There's Always Plan B (5 page)

“I blame you for this,” Rhonda said.

Of course she did, Carly thought. When in doubt…

“Tiffany has always had chores,” she said calmly. “We'll have to work some out for her.” She frowned. Tiffany was fairly typical in having to be reminded to do her work, but she never absolutely refused. Plus, the girl had always liked her grandmother and wanted to hang out with her.

“What happened?” she asked.

Tiffany sniffed. “She told me to fold sheets.”

Carly wanted to do an eye roll of her own. “The way you were talking, I expected to hear she put you to work sweeping the roof. It's just sheets. What's the problem?”

“It's
all
of them.”

Carly didn't understand. “Not just the ones for your room?”

“Of course not. I'd do
that.
” Her tone indicated that it wasn't possible for Carly to be more stupid. “I've never seen a pile this big. There were hundreds.”

“Twenty or thirty sets,” Rhonda said with a sniff. “You shouldn't exaggerate, Tiffany. It makes people think you're lying. I'm surprised your mother hasn't taught you that.”

Carly ignored that. “Why so many sheets?”

“I haven't gotten around to folding them from the weekend,” Rhonda said as she walked to the window and stared out at the view. “I've been busy.”

Her mother's activities were the least of Carly's concerns. The real issue was why the housekeeping staff wasn't doing the laundry.

“Don't the housekeepers take care of the sheets on Tuesday?” she asked, knowing the staff was usually busy Monday, cleaning up from the weekend.

“They wash and dry them. I've been doing the folding.”

Not good, Carly thought. She had more questions but didn't want to get into it in front of Tiffany.

She turned to her daughter. “We'll talk later today and come up with a chore list.”

“You let her decide that sort of thing?” Rhonda asked, obviously annoyed.

“I think her input is important,” Carly said. “But she doesn't decide.”

“I could,” Tiffany said defiantly. “I'd do a great job.”

Carly narrowed her gaze. “This would be a great time for you to keep quiet.”

Tiffany opened her mouth, then closed it. “Fine,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

“I still need help with all those sheets,” Rhonda said. “I suppose if everyone is busy, I can just do them myself.”

Like that was going to happen, Carly thought. “I'll help,” she said. “Tiffany, why don't you write up a draft of what you think is a reasonable chore list and we'll talk about it later this afternoon? Aside from keeping your room clean, you'll need to help around the B and B, so think about what you'd like to do.”

“I don't want to be a maid even if it pays good.”

“You don't have to be. There are lots of other things. You could help Maribel in the kitchen, you could prepare the evening appetizers, be responsible for arranging the fresh flowers in the public rooms and the guest rooms.”

Her daughter perked up. “I don't know how to arrange flowers.”

“It's not that hard. I could teach you.”

Tiffany's eyes widened. “You know how to do that for real? You were always putting flowers in the house, but I didn't think you really knew what you were doing.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. My point is there are a lot of ways to help and I don't mind if you pick one that's fun for you.”

“Okay. I'll do that.” Her expression cleared and she headed out of the room.

Rhonda watched her go. “You're spoiling her.”

“Because I'm willing to let her have a say in what her chores are? I don't consider that spoiling, Mom. She's more likely to do the work if she has some input in the process. There's already plenty of friction with her being a teenager. I would like to avoid adding more to the situation.”

Her mother shook her head. “I would never have let you pick your chores.”

“I know.”

Her mother glared at her. “Is that a criticism? Do you want to blame me for the problems in your life? Is it my fault you couldn't hold on to your husband?”

“None of the above,” Carly said as she wondered if living in say, Iowa, would really be that bad. “Come on. I'll help you fold the sheets.”

She would use the time with her mother to find out the real situation at the B and B and then make her decision about staying or leaving. If she was going to move again, she had to do it soon, before Tiffany got too settled. Plus there was her daughter's school to think of. Spring break was only a week. She didn't want to keep Tiffany out of school because they were moving yet again.

Ten minutes later Carly found herself in the basement laundry room. Despite the fact that it had probably once been a dungeon, the space was bright and airy. Several small windows up by the ceiling let in light while the sunny yellow paint added cheer. Three industrial-size washers lined one wall, and matching dryers lined another. There were long folding tables and cabinets with laundry supplies. A dumbwaiter in the corner allowed the clean laundry to be sent up to the guest floors.

Carly stared at the piles and piles of sheets. They were on top of the tables, on the machines themselves and in baskets. She could see why her daughter freaked.

“Were you full for the weekend?” she asked her mother as she reached down and pulled out a sheet.

“No. We're a little behind on the laundry.”

