There's Always Plan B by Susan Mallery Page A

that, she would ignore the rest of it. If he didn’t, she would make good on her threat to get in touch with the judge.
    In the meantime, she had books to put in order and a profit-and-loss statement to work out.
    But instead of reaching for the keyboard and entering numbers on the spreadsheet, she turned her chair toward the office window and stared out over the side lawn.
    What had happened to chase guests away? Or had they simply forgotten about the B and B? Was it the same with the groups and the weddings? Carly remembered attending large bridal fairs with her parents at least twice a year. Then there were a couple of big travel shows. There had been brochures and pictures and letters of recommendation by previous guests.
    Without turning away from the window, she reached for a notepad and a pen.
    â€œContact previous guests by postcard, giving them a discount,” she wrote. They still had the old registration information. Sure, the mailing would be expensive, but they would be reaching people who had wanted to come at one time.
    What next? Weddings, parties of all kinds. They were coming into the busy season. If she spoke with some of the local hotels in town, told them they had availability, maybe they could get some spillover bookings.
    They could run specials during the slow seasons and they weren’t that far from San Francisco. What about advertising locally? Chatsworth-by-the-Sea was off the beaten path, but they did have a ghost. She would have to feature that prominently.
    Okay, those ideas worked for the weekends, but what about during the week? Based on what she’d discovered, the place was mostly empty, even on holiday weeks. So what made people travel during the week, when most of them were working? What would make them give up their precious vacation time to come here? Or was she missing the point? What if they got to come here without giving up vacation time? What if their travel was about work?
    Carly grinned as she put pen to paper and began to write as fast as she could form words.
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    â€œThis is just stupid,” Tiffany said from the passenger seat. “I don’t want to go to school.”
    Carly resisted the urge to remind her daughter that she loved school. The classes were mildly interesting, but what really got Tiffany excited was the activities and hanging out with her friends. No doubt if she said that, she would be reminded that due to the move, Tiffany had no friends locally.
    â€œEven if I wanted to let you stay home, which I don’t,” she said, “the state of California has a real thing about truancy. You gotta be there, kid.”
    â€œBut I’ll hate it. Besides, Grandma said she’s not sure we’re staying, so why don’t I wait until you decide what you want to do about ruining my life even more?”
    Carly stared at her daughter. “What?”
    Tiffany sighed. “Grandma said we may not be staying with her. That you’ve mentioned going somewhere else. Not that you’d discuss it with me. I’m just the one with the broken life. Why should I know anything?”
    Carly felt her temper rise and it had nothing to do with Tiffany’s negative attitude. How dare her mother discuss moving with Tiffany? Carly hadn’t decided what to do about staying or leaving, but she’d been determined not to worry Tiffany until she had a clearer plan. Tiffany was only fifteen—her life should be about classes and friends and boys and growing up. Not worrying about where they were going to live.
    â€œI’m sorry Grandma said anything,” Carly told her. “It’s true I don’t know if we’re staying. I’ve been working on trying to figure out if I think I can make the bed-and-breakfast profitable. She and I are going to talk about my plan this afternoon. I’ve come up with some ideas and suggestions, but ultimately, it’s her decision whether or not she wants to keep the place open. If