Seaview Inn

New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods proves home can be found where you least expect it.

Hannah Matthews is undeniably tough—a single mom, a top-tier PR exec, a breast cancer survivor. She prides herself on being go-to Hannah, who can handle any crisis. But with her grandmother balking at going into a retirement home, her daughter unexpectedly pregnant and an old flame suddenly underfoot, Hannah is facing a few crises of her own. And being back home on Seaview Key is definitely adding to the stress.

Luke Stevens understands crisis. While serving in Iraq, his wife dumped him for his best friend—with whom Luke shares his medical practice. Seaview Key seems like the perfect place to hide out for a while. The last thing he expects is to fall in love…with his old hometown and with Hannah.

Sometimes, though, the unexpected is just what it takes to heal the heart.

Praise for the novels of Sherryl Woods

“Sherryl Woods writes emotionally satisfying novels about family, friendship and home. Truly feel-great reads!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“In this sweet, sometimes funny and often touching story, the characters are beautifully depicted.”

—RT Book Reviews on Seaview Inn

“A whimsical, sweet scenario…the digressions have their own charm, and Woods never fails to come back to the romantic point.”

—Publishers Weekly on Sweet Tea at Sunrise

“Woods…is noted for appealing character-driven stories that are often infused with the flavor and fragrance of the South.”

—Library Journal

“A reunion story punctuated by family drama, Woods’ first novel in her new Ocean Breeze series is touching, tense and tantalizing.”

—RT Book Reviews on Sand Castle Bay

“Woods’ readers will eagerly anticipate her trademark small-town setting, loyal friendships, and honorable mentors as they meet new characters and reconnect with familiar ones in this heartwarming tale.”

—Booklist on Home in Carolina

“Once again, Woods, with such authenticity, weaves a tale of true love and the challenges that can knock up against that love.”

—RT Book Reviews on Beach Lane

Also by #1 New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

TWILIGHT

TEMPTATION

SEA GLASS ISLAND††

WIND CHIME POINT††

SAND CASTLE BAY††

WHERE AZALEAS BLOOM*

CATCHING FIREFLIES*

MIDNIGHT PROMISES*

THE SUMMER GARDEN***

AN O’BRIEN FAMILY CHRISTMAS***

BEACH LANE***

MOONLIGHT COVE***

DRIFTWOOD COTTAGE***

RETURN TO ROSE COTTAGE†

HOME AT ROSE COTTAGE†

A CHESAPEAKE SHORES CHRISTMAS***

HONEYSUCKLE SUMMER*

SWEET TEA AT SUNRISE*

HOME IN CAROLINA*

HARBOR LIGHTS***

FLOWERS ON MAIN***

THE INN AT EAGLE POINT***

WELCOME TO SERENITY*

MENDING FENCES

FEELS LIKE FAMILY*

A SLICE OF HEAVEN*

STEALING HOME*

WAKING UP IN CHARLESTON

FLIRTING WITH DISASTER

THE BACKUP PLAN

DESTINY UNLEASHED

FLAMINGO DINER

ALONG CAME TROUBLE**

ASK ANYONE**

ABOUT THAT MAN**

ANGEL MINE

AFTER TEX

*The Sweet Magnolias

**Trinity Harbor

***Chesapeake Shores

†The Rose Cottage Sisters

††Ocean Breeze

Look for Sherryl Woods’s next novel

HOME TO SEAVIEW KEY

available soon from Harlequin MIRA

Seaview Inn

Sherryl

Woods

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Friends,

When Seaview Inn was first published in 2008, one of my oldest friends was waging a valiant battle against a recurrence of breast cancer. Patti, like too many other courageous women, lost that fight. Her final months were a mix of grace, bravery, devastating treatments and the determination to live to see her very young grandson grow up.

Sadly, that wasn’t to be, but her fight to live, her willingness to do whatever it took to have one more week, one more day or even one more hour with her daughters and her grandson were an inspiration to all of us who loved her.

