refilling the humidifier, reading to her, cuddling her. When Margaret fell asleep at night, Carley didn’t have the energy to think about her plans. She took a long hot shower and crawled into bed with her own book, one Maud had passed on, with lots of unrealistic romance.
Monday she kept Margaret home to be certain she was better, and by Monday afternoon her daughter was well, and bored, almost bouncing off the walls. Carley was delighted to send her back to school Tuesday morning. She started making lists. Thinking about who could give her advice. She’d call her parents and her sister. Maud worked and made money, so she’d know some things, about taxes and so on, but her work was more solitary. Who else?
She thought of Lexi Laney. Lexi ran her own clothing store on the island, Moon Shell Beach, which was wildly successful. Lexi didn’t actually run with Carley’s crowd—Lexi was single, with no children, but she was close to Carley’s age and whenever they met at parties, Carley had always liked talking to her. It just might work, asking Lexi about running a business. She picked up the phone.
13
• • • • •
“O ne thing’s certain,” Lexi said as she stood in Carley’s kitchen looking at the cluttered desk piled with mail, the girls’ schoolwork, and Carley’s appointment book, “you can’t run a business from here. Especially not a B&B.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not professional, for one thing. You want your guests to come up here for muffins and coffee and see that mess? You must have
some
place in this huge house for an office.”
Carley chewed her fingernail. “Well … there’s Gus’s office.” Lexi followed Carley down the hall and into the room. “This is perfect! You’ve got a desk and a computer here already. Clear off Gus’s stuff and set up your office.”
Carley gulped. Lexi intimidated Carley. Lexi was at least six feet tall, slender as a willow reed, with long white-blond hair and huge blue eyes. She was perfection itself. Today she wore black pants and a white tee shirt. She looked like a million dollars. Carley had always thought there was something a little hard about Lexi. She’d heard how, years ago when she was nineteen, Lexi had married a much older and very wealthy man, then divorced him after ten years and returned to the island. In that time, Lexi had acquired a kind of gloss, an
attitude
.
Carley screwed up her courage and confessed: “It doesn’t feel right.”
“Well, honey, he’s not going to be using them anymore.”
“Still … it might make my daughters sad.”
“So you want to keep this as a shrine?”
“Well …”
“Fine.” Lexi turned on her heel and walked out to the hall. “This is a big house. You have lots of rooms. Of course the placement of the office is perfect. It’s near the kitchen and at the back of the hall, but it’s your decision. We can turn any room into an office. You just need a desk, a computer, and some file cabinets.”
“My computer’s in the kitchen.”
“Nope, can’t use that. That’s the household computer. You’ll want to move it, though—into the den with the television. Your girls use it, right? You email your friends? That’s what
that
computer’s for. You need a computer dedicated to your business. For tax reasons as well as for organizational reasons.”
“Lexi … listen, I’m having trouble thinking clearly. I do need to get organized. Do you think we could just sit in the kitchen for a while and you could tell me stuff and I could write down a list?”
“Sure, Carley. That will work.”
Once settled in the kitchen with Diet Cokes, Carley picked up a pen and pad of paper. “Go.”
“All right. Just off the top of my head. Signage.”
“What?”
“You need to have some kind of sign to show people they’ve come to the right place. Signage is strictly controlled by the Historic District Commission. You may not even be able to have a sign up here in this residential
Monday she kept Margaret home to be certain she was better, and by Monday afternoon her daughter was well, and bored, almost bouncing off the walls. Carley was delighted to send her back to school Tuesday morning. She started making lists. Thinking about who could give her advice. She’d call her parents and her sister. Maud worked and made money, so she’d know some things, about taxes and so on, but her work was more solitary. Who else?
She thought of Lexi Laney. Lexi ran her own clothing store on the island, Moon Shell Beach, which was wildly successful. Lexi didn’t actually run with Carley’s crowd—Lexi was single, with no children, but she was close to Carley’s age and whenever they met at parties, Carley had always liked talking to her. It just might work, asking Lexi about running a business. She picked up the phone.
13
• • • • •
“O ne thing’s certain,” Lexi said as she stood in Carley’s kitchen looking at the cluttered desk piled with mail, the girls’ schoolwork, and Carley’s appointment book, “you can’t run a business from here. Especially not a B&B.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not professional, for one thing. You want your guests to come up here for muffins and coffee and see that mess? You must have
some
place in this huge house for an office.”
Carley chewed her fingernail. “Well … there’s Gus’s office.” Lexi followed Carley down the hall and into the room. “This is perfect! You’ve got a desk and a computer here already. Clear off Gus’s stuff and set up your office.”
Carley gulped. Lexi intimidated Carley. Lexi was at least six feet tall, slender as a willow reed, with long white-blond hair and huge blue eyes. She was perfection itself. Today she wore black pants and a white tee shirt. She looked like a million dollars. Carley had always thought there was something a little hard about Lexi. She’d heard how, years ago when she was nineteen, Lexi had married a much older and very wealthy man, then divorced him after ten years and returned to the island. In that time, Lexi had acquired a kind of gloss, an
attitude
.
Carley screwed up her courage and confessed: “It doesn’t feel right.”
“Well, honey, he’s not going to be using them anymore.”
“Still … it might make my daughters sad.”
“So you want to keep this as a shrine?”
“Well …”
“Fine.” Lexi turned on her heel and walked out to the hall. “This is a big house. You have lots of rooms. Of course the placement of the office is perfect. It’s near the kitchen and at the back of the hall, but it’s your decision. We can turn any room into an office. You just need a desk, a computer, and some file cabinets.”
“My computer’s in the kitchen.”
“Nope, can’t use that. That’s the household computer. You’ll want to move it, though—into the den with the television. Your girls use it, right? You email your friends? That’s what
that
computer’s for. You need a computer dedicated to your business. For tax reasons as well as for organizational reasons.”
“Lexi … listen, I’m having trouble thinking clearly. I do need to get organized. Do you think we could just sit in the kitchen for a while and you could tell me stuff and I could write down a list?”
“Sure, Carley. That will work.”
Once settled in the kitchen with Diet Cokes, Carley picked up a pen and pad of paper. “Go.”
“All right. Just off the top of my head. Signage.”
“What?”
“You need to have some kind of sign to show people they’ve come to the right place. Signage is strictly controlled by the Historic District Commission. You may not even be able to have a sign up here in this residential
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