by Lilly York
“Couldn’t sleep, again. Any other time I’d kiss you. But, your parents are due right after breakfast and we have a full house. You should have woke me.” She chastised as she checked off items on her mental checklist.
The breakfast sideboard had already been set the night before with Millie’s china coffee cups, juice glasses, linen napkins, silverware, plates, and butter.
“Mac, can you get the jams out of the fridge and put them in their serving dishes?” She loved her big commercial stove. She popped the casserole in one side and the muffins in the other side. She poured coffee, orange juice, and water in their proper containers and carried them to the dining room. She glanced at the time. Forty five minutes until breakfast.
Mac filled her antique dishes with homemade blackberry, cherry almond, and cherry apple jams. He also placed a dish of apple butter on the buffet. “Where’s Lucy?”
Millie shook her head. “I don’t know. She didn’t call to say she’d be late. I’ll chat with her after breakfast, if she shows up that is.”
Lucy was their kitchen help. She was at least 10 years older than Millie, if not more, but no one dared ask. She was a feisty little spitfire who had more energy than some teenagers Millie had come across. Sometimes she was downright rude. Usually, she was reliable. And she was a local in need of a job. Social security wasn’t cutting it. Millie’s forehead creased with worry. In the past month she’d come to rely on the old biddy. Not only for kitchen help but the woman knew everything about everyone in their small bay town. She gave Millie the scoop on the inn. Every last sordid detail. Even speculated that the old woman who had died some hundred years before did not die of natural causes, but was murdered. She said the proof was in this house—somewhere. That’s why the place was supposedly haunted. Not that Millie believed a word of it.
The back door creaked open. Lucy made her grand entrance. “Sorry I’m late. My cat went missing. Darn thing. Makes a run for the door every time it opens. I think she thinks she’s being held against her will.” She thought about it then added, “I guess she’s right.” She piled her long grey hair on top her head and secured it with a couple of big pins. “I would have called but I thought the time would be better spent finding the cat. “What else needs doing?”
Millie opened the oven to check the muffins. “You can start slicing the fruit.”
Lucy washed her hands then jumped in and got right to work. “You remember what tomorrow is?”
Mac responded, “I sure do.”
Millie looked at her husband and mumbled, “Since when do you follow the local gossip?”
He was obviously proud to know something she didn’t. “According to Lucy, it’s not gossip. It’s local legend. 100 years ago, right after this house was built, Miss Mary Hettiger, a direct descendent of Increase and Mary Clafflin, the first settlers of Door County, was found dead on her bed. She was dressed real pretty with a rose in her hand. Now, her death was ruled natural causes but everyone knew something fishy was going on. Who put the rose in her hand? Why was she lying on the bed like Snow White?” He leaned into his wife and raised his eyebrows. “She’s the one who haunts the place.”
Millie rolled her eyes. “Quit talking nonsense. You’re just doing this to get her going and you know it.”
Lucy piped up. “He knows truth when he hears it. You’ll see. Somethin’ bad’s gonna happen. Mark my words.”
Millie ignored both of them and finished getting breakfast on the buffet in the dining room. Everything was in its place when the first guests arrived. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”
The blushing bride vigorously nodded her head and smiled.
The newlyweds were in the bridal suite. She was surprised they didn’t order breakfast to be served in their room. Most young couples did. Although they had been in residence for nearly a week. Perhaps they were ready to interact with other humans. “I’m so glad you two could join us this morning. Everything is ready. Just help yourselves. We do breakfast buffet style.”
Millie watched Mac go into Irish mode. His voice deepened by a couple of degrees and that Irish lilt would magically attach itself to each word spoken. Of course, it was even worse when he led guests into the sitting room and explained the MacDonald crest in the place of pride above the fireplace mantle. That would come later. She was sure of it.
The other guests should be here soon, Millie said to herself. She realized some of the bed and breakfasts delivered the morning meal each day to their guests. Millie wanted that old fashioned gathering to get to know her guests. Of course, if the guests insisted they wanted a private breakfast, then she acquiesced. But she encouraged them to join the breakfast gathering with the enticement of traditional Irish folk lore. Told in Irish brogue, naturally.
Todd and Susie, the newlyweds, were seated and already eating when Mrs. Hampton, a single woman visiting family in the area, gingerly picked up her plate and began to fill it.
“How are you this morning, Mrs. Hampton?”
“Just fine dear. Just fine. Breakfast looks lovely. I’m so glad I chose to stay here. Heaven knows what I’d be getting if I’d stayed with my relations.” She topped her muffin with cherry apple jam then sat across from the newlyweds.
Lucy appeared with a tray. “The Galley Suite asked for breakfast to be delivered.” She loaded up two plates with the various offerings and set off for the second floor.