No kidding, Carly thought. She would guess that laundry hadn't been done in a month.

“This has been hard for you, hasn't it?” Carly said, knowing the conversation would go better if she took her mother's side and was careful not to make anything sound like an accusation. “You've had to take on a lot of responsibility.”

Her mother picked up a pillowcase. “It's been horrible. After your father died, I couldn't really function. You can't be married to a man for thirty-five years and just get over it.”

“I agree,” Carly said.

“At first this place ran itself. I liked being in the familiar surroundings and having all the guests come. The ones who had been returning for years were like old friends. Then business slowed. Just a little at first. But now…”

Her voice trailed off. Carly tried to think of a tactful way to ask how bad it was. Before she could, her mother continued.

“We're still getting the die-hard ghost fanatics. Being in all the registries helps, of course. We
are
the best documented haunted house.”

“That's a big plus,” Carly said. Without Mary, Chatsworth-by-the-Sea was nothing more than an old English manor in the middle of pretty much nowhere. “But overall, bookings seem to be down.”

“I know.” Her mother sighed. “People just don't travel the way they used to.”

“What kind of advertising are you doing? There are so many specialty magazines and cable channels.”

Her mother reached for another pillowcase. “Don't be ridiculous. We can't afford to spend that kind of money on something as silly as advertising.”

“It's not silly,” Carly told her. “If people don't know the B and B exists, how can they come stay here?”

“They know.”

“How? Is there some kind of cosmic information booth that informs them?”

Rhonda pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. “I can't believe, with all I've been through, that you would be so mean to me right now.”

Carly stared at her. What, exactly, was making her mother's life so difficult at this exact moment?

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “I'm trying to point out that people won't know about our place if we don't tell them. Word of mouth is great, but it's a slow way to build up clientele.”

She finished with the sheet and set it in a basket. “The thing is, Mom, I need to know how bad things are right now. If I'm going to stay and help you bring the B and B back to a profitable status, I have to know where we're starting from.”

“You know we never discuss money in detail. It's rude.”

“This is business, Mom. Our family business. I thought you wanted me to help.”

“I do.”

“Then I need to know what's going on.”

Her mother snapped open the pillowcase. “Fine, but I don't want you talking about our personal finances with all your friends.”

“I won't.” As if she ever had. Ah, but secrets were important in this family.

“Then I'll show you the books. Although I can't imagine what you want with them. You'll never understand them.”

Carly gaped at her. “Excuse me? This is what I do for a living. I was in charge of the finances at the doctor's office.”

“You don't have to get huffy with me. I thought you had a bookkeeper.”

“We did, and I'm the one who checked her work.” So much for her mother paying attention when she'd talked about her job, Carly thought in amazement.

“Then I guess you can see them after we finish here,” Rhonda said. “Whatever the problems are, they're not my fault.”

“Of course not,” Carly said automatically.

Whoever said coming home again was a good idea had obviously had a very different family, she thought. Could she do this? Could she work with her mother, live under the same roof, day after day for the next couple of years? Did she want to commit her life to the bed-and-breakfast?

There was still the possibility of a small town somewhere. She could walk away from all of this, let her mother simply sell the old place and get on with her life.

Which choice was better? Which would be the most beneficial for Tiffany? And wouldn't it be great if someone was making decisions with her, Carly's, best interest in mind?

Carly
knew the news wasn't going to be good, but she hadn't expected things to be as bad as they were. It took her two hours to study spreadsheets, ledgers and the previous two years of tax returns. She didn't worry about things like payroll or food orders. Instead she focused on guest revenue and large expenditures.

The big surprise was that the B and B had been existing on a line of credit against the home for the past eighteen months. The business hadn't been profitable in nearly three years.

Declining bookings were the real problem. There had been a steady drop since Carly's father had died. The first couple of years after his death showed a slight decline, then the numbers plummeted. The B and B hadn't had a full night since Valentine's weekend, two years ago.

Carly flipped through different ledgers. There wasn't a single wedding or big party planned for the entire summer. No large groups had requested to take over the B and B, something she remembered happening all the time when she'd been growing up.

In addition to the loss of income, there were some interesting choices in the expense department. The dishes had been replaced to the tune of fifty thousand dollars. At the same time, contractors, including their local plumber, hadn't been paid. Based on the checkbook, she had a feeling the property taxes were two months overdue.

Carly leaned back in her chair and studied the pile of books, papers and the blinking cursor on the computer screen. Was it possible to make this work? Could she do it? Making the B and B profitable would mean changing a lot of things, and her mother wasn't a big fan of change. There were—

Her cell phone rang. She reached for it, flipped open the cover and stared at the unfamiliar number.

