Page 39 of The Mistakes I've Made
I looked up at the mammoth white tower and groaned. “You’re going to lecture me now, aren’t you?”
He didn’t respond. He just dived right into it. “There were many times in the last almost two hundred years of this lighthouse’s life when it’s fallen into disrepair. The government could have chosen to tear it down and replace it with something better. I mean, why bother with something so old when there are better, newer designs out there that would work just as well? Better in fact?”
“Oh my God,” I simply said.
“But they didn’t,” he went on. “And do you know why, Leilani?”
Hearing my name on his tongue sent a flutter down to my belly. “Because, Taylor,” I answered, “it was part of the island?”
His grin widened. “Why, yes, you are exactly right.”
My arms folded across my chest, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by his captivating green eyes. “I get what you’re saying; I really do. But the government was dealing with a beautiful structure. And not just one beautiful structure. They have, like, a dozen of them. That’s like built-in tourism right there.”
“Seven,” he said.
“What?”
“We have seven lighthouses in North Carolina, not a dozen. You really need to get outside more.”
My hands flew up in the air. “Whatever! It’s still the same issue. They have beautiful, tourist-magnet lighthouses that people love to photograph and put on their walls. I have a fleabag hotel that looks like it time-traveled here from the 1970s.”
“Actually, 1950s.” He didn’t wait for me to respond this time. “Have you even done any research on the building you bought?” he asked, those hands deep in his pockets again as he took several steps around the open area in front of the base of the lighthouse. It was roped off to prevent people from trying to enter, but there were several plaques where you could read about the history and background as well as a scale model that was perfect for pictures.
“I…” I honestly had no answer. I’d been so eager to change it into the vision I had in my head that I hadn’t really cared what it’d been in the past. It wasn’t like the historical hotel Becky had gotten in Chicago. It was just an unimpressive, boring building in North Carolina.
“I didn’t think so. The building was constructed in the early fifties, and although the bulk of what you see inside is, yes, sadly leftover from a tragic renovation done in the late seventies, I’ve seen pictures of what it used to look like when it first opened. It was stunning.”
“Stunning how?” I asked, not trusting his taste at all.
Fifties architecture and design usually meant mid-century modern, and I didn’t see how that fit into his island lifestyle any more than my upscale, modern spa retreat.
“I think the term is art deco.”
My eyes widened at just hearing him speak my language. It was kind of sexy.
“I don’t know,” he went on. “I had to look it up. But it was a far cry from what it is today. The lobby had these shiny, patterned floors, and there were big, tropical plants. It looked like a destination. Special, you know?”
It was the first time he’d said something that had me excited, and I suddenly wanted to rush out of there and look up everything I could about the hotel I owned.
That, of course, had me halting in my tracks.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked.
His eyes met mine.
Vulnerable, cautious eyes.
“Honestly, I don’t know, Leilani. I really don’t. Every bone in my body right now is telling me to just shut up and let you fail.”
“Lani,” I said in response. “You can call me Lani. Everyone else does.”
A smile crept up the corners of his lips. “Maybe I don’t want to be like everyone else.”
“Oh, believe me, Taylor Sutherland, you aren’t. You are definitely one of a kind.”
He laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
I could only join him because the truth was, neither was I.