I think that must be true for the families of every woman who’s battled this terrible disease. Consigned to the sidelines, all we can do is offer support, offer prayers and offer our strength on the days when weakness triumphs over that incredible will to live.

Because of early detection and improved treatments, there are more and more breast cancer survivors these days, but even for the strongest among them there are moments of doubt. Hannah’s story is for them, a reminder that there is always hope, that there are friends and family to be leaned on, and new cures just around the corner.

To all of you still waging the battle, I wish you strength, hope and many years of good health.

All best,

Sherryl

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Hannah Matthews prided herself on being sensible and responsible. A single mom and a public relations executive handling several very demanding but fascinating clients, she was the person to turn to in any crisis. She claimed there wasn’t a superstitious bone in her body, but she was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t something to the old adage that things happened in threes, especially bad things. She was also losing her faith that God never gave a person more than they could handle, because she was definitely on overload.

Not quite three months past her final chemo treatment for breast cancer and less than a month after her mother’s death from the very same disease, here she was back in a town she hadn’t been able to flee fast enough, standing in front of the bed-and-breakfast that had once been her much-despised home. Worse, she was facing the arduous prospect of trying to convince her stubborn eighty-five-year-old grandmother that it was time to move into an assisted-living community and sell Seaview Inn. Life couldn’t get much more stressful than this, or if it could, she didn’t want to find out how.

“Hannah, why are you just standing out there daydreaming?” her grandmother demanded from behind the inn’s screen door, her tone every bit as querulous and demanding as Hannah remembered from her last visit home. “As hot as it is, leaving this front door wide open is a waste of air-conditioning. And why weren’t you here this morning? You told me you’d be here this morning. I’ve been sitting on the porch watching for you most of the day. The heat finally drove me inside.”

Hannah bit back a sigh and grabbed the handle of her suitcase to pull it along behind her. “My flight was delayed, Gran. Remember, I called you from the airport in New York to let you know?”

Her grandmother’s faded hazel eyes filled with confusion, yet another recent change from her once astute demeanor. “You did? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Gran, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m here.”

“And about time, too,” her grandmother added with a little humph.

Hannah placed an arm around her grandmother’s frail shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek. “You look good, Gran. Are you feeling okay?”

Truthfully, her grandmother looked as if a strong wind would blow her away. She’d lost weight she could ill afford to lose. Her face, filled with eighty-five years of lines and wrinkles, was sallow. Losing her only child, Hannah’s mother, had taken a lot out of her. Her friends in town had called Hannah to let her know that Jenny had rarely left the house since the funeral. She’d been skipping the meetings of her quilting circle and, more telling, Sunday services at church. They were worried about her.

“She’s just going to fade away, die of a broken heart all alone, if you ask me,” Rachel Morrison had said when she’d called.

Hannah hadn’t missed the critical note in Rachel’s voice, the unmistakable hint that Hannah had been irresponsible to run off right after her mother’s burial and leave her grandmother to cope with her grief and Seaview Inn all on her own.

Though her family knew what she was struggling with, Hannah had been unwilling to share her own cancer crisis with any of these well-meaning neighbors. She’d been unable to defend her actions in any way that might have satisfied them. How could she possibly tell them that seeing her mom’s quick decline and painful death while in the middle of her own treatment had left her terrified? She hadn’t been able to get away from Seaview and the memories of her mother’s final days fast enough. She believed that a positive attitude was an essential ingredient for surviving cancer, but it was almost impossible to maintain that attitude in the face of her mother’s death from a recurrence that had come less than two years after she’d first been diagnosed.

So, instead of explaining, Hannah had succumbed to guilt and dutifully taken the remaining two weeks of leave she’d accumulated during years of ignoring vacation time and socking away sick days to come here. That two weeks was all that was left after the time taken for her mastectomy and then the chemo, which had knocked her for a loop despite her stubborn determination to pretend she was just fine. Her boss had grudgingly agreed to let her off, but he’d made it plain he wasn’t one bit happy about the timing.

