But coming from Diane, it simply didn’t add up. Not by a long shot.
Diane had energy to spare. She’d been that way since Claire was a little girl. A person didn’t change that fast. Not at their core, anyway.
Inhaling deeply, she considered how best to approach the elephant on the porch, deciding in the end to face it head-on. “What’s troubling you, Aunt Diane? Is it the newspaper article? Because if it is, you’ve got to know that one less-than-stellar remark doesn’t detract a single iota from two decades’ worth of rave reviews.”
For the briefest of moments she wasn’t sure Diane was going to answer, her question hovering in the space between them with nothing to indicate it had even been heard. But just as she was gathering the courage to ask it again, the answer came in raspy and halting bursts. “If it was a poor review of a dinner I prepared, I could weigh that against the hundreds of compliments I got on the same dish knowing it’s a subjective opinion. Would it still bother me? I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t. I like to please my guests. But I could rationalize it away as one person’s opinion. Same thing for location. What’s one person’s dream vacation can be a complete bore for someone else. Which, again, comes down to personal taste.”
“Okay…”
“Today was different, though,” Diane continued. “Today I was questioned on
fact
, not opinion.”
“Fact?” Claire repeated above the chorus of crickets who’d chosen that exact moment to reach their collective crescendo.
“That’s right.” Diane tilted her toes down to the porch floor in an effort to bring an end to their rhythmic sway, the resulting cessation of motion casting a harsh glow on the reality that poured from her mouth. “Because no matter how I try to rationalize it away, the fact remains that my way of doing things here at the inn puts my guests at risk, plain and simple.”
Claire’s mouth gaped open. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
“Twenty years ago, when I opened this inn, I did it because of an image I had in my head. An image of geographical strangers coming together and learning from one another around the dinner table as they would if they were family. Only this family would bring experiences and viewpoints the normal person wouldn’t find within their own four walls on a nightly basis.”
It was hard not to smile as she considered her aunt’s words. So many people she’d met in life stumbled into their careers because of word of mouth, or connections, or even because it was virtually bequeathed to them by a family member. But not Diane. Diane had a way of cutting past all the fluff and finding the part that really mattered.
“And you’ve done that,” she offered once her ears had caught up with her brain. “In spades.”
“Twenty years ago, yes. Ten years ago, yes.” Diane pushed off the swing and wandered over to the railing that bordered the front side of the porch. “Even as recently as a year ago, maybe. But now…the way the world is…I’m not so sure.”
It took everything in Claire’s arsenal of personal restraint not to follow behind her aunt and try to smooth the worry from a face she’d come to equate with genuine happiness. She, of all people, knew there were times in life when youjust needed to talk your way through the tough spots. And like it or not, despite the pedestal she’d always put Diane on, the woman was human. Which meant Claire needed to be the sounding board Diane had always been for her.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she finally said from her spot on the swing. “What’s changed in the past year?”
Pivoting on her sensible soled shoes, Diane leaned against the porch railing and studied their surroundings—taking in the swing, the Adirondack chairs, and the flower boxes packed tight with mums in a near-rainbow of colors. “Everything. The world…society…
Heavenly.
”
Claire dropped her leg to the ground and sat up
Diane had energy to spare. She’d been that way since Claire was a little girl. A person didn’t change that fast. Not at their core, anyway.
Inhaling deeply, she considered how best to approach the elephant on the porch, deciding in the end to face it head-on. “What’s troubling you, Aunt Diane? Is it the newspaper article? Because if it is, you’ve got to know that one less-than-stellar remark doesn’t detract a single iota from two decades’ worth of rave reviews.”
For the briefest of moments she wasn’t sure Diane was going to answer, her question hovering in the space between them with nothing to indicate it had even been heard. But just as she was gathering the courage to ask it again, the answer came in raspy and halting bursts. “If it was a poor review of a dinner I prepared, I could weigh that against the hundreds of compliments I got on the same dish knowing it’s a subjective opinion. Would it still bother me? I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t. I like to please my guests. But I could rationalize it away as one person’s opinion. Same thing for location. What’s one person’s dream vacation can be a complete bore for someone else. Which, again, comes down to personal taste.”
“Okay…”
“Today was different, though,” Diane continued. “Today I was questioned on
fact
, not opinion.”
“Fact?” Claire repeated above the chorus of crickets who’d chosen that exact moment to reach their collective crescendo.
“That’s right.” Diane tilted her toes down to the porch floor in an effort to bring an end to their rhythmic sway, the resulting cessation of motion casting a harsh glow on the reality that poured from her mouth. “Because no matter how I try to rationalize it away, the fact remains that my way of doing things here at the inn puts my guests at risk, plain and simple.”
Claire’s mouth gaped open. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
“Twenty years ago, when I opened this inn, I did it because of an image I had in my head. An image of geographical strangers coming together and learning from one another around the dinner table as they would if they were family. Only this family would bring experiences and viewpoints the normal person wouldn’t find within their own four walls on a nightly basis.”
It was hard not to smile as she considered her aunt’s words. So many people she’d met in life stumbled into their careers because of word of mouth, or connections, or even because it was virtually bequeathed to them by a family member. But not Diane. Diane had a way of cutting past all the fluff and finding the part that really mattered.
“And you’ve done that,” she offered once her ears had caught up with her brain. “In spades.”
“Twenty years ago, yes. Ten years ago, yes.” Diane pushed off the swing and wandered over to the railing that bordered the front side of the porch. “Even as recently as a year ago, maybe. But now…the way the world is…I’m not so sure.”
It took everything in Claire’s arsenal of personal restraint not to follow behind her aunt and try to smooth the worry from a face she’d come to equate with genuine happiness. She, of all people, knew there were times in life when youjust needed to talk your way through the tough spots. And like it or not, despite the pedestal she’d always put Diane on, the woman was human. Which meant Claire needed to be the sounding board Diane had always been for her.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she finally said from her spot on the swing. “What’s changed in the past year?”
Pivoting on her sensible soled shoes, Diane leaned against the porch railing and studied their surroundings—taking in the swing, the Adirondack chairs, and the flower boxes packed tight with mums in a near-rainbow of colors. “Everything. The world…society…
Heavenly.
”
Claire dropped her leg to the ground and sat up
Similar Books
