Author's Note: One more short chapter, then the Epilogue and this story is a wrap just as summer comes to a close. Thanks again for the reviews!

The next few months are grueling from every angle—because of her school schedule, I only get to see Piper once a month; I've faced several setbacks with restoring the inn; and it's a brutally cold winter. If I try to look at the bright side, I appreciate the time Piper and I do get to spend together, mostly at boutique hotels in New England. Through our adventures, I learn a great deal about what it takes to manage an inn, and it's not surprising that it's a ton of work even in the off-season.

I meet with Bill Chapman over the phone twice to review our financial statements, and he reports back to the silent investor on the progress of the project. The investor put in a clause about mandatory opening by Memorial Day weekend, but it's my sincere hope that we're ready for business by May 1 so I can have a few trial and error weeks before the mad rush of summer begins.

When I'm not knee-deep in restoring the inn, I spend much of my time taking business classes online. Piper is the one who suggested that I look up MOOCs, and I've already learned a lot about bookkeeping and marketing. My next class will be on human resources, which I need substantial help with as I don't know the first thing about how to pay people and provide insurance and other benefits. Most of the transactions we have on the island are in cash, though I collect payment from the soshes for grocery deliveries through an online system. Still, I have a great deal to learn about labor laws and taxes—the non-glamorous side of running a hotel.

In all my travels and classes, the one thing I know that has to be on point is hospitality and customer service. Even if it's crusty old locals like me, my mom and Trina who run the inn, we have to ensure customer satisfaction; my goal is to exceed expectations. I read whatever I can get my hands on about how to make this happen and even develop a creed like the Ritz-Carleton that my employees will memorize and act upon every day. One bad review can turn the finest hotel upside down, so it's my goal that every guest leaves with nothing but praise for the inn and the people with whom they interact.

By early March, the inn has gone through six inspections, including one that required us to redo the electrical wiring on the third floor, setting us back a full week. The weather is more conducive to all hands on deck now, so we make up for that lost time relatively quickly. With Piper's assistance, I order all the furniture for the inn except for a few pieces that Boone's making from driftwood and old lobster pots. I get one of Piper's oyster prints framed and matted as a sample, and it's absolutely perfect. Now that I know how amazing they look with the color scheme, she paints one for each room.

Piper hasn't been to the island in two months mostly because I want to visit two more boutique hotels in New Hampshire that are lauded because of their customer service. By early April, I've seen all I need to see, and I'm eager for her to check out the progress we've made.

I blindfold her before we approach the Victorian house. "Ready?"

She nods.

I take the blindfold off. "Here it is."

"Wow," she says in a reverent tone as she takes a few steps forward. "This color scheme is perfect." She shields the sun from her eyes. "I was worried the coral trim would be too bright, but it pops against the sea foam green everywhere else."

"What do you think about the black trim on the windows?" This was the one thing I was unsure of, but my mom thought it looked more pronounced than simple white paint.

"I love it."

I smile.

She walks to the front of the house. "You finished the porch!"

Boone laid the wood for the wrap-around porch about a month ago, but we haven't painted it yet for fear we'll need to move a ladder around on the surface to touch up the higher walls.

"Almost." I move the electric sander.

"I can't wait to see inside."

I open the door to reveal the small check-in area, and just beyond that is a cross between a lobby and a lounge with a long leather sofa and two matching armchairs in front of the river rock fireplace just like the one I built at my house. Above the mantle is a framed map of the Thimble Island chain that I found in one of the closets upstairs.

She steps inside and looks around. "It's stunning, Alex."

"Ben and I sanded and stained the hardwoods last week." I'm particularly proud of the elbow grease I put into revitalizing the flooring. "And this rug was on clearance on Wayfair."

She bends down to touch the tassels. "It's a nice pop of color against the whole Navy and white color scheme."

I stick my hands in my back pockets. "Do you think everything looks nautical enough?"

"It's getting there." She moves towards the fireplace. "I thought you were going to put some colorful buoys here?"

"Trina is still cleaning them," I reply. "We'll have a few hanging in the rooms, too. Brian is going to see if he can stick a pendent light between them."

"That would be a unique touch." She moves towards the old sunroom. "Is the restaurant ready?"

"Wyatt finished building the bar and painted the trim around the windows, but the tables and chairs will arrive next week." I walk towards the accordion folding windows. "The deck is done."

Piper steps outside. "It's perfect."

"I'm still worried about capacity issues and the small kitchen," I admit, moving back into the house. "But it is what it is."

"People won't be in a huge rush to get their food in the summer." She follows me towards the kitchen. "The pace is much slower here than say if this were Manhattan or Boston."

