Page 50 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
His lips tightened and he raised his eyebrows. “So…”
“So maybe we need a new vision. One we can figure out together.” Ellie leaned forward, determined now, and starting to get excited as well, although for what, she wasn’t yet quite sure. But she felt it—the start of something. Something possible and good. “I don’t think you really want to get a job in Cardiff, do you, Matt?” she asked. “Back in the rat race that you hated, working for a big, faceless corporation?” He opened his mouth to protest, but Ellie hurried on before he could say anything. “Matt, I know the redundancy really knocked you for six. You said as much. And I also know I wasn’t as supportive as I could be—”
“That has nothing to do with this, Ellie—”
“Still, it needs to be said—”
“We talked about this before. We were both hurt. I get it.” The words were clipped, almost dismissive.
“Then why are we still arguing?” she demanded, exasperated. “Look, the B&B was meant to be a family project, a way to bring us all together. Instead, it’s become another way for you to try to prove yourself.”
Ire flashed in his eyes. “I’m not—”
“But it doesn’t have to be that way,” Ellie insisted, leaning over to touch his hand, a gesture of reassurance. “Matt, you don’t have to prove anything to me, and I… I don’t have to prove anything to you. That’s not what marriage is about. I think we both approached this whole thing the wrong way round—we should have been doing it together from the beginning, and instead I feel as if it’s driven us further apart. I don’t want it to be that way.”
He let out a little sigh as he squeezed her hand. “I don’t either, Ellie, but what’s the solution? We can’t move back to Connecticut, at least not easily.”
“I don’t want to move back to Connecticut.”
Matthew looked surprised, and Ellie realized she was surprised, as well, because she actually meant it. After a month of longing for just that thing, in one way or another, she realized, to her amazement, that she didn’t want it anymore. Yes, the transition to Llandrigg had been hard, and still was, but good things had happened as a result. She was becoming closer to Gwen, and she felt needed, and they were all, slowly but surely, making new friends. She didn’t want to go back and pick up the tattered remnants of her old life; she wanted to make their life here, embroider something new and good and whole. Together.
“What if… what if we did it all really differently, Matt?” she asked slowly. The beginnings of an idea were forming in Ellie’s head, unfurling into bloom like a flower. “What if… instead of glamour and elegance, which are great in their own way, we tried for something more friendly and homegrown? Something more… us? And more Gwen, too, I think.” Her voice rose in excitement. “What if we changed our vision?” The idea was taking shape in her mind, if in a vague way—something more holistic, more welcoming and family-friendly, embracing everything Gwen had wanted Bluebell Inn to stand for.
Matthew cocked his head, looking curious but cautious. “Changed our vision?” he asked. “How, exactly?”
Ellie had a moment to think of a response as the waitress came with their appetizers. Matthew toyed with his salmon en croute while she tried to put her thoughts in some semblance of order. She’d been speaking off the cuff, letting the idea bloom inside her without really considering the particulars she knew her husband would both need and want, but now she felt her way through the concept.
“Yes, changed it to something more homegrown. More… relaxed. Family friendly, because, well, we’re a family.”
He frowned, but she thought she saw a spark of interest light in his eyes. At least she hoped she did. “What do you even mean by that?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Ellie admitted with a small smile, “but your mom has always loved the homely welcome of Bluebell Inn, the lovable feel of it, that it’s the kind of place where you don’t have to worry about muddy boots in the hallway, or things like that. That sense of… of comfort isn’t something we want to lose.”
“I wasn’t intending on losing it,” Matthew replied. “Just trying to make things a bit nicer, in line with other bed and breakfasts I’ve seen. Standards are high, Ellie. Markets are so competitive these days. If people go away for a break, they want it to be top notch.”
“That’s true.” Ellie tried to keep her tone gentle, even though she wished he wouldn’t make this feel like an argument. She wanted to move past that, past the perceived criticisms, the unspoken tensions. She thought they were, but then something would happen or was said that made her feel as if they hadn’t moved past any of it at all, or at least not as much as she would have liked. “I’m not saying there was anything wrong with your original vision for the B&B,” she told him. “In fact, it’s probably the most marketable plan out there. You’re right in that Bluebell Inn was not up to the standard of most places. It needed some TLC, for sure…”
“But?” He raised his eyebrows. “Because there is obviously a but.”
“But, like you said, it’s not your mother’s vision,” Ellie continued. “So, what if we developed her vision rather than… than ours?” She’d almost said “yours” but had thought better of it at the last moment. Matthew, she feared, wasn’t fooled.
“Ellie, I’m not sure my mum even has a vision. Like I said, I think she dreamed up this whole scheme simply to make me feel better. I sometimes wonder if she would have been happy trundling along as she was, shabby though everything had become. She still had some regulars come every year, and she just about managed to make a living from it.”
That possibility must hurt him as much as his perceived failure, Ellie thought. She knew he didn’t want to be pitied. He didn’t even really want to be helped.
“I don’t think that’s true,” she told him quietly. “Your mom needs your help, now more than ever. And the bed and breakfast absolutely needs some renovation.”
“Considering I made a hole in the ceiling,” he returned ruefully, “it certainly does now, but, like I said, I can put everything back—”
Ellie took a deep breath. “What I’m really saying is, why don’t we expand on the homeliness? We could pitch a stay at Bluebell House as a sort of catered-for family vacation… encourage children to get involved, helping in the veg patch or with collecting eggs… meals could be around one big table, everyone getting to know one another, family style.” As she spoke, she found herself warming to the idea, her voice rising in enthusiasm. “There could even be games and things offered at night—or a community barbecue on the weekend… there are all sorts of things we could do. To give people the vacation they want—time with family, memories being made, not just plush towels and infinity showers.”
She sat back, smiling, realizing just how much she liked the idea—child-friendly family vacations where someone else was doing the cooking and cleaning, but you felt as if you were at home, only better. It sounded like heaven to her, but her husband did not look entirely convinced.
“People book a holiday to get away and relax,” he said after a moment. “Not feel like they’re still at home.”
“But Bluebell Inn is never going to compete with luxury hotels or health spas in that regard,” Ellie argued, trying not to feel stung that he seemed so unconvinced by her idea. She knew he needed time to let go of one dream before believing in another. “Not even with a renovation. It’s just not big enough, really, and it doesn’t have the grounds. So isn’t it better—wiser—to offer something completely different? Something the luxury hotels can’t offer?”
“I don’t know…” Matthew prodded his starter a bit morosely. “I suppose. It is something different, as you’ve said, and it might be what a certain demographic wants. You could talk to Mum about it.”