Ida didn’t return until the end of October. It felt like an eternity had passed since I’d seen her last. The week before Halloween, I found her in the rose garden, sitting on the little wooden bench below the tree I’d spent so many summers climbing. The limbs were all but completely bare, the mud-brown leaves swirling and crackling at our feet.

“I don’t know why Carlos hasn’t gotten all these leaves up,” Ida said as I approached.

I sat beside her. “I like that he leaves them a few days. It makes it feel more like fall to have them blowing around everywhere.”

“I guess I like that part too,” she said. “You know, I used to sit out here when I was pregnant with the boys? I’d bring a book and sit for hours under this tree, making Thornton do all the work inside. It was my escape.”

“It was always one of my favorite places too. Except I’d read while sitting in the tree.”

She laughed. “How have things been, Lane? I hope you’ve managed okay without me.”

“We’re all happy to have you back, but it’s been all right. We have another wedding this weekend that’s pulling together nicely. That’s helped to keep everyone’s spirits up. Having something big to work on.”

“You’ve probably all been terrified you were losing your jobs.”

“Yeah, there’s been a lot of that,” I said. “But Simon coming around helped. He always seemed to have things under control.”

“That man is a godsend,” she said. “He’s been wonderful. When he told me where things stood, I thought for sure we were going to shut things down and give up, but he made a few simple recommendations that kept us at least turning enough profit to keep the doors open.”

I nodded. I’d seen Simon’s recommendations happening all over the hotel. The restaurant’s limited hours. The cutbacks with staff in every department.

“He’s the reason the inn’s still open. Everyone should know that. His wisdom is what saved us.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stay and keep the inn open?” I tried not to infuse too much hope into my voice, but I couldn’t hold it back completely.

She turned to me and sighed, then shook her head. “I can’t do it anymore. Not with the debt and all the problems Thornton left behind. I think I’ve decided I have to sell.”

I nodded. I’d seen enough clues to know it was coming, but it still hurt.

“I want you to know how hard it feels to say so,” she said. “I can’t stand the thought of ever letting this place go, but when I think about a little house in Colorado close to my grandchildren, that sure does sound easier than running this place into the ground.”