Frank’s punch list—the document prepared at the end of construction that details every item that needs to be addressed before final occupancy and payment—is three pages long. We start in the kitchen and move from room to room. The amount of work and endless tasks to be completed is overwhelming: hardware in all the bathrooms, missing trim pieces, flaws in the paint, plumbing fixtures that have been installed incorrectly, light fixtures that have yet to be installed.

“And I wanted every threshold between the bedroom and bathroom to be marble,” I say, my voice rising in exasperation. “Some are wood, some are marble, some are missing. I have staff coming to train next week, and a soft opening in two weeks in which I’ll be doing a dry run of the entire operation, from turndown to breakfast to yoga and activities.”

Frank tucks his punch list under his arm and looks at me. “I promise you this will all be done by next week, Adie Lou.”

I look at him, my face etched in skepticism.

“I promise you,” he says, before repeating it slowly again. “I. Promise. You.”

I nod.

“Don’t freak out,” Frank continues. “Right now, you can’t see the forest for the trees. That’s natural. Just try and take a step back. Look at all you’ve accomplished in such a short time.”

Sonny barks his agreement, and then leaps at Frank for a hug.

“I don’t know what he’s going to do when you leave,” I say. “He will miss you.” I duck my head. “I will miss you. You’re like my Eldin.”

“Who?” Frank asks.

I smile and think of the house painter on TV’s Murphy Brown who showed up one day and never left her house.

“A friend,” I say, which is the truth. Frank has been my friend.

He leans down and gives Sonny a kiss on the head. “I’ll miss both of you,” he says. “This project has meant a lot to me, Adie Lou. You’re like family. I feel like I’m part of something special here. Something big.” He stops, and a huge smile comes over his bearded face. “But with an old cottage like this, I know I won’t be gone for long.” Frank winks, and I laugh.

He is my Eldin, I think.

“Let me earn some money first,” I say.

“I’ll be back this afternoon, and we’ll get started on the punch list.” He turns to leave but stops. “Take a deep breath. Take it all in. You should feel very proud.”

The cottage creaks as Frank departs.

I do as he suggests: I take a deep breath, step into the hallway, shut the door and my eyes, and act as if I’m in the B and B for the very first time.

I open my eyes and am greeted by a sign on the door that reads:

ROOM & COTTAGE RULE #9