“Hello,” she said after she'd pushed the talk button.

“Hey, Carly. How's it going?”

It wasn't that she didn't recognize the voice—she had lived with the man for over sixteen years. But she wasn't expecting to hear from her ex-husband, and it took a second for her to place him.

“Neil?”

“Hey. What's up?”

She frowned. “Why do you want to know?”

“I'm just being friendly. You know, regular phone chitchat.”

The last two words made her wince. Was there another man on the planet who used “chitchat”?

“Okay. I'm fine, and yourself?”

“Great. I've been looking at boats. Man, there are some beauties out there. I can't really afford anything new, but I've narrowed my choices down to three older sailboats. I can really fix one of them up and then head off to Hawaii. The cost of the navigation system is going to kill me, but it's a pretty big ocean and I sure don't want to get lost.”

Uh-huh. Did she get a vote on that? “How nice,” she murmured. Was she missing something here? “Neil, why are you calling me?”

“What do you mean?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

“I mean, why are you calling? What is your purpose? Do you want to talk to Tiffany?”

“Naw. I'm just checking in. Saying hi. Hi.”

Had she ever thought of the man as charming? “Neil, we're getting a divorce. You decided you didn't want to be with me anymore. So why are you checking in?”

“Because we're friends. Don't you want to be friends with me, Carly?”

Not even for money, she thought. Why didn't Neil get it? She could handle him being as much of a jerk as he wanted where she was concerned, but Tiffany was another matter.

“What I want is for you to stay in contact with your daughter. It's been over three weeks since you last spoke with her.”

“I've been busy. This whole boat thing.”

“Neil, she's your
daughter.
She has to matter.”

“You know you're much better at the whole parenting thing than I am.”

What he meant was she was willing to make the sacrifices that went with having a child and he wasn't. “I know she loves you and misses you. Just because you don't have to pay child support while you're not working doesn't mean you abdicate your responsibilities. You're supposed to see her every other weekend. She needs that and I think you need the time with her, too. She's growing up fast. You have to be a part of her life.”

“Lighten up. You take things too seriously.”

Carly held the phone out in front of her and stared at it. She replaced it against her ear. “You're kidding, right? We're talking about your
child.
”

“I know.”

His tone dismissed her in such a way that in less than three seconds she went from annoyed to wanting to maim him.

How did this always happen? They started out with her wanting him to change something and they ended up with her being the bad guy. She wanted to scream at him that it had never been her plan to take life so seriously, but no one had given her much of a choice. Someone had needed to be the grown-up and Neil sure as hell hadn't volunteered. It had all fallen on her.

“You know, Carly, if you're going to be like this, I'm not going to call you anymore.”

“Amazingly enough, I can live with that. The person you need to be calling is Tiffany. You need to plan to spend a weekend with her and soon. I mean it, Neil. If you don't do this in the next two weeks, I'm contacting the judge. I'll make it a court order if I have to.”

Tiffany adored her father and Carly was going to make sure the man didn't let her little girl down any more than he already had.

He grumbled something she couldn't hear but doubted was very flattering to her.

“Fine. But what about the plane ticket? Do I have to pay to fly her down?”

“Yes. Or you could come up here, but you're not staying at the B and B. You'll have to get two hotel rooms somewhere else. And before you ask, yes, Tiffany needs her own room. She's fifteen.”

“But that's a lot of money.”

“So sail up here on your boat. That will be free.”

“What? Hey, Carly, that's a great idea. Maybe I'll do that.”

“So there's no point in telling you I was being sarcastic about the sailing remark?”

“Naw. Okay. Gotta run. Have a good one.”

He hung up.

She did a little grumbling herself, then pushed the end button on her cell phone.

What on earth made Neil think she wanted to be friends with him? Sure, she was more than willing to keep things civil between them. It was important for them to get along—for Tiffany's sake. But friends?

Maybe she would be a better person if she were willing to let Neil stay in her life, but that was
so
not her style. She'd moved past wanting to see him cut up into little pieces and fed to the carnivores at the L.A. zoo, but that didn't mean she wanted to “chitchat” about his hopes and dreams.

None of which mattered, she reminded herself. What was important was his relationship with his daughter. If he followed through on that, she would ignore the rest of it. If he didn't, she would make good on her threat to get in touch with the judge.

In the meantime, she had books to put in order and a profit-and-loss statement to work out.

But instead of reaching for the keyboard and entering numbers on the spreadsheet, she turned her chair toward the office window and stared out over the side lawn.

