it.
My anger carried me all the way into the evening. I didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was I would miss Mark. I’d sort of grown accustomed to having him stop by every so often, if for no other reason than coffee. He offered great feedback on the cookies and other items I baked. We’d grown comfortable with each other. He was a friend, nothing more, and I appreciated that we could be simply that: friends.
In an effort to distract myself, I emptied the dirty wash water from the bucket in the laundry-room sink, rinsed out the sponge, and set it out to dry, and then went into my small office.
I had guests arriving this weekend, which was the good news and the bad news. The first name I saw on the list was for the mysterious Mary Smith. I took the reservation shortly after taking over the inn, and it had stayed in my mind. Mary had sounded unsure, hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing booking this room.
A party had booked the inn as well. The original call had come in from Kent Shivers, who hadn’t sounded the least bit excited about all this hoopla his family had planned for him. Kent and his wife, Julie, were about to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary by renewing their vows. Other room reservations had been added at later dates, all from family members. Seven of my eight rooms were booked for Saturday.
Only one of the guests would be here through Sunday evening, though, and that was Mary Smith. Remembering her hesitation, I’d half wondered if she’d cancel at the last minute, but to this point I hadn’t heard otherwise. Her room was made up and ready.
I didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner and ate chips and salsa, which wasn’t anything I’d normally choose. Because I was restless and at loose ends I decided to bake peanut-butter cookies,one of my favorites. It wasn’t until they were cooling on the countertop that I remembered they were Mark’s favorite, too.
Rover curled up on the rug in front of the refrigerator, one of his favorite spots. He seemed content, but I was restless, pacing the kitchen, and then a short while later moving from one room to another. Once in my private quarters, I tried to knit, but I ended up making one mistake after another and finally stuffed the project back into the basket. Television didn’t hold my interest, either. A book I’d found fascinating just the night before bored me now.
I might as well admit it. All this fidgeting was due to my argument with Mark. In retrospect I wished I’d handled the situation differently. But really, what could I have done? Mark seemed bound and determined to argue with me. He was the one who’d gone completely off his rocker. Oh, great, now I was thinking in clichés, but it was true—our clash of wills was all due to his being high-handed and completely unreasonable.
Really, who else would go ballistic over something so ridiculous as washing windows because I chose to stand on a stepladder? He’d been rude, demanding, and utterly irrational. I wasn’t putting up with that. Not from him; not from anyone.
Still, it saddened me that it had come to this.
Rover lifted his head from his spot in front of the fireplace and then rested his chin on his paws.
“Just think of all the money I’ll save in flour and sugar,” I said in a weak attempt at making a joke.
It felt flat even to my own ears.
Okay, I’d admit it. I was going to miss Mark.
Chapter 2
I didn’t sleep well, which wasn’t surprising after my tiff with Mark. I did feel bad about our disagreement, but I couldn’t allow him, or anyone else, to dictate to me what I could and couldn’t do in my own home.
If he was intent on breaking the contract, then so be it. The threat of a lawsuit hadn’t fazed him in the least. I’d spoken in the heat of the moment and regretted that. I’d leave matters as they were for the time being until we’d both cooled down.
With no guests to prepare breakfast for, I took my time,
My anger carried me all the way into the evening. I didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was I would miss Mark. I’d sort of grown accustomed to having him stop by every so often, if for no other reason than coffee. He offered great feedback on the cookies and other items I baked. We’d grown comfortable with each other. He was a friend, nothing more, and I appreciated that we could be simply that: friends.
In an effort to distract myself, I emptied the dirty wash water from the bucket in the laundry-room sink, rinsed out the sponge, and set it out to dry, and then went into my small office.
I had guests arriving this weekend, which was the good news and the bad news. The first name I saw on the list was for the mysterious Mary Smith. I took the reservation shortly after taking over the inn, and it had stayed in my mind. Mary had sounded unsure, hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing booking this room.
A party had booked the inn as well. The original call had come in from Kent Shivers, who hadn’t sounded the least bit excited about all this hoopla his family had planned for him. Kent and his wife, Julie, were about to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary by renewing their vows. Other room reservations had been added at later dates, all from family members. Seven of my eight rooms were booked for Saturday.
Only one of the guests would be here through Sunday evening, though, and that was Mary Smith. Remembering her hesitation, I’d half wondered if she’d cancel at the last minute, but to this point I hadn’t heard otherwise. Her room was made up and ready.
I didn’t have much of an appetite for dinner and ate chips and salsa, which wasn’t anything I’d normally choose. Because I was restless and at loose ends I decided to bake peanut-butter cookies,one of my favorites. It wasn’t until they were cooling on the countertop that I remembered they were Mark’s favorite, too.
Rover curled up on the rug in front of the refrigerator, one of his favorite spots. He seemed content, but I was restless, pacing the kitchen, and then a short while later moving from one room to another. Once in my private quarters, I tried to knit, but I ended up making one mistake after another and finally stuffed the project back into the basket. Television didn’t hold my interest, either. A book I’d found fascinating just the night before bored me now.
I might as well admit it. All this fidgeting was due to my argument with Mark. In retrospect I wished I’d handled the situation differently. But really, what could I have done? Mark seemed bound and determined to argue with me. He was the one who’d gone completely off his rocker. Oh, great, now I was thinking in clichés, but it was true—our clash of wills was all due to his being high-handed and completely unreasonable.
Really, who else would go ballistic over something so ridiculous as washing windows because I chose to stand on a stepladder? He’d been rude, demanding, and utterly irrational. I wasn’t putting up with that. Not from him; not from anyone.
Still, it saddened me that it had come to this.
Rover lifted his head from his spot in front of the fireplace and then rested his chin on his paws.
“Just think of all the money I’ll save in flour and sugar,” I said in a weak attempt at making a joke.
It felt flat even to my own ears.
Okay, I’d admit it. I was going to miss Mark.
Chapter 2
I didn’t sleep well, which wasn’t surprising after my tiff with Mark. I did feel bad about our disagreement, but I couldn’t allow him, or anyone else, to dictate to me what I could and couldn’t do in my own home.
If he was intent on breaking the contract, then so be it. The threat of a lawsuit hadn’t fazed him in the least. I’d spoken in the heat of the moment and regretted that. I’d leave matters as they were for the time being until we’d both cooled down.
With no guests to prepare breakfast for, I took my time,