The Beachcomber Inn was officially furnished and ready for guests.
Evie let out a sigh of relief as she looked around at the warm, cozy rooms. “I can’t believe we did it.”
“I know some of this is just a stopgap,” Poppy said admiringly. “But it’s a pretty sweet stopgap.”
“I can’t thank you guys enough,” Evie said, still blown away by everyone’s help. “Any time you want a staycation, let me know.”
“But not until you’ve checked your calendar for paying guests!” Jules piped up. “What?” she protested, when Evie gave her a look. “You’re running a business here. The newest licensed bed and breakfast in Sweetbriar Cove.”
Licensed …
Evie froze. “The permits!” she yelped. “I haven’t filed yet.”
“Uh oh.” The others exchanged looks.
“It’ll be OK, won’t it?” Evie asked, anxiety rising in her chest. “Just some paperwork, right?”
“You better get down to the town hall quick before they close,” Summer advised. “Mr. Gordon can be a stickler about inspections. He gave me hell over the bakery when I opened.”
Evie gulped. That didn’t sound good. “Wish me luck,” she called out, already grabbing her keys and sprinting to the car.
But as it turned out, all the luck in the world was no match for Mr. Gordon, the lanky head of the Permit Department.
“First you need your occupancy permit,” he explained sternly. “Then I need to inspect for the hotel and small inn residency requirements. You’ll also need certification from the fire department that you’re up to code,” he added, plucking more forms from various drawers. “And of course, a permit for food preparation and health standards.”
Evie’s hopes sank. So much for a quick rubber stamp. “I’m not preparing food, not really,” she tried to argue. “Just heating a few things up!”
He looked at her over his spectacles. “It’s a bed and breakfast, is it not?”
“Well … yes.”
“And are you serving breakfast? Because otherwise, you’ll run afoul of the truth in advertising ordinance,” he said, plucking yet another form from the pile.
“I’ll be serving breakfast,” she admitted with a sigh.
“Alrighty. Just get these filled out and then we can begin proceedings.” Mr. Gordon passed her the stack.
“Begin?” Evie had all of two days until Bunny Vanderberg arrived. “How long will it take?”
“Don’t worry, we like to be efficient here,” he said. “Once you file, it shouldn’t be longer than three or four weeks. We’ll have you open by Memorial Day,” he added. “As long as we dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”
But Evie didn’t have until Memorial Day—not anymore.
She wandered outside, clutching her application papers to her chest, and sank down on the front steps. She gazed out at the town square and despaired. So much for all the work everyone had just put in. It looked like it was all for nothing—and all because of her own stupid mistake.
What was she going to do now?
“Penny for them?”
Evie froze at the familiar voice. She looked up and found Noah standing there beside her on the steps, a folder in his hand and a questioning smile on his face.
Her heart ached at the sight of him. How did he look so damn good? She felt like the dark circles under her eyes were more like black holes, and she was painfully aware of the paint stains on her old T-shirt.
“Noah,” she managed to say, frantically smoothing down her hair. “Hi.”
“I hear things are kicking off at the inn,” he offered, looking about as awkward as she felt. “Cooper said something about a big-shot critic coming to review the place. That’s great.”
She shook her head, defeated. “Not so great,” she admitted. “At least, not according to the health and safety department.” Evie showed him the forms. “Unless I somehow get six different permits signed off in the next forty-eight hours, the Beachcomber Inn isn’t opening anytime soon.”
Noah took the pages from her. “Permits, huh?” he said. “Well, let’s see why we can do about that.”
He headed inside. After a moment of surprise, Evie scrambled up and followed him. “You don’t have to help,” she protested, feeling guilty.
“I know.” Noah kept walking.
“Look, I know you’re charming and all,” she said, hurrying to keep pace with his long stride. “But I don’t think your skills of persuasion are going to work on the permit guy. Mine sure didn’t,” she said ruefully.
“Who said anything about charming him?” Noah asked, heading straight past the permit office and down to the far end of the hall. “I find that when I have a problem, it’s best to go straight to the top.”
He came to a stop outside a door marked with a fancy nameplate. Evie paused, reading the sign. “The mayor?” she asked with a gulp.
Noah grinned. “Even better. Franny?” he called out, tapping on the door. “Sweetheart?”
He stepped into the office and beckoned Evie after him. She had no choice but to follow him inside, where she found a chic, gray-haired woman in a knit cardigan sitting behind a desk, looking at Noah with equal parts affection and suspicion.
“You’re looking lovely today,” Noah said, turning on a megawatt grin that would have reduced most women to a pool of melted candy—Evie included. But this Franny seemed made of sterner stuff.
“What do you need now?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Who said I need anything?” Noah protested. “I’m here to safely return this precious cargo to the Sweetbriar Festival archives,” he said, offering up the binder.
Franny gave him an indulgent smile. “Well, you certainly put it to good use. That was quite a show you put on.”
“If you’re talking about our video, you owe the firehouse royalties on every view,” Noah said with a wink. “But … I’ll give you a break if you help my friend here out with her permits. She’s having problems with Harry,” he added.
“Let me guess, he’s being a stickler for the rules,” Franny said, giving Evie a sympathetic look. “Well, that is his job.”
“I don’t want to break any rules,” Evie said quickly.
“Just … bend them a little, to get things moving faster,” Noah put in. “You can make that happen can’t you?” he asked, flashing a smile. “You can make anything happen in this town.”
Franny snorted. “Is that flattery of yours supposed to work on me?”
“That depends.” Noah’s smile grew. “I can lay it on thicker, if you like?”
“How about you spare us all the indignity,” Franny said, looking as if she was trying not to laugh. “Just tell me, what’s in it for me?”
Evie gulped. Did this woman want some kind of kickback? Wasn’t that illegal? “I’m not sure what I can offer,” she began, and Franny must have caught her panicked expression, because she burst out laughing.
“Not from you, dear,” she said. “Him.” Franny turned back to Noah, looking smug. “So, Montgomery, what’s this worth to you?”