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sentence, and at that point, Sam didn’t care what the hell had been going on. In fact, he preferred not to know.
    “Ms. Henderson, I’m here to make a full inspection of the inn and discuss the overall direction we want to go in. If you can peel yourself away from whatever it is you’re doing there, I think we should get started.”
    He may have agreed to be flexible and allow Callie some decision-making leeway, but he wasn’t about to turn the entire project over and remain mute.
    “Yes,” Callie said, pressing her skirt back into place and straightening her jacket. “Of course. Let me grab a legal pad from my office, and we’ll get started.”
    Within minutes, Sam was so angry with himself he couldn’t see straight. The inn was an embarrassment. Faded paint, dated furnishings. It was clean, thank God, but glaringly neglected. How had he let this happen?
    When he’d taken over the hotels, he’d silently, if reluctantly, promised Uncle Morty that he would make him proud. But there was nothing to be proud of here.
    “The columns are going to be an issue,” Callie said, bringing Sam back to the conversation regarding the dining area. “But I doubt we have any choice other than to leave them.”
    “We don’t,” Sam said. He’d learned as a child that the six pillars scattered throughout the center of the dining room were all load bearing.
    The room was currently sectioned off into small areas, some with couches, while others included dining tables and chairs. A large fireplace occupied the wall to the right of the entrance and faced a cozy seating arrangement that included a coffee table covered in magazines. None of them looked current.
    “We’ll need all new furnishings in this room,” Sam noted. “The area rugs have to go, as do the light fixtures.”
    Callie took notes as he spoke. “I think we can salvage some of the furniture,” she said. “This will predominantly be a dining hall, but I like the option to switch things out and give it this homey, bed-and-breakfast feel when possible.”
    Sam looked again at the chairs before the fireplace. Dark, carved wood. Faded upholstery circa 1982, covered in maroon flowers. The color might have been almost white once upon a time but had yellowed with age and use.
    “There is no saving this furniture.”
    Callie argued. “I think there is. Touch-ups to the wood. New upholstery. All some of this needs is updating. Considering the time restraints we’re under, salvaging as much as possible is the best way to go.”
    He had to agree, the more they kept, the lower the overall cost. Sam was willing to do whatever it took to turn this inn around, but there was still a bottom line to consider.
    Good to know Callie didn’t intend to spend him out of business. And that she was willing to hold her ground when she believed she was right.
    “I want approval on the upholstery.”
    “Noted,” she said. “I’ll get samples as soon as possible.”
    “Good. Then we move on,” Sam said. “What’s next?”
    Callie looked up from her notepad, glanced around as if not understanding the question, then turned a subtle shade of pink. After a quick bite of her bottom lip, which did strange things to Sam’s breathing, she said, “The bedrooms.”

CHAPTER 4
    T his should not be awkward , or so Callie kept telling herself. They were in an unoccupied hotel room to evaluate the space for remodeling purposes. The presence of a giant bed in the middle of the room should not have had any effect on her ability to focus on the task at hand.
    But it did.
    If Sam was similarly afflicted, he covered it well.
    “All the rooms but two are this same size,” he said, crossing to the window to the left of the bed, which put some distance between them. Thank the heavens. “Did you have a plan for what we can do in here?”
    The answers that flew to mind were not professional ones. Callie used the legal pad as a fan while she concentrated on finding the right answers.
    “New