In less than twenty-four hours, she’d flown back to Florida, rented a car, driven for an hour, and then taken a ferry out to Seaview Key, a tiny island community of less than a thousand full-time residents just off Florida’s west coast. Once there, she’d had to deal with traffic jams caused by winter tourists. All of which, given her current frame of mind, was trying, to say the least.

Worse, she had exactly fourteen days to convince her grandmother to sell the inn—which was also the family’s longtime home—and move into a retirement community where she’d be well cared for. Since Grandma Jenny’s parents had opened Seaview Inn when the island had been little more than a fishing village reached by boat, Hannah had a hunch her work was cut out for her. Her grandmother sometimes exhibited a tenacious streak of sentimentality that overrode common sense.

“I know it’s only four o’clock, but we’ll eat supper now,” Grandma Jenny declared. “I missed lunch and I’m hungry. You can unpack your things later.” She glanced at the suitcase Hannah had left at the bottom of the staircase that led up to the family’s private quarters on the left and to the sprawling wing of guest rooms on the right. “Didn’t bring much, did you? You having the rest of your things sent?”

Hannah stared at her blankly. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re moving home, of course.” Jenny’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I’ve told everyone in town who’s been asking that we’d have the inn up and running again in another week or two, a month at the outside. While your mother was sick, we let a few things slide, but with the two of us working that should give us enough time to get things shipshape, don’t you think so? There’s still a couple of good months of the winter season left, and we’ll draw some folks from the mainland in April and May. Of course, a lot of our regulars had to make other arrangements, but they’ll be back with us next year, I’m sure.”

There were so many things wrong with her grandmother’s assumptions, Hannah couldn’t decide where to start. It didn’t matter, anyway, because Grandma Jenny hadn’t waited for a reply. She was already heading toward the kitchen at a clip that belied the reported evidence of her declining health. In fact, Hannah very much suspected that Grandma Jenny would outlive her and do it with gusto.

* * *

All during their early supper of broiled snapper and fresh tomatoes and strawberries from the local farmer’s market, Grandma Jenny continued to bombard Hannah with her plans for reopening Seaview Inn as quickly as possible. She was as alert and strong-willed as ever.

“You can put that PR experience of yours to good use,” she told Hannah. “Get some ads running up north. A lot of our regulars in Ohio and Michigan who come later in the season need to know our doors are open again. Maybe you can even do something on the Internet. I hear that’s the best place to advertise these days. Or we can send postcards. I have the addresses for most of the customers who’ve stayed here in the past few years. Had ’em back to the beginning, but I figure those people are mostly dead and gone. What do you think?”

Hannah put down her fork and tried to find the right words to tell her grandmother that instead of spending time and money on advertising, they needed to be thinking about finding a good real estate agent. Then it occurred to her that a little renovating would give the place the kind of curb appeal needed to result in a quicker sale. Maybe she didn’t have to discuss selling it just yet. She could wage that battle another day, when she wasn’t quite so exhausted.

“I’ll think about it,” she said at last. “First thing tomorrow, you and I can take a look and see what needs to be done, okay?”

“Why wait?” Gran said, bouncing up, her eyes spar-kling with enthusiasm. “Daylight might be scarce at the end of January, but we’ve got an hour or so till the sun goes down. We can check out the exterior first. I’ve been thinking a new coat of paint should be the first order of business, something bright and cheerful, maybe a nice turquoise with white trim.”

Hannah winced, envisioning a garish result that would rob the inn of whatever tiny scrap of class it had.

“Well, come on,” her grandmother called back. “Daylight’s wasting.”

With a sigh, Hannah followed her outside.

Over the years, the inn had grown from the original sprawling, two-story beach house that had been built in the thirties as a private home. Because of its size and her great-grandparents’ enthusiasm for meeting people, they’d opened their spare rooms to paying guests. That first experimental season had been so successful, they’d officially named it Seaview Inn and expanded over the next few years, adding one section in the early forties, another in the fifties, operating much like the bed-and-breakfasts that had come along later.

