Chapter 8 - The Dream With My Name on It
I waited three months before deciding about the inn.
During those months, I went to therapy.
I worked.
I learned how often I apologized before asking ordinary questions.
I also discovered that anger could arrive while folding towels, and grief could interrupt a perfectly good sandwich.
Healing had no respect for scheduling.
June suggested demolishing the wedding cake topper with a hammer.
I donated it instead.
“That’s disappointingly mature,” she said.
“I’m saving the hammer for the porch.”
Owen’s assessment became a phased restoration plan.
He separated essential work from beautiful possibilities.
Roof first.
Safety repairs.
Utilities.
Then rooms.
Then the kitchen I had dreamed about since college.
He gave me estimates with contingencies clearly identified.
When I asked questions, he answered them.
When he did not know, he said so.
At first, I found that unsettling.
Adrian had always known everything.
Or had sounded as though he did.
Owen was comfortable saying he needed to check.
One afternoon, we stood in the dining room surrounded by peeling wallpaper.
I asked whether the old fireplace could be restored.
“Probably.”
“That isn’t very definite.”
“No. I need the inspection before I give you definite.”
I looked at him.
Then began laughing.
He frowned.
“Should I be concerned?”
“No. I’m enjoying the lack of confidence.”
“That may be the nicest insult I’ve received this week.”
I hired his company after comparing proposals and having the contract reviewed.
The business remained mine.
The financing was conservative.
I would open fewer rooms than Adrian had proposed and expand only if the numbers supported it.
Progress became visible.
Rotten boards disappeared.
Windows opened.
Light reached corners that had been dark for years.
Dad restored the old lobby clock.
June organized a volunteer weekend and spent most of it ordering people away from wet paint.
Lena came with pastries.
By then, her divorce had been finalized.
She wore no ring.
She also no longer checked her phone whenever it buzzed.
We had become friends without announcing it.
Not because suffering automatically makes people compatible.
Because we kept showing up and discovered we liked each other.
Paige visited too.
She had found work with a firm that took her concerns seriously.
Rose claimed the sunniest chair on the porch and criticized our choice of curtains until we gave her fabric samples.
The inn became full of people before it became a business.
One evening, Owen stayed late to review the next phase.
I had brought takeout.
We ate on an overturned crate.
He asked about the name.
“Bennett House,” I said.
“Good name.”
“My mother wanted to call it Lantern Lake.”
“Also a good name.”
“You’re very diplomatic.”
“I’m eating your noodles.”
I smiled.
Then the conversation quieted.
He looked toward the newly repaired windows.
“Your father told me she loved this place.”
“She loved what it could become.”
“Seems like you do too.”
I swallowed.
For months, I had feared that Adrian had contaminated every ambition I shared with him.
Now I could see the truth.
He had attached himself to my dream.
He had not created it.
Outside, the lake darkened beneath the evening sky.
Owen began gathering containers.
I watched his hands.
The small scar across one knuckle.
The way he checked that nothing had spilled onto the floor.
I liked him.
The realization frightened me.
He seemed to notice the change in my expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He waited.
I sighed.
“I’m not very good at trusting my judgment lately.”
Owen set down the bag.
“That sounds difficult.”
I almost smiled.
“No speech?”
“Would a speech help?”
“Probably not.”
“Then no speech.”
We sat quietly.
Before leaving, he paused at the doorway.
“When the project is finished, I’d like to ask you to dinner. Somewhere without construction dust.”
My heart moved unexpectedly.
“You’re waiting until the contract ends?”
“I thought that might make the question simpler.”
I looked at him.
For once, a man had considered a boundary before I had to defend it.
“I think,” I said slowly, “I’d like that.”
May you like
He smiled.
Then he left without asking me to promise anything else.
