River's Song - The Inn at Shining Waters Series (16 page)

"I know you probably think I'm meddling to tell you this," Hazel said apologetically. "Maybe I am, but for some reason— maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part—I felt you should know these things."

Anna turned and smiled. "I appreciate it, Hazel."

"Here, let me help you with something there." Hazel came over and began putting the bacon on a plate. "You see, I could tell last night when Clark mentioned your fine cooking skills, you'd gotten his attention. Now, I don't know what that means or if it's just this mother's imagination, but it's the first time I've seen anything close to that since the early Roselyn days. And out of respect for you—and devotion to my son—I felt you needed to know a bit of his history, and I'm not sure he's comfortable speaking of it." She set the bacon plate on the table." And that's all I'm saying about that."

"All you're saying about what?" Clark had just come through the door. Both women turned to see him and Hazel looked caught off guard and possibly speechless.

"About children,"Anna said quickly. She placed the basket of muffins on the table and smiled. "I've been stewing away about my daughter all morning." She went back to the stove and as she spooned the scrambled eggs into the serving bowl she'd been warming, she told them a bit about last night's conversation. She was surprised at how candid she was being, but Hazel seemed relieved. And it did feel good to air her troubles—a bit like giving a dirty throw rug a good shake before hanging it in the sunshine.

Anna set the scrambled eggs on the table with a clunk. "I can't tell if Lauren wants me to come back because she sincerely misses me or simply wants me to play housekeeper again—but I'm afraid it's the latter. You see, my daughter can't stand to get her hands dirty."

"Oh, my," Hazel said as Anna sat down. "That girl sounds like a handful to me."

Without asking this time, Clark bowed his head, as did the women, and after he finished saying grace, he asked a special blessing on their children.

"Thank you,"Anna told him as they started to eat. "Maybe I should do more praying about Lauren and less fretting."

Now Clark confessed that his Marshall was becoming more and more of a handful for him too. "Teenagers these days." He shook his head. "I don't understand them at all. Sometimes I wonder if it's because they've had life too easy—everything is handed to them."

"Not like you kids," Hazel said sadly. "Growing up in the Depression, having your lives torn apart by the war."

"That could be true with Marshall too," Clark admitted. "I'm sure that both his mother and I, and even his stepfather—we all probably overindulge him."

"But the war hurt the children too,"Anna pointed out." Maybe it's because we've tried to make it up to them. I often feel guilty for what Lauren missed out on—like having a normal healthy father—so I suppose I might indulge her a bit more than I should. And I know her grandmother lavished her with things—too many things. Poor Lauren; no wonder she's so spoiled."

Hazel held up her hand as if giving testimony. "I'm guilty of that too. But goodness me, that boy just gives me that look—" She turned to Anna now. "He's quite a handsome boy, you see, and being the softy grandma that I am, I just can't help but give in to the lad."

"Well, the lad is almost a man now," Clark reminded her." Or so he seems to think. He's only seventeen but he's certain he knows more about everything than everyone else."

"That's my Lauren too. Only she's eighteen. I keep hoping she'll grow out of it."

"Maybe after college," Hazel offered.

"Here's the latest," Clark said dismally. "Marshall is now trying to imitate James Dean."

"Who's that?" Hazel asked.

"You're kidding?" Clark looked at his mother like she had two heads.

Even Anna was surprised. "I don't get out much, Hazel, and I rarely see a film, but I must admit that I know the answer to that one. Of course, that's only because I have a teenaged daughter." So she explained about the handsome young actor who'd worn black motorcycle jackets and tight jeans and drove too fast. "He remains iconic amongst the young crowd."

Hazel laughed loudly. "Well, now. Tell me what is wrong with that? He sounds like an adventurous fellow."

"Oh?" Hazel frowned. "He's dead?"

"Mostly it's wrong that James Dean died so young,"Anna explained.

Now Clark explained how he was tragically killed in a head-on collision. "Shortly after he got a speeding ticket, although it seems it was the other driver's fault."

"And I suppose the idea of Marshall behind the wheel, since he's a driver now, and wearing his new leather jacket and thinking he's the next rebel without a cause . . . well, it does make a parent feel concerned. Although Roselyn seems to be taking it in stride."

"Oh, dear."

"Goodness me, I certainly don't want Marshall to end up like poor James Dean." Hazel shook her head. "You say he's still a teen icon?"

Anna nodded. "Lauren was fifteen and very impressionable when James Dean died. She was devastated and it took her a long time to get over it. Even now if you mention his name, Lauren will get very melancholic."

"Marshall was only thirteen at the time, but he still thinks of James Dean as a hero."

"Oh." Hazel shook her head. "I had no idea about James Dean or any of that. I must've been out of the country when all that happened."

