When the bed, armoire, nightstands, and the small table and chairs were finally in place, it was Brooklyn’s turn. Together, she and Simone made the bed, hung the artwork in the appropriate places, plugged the lamps in, and watched the curtains sway in the breeze.
“This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
Simone finished straightening out the pillow on the bed. “For years, I’ve been asking her to do this. She needs it. She missed it. People have missed her.”
“But she shut herself off from them.”
Simone nodded. “And over time, they stopped asking about her. I think if they hadn’t or if people had come to the door, she might have changed her mind. As it was, Brystol coming each summer was the only thing she looked forward to.”
“You should’ve told me, Simone.”
“And you would’ve what? Visited? Stayed? Nothing says she would have changed her mind then either.”
As much as Brooklyn didn’t want to agree, Simone had a point. Simone excused herself and said she was going to tell Carly she had something to show her, leaving Brooklyn to put the final touches on the room. After one more brush of her hand on the comforter, Brooklyn stood in the doorway and admired the work she, Simone, Bowie, and the crew had done. The slightest of breezes blew through the window. Brooklyn closed her eyes to clear her thoughts, and when she reopened them, she took the room in, as if this were the first time she saw it. What once used to be old, drab, and mundane now had a sense of calmness. She could easily see herself sitting on the chair in the corner by the window, curled up with a book. The view from here showed enough of the ocean that whoever rented this room could watch the sunset easily. For the first time since the project had started, Brooklyn thought about the inn reopening and how she wanted to be here for it.
Downstairs, more and more boxes were coming through, and there was a computer tech setting up the new reservation equipment. Brystol stood by, watching the man work and peppering him with questions. The fact that her daughter wanted to work here brought a smile to Brooklyn’s face and an ache to her heart. Their lifestyle would have to change, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, only different. They’d both have a home, something neither had had in quite some time.
The sound of high-heeled shoes caught Brooklyn’s attention. She looked for the source of the sound, and when she saw Carly enter, she gasped. Since Brooklyn and Brystol’s arrival, Carly had worn polyester pants and long sweaters around the house, a far cry from the classically dressed woman Brooklyn remembered, and the few times she had come to check on the progress of the inn, she had worn a sweat suit, one that surely smelled of mothballs.
Before her eyes stood the woman Carly once was. Her hair was curled and pinned away from her face, her lips were painted a soft pink, and her makeup was flawless. She had dressed in a white-and-navy pantsuit and was rocking a pair of red three-inch heels. Brooklyn wasn’t sure if she should catcall the woman or offer her a chair before she fell over.
Carly waved her off. “Stop with the looks. It feels good to dress up for once.”
Both Simone and Brooklyn looked at what they were wearing. Brooklyn was in her normal getup: shorts, T-shirt, and work boots. Simone matched her, minus the work boots.
“Would you like to see one of the rooms? Simone and I finished it before she came to get you.”
“Of course.” She turned to head up the massive staircase that would take her to the second floor, but Brooklyn stopped her and motioned toward the elevator. “Oh, I don’t know. That thing hasn’t been used in ages. I would hate for us to get stuck, unless you intend to send me up by myself.” Carly’s eyebrow rose, which made Brooklyn giggle.
“Bowie had it fixed. He also had the interior redone, so it matches more of the theme you’re going for. He also tested it extensively, and while we may only have three floors of rooms, he had that thing moving up and down for hours, trying to confuse it.”
“And did he . . . confuse the contraption?”
Brooklyn sighed. “Unfortunately, Bowie survived any misfortune.” Carly eyed her again, and Brooklyn shook her head. “I’m joking. Come on,” she said, taking her by the arm. Brooklyn wasn’t really joking, though. Brooklyn had been working on one of the floors, painting the lobby area, when the elevator doors had opened. She had happened to glance over her shoulder to find a shirtless Bowie standing there. The way he had looked at her had made her already-warm body flush. Her heart had pounded, the speed increasing the longer they’d stared at each other. She had watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, wondering if he was feeling the same as her. He had stepped forward, and she had followed, closing the gap between them. She had been within inches of his body and could see pebbles of sweat dripping down the planes of his abdomen. For weeks they had danced around each other, avoiding the elephant in the room when they were alone. They had a history, one filled with lust, longing, and pain. She had missed him over the years and had often thought about a life different from what she had now, one where he played a major part as her companion. Brooklyn had licked her lips, tasting her own sweat, and reached for him. He had grimaced and called out in pain as the elevator doors tried to squeeze the life out of him. Bowie had let out a string of curse words that would have rivaled a sailor’s as the doors had continued to open and close, smashing against his arms. The doors had closed instantly, cutting them off and ending whatever fantasy she’d had playing out in her head.