Page 47 of The Inn Dilemma

Aunt Birdie looks sheepish. “I guess I wasn’t sure if you’d be as invested in their story as I was and didn’t want to waste your time.”

Nova’s mouth falls open. “I may be even more invested than you. Their story rivals some of the best romances I’ve ever read.”

“I’m sorry, Nova Girl. You can read his journals whenever you like.” Aunt Birdie puts her hands on her hips, attempting to sass back Nova. I smile at the two women who have come to mean everything to me.

Nova giggles. “That’s great, because I think they’ll give us even more ideas on how to transform the inn into the home they always wanted.”

“I’d love to bring their dreams to life.”

“Didn’t Ella Mae die pretty young?” I ask, trying to remember the little bits of family history Uncle Walt shared with me. One unfortunate thing does stand out in my memory…Ella Mae’s story mirrors my own mom’s.

Aunt Birdie’s face turns crestfallen, as if Ella Mae wasa dear friend she lost and not a distant relative of her husband’s. “She did. But Frederick never remarried. Instead, he threw himself into his work with the railroads, becoming a lesser-known railroad baron.”

I stare at Aunt Birdie in shock. “I’ve never heard any of that. Just the stuff with Ella Mae.”

Aunt Birdie gives me a conspiratorial smile. “That’s because no one except Frederick, Ella Mae, and one of the other founding men–Douglas Sherman--knew, which he took to his grave. Even back then, they didn’t trust to tell the other founding family, the Monroes.” She looks around as if making sure there are no other listening ears, and her grin widens to Cheshire Cat size. “There’s something else in the journals…he hid treasure somewhere on the property. His journals don’t explain where, but I’ve looked through every inch of this house where it could possibly be and haven’t found a thing.”

My mind wanders to the spot deep in the woods on the edge of the property where I like to spend time with God.

“Did you read anything about a house deeper in the woods?” I ask. “Maybe a hunting cabin?”

Aunt Birdie taps her lips with her finger as if deep in thought. “No. This is the only building original to the Graves family.”

“Or recorded as belonging to the Graves family,” I mumble.

Nova chimes in, “What aren’t you telling us?”

I run my palm against the side of my jeans. “One day when I went out hunting, I found something on the edge of the property.”

Uncertainty grips me and I go silent. I probably should have told Aunt Birdie about the house beforenow. Hopefully she’s not too angry that I’ve kept that place a secret from her. Aunt Birdie gently shoves my shoulder. “Well, go on then! You have us curious now.”

“I found a crumbling house with a huge and sturdy standing chimney. I’m wondering if maybe the treasure could be hidden there?”

Nova’s eyes widen and she bounces on the balls of her feet. “You have to show us!”

Chapter Sixteen

Nova

“Here it is.” Holt gestures in a sweeping motion toward the bones of a new house on top of an old stone foundation. There’s a standing fireplace and a chimney against the remnants of a stone wall that looks to be original.

Titan and Tootsie sit obediently by a nearby tree.

I walk over to the fireplace and knock on the stone as if I can tell if there’s a hollow spot or not. Could the treasure be hidden in this somewhere?

“So this is what you’ve been working on when you disappear for hours or days at a time?” Aunt Birdie asks, slowly walking the length of the front of the house.

Holt exhales a breath, settling his hands on his hips as he appraises the efforts of his hard work.

“Can you see the potential of this place?” he asks.

Aunt Birdie and I share a wary glance.

“Yeah,” I say with full confidence. “Completing it won’t be easy.” I motion to the work he’s already done. “But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Holt turns on me, his good eye lighting up hisexpression. He makes his way over to me, and I can tell he’s unsure of how I’ll respond to what he’s about to say. “This idea is just in its infancy phase, but I feel God calling me to start a program for at-risk boys here.”

Warmth floods my chest. Holt may look the part of a Navy SEAL-slash-lumberjack, but under all that muscle beats a tender heart. He’s always looked out for others and is one of the few people I know who truly has others’ best interests at heart.

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