out his debit card and handed it over with barely a twinge of unease. As long as he and his brother were at odds over how to save the business, he wasn’t going to give Antony any ammunition to use against him. Which meant for the foreseeable future, he’d be footing the bill on this project himself. The private kitchen would be a plus, especially if it had a microwave. He could stock up and not worry about eating out at every meal, which meant he could get his work done all the faster and maybe be back home in time for the holiday.
“Would you like to make a reservation at Flutterby Dreams for dinner this evening?” Willa asked, still seated at the computer. “We have a few tables still open.”
“Not this evening, no.” Although the appeal of eating at one of Jason Corwin’s four-star restaurants again was tempting. How he missed the wining and dining of clients with expensive food and even more expensive wine. If things went as planned, this time next year he’d be back to schmoozing at Rockefeller Center or, even better, in Paris. But only if things went as planned. Otherwise, he’d be knee-deep in debt with real-estate agents trying to offload his New York city penthouse apartment. “Perhaps another night.”
“Of course,” Willa said with a nod. “Breakfast is complimentary every morning of your stay. You can either eat here or we can have breakfast delivered to your cabin. “Would you like to keep the same checkout date?”
“For now.” He’d paid extra for an open return ticket, but he was hoping to be back in Chicago well before Christmas. He needed to be home. He could only imagine what his brother was getting up to with the business...or how his mother was coping with their father.
“I’m sorry you’ll be leaving before our holiday activities really get going. But just in case.” Lori handed him a flyer designed like a child’s Christmas list. “It all kicks off with a beach bonfire next Friday night.”
“Sounds like fun.” He pocketed the flyer to be polite.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your cabin.” Lori plucked up a monarch-butterfly keychain out of one of the cubbyholes on the wall, and after he declined her offer to carry one of his bags, he followed her back outside.
In the few minutes since he’d parked, the temperature had dropped and the sun had dipped. Small solar lamps embedded in the landscaping had blinked to life and lit the way around the side of the inn toward a charming stone path. The cabins were lined up and down the cliffs, each cordoned off by black wrought-iron fencing and arching gates within floral-covered trellises. The exteriors were the reverse colors of the main inn, with bright yellow trim and woodwork and pristine white siding. Large windows allowed for a view of a cypress-framed ocean, which roared beneath him against the rocks and beach.
White noise, he told himself, even as he cringed at the volume of Mother Nature.
“I’ve put you in our largest cabin.” Lori glanced over her shoulder at him and pointed farther down the path. “It’s at the end, but it’ll give you the best view and also the most privacy.”
“I appreciate that.” At least he thought he did. He wasn’t exactly a loner. He more than enjoyed the company of other people, but when it came to work, silence and solitude had always been his most welcome companions.
“There’s maid service upon request,” Lori added as she took a short path to the left and stopped at the gate. “We want our guests to think of their cabins as their home away from home, so just a few hours notice is all we need.”
“Short-staffed?” He couldn’t imagine a small town like this having that many people clamoring for housekeeping jobs. He followed her into the front yard and cast an approving look at the fall flowers spilling out of the window boxes and around the foundation of the cottage. The place looked like a miniature version of the main inn. Smartly designed, he thought, and fitting for the location. Doubt in their plans for the sanctuary crept in again, squeezing his heart.
“Not at all.” If Lori was offended at his question she didn’t show it. “Most of our employees are part-time and hold other jobs in town. We just like to make sure we’re making the most of their time. If you’d prefer daily service, I can certainly arrange that.”
If that didn’t make him sound like a pampered, pompous primadonna. “Put me on the books for Monday. That should be fine.”
She nodded and opened the door to his cabin.
The second Xander stepped inside, his nerves settled. “This is marvelous.” He dropped his bags on the floor by the door and walked across the thick-knotted throw rug beneath the small coffee table and sand-colored sofa. The soft blue on the walls gave the open space the feel of a seaside cottage, which, of course, this was even at this height. The wood floors were polished and glistened in the dim light of the table lamp Lori switched on. He followed her through to the small but efficiently stocked kitchen, where she checked that everything was in working order. She then led him to one of the two bedrooms, each with its own bath. The cozy beach feel continued in here with a sand-encrusted framed mirror over the dressers and ocean-inspired accents on the walls.
“There are extra linens in the closet here in the hall.” Lori popped open the door, no doubt to satisfy herself that it was appropriately stocked. “Anything else you need, just call the front desk and we’ll have it brought out.”
“This is exceptional.” He made it sound as if he’d been expecting a hole in the wall. “I’ve stayed in some of the finest hotels in the world and this matches all of them in comfort and style. Nicely done.”
“We only finished the remodel on this cabin last week. Kendall Davidson is a one-woman construction crew. She served in Afghanistan with my husband and doesn’t stop until everything is perfect.” Lori walked over and pulled open the drapes on the main window in the living room. “She’s moved on to refurbishing the Liberty Lighthouse, which has needed attention for as long as I’ve lived here.”
“I’ll have to go check it out. I want to get a feel for everything in town, so we can make sure the sanctuary fits what Butterfly Harbor wants.”
Lori’s hand stilled on the gauzy white fabric. “Wants and needs might be two different things. But if you’d like to get the full Butterfly Harbor experience, I’d be happy to leave a list of our oldest buildings at the front desk for you.”
“That’d be great.”
“If you’re a morning person, I suggest Duskywing Farm. Calliope opens up at eight sharp until noon every day but Sunday. You can load up on produce and locally made goods. She’s supposed to have the last of the summer lavender honey this weekend.”
“Calliope’s a farmer then?” He couldn’t quite imagine the woman he’d met wrist-deep in dirt and tugging potatoes out of the ground.
Lori smiled. “Calliope’s a bit of everything. Farmer, healer, confidante.”
“Healer? You mean like a doctor?”
“Oh, no. Medicinal herbs and home remedies for various ailments, although she has acted as midwife and doula from time to time. She’s also our local butterfly wrangler. Whatever you’d like to know about butterflies, she’s your best source. Was there anything else you needed? A worktable for your computer, perhaps?”
“This kitchen table should be fine.” He didn’t want to be a bother and besides, he wasn’t going to be here long enough to settle in. “I just need to call the mayor’s office and let him know I got in early.”
“He’s partial to meetings at the Butterfly Diner. And bonus, Holly, the owner, is offering a free slice of pie for dessert with every meal ordered.”
“Free pie, huh?”
“Holly Saxon is known for her pies.” Lori backed toward the door. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to get settled in. Just dial six on the phone to reach the front desk.”
“Thank you, Lori. For the room and the hospitality.”
“Welcome