through the set of keys on the ring Jill had given him. “Yep, she’s still complaining.”
Once Teddy found the right key, the door opened on silent hinges into a huge kitchen with a dark hardwood floor. Black marble counters over oak cabinets made a U around the room. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling over a large center island. There were two of everything—stoves, refrigerators, microwaves, all shiny new stainless steel which must have set Jill back plenty. There was a Dutch door opposite the entrance they’d come through and a high counter with shutters on top that he guessed served as a pass-through to the dining room.
While Teddy rooted around in the cupboards, Vince pushed open the Dutch door and walked into the dining room. He whistled once in appreciation as he let the door swish closed behind him. Jill had gone all out here. This was no summer camp. The room was way more lavish than the simple apartment above it.
Vince had been to more than his share of luxury hotels. She’d obviously taken inspiration from high-end lodges. The dining room was a showcase of polished floors, upscale wooden tables and saloon chairs and exquisite chandeliers, with the centerpiece a grand stone fireplace next to a bank of windows that looked out over a porch to the gently rolling valley below. The view was breathtaking.
Jill hadn’t exaggerated Shady Oak’s potential. It could be a huge success. If the individual rooms were anything like this, she’d be booked years in advance. Vince’s mind cranked through what else she’d need—advertising, more staff, weekend getaway deals with the local casino.
“Found it.” Teddy flung the door open, bumping Vince with it. “Let’s go.”
Vince followed the boy out, waiting while he locked up and reset the alarm. “Are the cottages like this?”
Teddy shrugged, clearly not interested. “Mom says the cottages turned out way better.”
His curiosity piqued, Vince stared at the cabins closest to the dining hall.
Teddy tugged on Vince’s shirt. “Hey. What do you get when you cross a skunk with a bear?”
“A zebra?” That was a stretch.
“ Winnie the Pew! Here, carry this.” The Prince of Bad Jokes handed Vince the small bag of dog food, then raced off. “Last one upstairs is a rotten egg.”
“T ELL ME ABOUT your family, Vince,” Edda Mae commanded when they’d all sat down to eat breakfast.
“Edda Mae.” Jill cast a nervous glance at Vince. During their short engagement Jill’s few questions about Vince’s mom and dad had been met with silent shrugs. His parents hadn’t attended their private ceremony. She doubted they’d been invited.
Teddy set his milk down. Out of habit, Jill swabbed his milk mustache away while he swatted at her hand.
But Vince answered smoothly, “There’s not much to tell. I’m an only child.”
“Men,” Edda Mae huffed. “I need more than that. I want to know what kind of family you came from, how you were raised…” What kind of person you are. Edda Mae didn’t have to elaborate. Jill had firsthand experience with Edda Mae’s conversation-interrogation tactics.
Vince was too well mannered to frown, but he was buttering his toast like he was drawing a line in the sand, a boundary that said Off Limits. As if Teddy sensed the tension among the grown-ups, the only thing moving in his region of the table were his eyes, swiveling from adult to adult in wide-eyed fascination.
“For instance…,” Edda Mae began when it was obvious Vince wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any information.
“Vince lived with his grandparents in Las Vegas when he was younger,” Jill interrupted, nearly spilling her milk in her haste to prevent World War III from breaking out in her dining room. “How are your grandparents?”
With enviable grace, Vince set the knife down silently on the edge of the butter tray. “My grandmother was in a car accident a year and a half ago. She’s been in a coma ever since.”
“Oh, dear
Once Teddy found the right key, the door opened on silent hinges into a huge kitchen with a dark hardwood floor. Black marble counters over oak cabinets made a U around the room. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling over a large center island. There were two of everything—stoves, refrigerators, microwaves, all shiny new stainless steel which must have set Jill back plenty. There was a Dutch door opposite the entrance they’d come through and a high counter with shutters on top that he guessed served as a pass-through to the dining room.
While Teddy rooted around in the cupboards, Vince pushed open the Dutch door and walked into the dining room. He whistled once in appreciation as he let the door swish closed behind him. Jill had gone all out here. This was no summer camp. The room was way more lavish than the simple apartment above it.
Vince had been to more than his share of luxury hotels. She’d obviously taken inspiration from high-end lodges. The dining room was a showcase of polished floors, upscale wooden tables and saloon chairs and exquisite chandeliers, with the centerpiece a grand stone fireplace next to a bank of windows that looked out over a porch to the gently rolling valley below. The view was breathtaking.
Jill hadn’t exaggerated Shady Oak’s potential. It could be a huge success. If the individual rooms were anything like this, she’d be booked years in advance. Vince’s mind cranked through what else she’d need—advertising, more staff, weekend getaway deals with the local casino.
“Found it.” Teddy flung the door open, bumping Vince with it. “Let’s go.”
Vince followed the boy out, waiting while he locked up and reset the alarm. “Are the cottages like this?”
Teddy shrugged, clearly not interested. “Mom says the cottages turned out way better.”
His curiosity piqued, Vince stared at the cabins closest to the dining hall.
Teddy tugged on Vince’s shirt. “Hey. What do you get when you cross a skunk with a bear?”
“A zebra?” That was a stretch.
“ Winnie the Pew! Here, carry this.” The Prince of Bad Jokes handed Vince the small bag of dog food, then raced off. “Last one upstairs is a rotten egg.”
“T ELL ME ABOUT your family, Vince,” Edda Mae commanded when they’d all sat down to eat breakfast.
“Edda Mae.” Jill cast a nervous glance at Vince. During their short engagement Jill’s few questions about Vince’s mom and dad had been met with silent shrugs. His parents hadn’t attended their private ceremony. She doubted they’d been invited.
Teddy set his milk down. Out of habit, Jill swabbed his milk mustache away while he swatted at her hand.
But Vince answered smoothly, “There’s not much to tell. I’m an only child.”
“Men,” Edda Mae huffed. “I need more than that. I want to know what kind of family you came from, how you were raised…” What kind of person you are. Edda Mae didn’t have to elaborate. Jill had firsthand experience with Edda Mae’s conversation-interrogation tactics.
Vince was too well mannered to frown, but he was buttering his toast like he was drawing a line in the sand, a boundary that said Off Limits. As if Teddy sensed the tension among the grown-ups, the only thing moving in his region of the table were his eyes, swiveling from adult to adult in wide-eyed fascination.
“For instance…,” Edda Mae began when it was obvious Vince wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any information.
“Vince lived with his grandparents in Las Vegas when he was younger,” Jill interrupted, nearly spilling her milk in her haste to prevent World War III from breaking out in her dining room. “How are your grandparents?”
With enviable grace, Vince set the knife down silently on the edge of the butter tray. “My grandmother was in a car accident a year and a half ago. She’s been in a coma ever since.”
“Oh, dear
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