Fic: Affinity (2/?)
Here's part 2. At the moment it's looking like this will be somewhere in the vicinity of 20 parts, but don't quote me on that.
See part 1 for disclaimer, summary, etc.
PART TWO
The Peekskill Inn came into view and Blair sighed with pleasure. There was a particular satisfaction to be found in seeing one's dreams become reality, and even when you had the means to make just about any dream come true, the sensation never got old. ("It just makes you pissier when you don't get what you want," Jo was wont to point out whenever Blair mentioned this.) Of course the original idea, back when Blair had noticed the property was on the market, had been to expand this cozy little country inn into a full-scale resort that would quickly earn the praise of travel critics and become the vacation destination in the region by offering just about every luxury known to man.
Indoor and outdoor pools. A tennis court. Two restaurants. A gym. Maybe even a golf course. And the rooms -- dozens upon dozens of spacious rooms, each decorated in signature Blair Warner style. She had envisioned it all, and described it all, and even started looking into paying for it all. And then Jo had taken her by the shoulders, looked her in the eye, and told her in no uncertain terms that she was out of her gourd.
"One, you don't have time. Two, you're a lawyer, not a hotel... builder. And three, it would ruin Peekskill. If it ever worked out."
"Why do you always have to rain on my parade?" Blair had asked, rhetorically of course. "I could make it work."
"I could die my hair green and dance naked through Times Square," Jo had retorted. "But I'm not going to."
"That is possibly the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me."
The analogy made no sense, but the list of rational arguments did. She was a very busy woman, between her job and her charities and keeping Jo just this side of respectable. And she didn't really have any experience with this kind of thing. It wasn't like picking out carpets for the Eastland Library, after all. As for Peekskill... Well, she had to admit her vision did involve a lot of changes to the town, not all of which were necessarily in the best interests of the people who actually lived there.
Long story short, she had cancelled her meeting with the real estate agent.
A few weeks later they had driven up to Eastland to see Bailey, and after they'd dropped her sister back at the dorm (and Jo had carried in her shopping bags, the number and weight of which both had to be complained about), they had headed out to the highway.
"Sign's still up," Blair had said, tapping her window with a fingernail.
Jo, who was driving, had glanced over her shoulder but obviously didn't know what she was looking for. "What sign?"
"The inn."
"Oh."
They had driven on in silence, but after a few minutes Blair had become aware that Jo was sneaking little sideways glances at her. "What?"
"Nothing."
More silence. More glances. "What?"
Jo had hesitated. "Where did this come from, this resort thing?"
Shrugging, Blair had turned her face to the passenger-side window. "My mother would finally have somewhere decent to stay when she's in town." She had turned back to find Jo not just glancing but out-and-out staring at her. Blair had scowled and gestured hastily for Jo to direct her attention back to the road. "What's wrong with that?"
"Blair. Building an entire resort just so your mom can spend two nights a year there? Not to mention the fact that Bailey would graduate before you could even finish contruction. She's only got three semesters left."
"Well, there was more to it than that."
"So tell me."
Blair had furrowed her brow. "I thought it would be nice to... to have a business of my own, on the side. You know? Something I could be proud of because I made it what it is."
"Mmm."
"I love my job, but I never get to make any decisions. I just run around cleaning up other people's messes. It's important work but it's... I'm just part of the team. The company is so much bigger than me. Is this making any sense?"
Jo had nodded. "You want to be the centre of the universe."
"Jo."
"Come on. You do."
"I'm talking about taking complete responsibility for something. Single-handedly molding its destiny."
"Why don't you just have a baby?" The swift backhand to Jo's upper arm had produced an exaggerated flinch and a snickering "ow."
"I was thinking of something that wouldn't leave me with stretch marks, thank you very much."
"Okay, so why the Peekskill Inn?"
"Peekskill is... This is where it all happened," Blair had said, throwing up her hands because there was no better way to say it. Then she had watched a little smile bloom on Jo's face and knew she understood. They had that in common. The city was home, had been before Eastland and after Langley and always would be, but Peekskill was special too. Just like they had the families they'd been born into and the family they'd chosen -- different kinds of love, both equally valid and valued. "And the inn is for sale."
"So if the ice rink was for sale, you'd be jumping on that instead?"
A withering look had accompanied Blair's response. "Hardly. There's no such thing as a five-star ice rink."
"There is if you're a die-hard fan."
"Well, I'm not. I have, however, stayed at nearly every Hilton in existence."
"Please. There's like 500 of those."
"How would you know?"
