Page 27 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

He wagged a forefinger at her for jumping to conclusions. “I have an idea that would benefit us both. I pay an electrician and plumber to get three units working. Send in a cleaning crew to scrub them down, top to bottom. Buy a few new mattresses. Some basic bed linens and towels, nothing fancy. Just functional. A temporary solution to my problem. Later you can remodel and do whatever you want with the Elvis theme.”

“More money I’d be indebted to you for! No way!”

“No, no, no! You don’t understand. I don’t know what the going weekly rate is for motel rooms on the Outer Banks. Without any redecorating and without any amenities, let’s lowball at five hundred a week, for eight weeks, times three. We’re talking twelve grand. How much could the plumbing and electrical cost for three rooms? I’m thinking two thou max. Another three thou for everything else I mentioned. And the rest is gravy for you.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I already know a local contractor to do the work. He’s fast and efficient and fair in pricing.”

“I don’t know,” she wavered.

“It’s a win-win for both of us,” he argued.

“Okay, I guess. Maybe they could start on the work while we’re out on the job this week.”

“And you could order the mattresses, towels, and stuff online.”

“You never give up. You’ve got to stop interfering in my life.”

“Since when is kindness interfering?”

“You know what they say about kindness?”

“What?”

“It kills.”

“I’m not sure that’s what that idiom means.”

“Idiom? Who uses a word like that outside an English classroom?”

He felt his face heat.

“You really are a genius or something, aren’t you?”

“Or something.”

“All right, then. I agree to the motel suggestion. But only three rooms. And that’s the last of your interference in my life or my business.”

He crossed his heart. “No more interference. No more Mister Buttinsky. No more Mister Nice Guy.”

Unfortunately, it was Gus who yelled down to him now. “Hey, Geek, I signed your name for the UPS guy, but he wants to know if he should drop off this twenty-foot neon Elvis here or over at that diner. Man, you can buy anything on eBay!”

Merrill glanced toward Delilah and said, “Oops.”

She put her face in her hands and muttered a bad word.

Chapter 7

Busyness was a form of therapy . . .

Delilah spent that evening planning menus and making grocery lists for an initial two-week stint, as well as bulk purchasing for the future. Using her antiquated laptop that moved at the speed of sludge, she set up accounts at various big box food wholesalers. However, not having time to wait as much as a week for deliveries without paying exorbitant, expedited shipping charges or time to go off island to a BJ’s or Costco, she accepted that, short term, she would need to shop local and hope for some bargains.

It was amazing how long her list grew.

And it wasn’t just Internet ordering for the Three Saints project that consumed her time. The contractor that Merrill mentioned had come by that afternoon and gave her an estimate of $2,100 to get the electrical and plumbing work up to code in three motel units. She gave him a key to access the units while she was away.

Forget about Merrill’s suggestion that she hire a cleaning service. Delilah about killed herself shoving and tugging six double mattresses and box springs out to the diner Dumpster, and she planned to spend tomorrow morning scrubbing the units from top to bottom. She had every intention of painting the walls and woodwork herself, first time the Sweet Bells team returned to Bell Cove. She would have started on it tomorrow after cleaning, but the afternoon had to be dedicated to shopping for food and supplies for the boat excursion.