Page 69 of Miss Humbug
Every adult in the room raised a hand and agreed. Their eyes landed on me. Waiting.
I wouldn’t give up on Ethan’s dream, but right now, what choice did I have? My family finally reached consensus on what had divided us so sharply. The first big step of many.
I raised my hand. “Aye.”
We spent the next two hours over snacks and coffee discussing potential plans. Cara deserved real credit. She maintained control over the group while pausing to prepare snacks for the kids in the house and designating Ashe to set up a craft to keep them busy.
Rafe called an attorney friend to get a referral to a firm specializing in estates and trusts.
Meanwhile, we brainstormed what to do with an aging Victorian house apparently none of us actually wanted to live in.
“Rental property,” Shawn suggested. “Obvious.”
“Who’s going to rent this place?” Ashe asked. “The Monopoly guy?”
“The Monopoly guy lives in New York City,” Adam chimed in from the doorway as he rolled a tiny toy car up the door frame. “OnBroadway.Come on, Dad.Duh.”
“What if we leased the house to a bed and breakfast upstart—those have to exist right?” Riley asked. “Like the women in the books Grans reads, who return to their hometown after leaving for the big city and they set up shop at a B&B? And fall in love in the process.”
Brianne gasped. “That’s Marlowe.” She turned to me. “You should run the house as a bed and breakfast. It would be incredibly charming.”
“It’d make great ad copy,” Shawn mused. “Prodigal, directionless daughter returns to small town. Your Hollybrooke story awaits.”
Cara made a face. “That wasn’t very good. How about this: a small-town romance come to life—stay at Hollybrooke suites: a sweet taste of…something. Okay, this is hard.”
Riley jumped in with her own pitch.
“Hey—I’mrighthere,” I said. “I don’t want to run a bed and breakfast. I can barely cook. And the rest of running an inn involves what, washing sheets and towels?”
None of us seemed to know.
“The books and movies make it seem delightful.” Brianne mindlessly tapped at the side of her coffee cup. “But it sounds like a lot of work.”
They continued to chatter while my mind drifted. I was still miffed Shawn called me directionless, but the truth bit hard sometimes. I couldn’t even imagine what my future here entailed for the time Ethan sang holiday carols. What would I be doing? What was my purpose here?
I raised my hand, even though this wasn’t class and none of these fools were my teacher. “We talk so often about owning this land. When Cara questioned that ownership, it got me thinking. I think—no, I believe—we can do better. We can do something meaningful for our community with what we’ve been given.”
Other than reconnecting with Ethan and my nieces and nephews, the most meaningful time I’d spent here was at the respite center. I wasn’t qualified to work there, but if I moved back, I’d at least be able to sign on to the time commitment required to volunteer.
The tiny respite center making do in the corner of an administration building.
“Yeah, and?” Shawn sounded more curious than demanding.
A plan began to form. “I don’t know if it will work, but I have an idea.”
I texted Ethan.Need to talk. When are you available?
After checking for replies for ten minutes, I let him know we were at the house discussing what to do next. I left it vague, given all the details yet to work out, and set the phone aside. He’d told me this week would be busy. Right now, all the decision makers were here and available and we had a lot to figure out.
A real sense of excitement caught wind among my siblings and cousins. Assuming the trust idea worked out legally and all that, we could potentially lease, sell, or even donate Hollybrooke House to the county for use as a respite facility. Through my research, I’d read how respite facilities varied widely. Some offered houses or small complexes for overnight visits serving children in foster care or families with special needs children. They weren’t limited to a playroom and a couple offices in a crowded administration building. Having a home-like setting with plenty of rooms to use for different needs could work well.
Once Shawn got going about real estate tax breaks, he and Rafe’s interests appeared to align. Suddenly, they were budding philanthropists, coming up with ideas to benefit the community with the Holly name front and center.
“Executer of the Holly Trust,” Shawn announced. “I like that title. It suits me.”
Ashe shook his head. “You’d be a trustee. One of many trustees with equal power to manage the assets.”
“I like Executer better,” Shawn grumbled.