"I didn't just crawl out from under a rock."
"Could have fooled me."
"Hey, remember that night at the Ritz-Carlton in Miami? With the Hershey's kisses?" Jo had waggled her eyebrows, and Blair hadn't been sure if it was the saucy look or the memory that sent the shiver down her spine. Jo had seen it and grinned. "That was fun, right?"
"A good time was had by all, yes."
"Okay. Now you tell me -- is there any reason we couldn't have had the exact same night at the Peekskill Inn? The way it is now, I mean. Only three storeys. No pool, no tennis courts."
Blair had shifted in her seat. "No. I suppose not."
"I always thought the rooms there were pretty decent, size-wise. They don't compare to the suites at the Hilton, sure, but still, plenty of space." Jo had waited until Blair reluctantly dipped her head in agreement. "So there's only, what, ten or twelve of them? It could easily be the best 10-room inn in the state."
"You can't be serious."
"With a few improvements, I mean. But just a few. All the additions you talked about -- that's spending money just for the sake of spending it. It's supposed to be a comfortable place to spend a night or two when you're passing through a sleepy little town. It doesn't need to be a palace."
"It's rustic, it's run-down, it's painted that hideous puce--"
"So re-paint it. Buy some new furntiure. Make sure it's kept up."
Blair had blinked. "You think I should buy it?"
"Depends. Can you be proud of something that isn't the Ritz?"
The remainder of the drive home had passed in silence, Blair turning Jo's words over in her mind. She had thought about Mrs. Garrett opening the shop on Main Street all those years ago, after her son Raymond had bought the property. Its modest success had made Mrs. Garrett happy because she loved to cook and she loved sharing her talents with other people; she hadn't asked for more than that. She had only had four teenagers for a staff but somehow -- despite occasional dereliction of duty (and resulting health department fines) -- that had been enough to make Edna's Edibles the toast of the town.
The best 10-room inn in the state. The more Blair had thought about it, the more she had warmed up to the idea. God knew she loved a challenge -- the proof of that was sitting right next to her. A new vision had begun to take shape, one that complemented Peekskill rather than outshone it. But it would still be hers. She would put her stamp on every inch of the place, handpick the staff, the linens, the light fixtures. It would still be luxurious, just on a smaller scale.
By the time they'd reached Manhattan it had practically been a fait accompli.
As she made her way up the driveway now, Blair gave herself a mental pat on the back for having such good taste. The building had been painted white with navy accents, the landscaping had been updated and the parking lot had been relocated to the rear so as not to spoil the view on approach. Where it had been, there was now interrupted green lawn. It was picturesque as all get out, and they hadn't even had the first snowfall yet!
Blair pulled up to the front door and killed the Mercedes's engine. She didn't want to get out right away. She was still savouring the moment.
It's so beautiful. And it's all mine.
The only thing missing was a certain brunette in the passenger's seat telling her to stop gloating and get the hell out of the car.
The door opened and Sam, the Eastland boy she'd hired, emerged. She felt a little pang of disappointment at his clothing -- she'd wanted him to have a proper bellboy's uniform, but Jo had haggled her down to pressed dress pants and a shirt and tie.
"I don't know why I listen to her at all," Blair murmured to herself as she climbed out of the Mercedes.
"Ms. Warner!" Sam trotted out to meet her on the passenger side.
"Hi, Sam. How are you?"
"Fine, thanks. Can I get your luggage for you?"
"Certainly." She hit the trunk release on her remote. "There are a few things in the backseat as well."
He began transferring suitcases to the curb. "I could park the car for you too, if you like."
She eyed him warily. He was only fifteen. But it was probably about a thirty-second drive, with no other moving vehicles around. She handed him the keys, along with a very pointed look, the meaning of which was unmistakeable. He grinned back.
"Have any of my guests arrived yet?"
"Mrs. Garrett, a few hours ago. But she called a taxi and went into town."
Blair smiled. Can't stay in one place for a minute, can she? She's probably playing tourist, even though she lived here for years. Blair couldn't wait for her to get back so she could ask what the globetrotting older woman thought of the inn. Dorothy and Natalie were both due around one o'clock, according to their last phone calls, so Blair had about an hour and a half to change and make sure all the preparations were finished, unless Mrs. Garrett returned in the meantime. She was quickly assembling a mental list of things to check on.
"You have a lot of suitcases," Sam said.
"I know," Blair said. "I'm booked in the third-floor suite, don't forget." There had been a very brief discussion about dubbing it the penthouse, but even she didn't think it was warranted. "Meet you up there."
