Five Days in Skye: A Novel by Carla Laureano

“What are your plans for the layout?”
    “The area to the right will be a lounge for guests. To the left will be the dining room. There’s just enough room for nine or ten tables, which is more than enough. The hotel guests normally trickle down in the mornings, and dinner will be by reservation only.”
    Andrea ducked through the opening and walked into the sweeping space. “I’d expose the original stone,” she said immediately, gesturing to the exterior walls. “And this fireplace … you’re keeping it, right?”
    “I’d thought to. The contractor’s trying to convince me it’s not worth the cost to rebuild the chimney.”
    “It would be worth every penny,” Andrea said. “I can just imagine this room in the winter, with a fire going and the snow coming down outside. I think you need some more windows on the west side of the building to catch the sunset though. I know it’s not traditional to the croft-house style, but you’ll be glad for it when winter comes and it gets dark early.”
    “That’s a good idea,” James said, surprise in his tone. “How is it you know so much about this?”
    “My undergraduate degree is in architecture. Most of my clients are in the UK, so I’ve studied traditional British construction in depth.”
    James led her up the creaky wood staircase to the first floor where the hotel’s guest rooms were located, including an addition currently being framed over the kitchen on the back of the house. He pointed out the sites of the water damage and gave her an overview of the current plans for each room. Andrea scribbled notes in her pocket notepad and took photos of both the rooms and the views from the windows.
    She paused in front of a window that looked out onto the sound, over the roof of the cottages. Mist still hung over the mountains in the background, but morning light glimmered on the water. It was a view worthy of a postcard. These front rooms would never be empty.
    “It’s going to be lovely. I can feel it. Some places have a real sense of history. A solidity. I see why you’re so enthusiastic about the project.”
    “And here I pegged you for a marble-and-glass, big-city-hotel type of girl.”
    Andrea laughed and trailed a finger down the solid wood casement. “I love these old croft houses. Just don’t tell anyone. It would completely destroy my image.” She turned away from the window and saw James was watching her with an oddly searching expression. “What?”
    “You’re not at all what I expected, Andrea Sullivan.” He cleared his throat as if he’d said too much and rushed on. “It was my father’s dream to renovate this place. He always talked about updating it and having me open a restaurant here. I regret we didn’t get a chance to do it before he died.”
    “I think he would be pleased with the direction it’s going,” Andrea said. “Some people would be tempted to renovate all the original character out of the place, but I like what you’re doing here. Modern amenities don’t have to mean losing what makes it special.”
    “Do you want to see the blueprints?” James asked. “They’re back in my cottage.”
    Andrea hesitated.
    “I’m just showing you blueprints. I promise, I’ve nothing untoward in mind.” That mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes. “At least not right this minute.”
    He was teasing her again, having tread dangerously close to a personal topic. “Very funny. Let’s see the drawings.”
    Andrea led the way from the room and back down the stairs, her shoes rapping hollowly on the plywood subfloor. James locked the front door behind them, and she struggled across the gravel lot in her heels to his cottage.
    As soon as they stepped inside, James asked, “Tea?”
    “Sure.” Andrea rubbed her arms through her jacket for a second. She’d forgotten about the cold in her enthusiasm over the hotel, but goose bumps still pricked her skin. “I understand why the British are so big on tea now. It’s always