The Inn at Eagle Point

“Jess is smart as a whip,” he protested, exactly as he always did.

“Well, of course she is, but learning came hard for her. She thinks that was what sent her mother running. Kids as young as Jess was back then always think a divorce is their fault.”

“You’ve been watching Dr. Phil again,” he accused. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze my relationship with Jess.”

“Well, somebody has to fix it. It’s way past time. How soon can you get back here?”

“A few weeks, maybe. Longer unless you tell me what the hell is going on in plain English that my poor denser-than-dirt male brain can comprehend.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me. I’m still your mother.”

Mick nearly groaned. “Ma, please.”

“I think it’s possible she’s going to lose the inn before she even gets the doors open. If that happens, it will break not only her heart, but her spirit.”

The news caught him completely off guard. Even he recognized how that could affect his daughter, assuming it was true and not just the product of the local gossip mill. “What makes you think she’s going to lose the inn?”

“I’ve heard rumors the bank is considering foreclosure. And before you dismiss that as nothing more than speculation, I’ll tell you my source was reliable.”

Mick’s frustration mounted. “Dammit, I knew she was getting in over her head, but she signed all the paperwork and plunged into this without talking any of it over with me.”

“Because she needed to prove to you that she could do this all on her own.”

“Well, exactly what will she have proved, if the bank forecloses?”

“Michael Devlin O’Brien, don’t you dare come back here if all you’re going to do is throw her mistakes in her face. She needs her father, not a judgmental businessman.”

Now it was Mick’s turn to sigh heavily. If what his mother was saying was true, it put him between a rock and a hard place. “Ma, we both know I could fix whatever’s going on with one call to Lawrence Riley, but you know as well as I do that Jess won’t thank me for it.”

“True enough,” she admitted. “But we have to do something, Mick. Jess needs to make a success of this.”

“Do you really think she could lose the inn? Maybe it’s not that bad.”

“Jess called her sister, that’s how bad it is. Abby’s here now trying to help, but from the grim expression on her face this morning, it could take more than some sort of financial wizardry on her part to fix this. Come home, Mick. Whether she admits it or not, Jess needs your support right now. And of course, if you flew home tonight, you’d be able to spend some time with Abby and your granddaughters.”

“Tonight?” he asked, trying to work out the all-but-impossible logistics in his head. “I doubt I could get on a flight on short notice.”

“Spend some of that fortune you make on something important for once. Hire a private jet, if you have to.”

He thought of having one daughter and his only grandchildren under his roof again, of being there when another daughter might actually admit she needed him, and made a decision. His mother was right. If ever there was a time he belonged at home with his family, this was it.

“I’ll see what I can arrange,” he said at last.

“That’s good,” his mother said. “And let’s just pretend, you and I, that we never had this conversation.”

Mick laughed for the first time since the uncomfortable conversation had begun. “You’re still a sly one, aren’t you, Ma?”

“I pride myself on it, in fact.”

Abby spent all day Saturday buried in paperwork at the inn. As her sister had assured her, the projections were positive, but Jess clearly had little sense of money management. If she’d wanted fancy, top-of-the-line shower curtains or thick, luxurious towels, she’d bought them, even if it broke the budget.

Not that she’d ever put a budget on paper in the first place or even the sort of business plan that Abby would have expected the bank to require. Obviously she’d been flying by the seat of her pants, and the bank had let her get away with it because she was an O’Brien in a town where that meant something. Any national bank would have adhered to much stricter guidelines than the Chesapeake Shores Community Bank apparently had followed.

Abby sat Jess down at the kitchen table on Saturday night and laid it all out for her while Gram was upstairs reading the girls their bedtime story. “You have little to no operating capital. How were you planning on buying supplies for the restaurant? Or soaps and toiletries for the rooms, for that matter?”

“Credit?” Jess said weakly, looking as if she were about to cry. “I haven’t maxed out my credit cards yet.”

Abby bit back a groan. “You’ll dig a hole so deep doing that, you’ll never get out. Like it or not, I’m going to give you an infusion of cash and a strict budget. Assuming, that is, that we can get the bank to go along with this. I’m just praying that they haven’t officially started foreclosure proceedings. I’m going to be on the doorstep over there at nine sharp Monday morning and we’ll see where we stand.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jess said. “This is my project.”

Abby agreed reluctantly. “Okay, but let me do the talking, unless they ask for information I don’t have.”

“Fine,” Jess said, not meeting her gaze.

Abby studied her sister. Jess’s cheeks were faintly flushed. Maybe it was just embarrassment that she’d let her finances get so messed up, but Abby thought it was something else. She looked guilty.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Abby asked her. “Has the foreclosure process gone further than you’ve admitted? Are there more bills you haven’t wanted me to see?”

Jess hesitated, then declared, “No. You’ve seen every single piece of paper, every bill I owe.”

“Then why do you look guilty?”

“Guilty?” She widened her eyes in an attempt to look innocent.

Abby didn’t buy it. “Don’t even try that act with me. I’ve known you too long and too well. That’s the look you used to get when you’d snuck out the bedroom window at night to meet Matt Richardson and Gram called you on it.”

Jess’s flush deepened. “Okay, maybe there is one other thing you should know before Monday.”

“Tell me,” Abby ordered, the knot of dread forming yet again in her stomach. “Don’t you dare let me walk into that meeting and get blindsided.”

Before Jess could reply, the door burst open and their father strode into the kitchen. Jess looked from him to Abby and back again.

“I see the cavalry’s arrived,” Jess said sourly. She scowled at Abby. “Did you call him?”

“Of course not,” Abby said, trying to soften Jess’s reaction by standing up to give her father a warm hug. She beamed up at him. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming home?”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” he said, casting a wary look toward Jess. “Something going on you didn’t want me to know about?”

“Nothing,” she said firmly, shooting a warning look at Abby that pretty much tied her hands. With obvious reluctance, Jess stood and gave Mick an obligatory kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Dad. Welcome home. I’d love to stay and catch up, but I need to get home.”

“Last time I checked, this was your home,” he said.

“I’m staying at the inn now,” she said, as she gathered up all the papers on the kitchen table and shoved them into a briefcase. Clearly she didn’t intend to take a chance that Mick would lay eyes on them.

She was already heading for the door when she said, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Abby.”

Abby wanted to argue that they still had things to discuss right here and now, but clearly Jess didn’t want anything revealed in front of their father. She’d just have to wait until Sunday to find out what Jess had been keeping from her.