Secrets of Harmony Grove (4 page)

After that I went out and landed my first real job, starting as an entry-level copywriter at Biddle & Sons. It hadn’t been easy to cover the cost of living in the city on such a meager salary, but somehow I had managed. As I slowly climbed through the ranks at the agency, the settlement money remained in the bank untouched, though I had come close to tapping into it on more than one occasion. When things got really tight, I would consider looking for a position with a larger, better paying agency, but then we would land a big account, Mr. Biddle would surprise me with a bonus, and I would decide to stay. Some people would have hated the erratic, undependable nature of that income, but I actually found it kind of exciting.

Then a few years ago I began dating a man named Troy Griffin. A financial advisor and wealthy in his own right, Troy had learned about my settlement money and convinced me to invest in real estate. The housing market in Philly was hot at that time, so I took his advice and soon found that I liked the power of buying and selling. Troy did too. As it turned out, he was a lot like me—and surprisingly unlike any financial expert that I had ever known—in that he seemed to love the excitement of it all, the rush of walking out of a closing with a new set of keys in hand, the thrill of spotting a fixer-upper on some weed-choked corner lot with a faded “For Sale” sign posted out front. Two early house-flipping successes in a row only fueled our fires. During the months we dated, he and I were investing separately but simultaneously, and it reached near-obsession levels for both of us. We
would spend hours in discussion and research, trying to predict the different places in the city where property values were rock bottom but sure to increase and bring a handy return on our investments.

Then came the crash. Except for those few early successes, almost everything else I got myself into ended up taking a sharp nosedive. As housing prices plummeted, I realized that such an aggressive financial strategy had been not just unwise but disastrous; it was all I could do to stay afloat. And though I had teetered on the edge of bankruptcy several times since then, I had always managed to avoid it, just barely squeaking by. Last spring, I had finally unloaded my last unwanted real estate holding and promised myself that I would never get into debt like that again. And I really meant it too. Had I not been offered the incredibly lucrative job at Buzz, I wouldn’t even have looked at the fabulous new condos with the private balconies that had just gone up near the river. Not even when I found out they had fireplaces, built-in bookcases, and heated floors. Really, I promise.

“What about your bed-and-breakfast out in Lancaster County?” Liz asked me now. “Did you sell that off too?”

“No, you’re right. There’s still that. It keeps plugging along, earning a little profit every month. But the money’s not enough to live on, and I really wouldn’t ever consider selling, not unless it came down to a choice between that and living on the street in a barrel.”

“A barrel?”

I smiled. “You know, like in the old cartoons? The little bum with his five o’clock shadow, so broke he doesn’t even have any clothes, which means he goes around naked, wearing only a barrel held up with shoulder straps.”

Liz didn’t smile in return. Obviously, she hadn’t learned the valuable lesson that when life handed you lemons, sometimes the best you could do was make obscure cartoon references, especially when somebody used those lemons to squeeze juice in your eye.

“Don’t be politically incorrect, Sienna. People don’t say ‘bums’ anymore.”

“Don’t lecture me on matters that are irrelevant, Liz. Come on, I’m trying to figure out why I’m on the verge of being fired. You know how hard I have worked to get where I am. Whether this situation renders me ‘homeless’ or
‘house impaired’ or whatever they call being a bum these days is beside the point. What am I going to do?”

Despite the sharp tone of my voice, a look of sympathy flashed across Liz’s features. She didn’t reply but simply nodded and looked down, turning her attention back to the notes and figures she had scribbled on the yellow legal pad in front of her.

That made me feel bad. Liz was a good friend, and I shouldn’t be taking my fears out on her when she was only trying to help.

I leaned forward and placed a hand on her wrist, apologizing for my outburst.

“Look, I know I can be exasperating,” I said softly. “I’m too impulsive, too undisciplined, too financially irresponsible. I appreciate that you can look past all that and still be my friend. I’m just lashing out at you right now because I’m frustrated and you’re here.”

“I know. Thanks,” she replied, giving me a reassuring smile, one that said don’t worry about it, I understand, and together we will figure everything out.

Just before I pulled my hand away, I noticed her eyes pause at my wrist. Trying not to feel self-conscious, I sat back and tugged on my sleeve, knowing that even the people who knew me best, who had been with me through everything and had seen my whole arm and knew what it looked like, could still forget sometimes and be taken by surprise, if only for an instant.

She cleared her throat and got back down to business.

“As long as the bed-and-breakfast isn’t operating at a loss, I think you’re right to hang on to it. Not to mention that I know you want to keep it in the family if at all possible.”

“That’s correct.”

From that whole period of time Troy and I were dating, only one good investment remained: Harmony Grove Bed & Breakfast. Two years ago, when my grandfather died and left his property in Lancaster County to the various members of our family, Troy had convinced me to buy out my brother’s share and join up with my father to turn our combined parcels into a small bed-and-breakfast in the heart of Amish country. Troy said he knew a man we could hire as manager of the place once it was up and running.
But first, to keep costs down, my dad and I had supervised most of the renovation ourselves, making the drive out as often as we could and even using up vacation time as we converted the place from an old Amish-built house to an elegant yet cozy bed-and-breakfast. Troy had helped us out a lot too, though the investment had lasted far longer than our relationship. He and I had broken up halfway through the renovation.

