“Thank you,” I say yet again. “But I’m trying to be as frugal as I can budget-wise. I’ll be doing most of the cooking, cleaning, captaining...”

“I wasn’t planning on charging you, Adie Lou,” Scooter says. “Thought you’d need a break.” He looks around his warehouse. “Running your own business is exhausting. You work nonstop, partly because you love what you do but partly because you have to. Its success is completely on your own shoulders.” He stops and looks at me. “I, at least, get a Sunday off. You won’t, Adie Lou. Running an inn is 24/7. You will need a break, or you’ll break.”

The weight of what he says finally hits me, and I suddenly feel exhausted and overwhelmed. My knees buckle, and Scooter grabs me.

“Whoa, there. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say, shaking my head and taking a deep breath. “Just tired.”

“Let’s get you to my office so you can rest and get a drink of water,” he says. “I have something I want to show you, too.”

Scooter gets me seated in his office and hands me a bottle of water. I can feel the color come back to my face.

“Feeling better?” Scooter asks. I nod. “I told you people tend to genuflect around my work.”

“Ha ha,” I say without a smile. “You’re right. I’m too stubborn. I will need a break. Thank you for offering to lend a hand, especially with your hands full here. It means...” My voice breaks, and my cheeks redden. “The world.” I look at Scooter. “Sometimes, I feel like this new life I’m trying to build is sitting atop quicksand.” I stop, searching for the right words. “It’s just so rocky starting over.” I stop again. “Quicksand. Rocky. Totally incongruous analogies.”

Scooter smiles. “Actually, that’s the perfect segue.”

“For?”

“For this,” he says, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a Tupperware container of rocks. “I found these under one of the front seats.” He walks around his desk and hands me the rocks.