Right after Lucy left with her delivery, Mr. Philips, the business man from Chicago, flitted into the dining room. “Have to hurry. You have anything I can just take with me? A to-go cup with coffee, maybe?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll be right back.” Millie filled a disposable coffee cup with the local brew and a covered dish with a couple of muffins and some fruit. “Perhaps you can eat when you get where you’re going.” She tucked some plastic silverware in the container as well as a napkin and handed them to the pacing man.
“Oh thank you. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be able to sit down and enjoy your wonderful breakfast. Sunday’s my day off. I won’t have anything to do but relax.”
Mac spoke up in his best Irish accent. “And a good breakfast ye shall have.”
Mr. Hampton startled slightly then realized it was part of the Irish charm the Inn was recognized for and relaxed. His attempt at an Irish reply came out between an English and an Australian accent, “Tomorrow, then.” He laughed as he turned to leave.
Mr. Phillips exited the dining room and a couple of minutes later, Millie heard his car pull out in the morning traffic. She said to Mac, “That just leaves Mr. Normal.” As host and hostess, they didn’t sit down to eat until all their guests were fed. Millie could tell Mac was getting impatient. “I’ll go check on him.”
Just as she reached the second floor landing, she saw Mr. Normal exiting the Fish Suite. He looked up and when he saw her, he blushed.
“Mrs. MacDonald. I was on my way to breakfast when I remembered I’d left my wallet sitting on the nightstand. I accidently opened the wrong suite door. I was just going back to mine now. I’ll be right down.”
“No problem, Mr. Normal. I’ll see you in a few minutes. I tried to call but didn’t get an answer. I just thought I’d check to see if you were all right. I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind about breakfast.”
He stuttered. “And miss one of your breakfasts? I think not.” He opened his own suite door and disappeared for a few seconds before joining her on the staircase.
Millie made a mental note to make a little breakfast intention card for her guests to fill out. That would take the second guessing out of the equation.
After Mr. Normal filled his plate, Mac jumped in and loaded his own plate. By the time all this took place, the newlyweds bid everyone goodbye for the day. They were off on a lighthouse tour followed by a trip to Washington Island. Tomorrow they would be leaving their little love nest and getting back to the real world.
Millie finally sat down next to her husband to enjoy her breakfast. At least Mr. Normal and Mrs. Hampton
were still seated and enjoying a leisurely breakfast. “So, what do you two have planned for the day?”
Mrs. Hampton swallowed a bite then answered, “I’m spending the day with my sister and her family. I’m sure I’ll come back with a pounding headache. Those grandchildren of hers are hellions. They listen to nothing and do nothing but scream all day. The only part of the vacation that is lovely is staying at this inn. I can’t imagine what my head would feel like if I’d accepted the invitation to stay with them. I shudder at the thought.” A horn honked outside the Inn. “Oh that must be them.” She shook her head. “It used to be rude to sit in your car and honk your horn to get someone’s attention. When did people get so lazy they can’t come knock on a door anymore?” She stood up. “Thank you for breakfast. It was delicious.” She started to walk away then turned. “Oh, and I almost forgot. The rose in my room is lovely. Thank you.”
Millie tilted her head as she watched Mrs. Hampton leave. Mr. Normal never answered Millie’s question and quickly excused himself. Once they were both gone Millie asked Mac, “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”
“Nope. Not a clue. Someone must love her though.” He stood up and refilled his plate as the front door jangled open.
Millie sunk down in her chair. She could smell the perfume from the dining room. Her mother-in-law had arrived.
A Yankee’s Guide to Southern Phrases
Bless Your Heart: The most back handed kind words spoken in the south. Means, while you’re sweet, you’re also stupid, you don’t quite get it and I feel sorry for you.
Fixin to: About to do something, almost ready, thinking about doing something.
Nervous as a long tail cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs: Nervous to the point of being jumpy.
Reckon: So suppose or believe something is true.
Yankee: Anyone originating north of the Mason Dixon line.
Redneck: Polite, blue collar individual who loves hunting, country music, and blue jeans. Add alcohol and anything can happen.
Y’all: You guys
All y’all: More than five people
I could eat the north end of a south-bound polecat: Starving!
Lil’ Dogie: A motherless calf, a calf separated from its cow.
Hankering: Craving something
Fair to middlin’: Doing okay
Three sheets to the wind: Drunker than a skunk
Passel: A whole bunch
Hold your horses: Be patient
Grinning like a possum eating a sweet potato: Happy as can be
Author Bio
Lilly York (aka Darlene Shortridge, author of Contemporary Christian Fiction) is a transplanted northerner living in the southwest with her husband, children, grandchild, and adopted dog, Clover. Her many experiences in learning the southern way of doing things have been the basis for the Willow Crier Cozies. Including but not limited to drivers honking, making obscene gestures, and yes, even the scene at the beginning of the book, fictionalized, of course. Make sure all ya’ll try the chili recipe at the back of the book, because it really did win a chili cook-off!
Make sure you visit her at:
LillyYork.com