Page 19 of Sandbar Summer (Summer Cottage #3)

She lowered her sunglasses from her head to her eyes to try to throw him off track. “I get that a lot.”

“You’re clearly way younger,” the man said.

Great, so she looked old on film. That’s the takeaway. Fans also liked to say she looked skinnier in person. What did that mean? Ugh.

Aunt Emma guided the prospective buyer away from Goldie. They walked into the lobby. Joe nodded but continued to prep the space for paint.

Goldie found herself listening to Aunt Emma’s sales pitch. Income potential, historic architecture, emerging area, lake access, and on and on.

“You know, Stirling Stone wants it too, but I think we need a more discerning owner here, don’t you think, Mr. Patrick?”

“I do, quite right.”

Aunt Emma walked out onto the back veranda, and Mr. Patrick followed. Goldie continued to hover just outside of the tour. But she was inching closer and closer to the discussion.

“I’m thinking we can turn this space into additional rentals,” said the older man.

“What? Mess with this lobby?”

“It’s all about maximizing income opportunities. You know I have a supplier for builder-grade bathroom vanities and old hotel TV armoires. It would be pretty cost-effective.”

“Oh, and the carpet is terrible. I’ve got indoor outdoor in bulk. For a lake hotel, it’s a must,” Patrick said.

Aunt Emma, who’d mentioned historic architecture, didn’t disagree with his garish plan to put crappy carpet all over the place.

“Look, if you buy it instead of that Vegas schlock peddler, you can turn this into a commune for all I care!” Aunt Emma winked at Goldie.

“The price is right. I mean, if your niece fails to turn the town around, I suppose I can flip the hotel.”

Aunt Emma narrowed her eyes at the man. But it was clear he wanted the place, and he wanted to ruin it, in Goldie’s opinion.

“I’ll take it. If you can go down to three-fifty, I’ll take it.”

That was a low-ball offer, but Aunt Emma looked excited; she was going to take it. She clapped her hands.

Emma Ford was going to let this dufus put in indoor outdoor carpet, Wi-Fi, crappy fixtures, and who knows what else to take the charm out of the Two Lakes.

Goldie knew Libby and her aunt were cash strapped. She knew that she needed to sell. She also knew that Stirling Stone was the enemy. Aunt Emma and Libby would likely lose everything rather than sell to Stone. But in Goldie’s eyes, this was no solution.

She’d already said no to this idea of buying a hotel, but that was before she saw it again. That was before her career prospects had dwindled to jack and squat.

Goldie made a snap decision. She stepped forward. She would not allow this place to go into the hands of this man, this Mr. Patrick.

“Aunt Emma, I’ll give you four hundred thousand no contingencies, all cash. Today.”

“Honey, that’s quite nice. But Mr. Patrick was first in line, as it were.”

“I really see the potential here to earn income, make this a nice little motel spot. I hear you can rent rooms by the hour.” Mr. Patrick winked at Aunt Emma, and Goldie thought she might want to punch the weirdo in the nose.

“Ah, I think they call them no-tell motels,” Aunt Emma quipped, winking back.

“Aunt Emma, that’s—no! Okay, whatever. But I can assure you if you care about making this place lovely and bringing it up to the standard of Nora House, well, that’s me.”

“Oh, my, you sound like you have thought a lot about this. This is exciting. And boy, did my niece read you wrong.”

“No, she didn’t. I didn’t have plans. Oh heck, maybe I do. Whatever I do, they do not include indoor outdoor carpet. If you want to bring life back to Irish Hills, the Two Lakes Grove Hotel is important. It needs to be returned to the showpiece it once was.”

“And you want to do that?”

“I do unless you have a counter, Mr.—what was your name?”

“Tate, Patrick Tate, I mean Tate Patrick.” He looked confused by his own name for a moment. He shook his head.

“Unless you have a counter, Tate Patrick, I’ll get you the money today, and we have a deal.”

“I’ll match, four hundred.”

“Fine, make it an even five hundred thousand.” Goldie was not going to lose. She’d pay a million if she needed to.

“I won’t be able to match, not that fast.”

Aha! Goldie was victorious!

“I’ll arrange a transfer of funds. You’ll have them by the end of the day.”

Aunt Emma and Goldie said their goodbyes, and the good buy Tate Patrick thought he was going to get was now hers.

Goldie stood in the center of the hotel she now owned.

She was exhilarated, filled with ideas, and excited to get started. In the entire time she’d been focusing on the hotel, she’d not once worried about her Hollywood career, or bro dude director Trevor Sunday, or causing wrinkle lines because it had been six weeks since her last filler appointment.

She was thinking a mile a minute, but none of it was causing her to feel sick to her stomach.

She owned the Two Lakes Grove Hotel. Or was about to.

Joe walked into the lobby. It distracted her from her mental celebrations and plans for the space.

“I did it. It’s mine.”

“This place?”

“Yes, I just bought it. That man was going to do tacky, tacky things to it. Or turn it into a place where you pay by the hour.”

“Ah, romantic.” Joe waggled his eyebrows at Goldie.

She waived her hand in dismissal. “This is supposed to be for family summer weekends, for maybe a wedding venue, or a family reunion.”

Hollywood could wait a few more days. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe distracting herself from the mess of her career was exactly what she needed.

At least, for now.

Goldie tried to remember if she’d ever made a business decision that had nothing to do with movies or endorsements. She’d just bought a hotel because she liked it. Because it was a good distraction. Because she didn’t want someone else to.

“Not to be a wet blanket, but do you have experience running a hotel?”

“Ah, kind of. I helped run a dozen cottages with my dad back in the day. I’m not totally inexperienced. I have stayed in a million resorts, the best in the country, the world. I know what they need.”

“Ah, well, okay, I guess you’re about to be the boss. So on that note, there’s a raccoon in the attic.”

“What?”

“Yeah, heard some scratching. You’ll need to help me trap it.”

“I’ll need to what? Raccoon?”

“A girl who was born and raised in Tecumseh certainly knows what a raccoon is.”

“I do, but trap it?”

“If we don’t, it will eat your roof, and it will move its entire family in.”

“Oh no! Okay, okay. We can’t call someone?”

“Nope, not that I am aware of.”

“Okay, so what do we need?”

“A trap, that’s key to the trap plan.”

“We’re not going to hurt him or her, are we?”

“No, we’ll get the little fluffy menace, and then I know a guy who will take him or her out to the country and release it.”

“Okay, so trap, where do I go for that?”

“To the hardware store, Batman.”

“Got it, I have a few calls to make, but I’ll go with you. I need to take charge.”

“Got it… and congratulations.”

“Oh, yeah, Thanks.”

Goldie was holding on to the high of coming out victorious in negotiations. The fact that she had to trap a wild animal couldn’t bring her down.

Hollywood was full of wild animals, and she’d survived that. How bad could a raccoon in the attic really be?

Joe drove them to town, and she realized this was the perfect cover. The perfect reason to stay away from L.A. She’d do exactly as Hedda advised. She’d kill time here; she’d distract herself with this project.

And then, when the time was right, she’d make her triumphant return!