“My twenty-five is yours, though,” Levi said. “It’s investment money, and I think Beachcrest is a good investment, especially with you at the helm. I never thought Carl managed it as well as he could, but I know you would. I know you’ll pay me back.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Hearing him say that meant a lot to her. She and Levi had spent hundreds of hours talking business over the years; she’d been the closest thing he’d had to a partner and trusted advisor, and until she’d gone to college, she’d learned everything she knew about hotel management from him. He was a great businessman—so his praise? It felt damn good.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
It was less than a tenth of what she’d need—and she hadn’t told them, for very good reasons, that she had to have it by Monday—but it was an act of faith she’d craved without knowing it.
“Do you think this Bootstrapper thing’ll work?” Levi asked.
“We just added a bunch of incentives. We had a one-night stay, but Trey got some of his buddies to chip in other motivations.”
“Very good of you, dude, given that she’s buying the thing from you,” Levi said.
“Well,” Trey said, looking pained. “I, um, have strong reasons to want to make the sale to her. It was my granddad’s business, and I know she’ll do right by it.”
“You need a couple of other levels, too,” Levi pointed out. “You want to get the small donors, not just the big ones. You’d be surprised how much those add up. I did a Kickstarter a couple of years ago to run a Tierney Bay Warner Brothers Cartoon Marathon—” he explained to Trey. “The small donors ended up giving more than half the total. You need, like, Beachcrest T-shirts and tote bags. I’ve got some outstanding credit at Zazzle—”
“Flipflops and beach towels and sunglasses,” Hannah interrupted, with all the certainty of a teenager.
“You can give away a few weekends at Cape House if it helps,” Levi said.
“And something with sand,” Hannah said. “Sand from Tierney Bay’s beach. Like those little sand globes with teeny tiny shells in them they sell at Sea Shoppe. I’ll make them.”
“I’ll help,” Chiara said.
“Me too.”
It was Mason’s gruff and unexpected words that finally made Auburn’s eyes fill with tears.
“Youguys,” she said.
“There’s no crying in baseball,” Levi said, eyeing her. “Can this wait an hour? The meat is off the grill and it looks—” he shot Hannah a teasing glance—“ah-maaaazing.”
28
“Your family is terrific,” Trey said.
She smiled. “They are.”
Her family had gone on ahead to the party while he and Auburn made some last tweaks to the Bootstrapper page and set up a few ads. When they were ready to rejoin the party, they walked toward the front of the inn and he held the door open for her.
“Your brothers and sisters are going to hate me so much when they find out the real situation.”
“Theyknowthe real situation,” she said. “You’ve offered to sell me Beachcrest, and I’m going to buy it.”
“Unless you can’t raise the money by Monday, in which case I’m going to sell it out from under you and ruin your life plans.”
“Let’s not go there,” she said. “This is the beach. Beach magic is in full effect. It’s going to work itself out.”
He thought of her saying, “It’s not that kind of magic,” but didn’t call it out. He didn’t want to corrupt her July 4th cheer with his hardheadedness. The fact that she’d already been turned down by one of the two lenders who’d seemed willing to consider her proposition boded ill, and James’s use of the term “long shot” had left a bad taste in his mouth.
They went down the front steps and around the side of the inn. The festivities were in full swing. Long tables groaned under the weight of food—some cooked in the inn’s kitchen, but much of it catered by Auburn’s brother’s hotel, and the staff produced plate-loads of burgers and dogs on gas grills. People—a sea of them, red, white, and blue—flowed around the yard and up and down the sandy path to the beach, chatting and laughing and clutching plastic drink cups.
Trey eyed the yard. It was charming, actually, the grass tufts in their sandy foothold rolling down to real low dunes with longer beach grass. And the flower gardens—they were unruly, true, but in the style of Auburn’s hair, wild and beautiful. He reached out and plucked a daisy and tucked it into her curls. Surprise flashed in her eyes, and she froze under his touch. He drew his hand back quickly, but not before he heard her sharp intake of breath.
He wasn’t sure where today’s revelations left them. He only knew he didn’t want to be Patrick. “Sorry—”
“No. It’s okay,” she said quickly.