Unexpectedly Hers(2)
“You told me this would be a quiet month,” Emma accused, remembering when her mom had first informed her of the plans for Aunt Vera’s month-long sixty-fifth birthday vacation. She’d been happy to learn of it, because it would leave her more privacy to prepare for the book launch. “You said I’d only be dealing with a private party of five while you were away.”
“That’s right. Apparently the freak October blizzards have made Sterling Canyon an ideal spot for that skier’s training.”
Skier? Training? As usual, Emma had a hard time following her mother’s train of thought.
Emma raised her arms toward heaven. “So why are there men outside posting notices about filming a documentary?”
“It’s wonderful.” Her mother’s eyes lit. “People love a comeback story, so this film should be quite popular. The free publicity will bring all kinds of attention to our inn. When it airs, it’ll put us on the map so we can compete with Wade Kessler’s new hotel.”
“What?” Her pulse beat hard at the base of her neck. The lack of communication astounded her. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
“I’m sure I mentioned it.” Her mother patted her arm.
“I think I’d remember if you mentioned a documentary.”
“Emma, your head’s been in the clouds lately—perhaps you just weren’t listening.”
Emma couldn’t deny that possibility. These past several weeks she’d lapsed into thoughts about her impending book launch, its early reviews, and her next story—the one on deadline. Perhaps her mother had mentioned it and Emma had just not heard it amid all her nattering.
“Now that I have your attention,” her mother began, “all the paperwork and permits are on my desk with a big list of items they need. I took care of most things, although you should double-check the list from the nutritionist before you grocery shop this week. Also, I forgot to arrange for a yoga instructor, but you used to teach at YogAmbrosia, so you can do it.”
“Me? Then who’ll be preparing breakfast, Mom?”
“Oh, yes. That. Then call there and arrange for one of the instructors to come give private lessons here in the morning.” Her mom smiled and patted Emma’s cheek. “It’s lovely to know I can count on you, perfect girl. You always make me proud.”
Normally Emma would bask in the glow of her mother’s praise. But the last thing she needed now was to be dodging a camera crew while juggling her duties to the inn and her burgeoning writing career. And what made her mother think The Weenuche could compete for the same customers as Wade’s soon-to-be-completed Bear Lodge—a five-star, state-of-the-art boutique hotel?
The entire situation robbed Emma of her good manners. “So you’re taking off scot-free while I’m going to end up on camera at all hours, with flour on my clothes and wearing a hairnet?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Emma.” Her mother smoothed her own faded red hair. “Neither of us likes it when you act like your father.”
As always, a chilly two-second pause followed any mention of her father, who’d left them both almost twenty years ago to chase fame in Hollywood. The fact that he’d only ever made the D-list pleased her mother, who’d never wanted to see him rewarded for his philandering and abandonment. Emma herself felt the sting of the comparison, because she disliked any part of herself that resembled someone who’d caused so much heartache.
“Think of the film as a little adventure.” Her mother cleared her throat. “I spoke with the producer, Mari, who sounds like a very nice woman. You aren’t the subject of this movie, dear, so just smile and make the place inviting.” She pinched Emma’s cheek. “Maybe put on a little makeup, just in case you end up on film.”
“You’re really something.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Her mother waved dismissively and popped up the suitcase handle. “Now help me load this into the car. It’s parked out front.”
Emma strode out the door, rolling the bag behind her while trying not to be insulted by her mother’s assessment.
“Can we continue?” Goatee Guy asked as she and her mother breezed past him and his cohort.
“Apparently.” Emma heaved the bag down the few porch steps. “Careful, Mom, there’s still some ice.”
“I see, Emma.” Her mother tsked. “You really must get on this sooner.”
“Andy will be here soon to clear it.”
“Well, you and Andy have to clear all the snow and ice in a timely fashion so we can impress our guests and look good on camera. Remember, perceptions are everything—in life and in business.” Her mother kissed her good-bye. “I’ll send pictures and gifts from each city. I can’t wait to see Chicago, Washington, DC, and New York. Did I tell you we have tickets to Hamilton?”