Finding Promise (The Promise Series, A Small Town Romance) Read Free Page B

vanilla ice cream. The
‘cherry on top’, she grinned, was the roof of the stall, held up with poles
made to look like sticks of caramel and chocolate. A very apt sign across the
cherry announced its wares in bold letters, ‘Good ‘ol Fashioned Ice Cream’.
     
    At the reminder of food, her stomach protested its hunger.
The restaurants offered the opportunity to continue watching the comings and
goings of the waterfront visitors. Each restaurant had tables set on the wide
cobble-stoned area in front of it, not encroaching onto its neighbor’s space as
though someone had drawn and invisible line that could not be crossed. Quite a
few people were sitting down with sundowner drinks in hand or an early dinner.
She chose one of the quieter restaurants, not wanting company just yet,
preferring to settle in and just observe the town life on a late, Sunday
afternoon. After meal consisting of a salad and grilled cod with a glass of
chilled white wine, served by friendly waiting staff, she decided to look for
accommodation. A long, hot, fragrant bubble bath and a quiet room seeming like heaven
now that her stomach was full.
     
    “Can you recommend a hotel or bed and breakfast?” Caroline
asked the waitress when she brought the bill.
     
    “We don’t have a hotel but there are a number of bed and
breakfasts or lodges outside of town. If you want something convenient and
decent, there’s an inn further up at the other end of the waterfront.” The
waitress looked at the tip, happy to add it to her day’s collection. “Its peak
season, so you may struggle to find accommodation. In that case, the tourist’s office
in Main Street should be able to help you out. Main Street isn’t very big so
you should find it easily enough.”
     
    Thanking her for her advice, Caroline anxiously set off to
find the inn; she needed accommodation for the night at least. She couldn’t
fathom getting into the car again and driving, especially when she still
intended to investigate the house.
     
    Walking towards the furthest end of the waterfront
development she saw it. If it was more modern, it probably would have fit into
the category of boutique hotel. But the word, inn, suited this old
three-storied building better. It was made of stone with varnished wooden
balconies that stood in sharp contrast to the brightly colored plastered
buildings that comprised the rest of the waterfront. Even its name spoke of a
bygone era. It was called, simply, Seafarer’s Inn. Established in 1903, the inn
had roots here and yet, despite being old, was lovingly tended to as it was in
good condition. The thought of watching the ocean from the balconies of one of
the rooms appealed to her and reminded her of the house. She could have her
bath and afterwards Google the area and property market over a cup of coffee on
her smartphone. She thought of updating her Facebook wall then decided against,
content to continue isolating herself from the people she knew. 
     
    The irony of using such current technology inside such a
solid, old building struck her. Interesting how one can mix old and new
together. She hoped she could achieve the same with the house, if she managed
to purchase it. As much as she had enjoyed her travels this past month, eating
at diners and gas stations, sleeping in different beds and the same
conversations starting with “Are you just passing through?” were becoming
tedious and lonely. She wanted to get rid of the life she previously led and as
exciting as gypsy living was, she yearned for some semblance of stability.
Maybe, just maybe, this could be the place for her to plant new roots.
    She hoped that inn’s reception stocked copies of the local
paper that she could look through. Over the last month she noticed that some of
the larger small towns had local papers, which really just seemed like an
excuse for gossip columns but also contained a number of classified ads and
property listings? That should give her an indication of what the