With a growing sense of excitement, she opened the front door and stepped inside.
See part 1 for disclaimer, summary, etc.
PART TWO
The Peekskill Inn came into view and Blair sighed with pleasure. There was a particular satisfaction to be found in seeing one's dreams become reality, and even when you had the means to make just about any dream come true, the sensation never got old. ("It just makes you pissier when you don't get what you want," Jo was wont to point out whenever Blair mentioned this.) Of course the original idea, back when Blair had noticed the property was on the market, had been to expand this cozy little country inn into a full-scale resort that would quickly earn the praise of travel critics and become the vacation destination in the region by offering just about every luxury known to man.
Indoor and outdoor pools. A tennis court. Two restaurants. A gym. Maybe even a golf course. And the rooms -- dozens upon dozens of spacious rooms, each decorated in signature Blair Warner style. She had envisioned it all, and described it all, and even started looking into paying for it all. And then Jo had taken her by the shoulders, looked her in the eye, and told her in no uncertain terms that she was out of her gourd.
"One, you don't have time. Two, you're a lawyer, not a hotel... builder. And three, it would ruin Peekskill. If it ever worked out."
"Why do you always have to rain on my parade?" Blair had asked, rhetorically of course. "I could make it work."
"I could die my hair green and dance naked through Times Square," Jo had retorted. "But I'm not going to."
"That is possibly the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me."
The analogy made no sense, but the list of rational arguments did. She was a very busy woman, between her job and her charities and keeping Jo just this side of respectable. And she didn't really have any experience with this kind of thing. It wasn't like picking out carpets for the Eastland Library, after all. As for Peekskill... Well, she had to admit her vision did involve a lot of changes to the town, not all of which were necessarily in the best interests of the people who actually lived there.
Long story short, she had cancelled her meeting with the real estate agent.
A few weeks later they had driven up to Eastland to see Bailey, and after they'd dropped her sister back at the dorm (and Jo had carried in her shopping bags, the number and weight of which both had to be complained about), they had headed out to the highway.
"Sign's still up," Blair had said, tapping her window with a fingernail.
Jo, who was driving, had glanced over her shoulder but obviously didn't know what she was looking for. "What sign?"
"The inn."
"Oh."
They had driven on in silence, but after a few minutes Blair had become aware that Jo was sneaking little sideways glances at her. "What?"
"Nothing."
More silence. More glances. "What?"
Jo had hesitated. "Where did this come from, this resort thing?"
Shrugging, Blair had turned her face to the passenger-side window. "My mother would finally have somewhere decent to stay when she's in town." She had turned back to find Jo not just glancing but out-and-out staring at her. Blair had scowled and gestured hastily for Jo to direct her attention back to the road. "What's wrong with that?"
"Blair. Building an entire resort just so your mom can spend two nights a year there? Not to mention the fact that Bailey would graduate before you could even finish contruction. She's only got three semesters left."
"Well, there was more to it than that."
"So tell me."
Blair had furrowed her brow. "I thought it would be nice to... to have a business of my own, on the side. You know? Something I could be proud of because I made it what it is."
"Mmm."
"I love my job, but I never get to make any decisions. I just run around cleaning up other people's messes. It's important work but it's... I'm just part of the team. The company is so much bigger than me. Is this making any sense?"
Jo had nodded. "You want to be the centre of the universe."
"Jo."
"Come on. You do."
"I'm talking about taking complete responsibility for something. Single-handedly molding its destiny."
"Why don't you just have a baby?" The swift backhand to Jo's upper arm had produced an exaggerated flinch and a snickering "ow."
"I was thinking of something that wouldn't leave me with stretch marks, thank you very much."
"Okay, so why the Peekskill Inn?"
"Peekskill is... This is where it all happened," Blair had said, throwing up her hands because there was no better way to say it. Then she had watched a little smile bloom on Jo's face and knew she understood. They had that in common. The city was home, had been before Eastland and after Langley and always would be, but Peekskill was special too. Just like they had the families they'd been born into and the family they'd chosen -- different kinds of love, both equally valid and valued. "And the inn is for sale."
"So if the ice rink was for sale, you'd be jumping on that instead?"
A withering look had accompanied Blair's response. "Hardly. There's no such thing as a five-star ice rink."
"There is if you're a die-hard fan."
"Well, I'm not. I have, however, stayed at nearly every Hilton in existence."
"Please. There's like 500 of those."
"How would you know?"
"I didn't just crawl out from under a rock."
"Could have fooled me."