"It was about four years ago," Clark said. "Weren't you in South America around then?"

She got a thoughtful look. "As a matter of fact, I think I was."

Anna was relieved that the conversation shifted from troubled adolescents to Hazel's global excursions, which were extensive. Most of Hazel's trips were work related, but it was apparent that she had a bit of a wanderlust as well. "I've been on every continent," she said finally, "but I still have a few places I'd like to see."

"I've never been like my mother," Clark admitted. "I get comfortable in one place and, if it's a good place, I don't want to leave."

"As long as he can build something," Hazel said fondly.

After the meal was finished, Clark politely thanked Anna, complimenting her again on her fine cooking abilities. It was pleasant to hear his praise, but as she cleaned up the breakfast things, she wondered if he saw her beyond a good cook and housekeeper. Oh, she knew that fairly adequately described her life. Certainly that's what her mother-in-law had trained her to be. In fact, it seemed that Eunice had spent the past two decades trying to obliterate Anna's spirit by reducing her to the role of domestic servant.

"That's true."

As she scrubbed a dish, just like she'd done thousands of times before, Anna could relate to James Dean's
Rebel Without a Cause,
except that Anna thought she had a cause worthy of rebelling against. After all, didn't she deserve a life beyond cooking and cleaning? What was she getting herself into with her dreams to run an inn? Wasn't that just like signing up for more of the same . . . or worse? What if she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire?

Yet strangely, as she took her time to clean up and put things away, she found a sense of solace and comfort in doing these familiar everyday things. Was it that she actually enjoyed menial tasks? Or perhaps her pleasure came from knowing she was not doing this service for her mother-in-law—who could never be pleased—but for herself. Not only that, but she could do these things when and how she liked—or not at all if she so chose. And it was her business if she decided to do these tasks for others. As long as she was happy and content like she felt now while drying a platter and looking out over the sparkling river, why should she doubt herself? Why not simply enjoy it?

Because, for all she knew, she might end up back in Pine Ridge kowtowing to Eunice and Lauren again—although she hoped not. To the depths of her being she hoped not. She recalled her ancestors now, remembering how her greatgrandmother and her people made those long treks up and down the beach, north to the reservation and south back to the river. But Grandma would always end the story by stating that although the distance coming and going was the same amount of miles, the trip back home felt easier. Because they were walking in freedom, those were "happy miles."

While Clark worked on getting the electricity fully connected, Anna put some additional effort into the first floor of the inn. Her motives were twofold. She wanted to make Clark as comfortable as possible in case he wished to stay another night. But she also wanted to continue improvements in the hopes she might entice Lauren to come out here with some of her friends. Anna felt certain that if—and it was a rather large if—Susan and some of the other girls could be lured out here for a seaside vacation, Lauren would quite naturally be on board.

Anna had just finished putting some of her recent purchases onto the shelves against the wall, getting them out of the way, and was now standing in the center of the room and imagining what might be when Clark came into the room.

"Excuse me," he said, "I didn't realize you were in here."

"It's all right," she assured him. "I was doing some organizing, and I got sidetracked with a little daydreaming."

"About your future inn?"

She smiled wistfully. "I hope I'm not just entertaining a foolish pipe dream."

"I don't see why." He looked around the room. "This structure is sturdily built, and with the right improvements, I think potential guests would enjoy a visit on the river. Even without all the amenities, I'm enjoying it myself."

Encouraged by his optimism, ideas began spilling out of her. She told him about how she thought the space could be divided into four separate rooms with new windows and exterior doors. "So that people would be free to step outside and enjoy the river and the fresh air, but with a feeling of privacy."

"That's a terrific idea." He nodded. "In fact, you could save yourself some money if the doors doubled as windows."

"Doors as windows?" She was confused. "Oh, you mean glass doors."

"Sliding-glass patio doors are all the rage these days. They would really open up the view as well as provide access."

"Sliding-glass patio doors." She was trying to imagine this." It makes sense, but I'll bet they're terribly expensive."

"Not like you'd think. And compared to installing both a window and a door, you might actually save money. Plus, I sometimes get a good deal on them. Would you like me to look into it for you?"

She frowned. "I wish I could say yes . . . but, well . . . you see, my finances are rather limited."

He smiled. "Most people's finances are limited, Anna. Perhaps you just need to work out a budget for your upgrades. I might be able to help you with some estimates."

"Perhaps
limited
was overly optimistic." She grimaced. "My finances are seriously lacking." Suddenly she was besieged with real doubt, wondering if she had bitten off more than she could chew.

"I see." Clark's mouth twisted to one side now, almost as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know how to put it.

"I probably seem a bit foolish to you," she admitted. "Taking on a project like this without the funds to see it to completion. This is all so new to me, I'm sure I'm doing it all wrong." She glanced over to the sets of sheets and towels she'd purchased. Really, what had she been thinking? Simply having linens would not turn this place into an inn.

