“Not all accountants are bad. And I’m not sure how else we’ll ever sort through all of this.” I opened the current year’s ledger. Thornton clearly had a system. Each entry was notated, but he used some sort of shorthand that was impossible to understand. At least for my nonaccounting brain. At the root of it, I knew it was basic. Money comes in, money goes out. But figuring out how Thornton had kept those records in order, then figuring out why a vendor wasn’t getting paid and why the bank account didn’t look like it was going to make payroll? Yeah. It was definitely accountant territory.

Ida pulled off her glasses and rubbed her hand across her face. “You know we bought this old place and started things up, just the two of us? We only opened a handful of rooms—the rest were in terrible shape—and only offered breakfast at first. Thornton cooked. I ran the front desk and cleaned the rooms.” She chuckled. “We were so crazy. Doomed to fail. That’s what everyone said. But then people kept coming, and, well, forty years later, here we are.”

“I love the history of this place. I always have.”

“Did you know this building used to be a hospital?”

“I did know that. I must have read the historical marker plaque in the garden a thousand times as a kid.”

Ida shifted a stack of papers, straightening their edges. “Thornton loved this inn. It was everything to him.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can do it without him.”

“We can do it, Ida. All of us. You don’t have to manage it all on your own.”

She shrugged her shoulders and huffed. “I know. But all this?” She motioned to the desk around her. “This isn’t anyone’s burden but mine.”

I stood. “You and a good accountant. And I think I know just the guy.”

“You do? Who?”

“His name is Simon Hamilton. He’s a friend from church. I don’t know him well, but I know his family, and I know he’s trustworthy. Do you want me to reach out and see if he’d be willing to look things over?”

Her shoulders slumped, the lines in her face drawn down, but then she shook her head and breathed out a resigned sigh. “You’re right. I can’t do this on my own. Go ahead and call him. If he’s willing, I could clearly use the help.”

Jamie: Hey. Lane needs a favor. You game for offering some accounting advice?

Simon: Probably. What’s up?

Jamie: It’s the inn. The owner died and left the finances in a mess. They need help sorting it out.

Simon: That sounds like more than advice.

Jamie: Yeah, probably. I’m going to give Lane your number. Okay if she calls?

Simon: Sure. I’ll do what I can.