Fallling for the Prodigal Son Read Free

plants lined the deep windowsill. At least Gina had been watering them. A worn Persian rug that Lucy had rescued from the lobby redecoration two years ago covered the wide-plank wooden floor. The walls were painted the same cheery yellow they'd been the day Lucy was hired. She imagined how unsophisticated that color looked to the elegant woman who had just taken a seat on the other side of Lucy's desk. She extended a cool, dry hand to Lucy.
    "We met briefly last night. Elle Scott-Thomas," she said.
    "Yes, I remember," Lucy replied. "It's nice to see you again."
    Elle skipped right over any Monday morning chit chat and got straight to the heart of the matter.
    "I'm working as a consultant to Mr. Matthew. He and I have gone over the marketing plan you completed for the current year." She spoke with the crisp, clipped accent of private schools and summers spent in Europe. "We've made some notes to help guide you in developing next year's plan."
    Lucy took the document that Elle was holding out to her. "Okay. But it's June. We don't usually start work on next year's plans until September, after the high season is over."             
    "Be that as it may, Mr. Matthew would like everyone to start work on next year's plans and budgets now. He has some new ideas for the business that may take additional time to implement."
    She is one cool customer, Lucy thought as she watched the other woman's neutral poker face. She and Sterling Matthew struck Lucy as an odd match. Slacker rich kid and buttoned-up businesswoman. Granted, a lot of money will smooth over a large assortment of differences but women who comported themselves the way Elle Scott-Thomas did usually wanted a man with a similar disposition. Last night, Sterling had looked like he'd gotten stuck in some grunge-era time warp.
    "I will take a look at it," Lucy said. "When does Mr. Matthe w want to see something back?"
    "Week's end."
     
    Lucy spent the next two hours reading the copious notes jotted in the margins of her marketing plan, the post-it notes slapped across pages, paragraphs circled with questions scribbled next to them.
    Why no Christmas Eve dinner?
    John Matthew had always believed people should spend Christmas Eve at home with family, Lucy mentally answered.
    Why is January empty? Cold and bleak that month. Not enough snow for winter sports.
    The Valentine's Day weekend hasn't changed since I was a kid. If it's not broke, don't fix it.
    John Matthew had always had a vision of the Inn as a quiet, gracious place where the service was impeccable and the pace of life leisurely. It was a resort where people came to swim and sit in the shade and read away a lazy afternoon or play board games in the parlor on a rainy one. There were sailboats for families to take out onto the bay, and canoes, fishing poles and binoculars for exploring the inlets and wetlands. If the place seemed a little frozen in time, well, that was how John Matthew had wanted it. "This will never be the latest, trendiest tourist trap," he'd said to her during her job interview. "This is a little slice of New England WASP-iness for the Mid-Atlantic. From the linens on the beds to the liquor in the bar, we are about things that have stood the test of time. That's our brand."
    Lucy leaned back in her chair to clear her mind and give her eyes a rest. There was nothing wrong with the ideas that Sterling had written into her plan—scheduling more special themed weekends, more aggressively promoting the Inn as a wedding site, booking more corporate retreats. Gina had long wanted to do couples cooking weekends. But it would make the Inn a different place, a busier place, a more adult place. Less of a family inn.
    Lucy didn't relish the prospect of a more crowded resort, especially in the off-season, but she understood perfectly that it was a business—and a business that didn't belong to her, however proprietary her feelings for it were. If Sterling Matthew wanted to make some changes, it was