the words and frowned.
“What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet lose or forfeit his very self?”
Alex shut the door but the question clung to his thoughts like the adhesive on the back of the paper.
Was it wrong to work hard? To finish what his parents had started?
In a way, Alex had gained the “whole world.” But it had never been about money. Or possessions. Those were a by-product of a promise he had made to himself after their parents died. Neither one of those things stemmed from a desire to build a reputation for himself, but to continue to live up to the one he had been entrusted with.
How could that be a bad thing?
“Our parents built walls to protect us, Alex, but they’re not as thick as the one you’ve built around your heart to protect yourself.”
He could still see the look in Abby’s eyes the day she turned in her resignation. Not anger, not bitterness, but pity.
“I’m tired of living like this.” Abby had reached for his hand. “I want to be free.”
Free from what? Alex had wanted to ask.
Abby was walking away from a lifestyle the majority of people could only dream about; and yet, she felt sorry for him.
It hadn’t made sense at the time.
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Alex muttered. “She gave up everything.”
And she seemed at peace.
That didn’t make sense, either.
When Alex’s cell phone rang, he snatched it up as if it were a lifeline.
“Porter—”
“Is Kate there?” a lilting, feminine voice wanted to know.
“What?”
“I’d like to talk to Kate,” the voice repeated, enunciating each word this time.
“Who is this?”
“Missy Martin. I’m a waitress at the café.”
Right. The blond, perky teenager who’d wanted more hours. “This is my private number, Missy.”
“I know,” the girl said cheerfully. “I tried to call the inn but no one answered. And Kate forgets her cell phone everywhere. I called Abby and she gave me your number.”
She called— “Abby is in Paris.”
“Uh-huh.” Missy giggled. “She and Quinn are having a great time and she said to tell you hi. So, hi. ”
An expectant pause followed.
“Oh.” Alex closed his eyes, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing there was only one thing that would move the conversation toward a swift and satisfying conclusion. “Hi.”
Half-hearted, Alex knew, but it seemed to satisfy her. “I’m not sure where Kate is at the—”
“That’s okay. I can’t talk long anyway, Zach and I are going canoeing this afternoon. Will you give Kate a message for me?”
“A message?”
“Yes. A message.” Missy raised her voice until she was practically shouting into the phone, making Alex feel as if he were as old as Rip Van Winkle. He had no one to blame but himself, asking her to repeat half the things she’d said.
“You could always leave a voicemail,” Alex suggested. “On her phone.”
“Kate doesn’t check her voicemail, either.”
And apparently sarcasm did not stick to the Teflon coating of Missy Martin’s sunny personality.
He gave in. “What’s the message?”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Yes.” Alex was tempted to add that he also had four hotels and a master’s degree in business. That, when added together, gave him the ability to remember a simple phone message.
“The youth group girls are having a makeover party tomorrow night and Kate’s invited.”
“Makeover?”
“Right. Makeover . That’s when a bunch of girls get together and play with cool makeup and do their hair and—”
“I know what a makeover is, Missy.”
“Awesome.” Missy sounded impressed. “And tell Kate to bring her killer cappuccino brownies.”
“Okay—”
“And a movie. Maybe Ever After . Or The Princess Bride .”
“Killer brownies. Movies. I’ll pass that on.” Along with a few suggestions about cell phone responsibility.
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Porter. ’Bye!”
Alex slid the phone into his back pocket and headed down to the lake, where
“What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet lose or forfeit his very self?”
Alex shut the door but the question clung to his thoughts like the adhesive on the back of the paper.
Was it wrong to work hard? To finish what his parents had started?
In a way, Alex had gained the “whole world.” But it had never been about money. Or possessions. Those were a by-product of a promise he had made to himself after their parents died. Neither one of those things stemmed from a desire to build a reputation for himself, but to continue to live up to the one he had been entrusted with.
How could that be a bad thing?
“Our parents built walls to protect us, Alex, but they’re not as thick as the one you’ve built around your heart to protect yourself.”
He could still see the look in Abby’s eyes the day she turned in her resignation. Not anger, not bitterness, but pity.
“I’m tired of living like this.” Abby had reached for his hand. “I want to be free.”
Free from what? Alex had wanted to ask.
Abby was walking away from a lifestyle the majority of people could only dream about; and yet, she felt sorry for him.
It hadn’t made sense at the time.
“It still doesn’t make sense,” Alex muttered. “She gave up everything.”
And she seemed at peace.
That didn’t make sense, either.
When Alex’s cell phone rang, he snatched it up as if it were a lifeline.
“Porter—”
“Is Kate there?” a lilting, feminine voice wanted to know.
“What?”
“I’d like to talk to Kate,” the voice repeated, enunciating each word this time.
“Who is this?”
“Missy Martin. I’m a waitress at the café.”
Right. The blond, perky teenager who’d wanted more hours. “This is my private number, Missy.”
“I know,” the girl said cheerfully. “I tried to call the inn but no one answered. And Kate forgets her cell phone everywhere. I called Abby and she gave me your number.”
She called— “Abby is in Paris.”
“Uh-huh.” Missy giggled. “She and Quinn are having a great time and she said to tell you hi. So, hi. ”
An expectant pause followed.
“Oh.” Alex closed his eyes, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing there was only one thing that would move the conversation toward a swift and satisfying conclusion. “Hi.”
Half-hearted, Alex knew, but it seemed to satisfy her. “I’m not sure where Kate is at the—”
“That’s okay. I can’t talk long anyway, Zach and I are going canoeing this afternoon. Will you give Kate a message for me?”
“A message?”
“Yes. A message.” Missy raised her voice until she was practically shouting into the phone, making Alex feel as if he were as old as Rip Van Winkle. He had no one to blame but himself, asking her to repeat half the things she’d said.
“You could always leave a voicemail,” Alex suggested. “On her phone.”
“Kate doesn’t check her voicemail, either.”
And apparently sarcasm did not stick to the Teflon coating of Missy Martin’s sunny personality.
He gave in. “What’s the message?”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Yes.” Alex was tempted to add that he also had four hotels and a master’s degree in business. That, when added together, gave him the ability to remember a simple phone message.
“The youth group girls are having a makeover party tomorrow night and Kate’s invited.”
“Makeover?”
“Right. Makeover . That’s when a bunch of girls get together and play with cool makeup and do their hair and—”
“I know what a makeover is, Missy.”
“Awesome.” Missy sounded impressed. “And tell Kate to bring her killer cappuccino brownies.”
“Okay—”
“And a movie. Maybe Ever After . Or The Princess Bride .”
“Killer brownies. Movies. I’ll pass that on.” Along with a few suggestions about cell phone responsibility.
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Porter. ’Bye!”
Alex slid the phone into his back pocket and headed down to the lake, where
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