AllFreeNovel
Share Us
From downstairs came the sound of the motor. It was sharp in Wes’s ear, and he winced.
“What’s all that racket?” Frank asked.
Wes laughed. “I told you my granddaughter’s husband took over the inn, right?”
“Is that him downstairs? Is he digging to China?”
“He hired a construction firm to build a swanky new spa downstairs,” Wes said. “They just started but aim to complete everything before the height of tourist season. I don’t know the first thing about building a spa, but that sounds quick to me.”
“They’ve got all this new technology now,” Frank said with a wave of his hand. “But I’ll tell you, Wes. I have no use for a spa.”
Wes leaned toward him and stage-whispered, “Don’t worry. Even if the price goes up for everyone else, it won’t for you. You’re a part of the Sunrise Cove family.”
Frank smiled in a way that allowed you to see how he’d looked as a younger man—filled with light and his entire life ahead of him. It was like a blink’s worth of time travel.
“Tell me,” Frank said. “Did your new manager ask your permission to build that spa downstairs?”
Frank was curious about how much power Wes had over the Sunrise Cove these days.
“He did,” Wes said. At least, he was pretty sure Sam had. He needed to check his ledgers—in which he wrote down everything that happened to him as a way to stall his dementia—to be sure. “I told him it was a great idea.” He continued to lie. “Inspired. I’m an old man these days. What do I know about the next wave of the tourist industry?”
“If you’re old, I’m ancient,” Frank joked. He was probably two years older than Wes, but his faculties remained intact. Wes sometimes struggled with his envy that other people were allowed all of their memories.
“I almost forgot to ask,” Wes said. “Did you get my invitation?”
“I did,” Frank said. “You’re getting married again!”
Wes felt like a lit-up Christmas tree every time he thought about it. “Not long now! My niece Charlotte is planning every minute detail. You wouldn’t believe it. Beatrice and I must have tasted seventeen different cakes.”
“That’s the kind of planning I could get behind,” Frank said. “Consider this my RSVP.”
Wes laughed. “I’ll pass it along to the organizers. They told me I just have to put on a suit and show up. I’ll be the guy at the front.” Before he forgot, Wes scribbled in his notebook: FRANK - YES - WEDDING. That kind of fact would go right out of his head.
Frank belly laughed as, downstairs, the motor rang and roared. It sounded like a drill of some kind. Sam had said something about knocking down the basement wall and digging from the side to create an underground oasis. It had been miraculous to the builders that nothing plumbing-related was in the earth on that end of the inn.
Frank stepped out for an afternoon walk with a promise to eat dinner with Wes that night at the Sunrise Cove Bistro. Wes’s son-in-law, Zach, was one of the best chefs on the island. It was a struggle for Wes to resist his buttery salmon, his thick and creamy mashed potatoes, and his Mediterranean-inspired dishes heavy with garlic. Zach and Christine’s love blossomed after years of thinking of one another as enemies. They’d fallen for each other in that very kitchen. It was fit for a romance novel.
The motor cut out downstairs. Wes assumed the construction crew had finished for the day. It was nearly five, and he hadn’t heard much of anything from the hospital crew in a few hours. He thrummed with a mix of fear and excitement.
A construction worker appeared at the top of the basement stairs and removed his hard hat. His face was coated in dust, and his eyes stirred with questions. He was looking at Wes as though he expected something from him. Had Wes forgotten something? Was he supposed to help somehow? Letting people down without knowing was one of the worst parts of dementia.
“Mr. Sheridan?” the construction worker began. “Do you have time to take a look at something downstairs?”
Wes brightened. He hadn’t done anything wrong!
“Sure,” Wes said. “Let’s go.” He propped up a sign on the front desk that said, “Be Right Back!” then followed the worker down the rickety staircase to the basement. Sam had said something about re-doing these stairs, too, hadn’t he? Spa people wouldn’t stand for it. The Google reviews would destroy them.
Downstairs was clearly a construction zone. There was dust and rubble everywhere. A few construction workers stood around in big blue jumpsuits and put their hands on their hips. One of them was on the phone, saying, “That’s what I said, Roger. We can’t go on.”
The construction worker who’d led Wes downstairs had a name tag that read Conor. He brought Wes up to the cinder-block wall, where the team had drilled a hole approximately four feet wide by four feet tall. On the other side of the wall were very old wooden slats, green with moss and mold. It looked like the wall of a log cabin. Wes put his hand on the ancient wood and inhaled the smell of earth and age.
“We don’t know what it is yet,” the construction worker explained. “But we’re worried about it.”
Wes twisted to gape at him. “Worried?” None of this made any sense to him. He’d basically been raised in the Sunrise Cove. He’d worked here nearly every day of his life. It felt impossible there was something about the inn he’d never known about.
“Listen,” the worker said, then knocked on the wood with his knuckles. There was a hollow sound, proof of air beyond the wall. “We think there’s a room back there.”
Wes stared at him. His blood pressure spiked. Was he dreaming? There were too many strange factors at play. Frank Fish was here. Amanda was having a baby. Wes was getting married. There was a secret room downstairs. Maybe none of it was real.
