The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel

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The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel Page 24

by Stansfield, Anita


  “Oh, good. I hope you have a good phone plan.”

  “I do, and I intend to use it. Email has its uses, but I prefer hearing your voice.”

  “Amen.”

  “And maybe you could come and see me one of these days.”

  “In Norfolk?”

  “That’s where I live. I was thinking that since I’ve become so familiar with your life and your territory, maybe you should at least get a glimpse of mine.”

  “That sounds fair.”

  “But don’t think that means I’m suggesting you should ever leave your life for this one. It would never work; you would hate it here.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I know you. You would hate it here.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “I’m used to it.” He paused and sighed. “I guess I should hang up. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  “So, here we begin a long-distance relationship.”

  “I guess so.”

  “If you were in the Marines we would have a long-distance relationship.”

  “That’s true.” A stretch of silence made it evident that neither of them wanted to hang up, but they both knew they had to. “I love you, Chas,” he said with such sincerity that she started to cry again and made no effort to hide it.

  “I love you too, Jackson. Take good care of yourself—and be careful. I hear it’s a dangerous job.”

  “I will. You too.”

  Chas cried long and hard after she’d hung up the phone, then she went to the computer to look through the digital photos from Christmas that she had downloaded there, evidence of the time she’d spent with Jackson. The next day she got some high-quality prints made and framed them, putting two on her dresser and one on her nightstand. And she sent framed copies of the same ones to Jackson, along with a letter and some of Charlotte’s cookies. When he called to tell her he’d received them, and to thank her profusely, he also gave her a lengthy update of the situation at work. The men who had been injured were back on the job and both had been through some counseling. Security was tighter in some respects, and there was a little bit of a dark cloud hanging over the office, but work was going on as normal. He was tying up some loose ends on old cases, and was also working on a new case that had come up. And he was also looking into finding more information on the scumbags, as he called them, who were responsible for the disasters that had occurred.

  “Drug dealers, you mean,” she said.

  “That’s what I mean.”

  “Be careful,” she insisted. “I’ve invested too much in you to let you get killed by an angry drug dealer.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  Chas wanted to believe him, but she had no illusions over the kind of work he did.

  They quickly established a routine. He usually called her on his way in to work so she could help him get through the traffic stress while she worked in the kitchen on mornings when guests were there. She only mentioned once that her neck was hurting from holding the phone on her shoulder while she worked, and two days later a phone headset arrived by FedEx with a note that said she was going to get a lot of good out of it, and he didn’t want her neck to hurt. This way she could put the cordless phone in the pocket of her apron and go anywhere in the inn and do anything she needed to do.

  Most of the time he called her at least once during the day when he had a break, but that call was always brief. Sometimes he was in the office, or even on a stakeout, but more often he was out somewhere, driving to and from odd places. And Chas’s favorite time of day became the bedtime call, when both of them had timed it to have everything taken care of and be ready for bed so they could talk until they got sleepy. She enjoyed hearing more about his work, although he was vague about much of what he did. He mostly liked to tell her funny things about the people he worked with, and she came to know many of them by name and by their individual quirks.

  She suspected that he had a fair amount of authority in his particular branch of the agency, but he wouldn’t admit to anything. He’d talked to her in detail of his difficult feelings upon initially returning to work, and the awkwardness he’d felt in some respects. But everyone had been kind, and after a few days he said it all felt like things were back to normal—except for the conspicuous absence of a man he had become accustomed to working with closely over many years. He talked to her about visiting Dave’s widow, and how her kindness had also soothed his own wounds. She and her children were going to be moving to the city where she’d grown up so they could be near family, and he believed that was a good thing. He also talked about Ken, the man he’d been acquainted with who had done such horrible things, and how his absence in the office felt strange in a horrible way. He had also visited Ken’s widow and was pleased to find her doing relatively well.

  For Chas, life at the inn went on as it had for years, except that Granny’s absence was difficult every day—and so was Jackson’s. But his phone calls, and simply knowing that he was out there and he loved her, kept her going and made it possible to feel some joy in spite of her loneliness. Polly’s presence didn’t hurt any, but it just wasn’t the same.

  About a month after he’d returned home, Jackson called to say, “Could I speak to someone in bookkeeping, please?”

  “That’s me,” Chas said.

  “Can you explain to me why there has been no charge on my credit card for the Dickensian Inn?”

  “Maybe you missed it.”

  “Don’t get sassy with me, Chas. Fix the mistake and run the charge.”

  “How can I charge you for becoming my best friend . . . or holding me together through my grandmother’s death, or—”

  “Those things are irrelevant to the fact that I came there as a customer and I used the services of the inn every day for weeks. You need the money and I know it. You might think you’re pretty clever in getting me to believe that it’s a thriving business, but I recognize the signs of making ends meet. And I will not contribute to the burdens in your life. Give me a discount if it will make you feel better, but run the charge or I will never speak to you again.”

  “That is not funny.”

