First Day #2

“Now,” I continue, “I need you to set up the meeting.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that.” She shakes her head so vigorously that her ponytail swings from side to side. “I mean, Mr. Odell is the one who handles that.”

“Then call him.”

“I can’t do that. Mr. Odell told me not to bother him.”

“So,” I conclude, “he is here.”

“No, he’s not here.”

I inhale deeply and release the air slowly to keep from succumbing to stress.

If the goal is to exasperate me, mission accomplished.

I observe her in silence while she does the same with me.

Either she’s as innocent as she seems—which doesn’t help me understand how she’s working here—or she’s a great actress.

I lean toward the first option and add it to the long list of issues to address once I manage to buy the company.

We always try not to fire employees, but in this case, I’m no longer sure whether it’s better to let her go or send her to college.

She’s too young to hold such an important position in a company.

Because even though people say a receptionist doesn’t do much, she’s in charge of managing every appointment and every event inside and outside the company.

And I don’t see Mandy being able to do that.

Perhaps, as in most family businesses, they hired her because she’s family or the daughter of a friend.

“Who can I talk to about setting up a meeting? His son, perhaps?” I suggest.

“He’s not here either.”

Carson was complaining last night that things moved too slowly for his taste and I’m beginning to understand what he meant.

I also know now why my father thinks a week won’t be enough to close the deal.

At this rate, it’ll take me a week just to get a meeting with the owner.

And then getting him to actually listen, because the appointment doesn’t guarantee that either.

“Do you know when they’ll be back so I can speak with them?”

“Today is Monday, and everyone knows they never come in on Mondays.”

“Everyone except me.” My hand tenses and I grip the briefcase harder than necessary.

“Oh, right, of course.” She blushes again.

“And on Tuesdays, do they usually come in?” I try not to lose my patience, but Mandy is not making it easy.

“Of course.”

“All right,” I sigh with relief. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Please let Mr. Odell know.”

“But you can’t come without an appointment. He won’t see you.” My idea seems to horrify her. “You have to call him first.”

“I did that this morning and nobody answered.”

I stare at her so she’ll know I’m talking about her, but she doesn’t seem to realize it.

“Well, naturally,” she says, smiling. “Because they’re not here on Mondays.”

“Don’t you answer the phone?” My curiosity gets the better of me again.

“What for? I can’t transfer the call.”

“But you can take a message.”

When I see that she doesn’t respond to my suggestion, I inhale once more until my lungs are full and then exhale slowly while fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose.

I think talking to her is giving me a headache.

And I’m no longer so sure she’s not messing with me.

It’s impossible, no matter how young she is, that she does things this way or doesn’t know what her job entails.

“Fine.” I give up. “I’ll call again tomorrow to set up the appointment. Thank you very much for everything, Mandy.”

And for nothing, I think.

“I’ll leave word that you stopped by,” she assures me as I’m already heading out.

For a moment, the idea that she’s been stringing me along feels more real and I’m tempted to say something, but when I look over at her, I see she’s flipping through the magazine she had in her hands when I arrived.

She looks so innocent like that, it’s hard to believe she’s a crafty young woman who’s been deliberately fooling me.

In the end, I decide to leave without saying anything.

I’m sure I’ll have time to find out which version is the real one in the coming days.

For now, I head back to the inn and along the way I cross paths with several people; though I try not to make much of it, I feel their eyes on me until they’re out of sight.

And I don’t know if it’s because of my outfit—since it’s happened to me in other towns—or because they don’t like the idea that I’ve come to buy a neighbor’s business—which has also happened on several occasions.

Whatever the case, I think I’ll save my pencil skirts and matching blazers for when I manage to get a meeting with Mr. Odell.

If I ever manage it, that is, because I’m starting to doubt it.

And as long as that doesn’t happen, I resolve to enjoy the town’s charms.

I don’t even know why the image of the man from last night pops into my head. Or maybe I do, but I’d rather pretend otherwise. I change into something more comfortable and leave the room again to go sightseeing. That will help clear my mind and keep the headache Mandy gave me from getting worse.

“Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Delaney.” I smile at her.

The innkeeper is a charming woman who wins you over within seconds of talking to her.

She’s short and a bit on the plump side, but with bright eyes and a smile that practically demands you return it.

She must have been very pretty when she was young because you can still see it in her face, despite the wrinkles that line it.

“You went out early today.”

She’s also a bit nosy. That became clear yesterday with the subtle interrogation she gave me when I returned from dinner with Carson.

“I’m here for work,” I tell her. “The sooner I get it done, the sooner I’ll be back home.”

“You dislike the town that much?” She clucks her tongue with disappointment. “Your colleague did nothing but complain. I don’t think he enjoyed his stay.”

“That’s not the case with me, Mrs. Delaney.” I smile again. “In fact, I’m about to go discover what wonders the town has to offer, since I haven’t been able to meet with Mr. Odell.”

“Mondays are hard for him,” she sighs, and although I had no intention of striking up a conversation with her, I look at her expectantly to let her know I’m interested in whatever she has to tell me.

She leans in close and confides in a hushed tone: “His wife died on a Monday. He visits her grave every Monday without exception and brings her red roses—Annie’s favorites. ”

“I didn’t know that.”

I knew about the death, of course, but not about the devotion with which he remembered her. I find it very romantic and tender.

“Of course not, dear.” She takes my arm and walks with me toward the exit. “You just arrived—you couldn’t have known. Mr. Carson wasn’t one for taking advice, and that’s why all he got from Barnaby was the runaround. To reach that man, you have to know which strings to pull.”

“I’ll have to be smarter than him, I suppose,” I encourage her, hoping she’ll share the advice my colleague rejected.

“You should win over the son,” she says in a tone so low I can barely hear her. “I’m sure he’s more approachable than Barnaby. But you have to talk to him alone. It’s the only way he’ll truly listen.”

“Are you in favor of the sale?” I look at her, surprised.

“I’m in favor of progress, dear. And I’m afraid this town desperately needs it. I’d love it if someone wanted to help me improve the inn.”

“Would you be willing to give it up?” I ask sincerely. “Because that might very well be the price of the progress you so desire.”

“I’d be willing to negotiate, so I could send my granddaughter Mandy to college.”

With those words she confirms that Mr. Odell is not willing to do so, no matter how many offers I make, and she’s also just cleared up my doubts about Mr. Odell’s receptionist. Perhaps I should follow her suggestion and go after the son.

“Where did you say his son is?” I ask, and she smiles with satisfaction.

“On Mondays he usually goes with his father to the cemetery first thing, but then he heads to the river to fish. I think it hurts him too much to see his mother’s grave.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I can show you the way if you’d like, and I’ll give you some food for both of you too. I’m sure Haven won’t have brought anything. I’d swear that boy lives on air most days.”

“Won’t he be annoyed that I’m interrupting his day off?” I ignore her last comment because I’m not interested in knowing about his daily routine—just in finding him so I can negotiate.

“Believe me, any distraction will be welcome. Mondays are no good for the Odells.”

Although I’m not convinced he’ll want my visit, before I can think about what I’m about to do, I find myself heading toward the river with a picnic basket loaded with food and a checkered blanket under my arm.