But to hell with Etta Green. He didn’t have a clue what she was going to decide to do about the house, and at this point he wasn’t certain he cared. The only thing he knew for sure was he was fed up with letting her ruin a perfectly good Friday night at Lu Lu’s.
Donny Joe turned around on his barstool and surveyed the bar thinking it was time to take Irene up on her offer to dance. He spotted her across the crowded room looking like a million dollars. She wore a flirty pink mini skirt with white cowboy boots and a white ruffled blouse. Like a sweet, frothy cupcake, she made a man want to dive right in and take a bite.
Bennie Martin had her cornered and looked to be droning on about one of his many scintillating subjects. His mother’s arthritis was a favorite, the difference between real mayonnaise and Miracle Whip could take up the better part of an afternoon, and he could go on indefinitely about the transmission he planned to replace in his ancient Buick. Whatever it was, Irene hung on his every word, seemingly captivated. She smiled, she nodded, but Donny Joe wasn’t fooled. Her toes were tapping and her shoulders twitched with the slightest hint of a shimmy shake. That woman wanted to dance with every fiber of her being. Donny Joe shoved off the barstool and headed in her direction. He knew how to make at least one of her dreams come true. It was past time to get this party started.
Papers were spread across the four-poster bed in the room Etta had claimed as her own since she’d started spending her summers in Everson all those years ago. It had been redecorated since her last stay. The bed was covered in a sage washed silk comforter and matching drapes hung from the tall windows. The window seat was lined with cushions and a new flower-laced throw rug covered the floor. But one thing hadn’t changed. The big comfy side chair still sat in the corner, begging someone to curl up in it and read a good book. The room was lovely. Now that she took the time to look, she could see all the work her grandmother had been pouring into the old house.
But this paperwork. Good Gravy. Her eyes were about to cross. She’d read the fine print on contracts, and she’d read the bold ideas her grandmother scribbled down. Page after page of thoughts and plans and ideas for her B&B. And that didn’t even include the work that had already started. Construction on the kitchen was scheduled to start right away. But on top of all that, Grammy had advertised in several B&B journals, and three couples had already made reservations. She’d also set up a basic website complete with pictures of the house and an announcement featuring the Valentine’s Day Grand Opening dinner.
Etta made a note to tell Donny Joe that the name on the brochures was the Everson Inn on Old Town Creek. Not too catchy, but it was better than Etta’s Place for sure. Old Town Creek ran across the back of the property and she guessed adding it to the name of the inn lent a romantic feel to things.
She sighed and buried her face in a pillow. A decision about how to proceed needed to be made soon. It was obvious her grandmother had been fully engaged in this endeavor, no matter whose idea it had been originally. Donny Joe’s name came up regularly in her notes. Donny Joe advises this. Donny Joe advises that. Donny Joe, Donny Joe, Donny Joe. His fingerprints were all over every phase of the plans. It might have been her grandmother’s idea, but she wasn’t ready to discount the idea that he’d taken advantage of her lack of business savvy for his own profit. She sat up, closed her eyes, and leaned back against the headboard.
“Hey, Etta, wake up. I need to get out of this house, and you, little sister, are coming with me.” Belle bounced around at the end of the bed, wearing a yellow man-trap of a dress. She was made up, decked out, and ready to paint the town. “Put on something sexy and let’s go dancing.”
Etta groaned. “It’s been a long day. I don’t have the energy to do sexy.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Etta. Will you stop acting like an old lady? It’s eight o’clock on a Friday night.”
“What about Daphne?”
“She’s sound asleep, and Beulah gave us her blessing, so get your butt off that bed and get ready. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Even if I wanted to go, which I don’t, I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I saw that excuse coming from a mile away.” From behind her back Belle whipped out a sequin covered turquoise top and threw it at Etta’s head. “Put that on with your black leggings. On me it’s a tunic. On you it will make a perfect little dress.”
“Sit down, Belle. Before I agree to anything we need to talk.”
Belle moved a couple of folders out of her way and perched on the edge. “If this is about the house, you win. I’ve made some calls to get Daphne’s school records transferred here. I’ve decided we’ll stay here until we figure something out.”