Chapter 7
Once Joey got home, she went to her room. She flopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking once again of her mother. It had been her mother's wish to someday start a Bed and Breakfast. After her mother died, Joey knew that she and Bessie had to honor that wish. As Joey stared at the ceiling, she recalled the memories of when her mother's dream had come true.
Pacey, Dawson and Joey are sitting in the living room of the Potter B&B watching "The Big Chill", an unusual choice for movie night. Joey wasn't really into the movie.
"Sorry, Joey tonight's activities were meant to calm your nerves, not agitate them," Dawson said, sensing Joey's mood.
"Well, that's impossible. I mean, this Bed and Breakfast has been open for a day, a very costly Bed and Breakfast mind you, and there are no guests. Have either one of you checked the reservations list? There's not a name to be found, not a one," Joey told him.
"Joey, it takes time to establish a reputation - ," Dawson told her.
"Dawson, Bessie and I have invested every dime we have. Along with guests, time is another thing that we don't have," Joey said, frustrated. She was starting to get very discouraged.
Later that day, Joey and Bessie went to the Loan Office to see if they could get more money. Unfortunately, the only option was to take out a mortgage on the house.
"I'm just thinking about it." Bessie said as they arrived home.
"Bess, it's our house, where we live, the only connection we have to Mom. How could you even think about it?" Joey asked, in disbelief.
"Joey, everything takes longer and costs more than we expect. If there's a way to take a little out, then maybe we should," Bessie told her.
"Well, you can't do something like this without my approval, and I'm not giving it to you," Joey told Bessie, sternly.
"Actually, I can. I'm an adult, you're a sixteen year old girl," Bessie said, defensively.
"Bessie, I am your sister, a part of this family. If this thing doesn't work out, I lose my house, the only tangible connection that I have..." Joey said when she was interrupted by Bessie.
"She left it to me, Joey. Just like she left me in charge around here until you turn eighteen. That's a responsibility you can't understand."
"I know all about responsibility," Joey said, defending herself.
"Do you? Because until you know what it's like to humiliate yourself by asking some trust-fund snob who looked down on you in High School for money, I don't want to talk about it with you anymore," Bessie told her, walking angrily inside the house.
This particular part of the memory made Joey very sad. That was one of the rare moments that her and Bessie had not seen eye to eye and because of it her mothers' dream had come so close to becoming non-existent. However, thanks to her friends, she had happier memories to think about. She once again got lost in the memories.
"Let me tell ya, kiddies, we are looking good. Looking good," Pacey told Joey and Dawson, walking into the kitchen.
"What canary did you swallow?" Joey said, sarcastically.
"Well, after having felt just a teensy, weensy little bit of guilt over having wrongfully inspired this establishment, I took it upon myself to expose the Potter B&B to the outside world via the mighty pen of Mr. Frederick Fricke," Pacey told them.
"Fred who?" Dawson asked.
"Fricke. He's, I don't know, he's like the Roger Ebert of the B&B world. Writes for Travel, Travel and Leisure, and most importantly, he writes for the New York Times travel section, the next edition of which will have nothing but glowing things to say about this establishment, because one Mr. Fred Fricke is frequenting here," Pacey told them, excitedly.
"He's coming here?" Joey asked.
"Oh yeah, he's on his way back to Boston right now. Happened to fit into his plans, I gave him a call..." Pacey told her.
"Are you insane? Have you seen the half-finished room? Have you tasted Bessie's blueberry pancakes? We're not ready for something like this! Not to mention that we don't have any guests..." Joey protested.
"I beg to differ, we do have guests. Not only do we have guests, we have the perfect guests for the perfect heartwarming weekend at your local B&B. Guests, if you would, please," Pacey said, as Grams, Jen, Jack and Andie enter.
"We have the sweet, God-fearing grandmother here to help her grandkids try to reconnect to the magical Creekside village where she frolicked as a little girl," Pacey continued, as Mitchand Gale enter.
"And just to make sure that our home is filled with happy, boisterous people, we have a loving married couple here to spend a romantic weekend getaway"
Joey smiled at the memory of her friends. They had really pulled through for her that night. Although they had hit some rough patches, she was glad that they were a part of helping her make her mother's dream a reality. She thought of that night.
Joey, Bessie, Gale, Andie, Jen were all sitting around the fireplace while Dawson, Mitch, Pacey and Jack were trying to start the fire.
"Okay, let's get that right up there. Air vents, okay? Guys, blow, blow, blow!" Mitch said. They tried, with no avail.
"We're so gonna freeze," Jen stated. Just then, Grams walked in to join them.
"You'll never get it started with the hickory on the bottom. May I?" she said, as she took over. Grams rearranged the wood in the right order.
"Hickory is a glorious wood, but it's a hard wood. Will never burn on its own. Soft pine goes on the bottom, oak in the middle, hickory on top."
"There we go," Grams said, as she lit the wood.
