New Job

My mother called me from Vermont. 'What do you think about innkeeping,' she asked. I had been employed as a personal assistant for less than three months. Previously, I had been unemployed, a waitress, the editor of my college newspaper, the scan coordinator at a doomed natural foods store, a printer's assistant, a misguided Masters student, a cook, unemployed, a substitute teacher, a 'childcare professional,' and as I believe I may have mentioned, unemployed.

'I'd probably like Inn keeping,' I told her. She told me about a property she'd seen for sale. There was an incredible kitchen, she said. Her catering company was expanding, it had outgrown its current kitchen long ago. We'd use the kitchen for catering, and to run the restaurant that was already on site, she said. But there happened to be a beautiful old farmhouse inn. Was I interested?

I planned a weekend trip, and we toured the property. The Inn had 8 guest rooms, the house had been built in 1824. The property was gorgeous, so was the restaurant in the barn. Downstairs in that barn there was a quarter-million dollar kitchen. The place was huge. Somewhat bigger than the closet that serves as the kitchen in my family's other restaurant.

We walked around with the Realtor, then with my real-estate-guru of a grandfather. On the plane I stifled my enthusiasm. I told myself not to get too excited. The property was held by the bank, and they were anxious to sell. A month later I moved in.

Since then I have been busily painting, moving furniture and baking. I have worked hard. And right now, I feel like I have worked my creativity right down a dusty hole. Like the Inn when we first walked through, it feels a little hollow in here. Maybe a bit mismatched. But, like the Inn, it has captured my imagination and my enthusiasm. Soon it will smell like zucchini muffins.

This will be the tale of the 1824 House Inn, and the girl who keeps it.