"I don't know that you're doing anything wrong, Anna, but I do know that to make this place into a viable inn will require some sort of a plan and a budget. I'm not sure what the building codes are here, but I know to add more bathrooms, which I assume you'll have to do in order to accommodate guests, will require another septic system and drain field, not to mention the actual construction of the bathrooms. Plus, I was giving it some thought, as a contractor, and I'd recommend you consider something like a detached bathhouse. I know it might sound rustic, but your property is a bit rustic, and building a detached building, perhaps with a covered walkway, might provide you with more comfortable facilities. And if you placed the bathhouse on the east side, it could also be easily used by someone staying at the cabin. Kind of a like a camp."

"That's a great idea."

He pulled out his little notebook now, jotting some things down. "I could give you a ballpark estimate of what it would run."

She just nodded, swallowing hard as she realized that no matter what figure he quoted, it would be too much.

"For the bathhouse alone, and keep in mind this isn't an actual estimate . . . ," he looked down at his notes then back at her as he told her an amount.

Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, she helplessly held up her hands. "Oh, Clark, I don't know what made me think I could possibly do something like this in the first place. I don't have that kind of money. The truth is, I never will."

He looked slightly stumped as he closed his little notebook and slipped it back into his shirt pocket.

"But I do appreciate your expertise," she told him. She felt bad now. She hadn't meant to suggest that his estimate was unfair. She sighed and looked around the room. "I suppose I need to be realistic. This place will probably never be much more than it is right now." She brightened. "But I can still make the best of it. If nothing else, this can turn into a spacious guest room down here. I plan to paint the walls and—"

"I hope you don't think I was trying to shoot down your dreams." He looked uneasy. "I just didn't realize you were working with no budget whatsoever."

"I suppose I should've made that more clear."

"But banks will carry improvement loans, Anna. I assume this property is owned free and clear by you?"

"It is."

"Then it's possible you could use the equity in your property to secure a loan to complete the improvements."

She considered this. "I'm not very experienced in these things, but I always assumed that to get a loan you need to have a source of income, so that you're able to make the payments on the loan."

"That's true."

"And although I'd like to believe the inn would bring in some income . . . in time . . . it could be quite some time, or it's possible that the inn could be a great big flop. If that happened, I'd be unable to make loan payments and I'm afraid that could put my entire property at risk. Wouldn't the bank take away my property if I couldn't make my loan payments?"

"That's correct."

"That's a risk I can't afford."

"I understand, but I'm sure your pension would easily cover a loan payment—at least until you got the inn up and running properly."

"I don't get any sort of pension," she said quietly.

"I'm not sure exactly, but my mother-in-law often told me that any money coming my way had long since been eaten up by my husband's medical expenses."

He frowned. "Why not?"

Clark looked confused. "Are you sure about that?"

"I'll admit I'm not terribly smart regarding these things."

"But you said your husband served in the war, correct?"

"Yes, as an officer."

"And he was injured in the line of duty?"

"That's right."

"And he died a while back?"

She just nodded.

"Then not only are you entitled to a pension, but I'd think Social Security as well." He scratched his head. "And if your husband was an officer, I'd think he would've had some additional coverage as well. But you say you're not receiving anything?"

"Not a penny."

"Did you ever?"

"No. I lived with my mother-in-law. She took care of all the household finances. And I took care of everything else, including my husband."

"So he wasn't hospitalized?"

"No. But the doctor did visit regularly. I know that was quite costly."

He firmly shook his head. "Not
that
costly."

"Well, there were my daughter's expenses too." Anna was studying him closely now. She could tell by his expression that he was skeptical about what she was saying. "And my motherin-law's house is rather, well,
grand.
I suppose it's terribly expensive to maintain and we had the, uh, the privilege of living there with her." She nearly choked on the word
privilege.

He pressed his lips together and scratched his chin, as if thinking hard. "Do you mind if I ask how your husband's family became wealthy. I assume they are wealthy if your mother-in-law lives in a
grand
house."

She explained about the family-owned lumber mill and how her husband had been running it before the war and how he was supposed to continue the same afterward. "Except, as you know, a lot of things changed after the war."

"For clarification's sake, is your husband's father deceased?"

"Yes. Mr. Gunderson passed when Adam was a boy. That's why Adam was expected to run the lumber mill."

"Did Adam have siblings?"

"No. He was an only child, and like Lauren I'm afraid he was a bit spoiled too."

"Anna, I don't like to be intrusive, but this is just not adding up. If your husband's family owns a lumber mill, if he's an only child, and if he died from injuries received during the war, you should not be penniless."