"Wow, I'm impressed," Mitch said, as the fire began.
"You know, she churns her own butter, too," Jen said.
"Oh, I used to build a fire after dinner every night in the winter. Jennifer's Grandfather would sit in his leather chair, feet on ottoman, and read to me. Some nights we'd travel with Ahab in search of the great whale. Or some nights we'd float down the perilous river with Huck and Jim. Nearly every night, at some point in our journey, he'd fall asleep, chin on chest, book in lap, content. You know you love someone when you can spend the entire night just sitting by the fire, watching him sleep," Grams said.
"Sounds like you loved him very much," Gale told her, softly.
"Love is the hardest of woods. Takes a long, long time to heat up, but it does," Grams told her.
"God, it smells good in here," Jen said, taking in the sweet smell of the wood burning.
"Hickory burning in the hearth, smells like 46 years of my life," Grams said.
"They say that smell is the most powerful sense of recall that we have. It can bring back all kinds of buried experiences," Dawson chimed in.
"Vanilla," Gale said.
"Still?" Mitch wondered.
"Every time I smell it... Your Father worked in a restaurant when we first started dating…And every night after work, when he would come to pick me up, he always smelled like vanilla," she remembered.
"Phenylene diamine. It's the main chemical used to process film, might've been the first time I ever opened a film canister. It's an intense smell. At the time, it smelled like possibility," Dawson recalls. Next it is Jen's turn.
"Mothballs. I love the smell of mothballs. No, when class would get out at the Chapin's School in New York, um, there was this old storage room in the back of the auditorium that the drama club used to keep all their costumes and props in. God, I would spend hours in there hiding under Guinevere's skirt, wrapped in Lady Macbeth's cloak. It always seemed like, no matter what had happened or how bad the day had been or how much I thought I was falling apart, there was nothing that could get to me in there."
"Kickapoo juice. It was this grape juice, and they used to hand out a cup of it at the end of every day at summer camp. And the owner of the camp, Mr. A, gave it that stupid name. We all knew it was Hi-C," Jack recalled. Now it was Pacey's turn.
"This might sound a little goofy, but do you think it's actually possible to smell snow?" he asked.
"Absolutely," Mitch told him.
"Well, that's my first memory, then. I don't know, I was maybe two or three years old. I just distinctly remember getting up on my tippy toes so I could look through this half open window at the snow falling down on the frozen creek, and everything just blanketed in stillness," Pacey said.
"New car. We'd go on these family trips, and dad would always request a brand new rental car. And I guess, um, that smell just reminds me of all of us traveling together down some big open highway," Andie chimed in. Now it was Joey turn to share.
"Bacon. Sizzling, crackling, wafting into my bedroom while I was still asleep, starting in my dreams and coaxing me into awake," Joey said.
"I know that smell," Bessie said.
"Mom," Joey said.
"Yeah," Bessie replied.
"See, every Sunday when she didn't have to work, she would make breakfast. And I would find my way down the hallway and stand next to her by the stove. And we would talk about school, and boys, and we'd take the pancake batter and pour it into tiny molds shaped like pine trees and animals. My Mom always loved to cook and take care of everyone, and hated working at that bar every night. She always told me not to worry, because eventually she was going to make enough money and she was going to open up her very own, um, her very own Bed and Breakfast. She obviously didn't get the chance to see that dream happen, so I thought I would give it a shot. So, thank you everyone for coming and helping us. You're the best fake guests a girl could ask for. But really, you can all go home now," Joey said, getting up to leave the room.
Joey sure was grateful for that night. For the first time in a long time, she had been able to talk about her mom and smile about it. She was happy to be able to share that great memory of her mother with those that she cared about more then anything.
The next morning Joey was awaken to the smell of bacon coming into her room. She walked into the kitchen to find her friends cooking breakfast. While everyone was eating breakfast, Bessie pulled Joey into the next room.
"I was up for hours last night, thinking about what you said by the fire. And I went up to the attic...," Bessie began.
"Look, Bessie...," Joey said, trailing off. Bessie took a guestbook off of the mantle.
"Dad gave this to Mom for Christmas ten years ago. We signed it over breakfast... her first guests." She opened it to reveal her name and Joey's name on the front page. "How could I have forgotten her dream?"
"You've had a few other things to worry about, Bessie. The lives of two kids," Joey told her, as they hugged.
A smile came across Joey's face. She remembered that morning like it was yesterday. It was a morning that would forever be with her. The Potter Bed and Breakfast was officially in business that day and her mother's dream had finally come true. Joey sighed. For the first time that day, Joey had been able to think about her mother in a good light. With that, Joey drifted off to sleep. Soon after, Bessie found Joey asleep. As she placed a blanket on her sister's limp body, she noticed the necklace Joey was wearing. She gently placed it on Joey's dresser, realizing that it used to belong to her mother. As Bessie watched her sister sleep, she thought of her mother. It was the perfect ending to a not so perfect day.