Unfortunately, there hadn’t been much attention to architectural detail in the additions. Wings jutted out haphazardly, one on each side, angled so that the guest rooms on the right and the big formal dining room on the left, with its soaring windows and hodgepodge collection of antique tables and chairs, and the second-floor family quarters all had a view of the beach across the road. To Hannah’s disapproving eye, it looked like a cross between a halfway decent home and a seedy motel. It would take more than a coat of paint, no matter the color, to fix it.

Her favorite part was the porch, which stretched across the front of the original house with a row of white rockers and a collection of antique wicker chairs with fading flowered cushions. In past years there had been hanging baskets of flowers, but this year neither her mother nor grandmother had had the time or energy to spare on such things.

As a child, Hannah had had tea parties with all her dolls on the porch. Sometimes her mom and her grandmother had joined her. Those afternoons had been the best. Later, as a teenager, the porch had been a place for sharing dreams and plans with her friends over sodas and snacks. Eventually her first kiss had been in the shadows on the porch.

Now, bathed in the light of a spectacular sunset, the inn didn’t look as bad as it had at first glance. She could almost see its idiosyncratic charm and understand why her grandmother wanted to keep it open and in the family. The problem was that Grandma Jenny couldn’t possibly do it alone and there was no one in the family to help her. Hannah didn’t want to leave New York, especially with her team of physicians there, to say nothing of the demanding career she loved. Her twenty-year-old daughter, Kelsey, would probably wind up staying in California once she completed her studies at Stanford. Why keep the inn now, only to sell it to strangers in a few years, anyway? Her grandmother deserved to enjoy whatever years were left to her, not to spend them working her fingers to the bone waiting on strangers.

Hannah turned and caught her grandmother eyeing her speculatively.

“It’s a good time of day, isn’t it?” Grandma Jenny said quietly, her expression nostalgic. “Your grandfather and I spent many an evening out here watching the sunset with music drifting out the downstairs windows. And before that, my parents would spend their evenings doing the same thing. We didn’t sit inside and stare at a TV screen the way folks do today. We talked, getting to know the people who stayed here. We enjoyed the beauty God gave us in this place.” Her gaze met Hannah’s. “You loved it, too, once. Do you remember that? There were nights we could hardly drag you home from the beach.”

Suddenly Hannah remembered being maybe five or six and working all day on a sand castle, then being called inside. The next morning she’d rushed across the road to see her handiwork, only to discover that the tide had washed it away overnight. It had been her first hard lesson in the fact that some things simply didn’t last, no matter how well built and solid they seemed. Sometimes it was the foundation that mattered, not the structure, and sand had a way of shifting underfoot, much as her own parents’ marriage had crumbled a few years later.

As the years had passed and she’d developed more insights, there’d been little question in her mind that after the divorce her mother had felt trapped here by circumstances. What else could she do with a daughter not yet in her teens and no work experience beyond the family inn?

“I remember,” she said at last, but it was said in a faintly bitter tone that drew a sharp glance from her grandmother.

“There were good times, Hannah, whether you choose to remember them that way or not.”

“I wonder if Mom felt that way after Dad left. Wasn’t there a time in her life when she dreamed of going away and doing something else? He got to run away from her and from all of his responsibilities, but she was stuck.”

“What are you suggesting?” her grandmother asked indignantly. “That I kept her here when she wanted to go? Nothing could be further from the truth. She loved it here. She knew it was the best place to raise a child, surrounded by family and friends.”

“Dad obviously didn’t love it,” Hannah said.

“Oh, Hannah, that’s not so. Surely by now you’ve learned that relationships are complicated. Your parents were happy for a time, and then they weren’t. It had nothing to do with Seaview Key or the inn.”

