The Lakeside Inn, Leeanna Morgan [rosie project TXT] 📗

my grandma’s secret spaghetti sauce recipe,” he said proudly. “It’s foolproof and guaranteed to make you come back for seconds.”

“In that case, I’m glad I came. Did you get a lot of painting done this afternoon?” Wyatt had stayed with them until her truck pulled away from the old steamboat museum building. She’d never been happier to see a piece of furniture sitting in her grandparents’ living room, or more worried that it had taken too much time.

Wyatt walked through to the kitchen. “I spent four hours painting. I’ll get another couple of hours done before I go to bed tonight.”

“Thanks for helping this morning.”

“You’re welcome. Even though the dresser was empty, I’m glad we found it. What did your mom say when she saw it?”

Penny hesitated before answering. “She cried. She misses Grandma and seeing the dresser made her wish she was here.”

Wyatt stopped by the kitchen counter. “How are you feeling about your grandma?”

“I miss her, too. We all do.”

He held her hands and stroked her skin with his thumb. “You pick a rose from your garden most mornings.”

“You see me?”

Wyatt nodded. “I usually have breakfast about the same time you come outside.”

“Roses were Grandma’s favorite flower. When they lived at their previous house, Granddad used to grow them in his greenhouse so Grandma had fresh roses all year.”

“She must have enjoyed that.”

“She did. We left her rocking chair in the circular room overlooking the lake. I place a fresh rose in there most mornings, just for Grandma.”

Wyatt’s hands tightened around hers. “That’s a wonderful thing to do.”

Penny breathed through the knot of grief clogging her throat. “My family is trying hard to support each other. It helps that Mom’s such an extrovert. If you’re having a bad day, she wants to know how you feel, why you feel that way, and what you’re doing to feel better. The rose is my feel better solution. Barbara bakes and Diana takes Charlie for long walks.”

Wyatt left a tender kiss on her cheek. “If you ever run out of roses, come and see me. I’ll paint one for you.”

Despite the wave of sadness that had washed over her, she smiled. “In fifty years’ time, it could be worth a million dollars. Just think how many roses I could buy with that kind of money.”

Wyatt tapped the end of her nose. “If I don’t finish the last two paintings going to Berlin, the picture won’t be worth anything. My reputation will sink like a stone to the bottom of the lake and no one will buy my paintings.”

“It can’t be as bad as that?”

“Not quite.” He smiled as he turned to stir the pasta sauce. “But I wouldn’t count on being a millionaire from one painting.”

“Oh, well,” Penny said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll just have to be content with what I’ve got. Can I help with dinner?”

“Nope. I’m all organized. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and then you can tell me about the rest of your day.”

Penny sat on a kitchen stool. “There isn’t much to tell. I spent most of the afternoon researching what other Bed and Breakfasts are offering their guests.”

“And?”

“Their services and facilities are as different as night and day. Once we settle on a room rate, it will make deciding what we’ll offer a lot easier. I also called a couple of lake cruise companies and some fishing guides. We can definitely offer a lot of outdoor options.”

“That has to be an advantage over places that don’t have a lake nearby.”

“It is. Diana’s been working on menu options and finding the best places to advertise. Barbara’s busy designing websites for three new clients, and Katie is still in Los Angeles.”

Wyatt handed her a glass of wine. “Is she coming home?”

“I don’t know. All of us are feeling on edge while we wait to see what she does.”

“One of my brothers is like Katie. It doesn’t matter what you say to him, he does what he wants. He’s a good person, but it can be frustrating. Hopefully, she’ll realize it’s important to be here.”

“I hope so.”

Wyatt placed uncooked spaghetti pasta into a saucepan of boiling water. “What happened to the box the key was in?”

This time, the smile on Penny’s face was less strained. “A man called Nick Costas owns an art gallery in Bozeman. He knows people all over the world who deal in anything from sculptures to hugely expensive paintings. He’s asked one of his friends to have a look at it and give us an idea of its age and where it was made.”

“That will be helpful.”

Penny nodded. It could also be one of their last chances to find more information about her great-grandfather. “He doesn’t think it will take too long for his friend to answer our questions.”

“That’s good.” Wyatt held his hand under a wooden spoon and brought it across to her. “Taste this and tell me what you think.”

She ate a small mouthful of the rich tomato sauce and smiled. “It’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it. All I have to do is take the salad out of the refrigerator, cut a loaf of bread into thick slices, drain the pasta, and pour myself a glass of wine.”

Penny slid off the stool. “I’ll pour your wine and get the salad.”

Wyatt wrapped his arms around her waist. “I like your priorities.”

“You can never go wrong with a glass of wine.”

“Or someone to share it with.”

She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I like your priorities, too.”

Chapter 12

Later that week, Wyatt arrived at the tiny home village with chalk, paint, and paintbrushes in all shapes and sizes.

“It looks as though we’ll be busy,” Ethan said behind him.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “We have two hours to outline the murals on the garages. I’m not sure we can do it in that time, but we’ll give it our best shot.”

Ethan picked up a box. “I heard you found Penny’s great-grandparents’ furniture in the old steamboat museum.”

“How did you