If I could power through the backlog, finish what was already started, maybe add a few of my own artistic touches to the pieces to raise value, I could take it all down to the indoor swap meet in Rochester and sell it. There might be enough here to raise the money.
Maybe.
This, coupled with the seven thousand I already had set aside, might do it. It would be an exhaustive amount of work. I’d still need to run the damn B & B on top of it. But I could do it. I could do all of it.
I had to.
I’d never hated someone in my entire life, but right now I hated Amber. It was hard to believe we’d been raised by the same people, given the same values, and grown up in the same place. How could she not love that house? Feel protective over it? It had a soul, it breathed. It was our responsibility.
I guess I couldn’t really be surprised. I’d known Amber and I were going to end up here eventually.
Amber needing money was the hallmark of my childhood. Amber calling Grandma and Grandpa and them bailing her out, no matter what she did. I remember the calls every couple of months, begging for wire transfers. Grandma sitting in the pantry on the phone with her daughter, the curly phone cord pulled taut and shut into the door, the conversation muffled and whispered. Grandpa was more tough love with her, but she could always get Grandma to fold.
I used to wonder exactly what my mother would have to do to fall from my grandmother’s good graces. It was like the standard was so fucking low, even the most heinous of her crimes were just followed by a sigh and a head shake.
When she visited, she stole things. She’d go down to the VFW and get shit-faced and end up in a bar fight with someone, and Grandpa would have to go get her out of the drunk tank at the post office. When she wasn’t in Wakan, she jumped from one deadbeat guy to the next. She almost never had an address.
I think the only reason this arrangement lasted as long as it had was because a reliable source of income got deposited directly into her account during the busy season. She never had a steady job. She waitressed and was a flight attendant once, but she could never hold down a position for more than a few months. Then I’d get a phone call asking me to advance her money.
Sometimes she’d claim she had some health issue that she needed cash for. A thousand dollars for a root canal, or money for a down payment on a new car because she’d crashed the last one without insurance. It was always something. Only now the something was so big, she had to sell the house to cover it.
I updated the website to show the B & B had availability starting on Friday and gritted my teeth as I hit Enter.
Being open in the off-season was almost pointless. At best, we’d be at half capacity, and the amount of work this meant for me with only half the payout wasn’t worth it. I was tied to the property when I had guests. I couldn’t even make a trip to the hardware store in Rochester when I had people in the house unless I was able to get Liz or Doug to fill in for me. I had to have coffee out by six a.m. for the early risers and a gourmet breakfast ready by nine o’clock. Checkout at eleven, then cleaning the rooms, stripping beds, checking the next guests in at three o’clock. It was a never-ending hamster wheel. And I had to do all those things whether I had one room booked or all four. But I had to make it work. Because if Amber didn’t see the money, she’d probably list the house now instead of in October.
I sent out an email blast to our guest list. I mentioned some fun new spring breakfasts I’d make, the leaves budding, a complimentary wine-and-cheese hour in the foyer that I’d be adding to the stay. Then I started in on the pieces in the garage. I was about an hour into it when my cell phone pinged. I was in a shit mood, but the second I saw who it was, that changed.
Alexis: Sorry, just realized I never replied.
I grinned. Then I called her.
She answered on the second ring. “Uh, hello?”
“Hi.”
“Did you just call me? On purpose? Without texting to tell me first like a normal person?”
“Yeeessss.” I smiled. “Isn’t that what you do with phones?”
“That’s not what I do with mine.”
“You make it sound like I sent you an unsolicited dick pic.”
“The dick pic would have been less shocking.”
I laughed.
“What if I’d been in the middle of something?” she asked.
“Then you wouldn’t have answered. Wild, I know.”
I could tell she was smiling.
“I’m working on something,” I said. “I can’t text right now.”