What had happened to chase guests away? Or had they simply forgotten about the B and B? Was it the same with the groups and the weddings? Carly remembered attending large bridal fairs with her parents at least twice a year. Then there were a couple of big travel shows. There had been brochures and pictures and letters of recommendation by previous guests.

Without turning away from the window, she reached for a notepad and a pen.

“Contact previous guests by postcard, giving them a discount,” she wrote. They still had the old registration information. Sure, the mailing would be expensive, but they would be reaching people who had wanted to come at one time.

What next? Weddings, parties of all kinds. They were coming into the busy season. If she spoke with some of the local hotels in town, told them they had availability, maybe they could get some spillover bookings.

They could run specials during the slow seasons and they weren't that far from San Francisco. What about advertising locally? Chatsworth-by-the-Sea was off the beaten path, but they did have a ghost. She would have to feature that prominently.

Okay, those ideas worked for the weekends, but what about during the week? Based on what she'd discovered, the place was mostly empty, even on holiday weeks. So what made people travel during the week, when most of them were working? What would make them give up their precious vacation time to come here? Or was she missing the point? What if they got to come here without giving up vacation time? What if their travel was about work?

Carly grinned as she put pen to paper and began to write as fast as she could form words.

 

“This is just stupid,” Tiffany said from the passenger seat. “I don't want to go to school.”

Carly resisted the urge to remind her daughter that she loved school. The classes were mildly interesting, but what really got Tiffany excited was the activities and hanging out with her friends. No doubt if she said that, she would be reminded that due to the move, Tiffany had no friends locally.

“Even if I wanted to let you stay home, which I don't,” she said, “the state of California has a real thing about truancy. You gotta be there, kid.”

“But I'll hate it. Besides, Grandma said she's not sure we're staying, so why don't I wait until you decide what you want to do about ruining my life even more?”

Carly stared at her daughter. “What?”

Tiffany sighed. “Grandma said we may not be staying with her. That you've mentioned going somewhere else. Not that you'd discuss it with me. I'm just the one with the broken life. Why should I know anything?”

Carly felt her temper rise and it had nothing to do with Tiffany's negative attitude. How dare her mother discuss moving with Tiffany? Carly hadn't decided what to do about staying or leaving, but she'd been determined not to worry Tiffany until she had a clearer plan. Tiffany was only fifteen—her life should be about classes and friends and boys and growing up. Not worrying about where they were going to live.

“I'm sorry Grandma said anything,” Carly told her. “It's true I don't know if we're staying. I've been working on trying to figure out if I think I can make the bed-and-breakfast profitable. She and I are going to talk about my plan this afternoon. I've come up with some ideas and suggestions, but ultimately, it's her decision whether or not she wants to keep the place open. If she doesn't, then we'll be moving somewhere else. But until we know otherwise, we're assuming we're staying.”

“Easy for you to say. Your life isn't destroyed.”

Tiffany folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window. Hard to believe this was the same girl who had, only a few nights earlier, wanted to sleep in her mother's bed. She'd worried that Tiffany was growing up so fast. Maybe she should worry she wasn't growing up fast enough.

“I'm working through the last of the numbers this morning, then I have to talk to your grandmother. As soon as we know, you'll know.”

Tiffany didn't say anything, but her folded arms and closed expression more than communicated her displeasure. Carly knew it was going to get a whole lot worse with her daughter before it got better. Tiffany had never changed schools before, and while Carly wanted to believe the transition would be smooth, she had her doubts.

Funny how knowing a situation had the potential to be difficult didn't make it any more pleasant when it occurred.

She pulled up in front of the high school and stared at the familiar building. Wings had been added on each end, nearly doubling it in size, but even with the addition and the two separate buildings behind the main one, it was still much smaller than the school Tiffany had attended in Santa Monica.

“This is it?” the teen asked in disbelief. “What are there, like twelve students?”

“I'm sure there are at least twenty,” Carly said as she turned off the car and unfastened her seat belt. “Come on. Let's get you registered. I called last week and the office already had your transcripts, so that will help.”

“Nothing's going to help,” Tiffany muttered.

Carly ignored that and walked toward the main entrance. She remembered everything about this school—she'd attended it herself. More years ago than she could count, she'd been thrilled to finally be in high school. It had seemed so mature and exciting. Some of the seniors had been close to eighteen. The senior guys all had deep voices and a lot had beards or mustaches.

Carly smiled as she recalled clinging to Maribel as both of them had stared at all the older guys. It had been like waking up on a different planet—an exciting one filled with possibilities. She and her friend had spent that first lunch period walking around the campus, figuring out where things were. One of the seniors had actually smiled at them and said hi. Carly had a feeling she and Maribel had shrieked and run off in the opposite direction.