But at least his idea had ultimately paid off. That little five-bedroom bedand-breakfast ran so smoothly in the competent hands of the on-site manager Troy had recommended that I barely gave it a thought more than once a month, when my tidy little handwritten profit check arrived. Last year, after my mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I had bought out my father’s share of the place as a favor to him. Though that had extended my finances even further, so long as the profit checks kept rolling in, I knew it was still an investment worth keeping.

Now, as I sat in my old friend’s office and thought about losing everything—my inn, my car, my condo—I realized that my current boyfriend, whose advice was far more conservative than Troy’s had ever been, had been correct. Someone who had struggled with as much debt as I had, with only one good asset and a new job that had barely even started yet, had no business buying a condominium, much less one right on the river with a clear view of the Ben Franklin Bridge, even if it was going to keep my feet toasty warm on cold mornings.

Heath wasn’t the only one who had warned me not to overextend myself. My parents had echoed his words, as had Liz, but I had been blinded by the heady figures Ric and Jon kept throwing at me, not to mention eager for the chance to meet and even exceed their expectations. How was I to know that something would come flying in out of left field like this and throw such a giant monkey wrench into my well-laid, albeit naive, plans?

“I suppose your next move is to put out some feelers about selling the condo. See if you can come up with other potential sources of cash, if it comes to that. In the meantime, I’ll try to move heaven and earth on your behalf, putting out some inquiries with my government contacts and maybe threatening the Buzz boys with a lawsuit.”

“You’ll keep me posted?”

“I’ll call you as soon as I make even a fraction of headway.”

“All right. Thank you, Liz. I’ll get out of your hair.”

I stood to go, even though I would be leaving with no more answers than I’d had coming in. At least she would start the ball rolling. I could take comfort in that.

“No offense, but can I give you a little advice?” she asked as she walked me out.

“Sure. Advice that starts out with the words ‘No offense, but…’ is my favorite kind.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. No offense, Sienna, but I hope this situation makes you think long and hard about your tendency toward faulty decision making. If you hadn’t—”

“I know, I know,” I interrupted. “If I hadn’t overextended myself, if I hadn’t been so impulsive and self-indulgent—”

“I was going to say, if you hadn’t let your own common sense be so swayed by a handsome man, you might not be facing such a precarious financial state now.”

“You’re talking about Troy Griffin.”

She nodded.

“Don’t worry, Liz. I am so done, and not just with Troy, but with all of the Troy Griffins of this world.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

I opened her office door and stepped out into the empty reception area, turning to face her.

“Funny you say that, though,” I added. “Would you believe that Troy actually called me out of the blue the other night? First time I’ve spoken to him in over a year.”

Her eyes widened.

“What did he want?”

I explained that Troy had frequent business dealings in Lancaster County, and that he was one of my B and B’s most regular customers. Late Monday night he had called to say that he was out there, staying in his usual room downstairs, when he had run across some old papers of my grandfather’s and wanted to know what he should do with them. After some initial
awkwardness, the call had ended up being fun, a simple reconnect with an old flame and an opportunity to brag a bit about my new job. It also helped that the timing had been good. When my cell phone first rang I had been bored to death, propped up in bed in my hotel room in Boston too wired to sleep but unable to find anything interesting on TV.

“Well, I just hope that was a one-shot deal. He didn’t sound like he was trying to start things up again, did he?”

“Oh, gosh, no. Not at all,” I assured her. “And just to make sure, I managed to throw Heath’s name into the conversation quite a few times.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Now Heath,
he’s
a keeper, the perfect guy for you.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh yeah. What’s not to love? He’s smart, handsome, successful…”

“So was Troy.”

She squinted at me and began counting off with her fingers.

“And unlike Troy, Heath is dependable, solid, respected in the community…”

“Sounds like a job applicant, not potential husband material.”

Suddenly, she reached up one hand and gently gripped my chin, looking into my eyes and speaking to me the way one would speak to a small child.

“He’s what you
need
, Sienna. The very opposite of Troy.”

I studied her face for a moment, thinking how beautiful she was, how elegant looking even now, at the end of a busy workday with her lipstick worn off and her clothes slightly rumpled. She and I were the same height with similar builds, but there the similarities ended. In college the guys liked to call us “Beauty and Cutie” when we were together. She was the Beauty of the pair, with her dark brown skin and long, elegant neck and classic features. I, of course, was the Cutie, with big eyes in a youthful face that I supposed didn’t look too bad when I was all made up—but looked about twelve years old when I wasn’t. Together, she and I formed quite a contrast, though after the incident senior year that would change my body and my life, I secretly thought a more accurate name for us would have been “Beauty and the Beast.”

Right now, Beauty was still holding my chin, no doubt trying to make
sure I really heard what she was saying. I got it, but I didn’t appreciate being treated like a child by my lawyer, even if she was one of my best friends.

“You know, Liz, if you ever get tired of this job, I think you would make a very good kindergarten teacher.”

She laughed, letting go.

“Sorry, point taken. Now get out of here, girlfriend. I have a client in a big mess, and if I don’t get on it, pretty soon she’ll be wearing nothing but a barrel.”