now. The thought had even crossed my mind to buy it myself, or at least take over everything for them until I was ready to sell. But I’d be crap as a businessman, and that wasn’t what I wanted either. I wanted all of us to do this together, like we had been.

My eyes strayed back to my laptop, but before I did more than that, I jumped to my feet and paced to the door. These walls were closing in on me. I’d call Wes. If he were free, maybe we could grab a bite to eat or something before this afternoon’s tour. I pulled out my phone while I walked out of the small cabin. It was more manufactured home than cabin, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a combined living and kitchen. Pops had it built while I was at university as a retirement home for them—they didn’t want to stay in the big B&B forever—but when I came home and joined the company, they offered it to me.

Where would they go if they sold the place? Was there a new retirement plan now?

I pulled up Wes’s contact info and pressed call. He didn’t answer. There went plan A.

Hands onhips, I stopped in the middle of the gravel drive. The sun was bright today—no clouds, but a light, salty breeze like usual. Perks of living by the ocean.

The front door to the bed-and-breakfast opened, and a familiar redhead stepped out. Automatically, my lips lifted and my feet changed directions—not that they’d really had a direction before.

“Hey!” I called, lifting my hand in a wave.

Her eyes looked around, lighting on me. “Hey, I was just looking for you.”

That did funny things to my insides, which I covered by waggling my brows. “I always knew you’d fall for my charms eventually.”

She pulled up short. “Never mind, I don’t need you anymore.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, the heart wants what the heart wants. No one blames you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Go ahead, sweetheart, let me know what you need.” This was too fun. She was too fun.

Lucy was backing away. “Nope, I’m good.”

I caught up to her, raising my hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What’s up?”

She watched me warily. “Half the Hastings have food poisoning from the seafood restaurant they went to last night. I offered to find you and let you know they need to cancel this afternoon’s tour.” She shaded her eyes from the sun as she talked, so I stepped to the side to create a shadow on her face.

“Oof, food poisoning is rough. I’ll check in and see if they need anything.”

“I already did. Gemma said they’re fine, but she’ll let me know if that changes. I guess one of her sons-in-law doesn’t like fish, so he didn’t eat with them and is doing fine—and now he’s been relegated to butler for the day.”

“Luckyguy.”

“Better than puking.”

Good point.

“How’s your grandpa doing?”

“Good. Mostly sleeping today, but they said that’s normal.”

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