Page 45 of The Inn Dilemma

“I like listening to you. Usually when people hum it means they’re happy. And I like seeing you happy.”

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I am happy. Happier than I can ever remember being.”

I search her eyes, hoping I can get a glimpse of some sort of hint that I am part of that happiness.

“You’ve always found a way to make me feel better,and now is no exception. Thank you,” she says, her voice growing quieter at the end.

“Don’t thank me, I need to thank you. You’ve jumped in and made a huge difference on a mammoth of a project.”

“I love it here and…” She swallows, her eyes dropping to the floor. “You don’t know how good it feels to be productive like this.” Her eyes flick back up to mine. “I feel useful and like I finally have a purpose outside of sitting quietly and looking pretty.”

If any other woman called herself pretty, I’d think her conceited. But I know Nova, and I’ve seen how she was treated most of her life. She was born beautiful, and she’s grown even more beautiful over the years; there’s no denying it.

“Well, you have a purpose outside of looking pretty,” I say, giving her what I hope is a flirty smile. “But you really are a beauty.”

She bites her lower lip and looks away, drying her hands on a tea towel. From her side profile, I can make out her blush. “Thank you,” she mumbles.

Theclick click clickof paws on the hardwood grows closer as Tootsie makes her way to Nova. Tootsie rubs her head against Nova’s legs, and Nova leans over to rub Tootsie’s back.

“Looks like I’ve been replaced.” I place a hand on my chest, pretending to be wounded.

Nova shakes her head, then drops to her haunches and rubs behind Tootsie’s ears. Tootsie licks Nova’s face and makes a happy sound in the back of her throat. Nova giggles, and my heart takes on a new rhythm as my mind drifts to the future and the hope that Nova will stick around so we can have more moments like this.

The next two weeks pass in a blur. We work on the inn late into each night with volunteers from all over town popping in to help us in their free time. Aunt Birdie’s bingo crew, also known as the old lady brigade, make sure we all stay fed and privy to the town’s newest gossip.

Thanks to the generosity of our community, most of the house—minus two bedrooms—is soot-free, which is a project Nova and I tackled today.

The remaining soot stains have left us with fatigued muscles, and we learned the hard way that the only fix to the stains is by covering them with paint. Which is our last project before we can reopen the main house. Unfortunately, we need to go through the historical society to get the colors approved. Gladys Monroe has been a nightmare through this entire process, and I know her approval will only come after miles of red tape.

Nova and I stare at the wood paneling on the master suite’s accent wall.

“I didn’t think this was the style in the 1800s. Wood paneling didn’t come around until the 1950s,” Nova says. “I’ve been researching this house’s time period and haven’t seen anything about wood paneling.”

“Maybe they updated it before it went through the historical landmark process,” I suggest.

She narrows her eyes. “I wonder what’s hiding behind there.”

I look up at the ceiling where the crown molding is pulling away from the plaster. “This molding isn’t original either.”

Nova looks up at it, then does a slow turn around the entire room. “But the rest of it looks to be.”

That’s when my gaze finds the hole I noticed earlier. It’s not something I thought anything of at the time. The unfortunate consequence of owning a hotel is damage secretly left behind by guests.

“Come over here,” I say, motioning for her to follow me.

“What?” she asks.

“There’s a hole in the paneling over here. It’s hard to see from far away since the colors are the same, but I noticed it after I moved the dresser. I’m wondering if we can see anything behind it.”

“Ooh.” Nova grabs a flashlight out of the hall closet and comes back in to survey the damage.

I shine the light into the hole, and Nova sounds delighted by whatever she sees through it.

“Do you have a hammer somewhere?” she asks.

“Yeah, but we can’t exactly demo this wall.”

“We’re not demoing the wall, just the paneling.” She sticks her finger knuckle-deep into the hole. “There’s a gap. We could easily fit a hammer in there to pull it back some more. It looks like there’s something your aunt would love behind this.”

---