Unforgettable (Page 47)

There’s an awkward pause.

“Well, either way, I hope you can still be a part of the wedding,” Alicia declares brightly. “Because now I’ve tasted these cakes, nothing else will do.”

“My pleasure.” I try to smile.

Brit sits back and looks around the gardens. “And what you’ve done here with the B&B is amazing. I almost want to check in myself for a vacation.”

“I know, right?” Juliet agrees. “It’s just so perfect, everything that makes Beachwood Bay special all in one place.”

But not for long.

Sadness wells up again, so I cover by bolting to my feet. “Who’s ready for the next round?” I ask brightly. “I’ll go get them now.”

I hurry back inside before my emotions give me away. It just all seems so futile: the work I put in making this place the perfect beach vacation retreat, and more than that, the happy years Nana spent right here. She wanted me to have this place because she saw something in me, a future I hadn’t even glimpsed for myself. And now I’m here, making that vision a reality, feeling happier and more at home than I ever have before I can’t bear the thought of giving up.

What would I even do? Go back to New York, and try to restart my legal career again—knowing all the while that it’s not where I belong?

No.

There has to be a way to stop Ash and his hotel. The permits aren’t final, there’s still some time left. But how do I fight a slick corporation that has all that time and money and experience behind them? Those artist renderings of the development were so luxurious and impressive, there’s no way the B&B can compete with that!

But maybe I don’t…

I pause, remembering what Juliet just said. Rose Cottage is everything that makes Beachwood Bay the town it is today: small, homey, and run by somebody who actually cares. Ash thinks he can waltz in and get the town to rubber stamp whatever plans he likes, but what if somebody reminds them about the history and heritage of the town? People don’t come here for room service and pool cabanas, they visit year after year because things are just the same as when they were kids: the same sandy streets and quaint stores and sleepy afternoons on the beach.

Maybe if I can convince the town that Rose Cottage is worth saving, they’ll think twice about the hotel, after all.

My determination grows. I look around the kitchen, at the tupperware containers full of my freshly-baked goods. I’m glad now that I went so crazy turning out batches of muffins and scones in my stress. Because a full stomach is one sure-fire way to get someone on your team, and I don’t have a minute to lose.

Ash is used to getting his way, but not this time.

“Save Beachwood Bay!”

I thrust a button into the hand of an older woman as she leaves the diner. It’s three days later, and my campaign to keep the B&B is in full swing. “Will you help keep big business from spoiling our beaches?” I ask, from behind my makeshift booth.

“Now, this is about that hotel, isn’t it?” She knits her forehead in a frown.

“That’s right. A big New York company is planning on building over two acres in town.” I grab a flyer and show her the proposed construction site. “It will cause noise and pollution, and bring all kinds of noise and disruption. There’s a town meeting tomorrow, and I’d love your vote to keep them out.”

“Hmmm.” She squints at the text, and then back at me. Then her eyes widen in recognition. “I knew your grandmother. Such a wonderful woman. How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m doing well, thank you.” I nod. “I’m trying to keep her business running, but small businesses like Rose Cottage will be hurt by the development. Will you at least take a look at the information?”

“And take a cupcake!” Kayla adds. She’s working the booth with me, trying to woo votes with flyers and fresh-baked goods.

“I shouldn’t… But go on.” She takes one with a smile. “Good luck, sweetie, with the vote. I’ll be sure to come to the meeting and hear it out.”

“Thanks!” I reply, grateful. “Every person counts!”

I watch her walk away. Ash may have his fancy plans and big budget, but I’m doing this the old-fashioned way: one handshake at a time. After my brainwave on Friday, I swung into action, getting leaflets printed and buttons made. I’ve been going door to door ever since, talking to people about the proposals and big meeting tomorrow. With time running out, I’ve set up right here on Main Street outside the diner to reach the last few townspeople I haven’t already spoken with.

I turn back to Kayla. “How are we doing on supplies?”

“We’re almost out of buttons,” she checks. “Want me to run back and make some more?”

I shake my head. “That’s OK, what’s important is that they read the flyers and understand just what the impact of these plans is going to be…”

I catch sight of Ash across the street. My voice trails away. He’s striding towards me, and he looks mad as hell.

“You should go take a break,” I tell Kayla quickly. “Thanks for your help this morning!”

“Sure.” She looks back and forth between Ash and me, then steps out from behind the booth. She grabs a stack of posters. “I’ll pin up some more of these. I missed a spot down by the harbor before.”

“Thanks!”

She leaves, just as Ash reaches me. His expression is set in frustration, his dark eyes flashing angrily.