"I hope you're right."

We step into the kitchen where all of the appliances have been installed except for the industrial-sized refrigerator that's on back order.

"This is transformative." She eyes the galley-style kitchen. "I can't believe this is the same space as before."

"Miles Mortimer really came through," I respond. "Everything in here was half-priced because of a dent or a scratch. The stove is fucking awesome."

She glances at the stainless steel monstrosity. "I like that there's a grill on the side."

One of the things I continue to worry about is the smell of food wafting through the lobby and into the rooms. "Ben promises the ventilation system will suck all the smoke right out of this hood. I spent a shit load of money on it, so it better work."

We walk up the stairs to the third level, which is the only one with completed rooms. Getting furniture to Oyster Island has proven more difficult than expected, so I only get a few pieces at a time. I figured I'd start with the highest level, then work my way down.

I pause outside the biggest room. "Ready to see the captain's suite?"

She nods.

I open the door, revealing a sitting area that leads to a huge bedroom and a bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub. The décor is similar to downstairs with white and Navy colors, and Piper's oyster print hangs proudly above the gas fireplace.

"Oh my God." She covers her mouth and steps further into the room. "It's perfect."

I grin. "You really think so?"

"Everything about this space is perfect." She walks into the bedroom, which is in the turret. "The bedding looks super cozy and the curtains…did someone make these?"

I nod. "Loralie is an expert seamstress. I found this fabric at a second hand store, and she made curtains for each room."

She rubs the material between her fingers. "Are they all the same?"

"No, but they're all nautical." I tuck one of the panels behind a hook. "This one is sailboats, but the others are types of knots, fish and anchors. There were none with oysters, but I think that's fine."

She twirls around. "It looks like I stepped inside Pottery Barn's summer collection catalogue."

"Or at least my well-curated Pinterest page," I chuckle as I move to the bathroom. "This is the only room at the inn with the Jacuzzi, which was a bitch to get up here by the way. Three of the rooms have full bathtubs, and the others just have a glass enclosed shower with these rain showerheads."

She touches the Subway tile. "Who did the tile work?"

"Me and Wyatt for the most part." I exit the bathroom. "Boone tried to help, but he sucks at grouting."

Piper stands in the middle of the living room and shakes her head. "Everything is flawless. I'm so proud of you."

I wrap my arms around her, kissing her firmly. "I couldn't have done it without you."

She kisses me. "That's entirely untrue, but I was happy to provide decorating advice."

"I don't know if I would've settled on the Navy and cream colors if it weren't for you." I take her hand and lead her back to the main floor. "I probably would've gone with mostly neutral colors."

"You've got a better knack for design than you think."

"Thank you." I brush my lips against hers.

"What's next?"

"We should be finished painting the exterior tomorrow." I walk out onto the unfinished porch. "Neemah dapples in photography, and she agreed to take photos of the inn for the website and brochure."

"That reminds me…" She runs out to the Jeep and returns with her iPad. "Here's what I've done so far."

Piper and her friend at Smith designed the website on a free Internet site. If it's not up to par by the time we open, I'll pay to have a company build and host a new site, but this is all I need for now. The big thing I'll probably want in the future is an online reservation system. As it is now, guests will have to call to reserve a room.

She clicks on the site. "We tried to incorporate the colors of the inn. Do you like that logo? It might be a little too country club for my taste."

"No, it's great." The Inn at Oyster Island is written in a thick, script font. It's just fancy enough.

"If you like it, we can start printing polo shirts and sweaters and stuff," Piper says, clicking around the limited site. "The kind of stuff my parents and their friends wear."

"Good idea," I say. "Once we have photos, I think the site will really pop."

"Exactly."

We spend the rest of the day fine tuning things with the twins at the inn, and by the time the sun sets, I realize we've been here all day.

"My back is starting to hurt." I stand and stretch. "I think we've done enough for today."

Piper glances around the room. "I want to finish touching up the baseboards in the morning."

When we moved some of the furniture upstairs, we nicked a few of the baseboards. She spent about an hour this afternoon spackling and painting the bumps and bruises.

I hammer the lid on the paint can. "Let's have a beer and take a load off."

She smiles. "Good idea."

Even though Piper and I have been together for almost ten months, I still want her just as much as I did when we met. Judging by the way her head is bobbing between my legs at the moment, I think she feels the same. The difference in our relationship now is that we can wait a few hours to ravage each other. We can talk about the inn or college or make all the small talk in the world before our tongues are tired and we desperately want to use them in an entirely different way.

