Page 79 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“Not necessary.” He stepped around my Jeep and returned with a duffel bag. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
“Where’s your truck?”
“In my garage. My brother dropped me off.”
Again, I’d been had. “A bit sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Hopeful,” he corrected and opened the door for me.
I climbed in with a big, goofy smile on my face. Suddenly, I wasn’t sad about leaving Shadow Ridge anymore because I was taking the best part of it with me.
EPILOGUE—ONE YEAR LATER
I put the last of the potted mums in place, then stepped back to admire my work. With the mini hay bales, decorative scarecrows, and varied assortment of pumpkins and gourds, our house looked like it should be in a brochure promoting autumn in small-town America.
After returning from Chicago, I’d moved in with Steve. I’d considered going back to the cottage, but the truth was, I’d probably be spending most nights at Steve’s anyway. Both the woman and the accountant in me recognized it as a win-win.
I didn’t know what I would have done without him in Chicago. That had been a rough week. I’d signed the papers, and my parents’ substantial estate legally became mine. Thankfully, the firm handling the executorship agreed to stay on and help me take care of everything. Still, going through my parents’ things was emotionally draining, as was putting the house on the market. Steve was my rock. My port of calm in an otherwise chaotic sea of transference.
Then, there was the situation with Angie. She had been brought back to Chicago and was being held without bail. I retained an attorney and provided my statement. Angie offered no contest and accepted a plea, so the case wouldn’t go to trial, and we wouldn’t have to deal with the media circus that would have drawn. On the advice of both counsel and the psychiatrist assigned to Angie, I hadn’t attempted to visit her. I didn’t know if I ever would. She was getting the help she needed, and that was the important thing.
So, yeah, when Steve had asked me to move in with him upon our return, I didn’t hesitate. Was it too soon? Not for us. All I could say was, when it was right, it was right.
Besides, I'd found a better use for the cottage. After spending the holidays in Florida, the Muellers decided to relocate there permanently and put their estate up for sale.
Guess who bought it.
Yep.
My father had always said real estate was a solid investment. I’d used some of the money from the sale of my parents’ mansion to purchase the Mueller estate. Now, Shadow Ridge’s very own bed-and-breakfast was open for business. It provided a nice alternative to the no-frills budget motel on the outskirts of town and the overpriced casino hotel ten miles away for those who wanted to experience our idyllic small-town charm and stay for more than a few hours.
Ziegler Construction had handled the renovations, and Greta Barnes—a local woman who’d once run a five-star hotel in New York City—managed the place and oversaw the day-to-day operations. Of course, we partnered with the Shadow Ridge Inn for lunch and dinner packages.
As for Rose and John, they were doing well. It’d take a while before they were fully debt-free, but they were on their way. There were plenty of fresh new faces working there now. Convincing Rose to hire more people at a decent wage had been a struggle, but she couldn’t argue with the results. Sufficient staff and happier employees meant happier customers and ultimately, more revenue.
Another hard but necessary change? Taking away Rose’s unrestricted access to the bar and making the top-shelf liquor available only to paying customers.
By far, the most important thing had been shifting responsibilities. Rose was a fantastic hostess, but she didn’t know the first thing about running a successful restaurant business, which meant she was not the one who should be handling the finances. Neither was John, to be honest. He was great at ensuring things got done, but not so great at figuring out what needed to be done.
Aaron and I had come up with a practical business plan. Rose was now solely in charge of PR, John actively managed staff and day-to-day operations, and Reardon & Carrington Financial Services handled the finances.
Yes, I’d made my dream a reality. I invested in my own accounting business and convinced Aaron to sign on as a full partner. We haggled a bit, but he was every bit as ready to walk away from the corporate greed and grind for the slower pace of a small, privately owned firm. We bought a place right there on Main Street. In addition to handling the accounting needs of the inn, the B & B, and the multitude of businesses under the Ziegler umbrella, we picked up more local businesses every month.
Max and Michelle graduated last spring. Max was training to become a certified automotive technician, working part-time and weekends at Chuck’s. Michelle got a scholarship and recently started her first official semester as a premed student. I always knew she was a smart girl.
Shannon had had her baby shortly after Christmas—an adorable little girl she named Holly Nicole. She and Mike had separated shortly afterward. Rumor had it that Mike had had an affair with Larissa—remember her? When word got back to Shannon, Shannon kicked his ass out and moved her mother in. Last I’d heard, Mike was trying to get back in Shannon’s good graces, but that was going to be an uphill battle. Shannon was still working part-time at the inn, but with her mom around to help care for the kids, she was taking online classes in tax accounting and loved it. Who knew? The way our business was growing, R & C might be bringing her in as an intern at some point.
Jessie and I had become good friends. She bought the place next to R & C and started her own tea and coffee shop. I’d become addicted to her vanilla jasmine herbal blend. She also did readings by appointment and at her discretion and carried a collection of crystals, stones, and hand-painted tarot cards and runes. She’d been building quite a reputation as a legitimate psychic, and business was booming.
I guessed the long and the short of it was, life was good, and I’d never been happier.
I heard Steve’s truck before I saw it. Oscar rose from his prone position in the shade, his tail wagging in greeting when he saw his master.
Said master stepped up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and pressed a kiss to my neck. The touch of his lips sent delicious shivers down my body. I was glad I’d chosen to wear a sports bra because the snug, supportive fabric made the effect less noticeable.
“Looks beautiful,” my favorite person in the world murmured against my skin.
I tilted my chin to give him better access. “It does, doesn’t it?”