Hannah didn’t waste her breath trying to argue. How could she? She’d been so young, just on the verge of adolescence. It was entirely possible that she’d been totally oblivious to whatever rifts there had been in her parents’ marriage. She relented now just to keep peace. “I suppose.”

Her grandmother’s shoulders seemed to sag. “I need to sit down,” she said flatly, clutching the railing tightly as she climbed the steps to the porch. She sank into her favorite rocker as the sun slowly slid into the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, leaving the sky painted with streaks of orange and gold.

“Gran, are you okay?”

“Just a little tired. You go on in, if you want. Get yourself settled. I’ll just sit here for a while and enjoy the evening. Leave the dishes. I’ll do them when I come inside. Won’t take any time at all.”

“But we haven’t even started the list of renovations you want to do,” Hannah protested, feeling vaguely guilty for dampening her grandmother’s high spirits.

“You said it yourself. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

Oddly reluctant to go inside and leave her grandmother alone, Hannah stood in the doorway for a few minutes.

As twilight fell and a breeze stirred, the streetlight on the corner came on, illuminating the porch and yard. That was when Hannah noticed the tears glistening on her grandmother’s cheeks.

* * *

“Mom, what on earth are you doing in Florida?” Kelsey demanded when she called Hannah’s cell phone later that night and woke Hannah out of a sound sleep. “I called your office earlier and your secretary told me you’d taken time off again to go to Seaview. I’ve been trying to call all day, but you must have had your phone turned off. When you didn’t return my calls, I got worried. Is Grandma Jenny okay?”

Hannah sat on the side of the bed, almost regretting that she’d remembered to turn the phone back on before going to sleep. There had been five increasingly impatient messages from her boss and three from Kelsey. For once, she’d ignored them all, grateful that it was too late to call the office and deciding she really didn’t want to discuss this situation with Kelsey just yet. Now she had no choice.

“You mean besides her delusion that I’m going to give up my career and move back here to run the inn?” she replied.

“Oh, boy,” Kelsey muttered. “Is she serious?”

“She spent an hour at dinner talking about how we need to spruce this place up and get it open again in two weeks,” Hannah said. “I’d say she’s serious.”

“But you’re not going to do it, are you? You hate Seaview Key and the inn.”

“Of course I’m not going to do it,” Hannah said emphatically, then sighed. “Actually, I was thinking it might be a good idea to do a few renovations.”

“But why, if she’s not going to open the inn? You know she can’t manage it alone.”

Hannah hesitated. “I know,” she said at last.

Kelsey sucked in a breath. “You want her to sell it, don’t you? Mom, that will break her heart. You can’t do that to her.”

“What choice do I have?” Hannah asked defensively.

“None, I suppose,” Kelsey admitted, “but I hate this, Mom.”

“I know. So do I, but I can’t stay here. I just haven’t figured out how I’m going to explain that to your great-grandmother. You know how she is once she gets an idea into her head.”

“A lot like you,” Kelsey said.

“Yes, well, that is the problem, isn’t it?” she said wryly. Suddenly it occurred to her that there had to be a crisis of some kind for Kelsey to be calling from college in the middle of the week. “Enough about what’s going on here. I’ll figure out something. Tell me what’s up with you.”

Kelsey hesitated. “Maybe this isn’t a good time. We can talk about it when you’re back in New York after you get things straightened out down there.”

A sense of dread settled in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. “Isn’t a good time for what?” she prodded.

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait and talk about this another time?” Kelsey asked, sounding oddly hopeful.

“Now,” Hannah commanded.

“Okay, then. Remember how I told you at Christmas that school pretty much sucks?”

“And I said you were just going through a rough patch,” Hannah recalled.

“Well, it’s more than a rough patch, Mom. Don’t freak out, okay? I’ve really thought about this and it’s what I need to do right now. I’ve decided to quit college, come home to New York and get a job.”

Hannah’s grip on the cell phone tightened. “In your junior year?” she said, her voice rising despite her best attempt to remain calm. “Are you crazy?”