Always a McBride Read Free

and old-fashioned values still flourished.
    She’d been saving for just such a house for years and had just enough money set aside for a decent down payment when her father had died. Just that quickly, with the reading of his will, everything had changed. Within the blink of an eye, she became the owner of her father’s business. If she lived to be a hundred, she didn’t think she’d ever forget the emotions that had washed through her at that moment. Dread, guilt, obligation. She’d felt trapped—she still did!—and there was nothing she could do about it. Her father had entrusted her with the business he’d spent his life building. She couldn’t sell it without feeling as though she was stabbing him in the back.
    A loyal daughter, she hadn’t said a word to anyoneabout her true feelings, but with Myrtle, she hadn’t had to. Her grandmother knew her too well. She’d pleaded with her not to waste her youth protecting and nurturing someone else’s dream—she needed to follow her own heart and do what was right for her. What Myrtle didn’t understand was that was what she was doing, but on her own terms. She might not have her own shop or bed and breakfast, but she went antiquing with her friends, had guests over frequently, and surrounded herself in her apartment with the shabby chic decor that was all the rage and she just loved. Granted, that wasn’t the same thing as having her own bed and breakfast, but for now, at least, there was nothing else she could do.
    Except step in and sub for Myrtle occasionally. Her eyes sparkling at the thought, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks for being blessed with a grandmother who understood her so well, then hurried into the kitchen. If she was going to be at Myrtle’s on the eighth, she had to get busy and plan the menu for the guests her grandmother had already lined up.
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    â€œOh, goodness, Tom and Betty are going to be here any second and I haven’t even finished packing yet. I don’t know where the time went! Where did I put my spare set of glasses? You know, dear—the ones with the silver frames? I need them in case I lose my others. Oh, and I can’t forget an umbrella…it looks as if it’s going to rain. And Betty reminded me to bring my house shoes. They don’t take up a lot of room and I can shuffle around in them in the motor home. My blood pressure pills! Where—”
    In a tizzy, her hair still in rollers, Myrtle scurried around the house as though she was twenty minutes lateto her own wedding, snatching up things she had yet to pack, and Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Stop, already! I’ve never seen you like this before. Will you slow down? This trip is supposed to be fun.”
    Stopping in her tracks, Myrtle drew in a huff of a breath, a rueful grin tugging at her lips. “Sorry, dear. I guess I am a little frantic this morning. I thought we’d have more time to visit. I wanted to tell you about the rest of the guests I’ve got lined up. Don’t worry. You’re not going to be swamped with a houseful of guests before you even have time to unpack your bags. A week from Friday, I only booked two rooms—that’ll give you a little time to get your feet wet before the crowd hits. After that, you’re on your own. From then on, we’re booked solid all the way to Labor Day.”
    Stunned, Phoebe couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding! How did you manage that? You only decided to convert the boarding house into a B and B a couple of weeks ago.”
    â€œYou know how it is,” Myrtle said with a grin. “You call a friend, they call a few people, and before you know it, you’re talking to the head of the Aspen Visitor and Tourist Bureau, who turns out to have a grandmother who lives over in Wilson County. When I told her I was turning my boarding house into a bed and breakfast, she gave my