To his intense disappointment, she jumped to her feet and, moving to the edge of the cloud bank where they were sitting, peered down at the New Hampshire coastline below. “Are there any restrictions on your good deed?” she asked.
Jonas frowned, trying to remember what he’d been told. “No,” he finally said. “It just has to be significant in the life of someone.”
“That might present a problem,” she said slowly. “What about the old lady who lives in our house now? Didn’t you mention that she was having some troubles?”
Jonas nodded. “Since they built that new resort up the coast aways, she hasn’t been able to rent out any of her rooms.”
“Sounds to me like there’s a good deed there,” Millicent said.
Jonas absently scratched his beard. “Only way I can think to help her is to burn down the new resort so her clients’ll come back, and I doubt if that sactimonious old pen pusher at the gate would accept that.”
“No,” Millicent agreed. “But there has to be another way.”
Jonas frowned. “I could get her some money so that she doesn’t need the income from the inn, but the only way to do that is to steal it, and while that might help her, it won’t help me.”
“There appears to be more to this good-deed business than first meets the eye,” she said uncertainly.
“I could have told you that eighty-one years ago,” Jonas said acerbically. “In fact, I rather think I did!”
“You promised,” Millicent reminded him.
“And I’ll do it. I just got to figure out what it is I’m doing.”
“You’ll think of something.” Millicent smiled at him with a confidence that Jonas wished he could share. Now that he’d finally given in, he wanted to do his good deed and marry his Millicent. He watched with a nagging sense of loss as she slowly faded away.
Jonas got to his feet and absently brushed at the wisps of cloud clinging to his pants. He’d better get down to earth and see what he could work out. He heaved a disheartened sigh. If people thought living was hard, they ought to try dying!
One
“What you need is a gimmick, Aunt Hannah.” Cassie Whitney absently scooped up a handful of fresh, red raspberries from the bowl on the kitchen table and began to munch them.
“No, dear, what I need are paying guests. Even one or two would be nice.”
Hannah sighed despondently as she began to expertly shape the pastry for the raspberry tarts. “I feel so bad about Gertie. She depends on the money I pay her for cleaning the guests’ rooms to supplement her social security, and if there’re no guests...”
Cassie eyed her aunt worriedly, beginning to fear that the situation was even worse than she’d originally thought when she’d arrived last night to find the normally bustling inn silent. It wasn’t like Hannah to sound so discouraged. She had always been one of the most positive people Cassie had ever known. In fact, Cassie’s father claimed that after forty-four years of reading The Little Engine that Could to her kindergarten classes, Hannah had been brainwashed into believing that anything was possible.
“And if the truth were told, dear, I feel sorry for myself, too.” She gave Cassie a rueful smile. “I need the money the guests bring in. My pension is more than adequate for normal living expenses, but...” She glanced around the spacious, old-fashioned kitchen with affectionate resignation. “There’s no denying China View is very expensive. The heating bills alone are horrendous, and something always seems to need fixing or painting or replacing. And the taxes...” Hannah shuddered.
“Are the taxes in arrears?” Cassie cut to the heart of the matter.
“Not exactly,” Hannah hedged.
Cassie frowned as she considered the matter. “I would have thought you were either in arrears or you weren’t.”
“Well, you see, property taxes are paid in two installments. The first installment was due June first.”
“And this is June twenty-second. So you’re late.”
“Technically, but the tax office always gives you a ninety-day grace period before they take any action. And I was able to make a partial payment,” Hannah added.
“How much do we owe?”
“No, dear.” Hannah shook her gray head emphatically. “How much do I owe. China View is my white elephant, not yours.”
“It’s the family’s white elephant,” Cassie insisted. “Whitneys have been living here forever.”
“Only since 1844, when Jonas Middlebury died and left it to his fiancée, who was a distant relative of ours.”
“How romantic.” Cassie’s blue-gray eyes softened dreamily. “To die tragically and leave the love of your life all your possessions.”
“From all accounts, demon rum was the love of his life,” Hannah said tartly. “He’d have made poor Millicent a terrible husband.”
Cassie jumped at the sound of a thump coming from the pantry behind them. She turned and looked across the kitchen at the closed pantry door. “What was that?”
“Probably the wind blowing through the open window knocked something over,” Hannah replied, dismissing the noise. “You’ve been living in New York City too long. You’re nervous of your own shadow. Not only that, but you’ve lost weight.” She frowned at Cassie’s cheekbones, which were a shade too prominent beneath her creamy ivory skin. “You need fattening up.”
“It’s been a long, stressful winter in the advertising business.” Cassie massively understated the case. “But also a very successful one. You are looking at Welton and Mitchell’s newest vice president.”
“Congratulations, dear.” Hannah beamed with pride at Cassie’s achievement.
“Thank you. And, since I got that promotion because I’m very good at selling things, why don’t I use my expertise to sell China View to prospective guests? A month from now, when my vacation is over, you’ll need my room for the surplus guests.”
“Wouldn’t it be a comfort to be booked full?” Hannah popped the tray of tarts into the oven. “But this is your vacation, dear. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“And I will,” Cassie assured her. “But lying around doing nothing palls very quickly. I much prefer to have a project percolating in the back of my mind. It keeps me from getting bored.
“Now then,” she went on briskly, “I think our first order of business had better be the taxes. I’ll give you a check, and you can pay them.”
“I just don’t feel right taking money from you,” Hannah said worriedly.
“Think of it as a temporary loan. I do earn an excellent salary.”
“But I’m the adult and—”
Cassie laughed. “Aunt Hannah, it may have slipped your mind, but I’m thirty-four years old.”
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “It doesn’t seem possible, but I guess you are. But even so...”
“Think of it as allowing me to invest in a piece of the family’s history. Now, what we need is a plan of action.” Cassie changed the subject before her aunt could think of any more objections. “Your business has dropped off because...?” She looked at her expectantly.
“Business has disappeared,” Hannah corrected. “And it’s because of that new resort they built four miles up the coast. I hear it’s the last word in luxury. They have a swimming pool, plus the ocean at their doorstep and a