"Hey, remember that night at the Ritz-Carlton in Miami? With the Hershey's kisses?" Jo had waggled her eyebrows, and Blair hadn't been sure if it was the saucy look or the memory that sent the shiver down her spine. Jo had seen it and grinned. "That was fun, right?"
"A good time was had by all, yes."
"Okay. Now you tell me -- is there any reason we couldn't have had the exact same night at the Peekskill Inn? The way it is now, I mean. Only three storeys. No pool, no tennis courts."
Blair had shifted in her seat. "No. I suppose not."
"I always thought the rooms there were pretty decent, size-wise. They don't compare to the suites at the Hilton, sure, but still, plenty of space." Jo had waited until Blair reluctantly dipped her head in agreement. "So there's only, what, ten or twelve of them? It could easily be the best 10-room inn in the state."
"You can't be serious."
"With a few improvements, I mean. But just a few. All the additions you talked about -- that's spending money just for the sake of spending it. It's supposed to be a comfortable place to spend a night or two when you're passing through a sleepy little town. It doesn't need to be a palace."
"It's rustic, it's run-down, it's painted that hideous puce--"
"So re-paint it. Buy some new furntiure. Make sure it's kept up."
Blair had blinked. "You think I should buy it?"
"Depends. Can you be proud of something that isn't the Ritz?"
The remainder of the drive home had passed in silence, Blair turning Jo's words over in her mind. She had thought about Mrs. Garrett opening the shop on Main Street all those years ago, after her son Raymond had bought the property. Its modest success had made Mrs. Garrett happy because she loved to cook and she loved sharing her talents with other people; she hadn't asked for more than that. She had only had four teenagers for a staff but somehow -- despite occasional dereliction of duty (and resulting health department fines) -- that had been enough to make Edna's Edibles the toast of the town.
The best 10-room inn in the state. The more Blair had thought about it, the more she had warmed up to the idea. God knew she loved a challenge -- the proof of that was sitting right next to her. A new vision had begun to take shape, one that complemented Peekskill rather than outshone it. But it would still be hers. She would put her stamp on every inch of the place, handpick the staff, the linens, the light fixtures. It would still be luxurious, just on a smaller scale.
By the time they'd reached Manhattan it had practically been a fait accompli.
As she made her way up the driveway now, Blair gave herself a mental pat on the back for having such good taste. The building had been painted white with navy accents, the landscaping had been updated and the parking lot had been relocated to the rear so as not to spoil the view on approach. Where it had been, there was now interrupted green lawn. It was picturesque as all get out, and they hadn't even had the first snowfall yet!
Blair pulled up to the front door and killed the Mercedes's engine. She didn't want to get out right away. She was still savouring the moment.
It's so beautiful. And it's all mine.
The only thing missing was a certain brunette in the passenger's seat telling her to stop gloating and get the hell out of the car.
The door opened and Sam, the Eastland boy she'd hired, emerged. She felt a little pang of disappointment at his clothing -- she'd wanted him to have a proper bellboy's uniform, but Jo had haggled her down to pressed dress pants and a shirt and tie.
"I don't know why I listen to her at all," Blair murmured to herself as she climbed out of the Mercedes.
"Ms. Warner!" Sam trotted out to meet her on the passenger side.
"Hi, Sam. How are you?"
"Fine, thanks. Can I get your luggage for you?"
"Certainly." She hit the trunk release on her remote. "There are a few things in the backseat as well."
He began transferring suitcases to the curb. "I could park the car for you too, if you like."
She eyed him warily. He was only fifteen. But it was probably about a thirty-second drive, with no other moving vehicles around. She handed him the keys, along with a very pointed look, the meaning of which was unmistakeable. He grinned back.
"Have any of my guests arrived yet?"
"Mrs. Garrett, a few hours ago. But she called a taxi and went into town."
Blair smiled. Can't stay in one place for a minute, can she? She's probably playing tourist, even though she lived here for years. Blair couldn't wait for her to get back so she could ask what the globetrotting older woman thought of the inn. Dorothy and Natalie were both due around one o'clock, according to their last phone calls, so Blair had about an hour and a half to change and make sure all the preparations were finished, unless Mrs. Garrett returned in the meantime. She was quickly assembling a mental list of things to check on.
"You have a lot of suitcases," Sam said.
"I know," Blair said. "I'm booked in the third-floor suite, don't forget." There had been a very brief discussion about dubbing it the penthouse, but even she didn't think it was warranted. "Meet you up there."
With a growing sense of excitement, she opened the front door and stepped inside.