She's gotten much better about checking her privilege, while I've gotten better at hearing her out. We have much more of a give-and-take relationship than we did nearly a year ago, and if I had to put a name to it, I'd say we've matured as a couple. It's still unfathomable how mature Piper is for her age, but if she wasn't, I don't think our relationship could work.

My mom has approved of our coupling since the beginning and Piper's parents are finally wise to what we mean to each other after she had a sit-down conversation with them over winter break. Her father admitted what we already knew—he suspected we were an item by the end of last summer. From what Piper shared, he respects me but is still protective of his daughter. I have no intention of hurting her, so I hope to remain in his good graces, well, forever.

If Piper hadn't entered my life, I would surely still be plugging away at my summer gig of delivering supplies to the soshes with not much more ambition than that. I wouldn't have taken online classes, I wouldn't have restored the Victorian home, and I would've left well enough alone at the farmer's market. Her belief in me changed the trajectory of my life. I've offered to repay her a hundred times, but she claims that I've had equal influence over who she has become as an adult. She's more sensitive, more self-aware and more generous with her time and money. My mom says we complement each other like peanut butter and jelly, and while I roll my eyes at the comparison, there's some truth to that.

What I've discovered about love is that it's not like the movies or books portray. It's a lot of work—at least it is if you want it to last. I've learned to listen better, pay attention to details, compromise, check myself when I'm making assumptions and to grow as a person not because it's what she wants, but because it's what I want.

I'm sure there will be rocky times ahead, particularly if Piper wants to get a summer internship or if my time gets consumed with running the inn. But I have a feeling that against all odds, this is going to last. A local and a sosh could very well live happily ever after.

On April 20, the website goes live even though it's a week later than I'd hoped. Some of the photos that Neemah took weren't close up enough or the lighting was off, so that required two more rounds of staged shots. Piper wanted to tweak some of the verbiage on the site as well, and it finally looks like a professional website that I paid thousands of dollars for someone to design.

"Do you feel good about everything?" she asks on the phone one evening.

I pop open a beer. "The kitchen ventilation system is going to be the death of me."

"It's still not working the way it's supposed to?"

I shake my head even though she can't see me. "Ben ordered a new motor, so hopefully that'll do the trick."

"Yeah, you don't want the lobby or rooms to smell like food."

I step outside and breathe in the salty ocean air. "Ready to come back to the island?"

Piper's last exam is in two days, and she plans to drive to Oyster Island as soon as she's finished. I've been so consumed with the final touches to the inn that I haven't even thought about her return to the island for the summer. Now that I realize she'll be here in 48 hours I allow myself to get excited about seeing her every day.

"I am." I hear her grinning. "Have you figure out the staffing?"

This has been more difficult than I thought it'd be with such a limited supply of talent on the island. I don't mean to dis my friends, but for the most part, they have no idea what it means to be customer service oriented. Sure, they work the high society parties all summer, but they rarely talk to the guests beyond taking their beverage order or fetching a clean napkin. I've had conversations with each of them about working at the inn, explaining what I'm looking for in employees, but most of them aren't interested in the hospitality industry and are 'just fine' with their daily routines.

"For the most part," I respond. "Shana and I had a talk the other day about the Saturday parties at the mansions, and she's not too pleased about Wyatt and Trina skipping out on most of them to work at the inn."

"I thought there were like two or three kids on the island who are ready to start working the parties?"

"She's worried about their level of maturity," I state. "I reminded her that I started working when I was 13."

"Exactly."

"I think it's just a matter of time before Tim throws in the towel at those parties, too." I sit in a deck chair. "He's always hated working them."

"I don't know how well-suited he'd be at the inn," Piper comments.

I sip my beer. "If he works for me, it'll be in the kitchen where he'll have no interactions with the guests."

"Good idea." I hear someone call her name. "I have to go to my study group. We'll talk tomorrow, but I'll see you in two days."

I smile. "Can't wait."

Over the past month, I've spent at least 10 hours a day, seven days a week getting the inn ready for occupancy. Sundays are my light day, but even then, I put in the work that needs to get done to get things in ship shape. So much is riding on the success of the hotel, and I want it to be as close to perfect as it can be.

As I sip my beer on the deck and watch the waves roll in, I think about Piper's impending arrival and my lips quirk up. A feeling courses through me that's the complete opposite of the one I had in September when we had to say goodbye. I had no idea what to expect from a long distance relationship, but it ended up working out for both of us. The first month was emotionally grueling, but after I visited her and we came up with a plan to see each other every two weeks, I felt better—more secure. Throwing myself into restoring the Victorian house saved me from wallowing in self-pity especially in those early months, and from what Piper has shared, diving into her college classes saved her, too.