Spring Morning

Chapter 4: The Bank's Deadline

The bank gave us thirty days to submit a new operating plan.

Our loan came with a seasonal review, and our May numbers weren't enough to meet the terms without the grant. The original loan officer retired the previous summer. Her replacement, Mr. Dorsey, had never visited Aster House and sounded unimpressed by the photographs I emailed him.

"I need a clear picture of the owners' roles," he said over the phone. "I see that Mr. Vale has accepted work outside the county."

"I see that too," I said.

"Is he leaving the company?"

"I don't know."

"You're his wife."

"We're in the process of divorcing."

There was a pause. "Does that affect ownership?"

"Not yet."

"Then I need both of you to confirm your intentions."

The words became a new requirement in the file. Both owners needed to submit a plan. Both needed to meet the lender in person. The meeting would be in three weeks, on the same day as a wedding tasting.

I sent the meeting notice to Daniel. He replied within ten minutes.

Daniel: I'll be there.

No apology. No question. Business only. I could respect that.

I prepared the operating plan by myself. I included the event bookings, payroll, roof repair, construction schedule, and the projected revenue from the lower garden. I also included the cost of hiring a general manager if I had to run the conservatory alone.

That cost mattered. I had been working sixty hours a week, sometimes more. I could keep doing it for a season, but not indefinitely. The numbers showed that I needed another full-time manager by July. The lender would want to know whether the company could carry that salary.

I had an answer. The answer was no.

I could reduce the number of events and still make the loan payments. I could postpone the new washrooms and cut the grant's impact in half. I could also sell part of the grounds to the Bellwether Garden Trust, which had expressed interest in purchasing the lower field for a public walking path.

That last option would mean giving up the ceremony area we had planned.

I showed the proposal to our accountant, who read every page without comment. At the end, she took off her glasses.

"You've built three versions of this business," she said. "Which one do you want?"

"I don't know."

"Which one can you afford?"

"The smaller one."

"Then you know more than you think."

I revised the plan. I didn't tell Daniel what I was considering. It wasn't because I wanted to surprise him. I needed to know what could work before I made it another conversation where he assumed I would adjust around his decision.

At Aster House, the work continued. The first replacement roof panel arrived on a Wednesday morning. Daniel and two contractors installed it. I kept the wedding crew away from the east aisle and rerouted a tour through the glasshouse. By lunch, the worst of the leak was fixed.

Daniel met me in the lobby as I was checking the new panel from the floor.

"It'll hold," he said.

"Good."

"The rest of the roof needs attention in the fall."

"I put that in the maintenance plan."

"I didn't see the updated version."

"It's on the shared drive."

He took off his gloves. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to tell me when you change things."

"I uploaded the plan."

"Not every change is an emergency."

"Then you can check it when you have time."

He studied me. The look was familiar, but I could no longer tell whether he was angry or trying to find a way back into a conversation.

"I'm going to Greyhaven on Friday," he said. "To meet the project team."

"Okay."

"I thought you might want to see the courthouse. It's a beautiful building."

"I'm sure it is."

"I could take you with me."

I checked the seam above the east aisle once more. It looked dry.

"I have a tasting."

"Could you move it?"

"No."

His hands tightened around the gloves. "Right."

He walked away before I could answer. I didn't call after him.

On Friday, I took the tasting myself. The couple had chosen Aster House because of the old ironwork and the flowering trees around the terrace. I explained the menu, the rain plan, and the changes to the lower garden. They booked their wedding for the following May.

When they left, I checked my phone. Daniel had sent no messages.

I had expected that to hurt.

It didn't feel good. It felt quiet. For the first time in months, I had finished a workday without waiting for him to notice I'd held it together.