"Well, I'm not exactly penniless." She stood a bit straighter." My mother left me a little something." Of course that little something was shrinking fast. "And I do have this land."

"I'm sorry." He rubbed his chin. "That must've sounded insulting. I didn't mean to insinuate you were broke."

She smiled now. "The truth is, my resources are dwindling. That's why I need to get this inn up and running as soon as possible. Just having your mother renting the cabin is truly a godsend."

"Have you questioned your mother-in-law about your financial situation? Have you asked her to explain why you receive no pension or stipend or anything?"

"When I question this, she's quick to remind me of how much she's given Lauren and me. She points out how she took us in, and how we'd be destitute without her. And I must admit Eunice keeps Lauren dressed in the finest. Also, she bought her an expensive convertible and has offered to cover all of Lauren's college expenses. I could never do any of those things."

He just nodded, but his expression was doubtful.

"You think I've been foolish, don't you? Allowing my motherin-law to chart my course without really knowing what's going on." She bit her lip.

"I'm not sure what to think."

"Well, you're right to think I've been foolish. The more I consider everything, the more I'm sure that I've been extremely foolish."

He looked directly into her eyes now. "I think you've been very trusting, Anna. And I think you've been so put upon that you probably never had a chance to question if you had any other options. I will control myself from expressing my opinions about your mother-in-law. But I'm curious, wasn't there anyone else around—family or friends or someone—who could help you to figure these things out?"

Anna remembered the time she'd been on her way to see the lawyer in Pine Ridge. She told Clark about how Eunice had convinced her it was a complete waste of time and money." And, as usual, Eunice reminded me that I couldn't afford to pay for a lawyer anyway." Anna shrugged. "Which was true."

"But some lawyers would work pro bono on a—"

"That must be Henry!" The sound of a boat engine rumbled as she hurried to open the front door. "He must have brought my deliveries from town." Relieved at this interruption, she hurried down toward the dock. She knew that Clark had probably made some valid points just now, but it was very unsettling to think about those things.

She waved and greeted Henry as he maneuvered his boat alongside the dock. Clark stepped up, grabbing the rope and securing it like he'd been doing it all his life.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," Henry said to Clark. "I was feeling sorry I didn't bring a boy along to lend a hand. Getting all worked up that Anna and me was gonna have to unload and haul all this merchandise into the house ourselves." He jutted his thumb back to where a stack of well-wrapped mattresses were piled. "Looks like someone's gonna be sleeping good tonight. Does that mean you're gonna stick around a while?"

"I hope so," she told him as they started unloading.

He opened the bag and sniffed. "Well, thank you!"

It didn't take long, with Clark's help, to get everything taken to the right places. Anna hurried into the kitchen as the men carried the last mattress up the stairs and into Anna's old room. Gathering the leftover huckleberry muffins into a bag, she went out and handed them to Henry. "Thank you so much," she told him.

As they walked back down the stairs, she took the opportunity to explain to Henry why she'd purchased "All them beds"As he put it.

"A river inn's a good idea," he told her.

"Of course, it won't be open right away," she said as they stopped on the dock, waiting as Henry climbed back into his boat and Clark untied the rope. "But I'll let you know when it does open." Even as she said this, she felt serious doubts. In all likelihood the inn would never open. Not without bathrooms; not without money.

"You do that, little lady, and I'll help get the word out for you." He waved as he put his engine into reverse and backed away from the dock.

"They say word-of-mouth advertising is the best kind," Clark told her as they walked back to the house.

She sighed. "Not that I'll be needing it. I mean since it's feeling more and more unlikely that this place will become an inn."

Hazel was walking toward them now. Anna looked at her watch and was surprised to see that it was nearly one. Where had the morning gone?

"I'm sorry, I lost track of the time. But I'm on my way up to start lunch right now,"Anna assured her. "It should be ready in about twenty minutes or so."

"No hurry," Hazel told her. "I thought I'd take a little walk to stretch my legs."

"And I'll get back to what I was doing," Clark said. "If all goes well, your house will be fully connected to power before sundown."

"That's wonderful,"Anna told him. "I won't miss the sound of that generator growling one bit." Of course, she might miss doing the dishes by kerosene lamplight, although she supposed she could continue that tradition if she really wanted. Or perhaps, if times got hard and she was unable to pay a power bill, she would be forced to. That made her curious as to how much a power bill would be. And there was telephone too. Perhaps Clark was wise in suggesting she make a budget. There was so much she didn't know or understand about finances. All those years of allowing Eunice to handle so much had probably crippled her more than she realized. Anna remembered how she'd been grateful for Eunice's help early on. With a toddler and sick husband to care for, plus the housekeeping in general, it had been a relief not to juggle finances as well. But now she realized that even if her ignorance had been blissful at times, it had probably been rather expensive in the long run.