  “It’s not intended to be. I need integrity in this relationship. I need to know that I wasn’t some charity case that you took in like a stray dog.”

  “That’s pride talking, Jackson.”

  “You bet it is!”

  “You’re really angry.”

  “You bet I am! And you don’t want to find out what I might do to get even for something like this. Just . . . run the charge and we’ll drop it now.”

  “You’re threatening me.”

  “Call it what you like. Just do it.”

  “I’m not some terrorist suspect, Agent Leeds. I’m not going to be bullied or intimidated into anything. If you don’t know me any better than that, I just might charge you double.”

  “Fine, you do that. Do it today. Do it now.”

  Chas realized what she’d just said and almost hissed at him, “That’s what you want me to do. You’re just trying to get me angry so I will charge you. Well, forget it. I love you and I’m not going to charge someone I love for staying in my home. For most people it’s an inn; for you it’s my home. It felt good to open my home to someone I care about and to know that you found joy here. Are you going to deny me that?” He didn’t answer. “If you can’t understand why I didn’t charge you, then maybe I won’t talk to you anymore.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You couldn’t do it any more than I could. Just run the charge and we’ll drop it.”

  “Just keep your stupid money,” she said and hung up.

  For the rest of the day Chas was afraid that he wouldn’t call, or if he did, that he would still be angry. But he called at bedtime and was more calm. He didn’t say anything more about the issue, but she wondered how he would feel when he realized in a few days that she wasn’t going to run the charge. He was right. She did need
the money. But she couldn’t bring herself to charge this man for anything. It just didn’t seem right.

  * * * * *

  Jackson waited three days to see if Chas would bill him anything at all. When she didn’t, it took another two days of calling the inn in the middle of the day before Polly answered the phone.

  “Hey, it’s me, Jackson.”

  “Hi, Jackson!” she said with ridiculous exuberance. “The place isn’t the same without you.”

  “I’m not the same without the place, either.”

  They exchanged some small talk, and he learned that Chas had gone on some errands. “But you can call her cell phone. Do you want the—”

  “I have the number. I want to talk to you. Could you please tell me where Chas sends her mortgage payments for the inn?”

  “Why?” she asked with a suspicion that didn’t surprise him.

  “None of your business. And I don’t want you to tell Chas that I asked you.”

  “Why?” she said with more fervor.

  “Just answer the question, Polly.”

  “I don’t know if I should.”

  “I can find out, you know. I’m in the FBI.”

  “Then why did you call me?”

  “This is more legal.”

  “Intimidating your girlfriend’s friends? Is that what you mean?”

  “No law against that. Just tell me which bank.”

  “Don’t you need a warrant, or something?”

  “I’m not asking for anything but the name of a bank, okay? I want to surprise her. It’s a good thing, Polly. Think of it as conspiring for a surprise party . . . only better.”

  “Okay,” she drawled, still suspicious but more calm.

  “Come on, Polly. Just give me a name.”

  “I would know you’re FBI even if I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, it shows. Give me the name.”

  “Fine,” she snarled, and told him.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Now, don’t go spoiling my surprise.”

  “It had better be good,” she said, and he hung up without a good-bye.

  * * * * *

  Chas went to the office to go over the usual details with Polly and found her wearing a strange expression. She looked both nervous and delighted.

  “What?” Chas demanded.

  “I think you’d better sit down.”

  “Why?”

  “Just . . . sit down.”

  “Okay,” Chas said and did.

  Polly handed her a piece of paper that had two folds in it. “This came in today’s mail.”

  Chas looked it over and gasped. “What is this?”

  “It appears to be a notification that your mortgage has been paid in full.”

  “Well, it’s a mistake.”

  “Not a mistake. I called them. The payoff amount they received was just a little off. You’ll be getting a bill for eleven dollars and forty-two cents. Of course, they wanted us to know that it has been a pleasure doing business, and they regret that they couldn’t have dragged the payments out for many more years in order to soak as much interest out of you as they possibly could.” Chas listened to Polly, feeling dazed and completely baffled. “You should really close your mouth,” Polly said. “You could trap flies with the way it’s hanging open.”

  Chas closed her mouth and swallowed hard. “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I think you do,” Polly said. She leaned over the desk and spoke in a stage whisper. “I think it was your boyfriend.”

  Chas sucked in her breath and had trouble letting it go. “That . . . that . . .”

  Polly chuckled. “Since you have a rule about not swearing, you can’t think of anything to call him, can you.”

  Chas just groaned and rushed out of the office to find a place where she could call Jackson without being overheard. Although she suspected Polly would be impressed when she responded to his hello with, “You are a dirty rotten conniving manipulative creep!”

  “I love you too,” he said.

  “It’s okay to keep your pride by wounding mine?”

  “Is that what you think I did?”

  “How else should I interpret this? Remember that deal we made over Christmas gifts? Well, you went way over budget.”

  “You broke that rule first. So don’t start lecturing me or comparing this to a ten-dollar gift limit.”

