Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn Read Free Page A

Freestone, my handyman, gave me this morning in case of cell phone disruptions like the one we experienced this weekend. I worked it like he showed me and his voice crackled through. “Vicki? Cielo’s finished the bedrooms and is heading home. I’ve fixed the Nancy Drew fireplace and I’ll stay to shovel snow and carry bags.”
    I smiled. At least that part of the preparations was running smoothly. Kent was an airline mechanic who took early retirement at fifty. When he and his wife, Cielo, moved in two doors down, halfway between here and Horse Feathers, I was the lucky recipient of their desire to stay busy. And they genuinely seemed as proud of the Inn as I was.
    Part-time, Kent kept things running and Cielo kept them neat and tidy. In fact, Kent was extra busy the last few weeks, making sure everything in all the rooms and the carriage house suite worked perfectly, from toilets to televisions to fireplaces. He started yesterday on the shed and equipment, but still had more to do outside. “Thanks. What would I ever do without you guys?”
    “Crash and burn,” Liz answered as I pocketed the handset.
    By the time I reached the kitchen, with Liz tagging along just to see how irritated Grandma was as well as watch me grovel, I found Grandma and Zach eating ice cream cones. Grandma reached over with her cone and, when it touched Zach’s cone, made a kissing sound and smiled.
    Good. Zach had managed to soften her mood.
    Zach asked, “Grandma Ross, why did they stop doing the wave at the BYU football games?” then paused for effect. It was his one and only joke, passed on by DeWayne Smith, my brother’s one and only officer and an avid University of Utah fan.
    “I don’t know,” Grandma said. “Why?”
    “Because all the blondes were drowning.”
    Grandma laughed. I had no idea what her original hair color was. Actually, no one of our generation knew, and she wasn’t telling. It hovered around subtle, strawberry-blonde most times, but today, it flared to bright red, something that happened once or twice a year.
    “You look nice, Grandma,” I told her. She was still a very attractive woman, though her birthday suit was a tad wrinkled.
    She narrowed her eyes and asked, “What do you want, Vicki?”
    I sighed. “I need your help.”
    “Seventy-eight-year-old women aren’t capable of helping. In fact, I’ve heard they can’t even walk downstairs by themselves.”
    Oh, sure. Now she’d admit to her real age. I drew in a deep breath and told her about Sharon’s car accident and how she’d broken her leg and intended to stay with her parents.
    Grandma made sounds of concern about Sharon, but didn’t offer to help me out.
    “Please, Grandma,” I begged. “If I cook, the Board of Health will shut my place down before I even get started.”
    She sighed dramatically. “We wouldn’t want that to happen now, would we?”
    “So will you help? Please. Pretty please? I have all the menus planned and all the food bought.”
    “Okay, Vicki. I’ll tell you what, I’ll cook this weekend.”
    Relief washed over me. “Thank you so much, Grandma.”
    “ If you let me attend the dinner party tonight.”
    I wavered for a moment. Grandma could always cause trouble, which was the last thing I needed this weekend. “There are a limited number of seats.”
    She shot me the steely gaze of an Old West gunfighter. “We can just throw another leaf in that big, old table.”
    I stared into her eyes. I knew I couldn’t win this one. I needed a cook too badly. “Okay, but the gun stays in your room.”
    “Fair enough.” Grandma shrugged. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Vicki. I’ve cooked for guests for years. I’ll make sure dinner is ready by… six?”
    I nodded and hoped she could still pull it off after all these years. “Thanks, Grandma.”
    The phone rang and I checked Caller ID. It was Liz’s husband. “Hello, Gene.”
    As soon as I said his name, Liz shook her head and fled the room, leaving me