Room at the Inn for Christmas (Second Chance at Star Inn)(7)

She looked up, her eyes full of hurt. “It doesn’t make sense, but for some reason Dad didn’t want me here.”

Cart kinda wished she’d go back to laughing.

Her phone dinged with an incoming text and she pulled it out and studied the message; then, with her shoulder slumped, she held the phone tight enough her knuckles were white. “I’ve left too much undone back in LA, and the year-end is coming. It’s tons of work getting ready for that.” She paused, her slender hand gesturing absently. The gesture seemed so lost Cart wanted to scoop her up in a hug. “But I won’t call Benji tomorrow. I want to see how the old place is running. I want to spend a couple of days on this side of the hospitality business. It’s said that you can’t go home again; well, I think that’s true for me. If I came back I’d probably spend the rest of my life here trying to decide if my father really loved me.”

Angel wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Of course he loved you, Mandy.”

“Was he trying to keep me away out of some twisted notion rooted in love or did he just not want me around?”

“But you are going to give the Star Inn a chance?” Cart wanted more. A couple of days would keep her here for Christmas. It was a joyful, beautiful time in Heywood, and he wished she’d be a part of it. It might not help her decide to stay, but at least she wasn’t calling Benji yet.

Cart would have guessed Lou Star was one of his best friends. And Lou was a man who loved his daughter and missed her. Why lie to Mandy about a marriage? Why lie about money trouble? Why keep her away?

Lots of questions and, with Christmas a few days away, an inn full of guests and festivities around town nearly every night, they didn’t have much time to answer them.

“I’ll give the inn at least a few days.” She sounded determined, but her chin dropped and her eyes looked watery with unshed tears. “I’m afraid this year will be the same as every year since I graduated from college. I’m going to find out that there is no room for me at the inn.”





Chapter Three

Friday, December 23

Mandy would’ve bet she’d never sleep, not for one second, not after the way they’d talked about Dad. Not after finding out Cart was single and always had been.

Back in LA sleep was usually a torment, which was why she stayed long hours at the office and got up to go in early—if she was awake, she might as well be working.

Then she lived mostly on caffeine and that gave her a stomachache that made eating hard, which trotted out the antacids. She’d lost ten pounds since she started at Halston.

This time, in her old bedroom, she’d been wrong. Her eyes opened after a long, restful night. She still was exhausted and she wondered if sleeping here for a week or two might be necessary for her to heal the synapses in her brain that were wrecked by her insomnia.

“Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care. Chief nourisher in life’s feast.” Where had she learned that saying? And just how unraveled was she? Just how malnourished? She’d like to give the inn a chance to nourish her. Knit her unraveled mind back together.

With wakefulness came thoughts of the night before.

Dad had told her not to come home, but Cart and Angel agreed that he wanted her here.

Cart had never married. Dad said he had.

The inn had financial troubles. The inn was debt-free and well fixed.

Cart was single.

The thoughts chased in circles through her head and kept coming back to the same spot.

Dad had lied to her.

Why?

There would never be a chance to ask him, to find out his reasons for those lies

Cart had brought in her suitcase and it sat there, opened. She’d dug out pajamas, hung her few clothes in her old closet and collapsed into bed for the best night’s sleep she’d had in years.

She’d found a few things of hers in that closet and it bothered her that Dad had kept this room just as she’d left it, as if it waited for her.

The thoughts chasing through her head were driving her mad. Because her solution to everything was to work, she was dressed and was out in the kitchen before Angel got going.

There would be tables to wait on, so she’d dressed in a pair of black slacks and a bright red long-sleeved T-shirt with a white star outlined and sprinkled with glittery white stardust. Dressy enough to represent the inn well, but also easily washable.

She wore her most comfortable walking shoes. A waitress had to be mindful of her feet.

As she came out into the short hallway that led to the kitchen, she looked at the door across from hers. Angel lived in there, in a suite of rooms across from Amanda, and had since her husband’s death.

Before she’d gone to bed, Angel had mentioned that her eight-year-old grandson, Toby, was staying with her sometimes and was there last night. It might slow Angel down, though not much did. Amanda went on to the kitchen and found a tidy menu set up for breakfast.

She looked around and saw how modern everything was. This hadn’t registered last night.

Cart had listed all Dad had done to maintain the Star Inn but hadn’t mentioned new professional-quality appliances, granite countertops and tile floors. The room gleamed with bright, clean paint, shining faucets and high-quality cookware and knives. Everything was state-of-the-art. Paid for by Dad with money he claimed he didn’t have.

Shaking her head to dislodge the jumbled thoughts, she felt something deep shift inside her. She had a good and growing career back in LA, but this was her home.