  “You have no idea what—”

  “Why don’t you shut up for a minute and—”

  “Don’t tell me to shut up.”

  “Fine. Will you please be quiet for a minute and listen to me? I made the decision to pay off the mortgage before I ever left the inn. I suspected you wouldn’t charge me, and I was just using it as an excuse to get even.”

  Chas was so stunned that it took her a long moment to speak. “So, you’re admitting that you’re conniving and manipulative?”

  “I don’t have any trouble admitting to that. Don’t forget that I’m a dirty rotten creep.”

  “I can’t accept it, Jackson. It’s too much. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “You can and you will.”

  “You’re awfully bossy, Mr. FBI. And what was all that . . . angry stuff?”

  “Hey, a little stimulating disagreement over matters of principle keeps people on their toes. Isn’t that what you told me?” She didn’t answer. “Do you still want to live with me?”

  “I can’t live without you.”

  “I’m sure you could.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “But I’m a dirty rotten creep.”

  “Only when it comes to money. And if we let money come between us, we’re just fools.”

  “I agree with that.”

  “I still don’t feel like I can accept this, Jackson.”

  “If something happens to me before I get a chance to change my will, I’ll know that I did something to help make certain you’re taken care of.” What little was left of her anger melted into fear at the mere mention of such a thing, but he treated it so nonchalantly that she couldn’t comment. “No strings attached, Chas. Consider it a donation to preserving the historical value of the Victorian era. Whether I marry you or not, Chas, I want to help take care of you. I’m not going to miss the money. I don’t have much to spend it on, so it’s just sitting there. I’ve had a good income, and I made some good investments. It felt good to do something worthwhile with it. Granny would be pleased.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She told me.”

  “You’ve been talking to Granny?”

  “I haven’t been hearing any voices, if that’s what you mean. But I sure couldn’t shake the feeling that I was supposed to pay off your mortgage. It was like if I didn’t do it, I would never be able to sleep peacefully again. Isn’t that what you Mormons call inspiration?”

  “Something like that,” she said. “I don’t know how to argue with that.”

  “You can’t.”

  “If you paid off my mortgage, you should be my partner, or something; you should be getting a share of the profits.”

  “All I want is room and board at the inn whenever I might be able to come, and however long I might stay.”

  “There will always be room at the inn for you, Jackson. Always. And it has nothing to do with money.”

  “Good. Now I can cross one big concern off my list.”

  “What concern?”

  “I don’t ever have to wonder if you wonder if my marrying you was just an easy way to a comfortable retirement because you live in a really great house.”

  “Oh, if you marry me, I intend to put you to work.”

  “And what exactly would you have me do when everything runs so smoothly without my lifting a finger?”

  “I’ll fire the snow guy,” she said, and he laughed. “And the gardener,” she added. “You haven’t been here in the summer. It takes a lot of work to keep the lawns and flowers looking good.”

  “I know absolutely nothing about such things, but I’d be wi
lling to learn.”

  “It would be like training to go undercover . . . as a gardener. If you don’t figure out how to do it yourself, you can pay the gardener—and the snow guy.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Is this a proposal?”

  “It’s hypothetical planning.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. Then silence. “Jackson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for the room and board.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said and hoped that it wouldn’t be too long before he took advantage of room and board again.

  CHAPTER 15

  It took Chas a few days to get comfortable with what Jackson had done. She made it a matter of serious prayer and pondering for a number of reasons. Uppermost in her mind was the question as to whether this was a sign of some undesirable character trait in Jackson that she should be wary of. While his efforts had every appearance of being genuine and motivated by love, she wasn’t naive enough to believe that a man couldn’t use such appearances to be controlling. He’d said there were no strings attached, but his definition of strings might be different from hers. She couldn’t possibly know with her limited perspective whether or not this man might one day use the fact that he’d paid off the mortgage on the inn to manipulate her into decisions about it that she might not agree with. But God knew. He knew Jackson’s heart and his motives, and by trusting in God and listening to the still, small whisperings of His Spirit, she could know for certain whether accepting this tremendous gift was a good thing. She reminded herself that just because it was right didn’t mean that it might not still become an issue in the future. But with the confidence of knowing she’d done the right thing, she could take on the challenges with equal confidence.

  Chas also felt the need to ask her Heavenly Father if her difficult feelings over accepting the money were simply related to pride. She’d accused Jackson of such pride and he’d not denied it. Apparently he was proud of being proud. But she suspected that his interpretation of the word had more to do with being strong and responsible and serving his country. He’d been a Marine, for heaven’s sake. The few. The proud. He would have no understanding of the meaning of pride as it was discussed among those who shared her religion. And in that context, she couldn’t deny that she had much evidence of his humility and sincerity. He had a sharp edge of arrogance that she suspected had also come from his profession, as did his stubborn refusal to be bullied or intimidated. But even given that, he’d never tried to elevate himself above her—or anyone else, for that matter. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. And it was the beam in her own eye she was searching for now.

 

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