Bed and Breakfast Read Free Page A

died, I didn’t want to leave.”
    “You mean you didn’t want to leave the life you built with your husband,” Brent said.
    I looked at him, surprised. “Yes,” I said. He understood my feelings perfectly.
    Brent didn’t say anything more. He seemed lost in thought, and I was lost for words. Brent made me feel clumsy, unsure of myself. We sat in silence for a long time.
    “Well, I should let you have your peace and quiet,” I said finally. I was disappointed at how my brief visit with Brent had gone. I stood to leave.
    “No, don’t go,” he said. “Please stay.”
    He looked so sad as he begged me to stay. I hesitated a moment, not sure how to react.
    “I thought I wanted to get away from the noise of the city,” he said, to explain himself. “But now that I’m here, I’m stuck with my own thoughts.”
    “Your memories of your wife,” I said.
    “Yes.”
    I sat back down on the rock beside him. We watched the waves lap the shore at our feet.
    “Winter is the hardest time for me,” I said. “I’m okay in the summer. My house is full of guests. I’m busy making beds, cooking breakfast, cleaning house.”
    “But when the house is quiet . . .”
    “Then I think about Joe, my husband,” I said. “I get so lonely.”
    “I sometimes turn to tell my wife something, but she isn’t there,” Brent said.
    “I used to do that all the time,” I told him.
    He took my hand and squeezed it. “It’s good to talk to someone who understands.”
    I looked down at his hand holding mine. Brent Henderson was holding my hand! I wanted to hold his hand forever. I wanted to start a new life. With him. I looked up at his face, wondering if that was a possibility. But he was gazing at the lake as if he was looking into the past.

Chapter Seven
    When Brent and I arrived back at my bed and breakfast, Steve was gone. The old sink pipes were in the garbage can, and the floor around the sink was washed. Steve hadn’t left even one of his tools behind. That meant he wouldn’t come for a visit that evening, as he often did on Saturday nights. I felt disappointed.
    Then I cheered myself with the thought that Brent was there. He would stay the night in my home. I planned to ask him to sit with me in the living room later on, as guests sometimes did. I felt that if we spent more time together, his obvious feelings for me would grow. However, I never expected what happened next.
    “Is there a place to eat dinner in this town?” Brent asked me.
    I thought briefly of suggesting the fish and chip shop where Steve and I sometimes had supper. But Brent was dressed in a suit. I suspected he had a different sort of restaurant in mind. A fine-dining restaurant was in order.
    “The Old Church Restaurant is just up the road,” I said. “The food there is excellent.”
    “Would you care to join me?” he asked. My heart skipped a beat. Brent must have seen the shock on my face. “I hate eating alone,” he explained. “Honestly, I haven’t enjoyed a meal since my wife passed away.”
    I knew what he meant. Meals were the loneliest times, even meals eaten at home. I hated eating by myself in a restaurant.
    “Of course, I understand if you don’t feel it’s appropriate,” he said. “Or if you feel having dinner with me would upset Steve.”
    I laughed a little. “Steve?” I asked. “Why would he care?”
    Brent shrugged. “I thought you and he might be dating. The way he looks at you . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence.
    How had Steve looked at me? Sometimes I caught Steve watching me, but he quickly looked away.
    “Steve and I aren’t dating,” I told Brent. “As I said, he’s just a friend.”
    “Well, then, how about dinner?”
    I tried to sound relaxed, even though I was so excited I wanted to jump up and down. “I’d like that,” I said. “Just let me get changed.” But what was I going to wear?
    I ran upstairs and searched my closet for something dressy to put on. I found jeans and pants. I