Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Grandpa did the same. “So talk to me about the money. Because this all looks great. Wish we’d done it years ago, but we didn’t have the vision you seem to have for it, much less the money. Even now, we’re only earning enough to stay in business because of the weddings everyone wants to hold on the bluff.”
I was already prepared for the question. “That’s where Barwich Trust comes in. I talked to Tim Murphy and he said if we use the property as collateral, we can get a renovation loan. Since you’ve been banking with them for fifty years—”
Grandpa huffed. “More like seventy. Got my first savings passbook when I was thirteen.”
“Even better. With your history at the bank and the Sea Sprite’s property value, you can take out enough of a loan to cover everything, especially if Uncle Mark does the plumbing and I do most of the other construction work.”
Grandpa nodded and I felt my excitement begin to simmer. I hadn’t wanted to let myself believe it could actually happen, but suddenly it was beginning to look like this might become an actual possibility.
Nana and Grandpa exchanged a look before Nana reached over and squeezed my hand. “Your parents would be so proud of you, Sawyer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish they were still here to see what a wonderful man you’ve turned out to be.”
The mention of Mom and Dad made my chest ache in an all too familiar way. “Thanks,” I murmured. “Hope so.”
Grandpa sat back and folded his hands together over his belly. “We need to talk to your uncles about this to make sure everyone’s on board, but I think we should go for it. Make sure it’s in great shape before, god forbid, something happens to us.” He turned and reached for Nana’s hand. “I want to make sure this place is earning plenty of money to keep my girl in hair bows long after I’m gone.”
Nana let out a laugh and flapped her hand at him. “Hair bows. Really.”
Grandpa turned back to me. “Tell you what. On Monday let’s sit Mark, Brian, and Greg down and go over everything. Then I’ll head on over to the bank and have a talk with Tim. Maybe you’d be willing to come with me and bring all these plans of yours?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. And I’ve put together a budget as well as taken a first run at supply lists too if he wants to see all of that.”
Grandpa looked impressed, and I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t realized how much I’d tied this project pitch to wanting some kind of parental approval. It made sense, though. This inn was a giant, living symbol of the Gilley family. It represented decades of our life on the Cape, and it was the place everyone always came back to, even after moving away from McBride. The Sea Sprite was sunny days at the beach, rainy days playing board games on the covered porch, and picnics on the bluff. It was where my cousin Doug and I had pushed each other out of the big oak tree and ended up with matching broken wrists. It was where Karlie had almost tripped and fallen into the ocean while her dad tried to take her prom pictures on the bluff. And it was where generations of Gilleys had said their wedding vows against the backdrop of a setting sun.
One day, if I was lucky enough to find him, I’d marry my own husband on the bluff during the setting sun. I’d pledge to love him forever and then show our kids where we’d said our I do’s. Hopefully they’d also find the same comfort here I always had, and the Sea Sprite would remain vital and pivotal to generations of Gilleys to come. The Sea Sprite meant everything to me, and I couldn’t wait to bring it back to its former glory.
I left Nana and Grandpa’s dining room on bouncing feet, excited to move forward to the next phase in the Sea Sprite’s long history.
But of course I’d forgotten one of the most important facts about history: nothing ever turns out the way you imagine, and nothing worth having ever comes that easy.
1
James
After fighting early summer traffic from Boston to the Cape, including a massive backup on the bridge and a jeep full of rowdy teens nearly sideswiping me into the sign for Mashpee, my nerves were shot, and I finally understood why my ex had always insisted on vacationing at Fire Island instead of Provincetown. I should have flown straight into Hyannis instead of Boston, but then I would have missed out on the chance to visit the big costume store on Mass Ave that carried custom Geralt wigs.
My friend Conor and I had won a bet against his husband, and the prize had been Wells dressing as the Witcher at an upcoming gaming convention. Hopefully the stressful detour would be well worth it when Conor saw the facial scar makeup and the Witcher’s medallion the young woman at the checkout counter had added to my haul.