Page 5 of Promised Love

I close the booking system and open the photos folder on the iPad. Once I’ve found what I’m looking for, I turn the screen toward our guests. I consider their gasp and the way Mrs. Hardy clutches her chest to be a good sign.

“This is not open to our guests yet,” I whisper and even curl my hand around my mouth, as if telling some secret, which is partly true.

Mrs. Hardy’s eyes gleam as she leans forward, and Mr. Hardy chuckles.

“It’s actually a secret.” I smile. “This is an extension of the inn. We’re building these private cottages for honeymooners like you who’d rather spend time in the serenity of Cherrywood, enjoying the lakeside view.”

I point toward the wooden cottage that was my brain child. “This is the only one that is fully operational. My parents did a dry run last weekend and spent the night, but because we still have construction happening on the other cottages, we haven’t opened it yet. But…like I said, it’s perfectly ready for use.”

I pause, letting them digest what I’m suggesting, and then add, “There’s a small porch, and our resident gardener has planted some beautiful flowers. You’ll have the best view of the lake. Today is Friday, and construction will halt from the afternoon onward. Then we can get you settled in, if you’d like.”

Mrs. Hardy glances at my iPad screen with so much longing that I know it was a good proposition.

“What were you planning to do today?” I ask.

“After freshening up, we had planned to take a walk around town and then grab some lunch,” Mr. Hardy states, looking between me and his wife.

“Perfect!” I can’t stop my grin. “We can bring your bags to the pre-reserved room for now, and you can freshen up. By the time you’re back in the evening, we’ll have your things in the cottage.” I speak so fast that by the time I’m done, I’m breathless.

Mr. Hardy sits straight, motioning toward my iPad. “And how much extra would we pay for…this?”

“Nothing at all.” I shake my head vehemently. “Like I said, it’s not open to our guests yet, so we haven’t even decided on a price. If you’re willing, I’d love to talk for a few minutes after your stay. You can tell me what you liked and what you think we can improve. You’d really be helping us out.”

“That’s so nice of you.” Mrs. Hardy has a huge smile on her face. “My husband and I spend so much time apart. He was a Marine and retired early this year. In our ten years of married life, this is the first time we’re together for our anniversary.”

Her words send a shiver down my spine, reminding me of one Navy SEAL in particular. The two bands on my left hand suddenly feel heavy, as if they’re missing a lost part.

I take a deep breath and put that smile back on my face. “We’re really thankful for your service, Mr. Hardy. How does Italian sound for lunch? We have an amazing restaurant in town called Giovanni’s.”

“Oh, I saw that on the town’s website,” Mrs. Hardy exclaims.

“Chiara’s family owns it.” I nod toward my best friend, who’s already on the phone.

Chiara joined us a few months back on the ruse of gaining work experience, but really, she’ll do anything to gain some independence from her overbearing parents.

“Arianna,” Chiara begins, “we have some special guests at the inn who are celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy will be stopping by Giovanni’s for lunch. Can you make sure you give them your special VIP treatment?”

I tap on Chiara’s elbow once as she states our request to her elder sister.

“Can you tell her to add it to our tab?”

Chiara nods and then she turns to our guests. “Do you know when you’d like to have lunch?”

Mr. Hardy is speechless for a second before he looks at his watch and then at Mrs. Hardy, who nods. “Um…in roughly two hours.”

“Perfect!” Chiara rattles everything off to her sister.

Once the call ends, Mrs. Hardy pats my hand. “You’re amazing…at this.” She motions around the inn.

“Thank you so much.” I can’t hold back my smile, and Chiara gives me a covert thumbs-up from the side.

The happy couple follow Emma, who’s making sure their bags are taken to their room.

“Another A-plus,” says Mr. Big once our guests are out of earshot. “Your mom will be proud.”

Dressed in his staple checkered black-and-white shirt and black suspenders, he looks at me over his glasses and grins. He sports a gray mustache and a beard that has more white hair than black while the apples of his chubby cheeks shine. I’ve always wondered what rejuvenating serum he rubs on his face to have such flawless skin. His answer—because of course I’ve asked—is always the same: good food and a happy mood.

“Are you really keeping a scorecard of how I’m performing this week?” I tsk twice. “I thought you were on my side, Mr. Big.”

---