Page 40 of When You Got a Good Thing (Misfit Inn 1)

“I don’t know. It feels weird to have anybody from home know about it. It’s weird having anybody important know about it.”

There was something in her tone that had him studying her face. She was looking down at their joined hands, chewing the inside of her lip in an old gesture that told him she was worried about something.

“Who else knows about it?”

She lifted her gaze to his before glancing around the diner to see that no one was close. When she spoke, her voice was low. “There’s this editor. She wants to talk to me about turning the whole thing into a book.”

“That’s awesome!”

Her shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug that wasn’t near as casual as she wanted it to be. “I don’t know. It all happened before Mom died. I haven’t given any kind of answer, but she emailed me about it again this morning.”

“Well, of course you should do it. Joan would’ve been tickled pink at the idea of you being an author.”

“I’m not an author.”

The site loaded on his phone, and he saw the note in the banner. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t be award-winning if you weren’t.”

Kennedy dropped her eyes again. “It was just some web award. Nobody outside the industry would’ve heard of it.”

Xander set the phone aside and took her other hand. “Hey, why are you minimizing everything you’ve accomplished? You did all this, on your own, and it’s amazing. Imagine what you could do with the backing of a publisher. You could make a career of this.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized what he was suggesting. Kennedy could have a career as a professional travel writer. Which meant she’d have to travel. She could hardly do

something like that from the Ridge. He’d only just gotten her back and here he was encouraging her to leave again—albeit indirectly. That was fucked up.

She shrugged again. “I can’t be a travel writer without traveling, and I’m needed here.”

Which wasn’t at all the same thing as I don’t want to be a travel writer.

But Xander shoved down the flutter of panic in his gut that she’d disappear on him. She was committed to being here. For Ari and Pru and, at least in part, for him. She needed someone to support her absolutely. She wasn’t getting that from her sisters. Even if she told them about the opportunity, he doubted they’d rave about it. They were the ones who’d made her feel like a screw up again since she came back, erasing the easy confidence she’d had when he first saw her at the cemetery. He wanted to give that back to her.

So he squeezed her hand and forced a smile. “Maybe don’t think about it in broad strokes of career. Talk to her about what you can do with what you’ve already written, the places you’ve already been. You owe it to yourself to explore the option.”

As Nicky came back with their lunch, Kennedy pulled her hand from his and leaned back to make room for the plate. “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Ten

IF EDEN’S RIDGE WANTED to bring tourism in, they needed a better web presence. That was Kennedy’s estimation after she spent some time Googling to see what services and accommodations were available. The information that was out there was spotty and disconnected. The town itself needed something dedicated to tourism to connect prospective visitors with all the various options. But despite the less than stellar representation, there was the seed of tourism out there. Tourism in the Ridge.

She could just hear Athena scoffing at the idea, as she’d scoffed at the suggestion that anyone would think of Pru’s new workspace as a mini-spa. But the kind of people who’d be drawn to a place like Eden’s Ridge absolutely weren’t the demographic her sister was used to serving in her upscale Chicago restaurant. They weren’t celebrities, or rich women with purse dogs, or snobby businessmen, who probably took off to St. Moritz on a whim—Kennedy knew that type and had catered to them often in various capacities over the years. The kind of people who’d be drawn to Eden’s Ridge were, as Xander had said, everyday folks. The same demographic who were accustomed to vacationing in Gatlinburg.

The whole thing had Kennedy thinking.

People would be looking to alternatives to Gatlinburg, while it was being rebuilt. That meant the need, the prospective market, was ripe now—not next year or years down the line, once a full resort could be built. Some would take advantage of the rental cabins in the area, but others would be looking for something with a bit more service and pampering. The kind of experience they’d find at a cozy bed and breakfast.

And here they sat with this big, mostly empty house...

It was a lunatic idea. Kennedy knew that. But it hadn’t stopped her from nabbing a notepad and conducting her own evaluation of the possibilities. She walked through the freshly cleaned rooms, looking with new eyes, eyes that had seen countless B and Bs over the years, making note of which rooms could easily be converted for prospective guests. There weren’t en suite bathrooms for every room, and that would be an issue for some people. But she’d stayed in plenty of B and Bs in other parts of the world where sharing was the norm. And with more people in the US using services like AirBnB, there was a segment of travelers who were getting more accustomed to that sort of arrangement.

Fresh coats of paint everywhere, for sure. A house didn’t serve as hub for dozens of kids over the years without taking something of a beating. But it had good bones and a lot of Victorian charm. Fresh linens for all the beds. The current hodge podge of comforters, quilts, and bedspreads might be okay with a good washing. And she was pretty sure she’d seen a trunk of other quilts up in the hay loft. Most of the furniture was in good shape. A good cleaning with lemon oil would take care of most of it, and the few pieces that looked too rough could be painted shabby chic style. That would suit a quaint, Southern inn.

Kennedy made notes on her pad.

Inquire about local art for the walls. If they could work up an actual clientele, they could serve as another point of sale for the artists. Make them fall in love with the house, the area, and want to take a piece of their stay home.

With a lot of planning, a lot of prep, it could work. She knew it could. The idea gave her a buzz of challenge. She could do this and it would be a way to finally contribute, not only to her family, but to the community. She could make her mark.

“Whatcha doing?”

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