Amanda smiled and set her bags down on the bench, then scooted Mrs. Granger’s wheeled walker out of the way and sat next to the old lady. She propped her feet up on the railing around the big woodstove and leaned toward Mrs. Granger.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What did you hear?”
“Well,” Mrs. Granger began grandly, darting a glance around her to be sure no one was within earshot,”—did you know that there’s been a burglary in town? In broad daylight?”
This was news to Amanda. Being married to a detective and friends with George Ortiz, the town’s police chief, she usually heard about any crimes that had occurred, as long as the details weren’t too confidential.
“Where? What happened?” she asked, and Mrs. Granger’s eyes sparkled. The old lady knew she had caught the attention of her audience.
“At the tea shop, the new one.” She gave a small sniff of disdain. “I hear that place is terrible. A real armpit.”
Of course you’d think that, Amanda thought. I’m sure Meg has given you her opinion in spades.
“Someone broke into the back office while the owner was working in the front room. Right while he was there!” She gave a melodramatic shiver. “It’s like someone just let their stupid off the leash, to go do something like that while the owner’s on site. Isn’t that just the limit?”
“Did they take anything?” Amanda asked, and the old lady leaned over as she continued her story.
“A half-empty box of marshmallows. Can you believe it? Who steals a nearly empty case of marshmallows?”
Amanda shrugged. “Some kid with a big sweet tooth?” she joked, but Mrs. Granger was having none of it. She clutched her cardigan more closely around her neck.
“I can’t even imagine, getting broken into like that. It’s about time I dig my gun out of my sock drawer and start doing target practice in my backyard again. It’s getting too dangerous around here, if you ask me.” She picked up her knitting again and gave Amanda a knowing look. “Did I tell you I’m taking Tai Chi classes, down at the Grange Hall? I’ll be just like Bruce Lee.”
The thought of Mrs. Granger as a martial arts expert made Amanda smile, but luckily she suppressed it enough that the old lady didn’t see her reaction.
Mrs. Granger continued. “I hear James has talked you into getting a dog. You know, I think that’s a great idea. Every young bride should have a good watchdog, especially with all that’s happened in Ravenwood Cove in the last year or so.”
Amanda smiled. “I’m not so sure James is choosing a dog for protection. I kinda get the feeling that he’s much more interested in a running buddy.”
Seemingly doubtful, Mrs. Granger shook her head. “That boy’s always been dog-crazy, ever since he was a little boy and I babysat him after school. I’ve never seen a kid able to charm so many strays and not get bitten. It was like he was a dog-charmer or something.” She looped a strand of yarn around her needles and started to knit again, her eyes on Amanda as her hands automatically fell into a rhythm she’d learned decades earlier. “I take it you’re not going to be one of the runners at the Mutt Marathon? You know you don’t need a dog to be part of it, right? They just changed the rules, because people kept trying to borrow other people’s dogs and they complained when they couldn’t enter the race.”
“I’m not a runner these days. My ankle’s not healed quite yet,” Amanda said, then reached into her big canvas bag for a pink pastry box. The lid was secured with a piece of scotch tape, but Mrs. Granger knew what was in it without looking. Tossing her knitting aside, she eagerly held out her hands for the box, making excited ‘oooo’ sounds.
“Bless that Meg! Cinnamon rolls?” she asked as she scratched at the tape with a fingernail, finally freeing the lid and peeking inside. “Raspberry scones, still warm.” She took a deep, appreciative whiff and sighed happily. “Those’ll do.” Taking an enormous bite, she closed her eyes in utter happiness. “Nobody makes these as good as my granddaughter,” she said through a mouthful of crumbs. “I swear, angels must’ve given her the recipe.”
“I think she said she got it out of an old Sunset magazine,” Amanda offered, but Mrs. Granger shook her head.
“Angels, I tell ya,” she replied defiantly, and Amanda knew better than to argue with a ninety-year-old lady. “You want to come over tonight? Dinner’s just going to be cornbread crumbled up in milk, but we can sit and watch wrestling afterwards. Meg’s coming over, too.”
Amanda slid her hand over Mrs. Granger’s. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tonight. Jennifer is off tomorrow so I’m doing all the prep work tonight for tomorrow’s breakfast, and James has a rare evening off…”
Mrs. Granger looked away and waved her hand, as if brushing away a pesky fly. “Oh, you don’t need to tell me anything more than that, young lady. I know all about what it’s like to be a new bride. You go have a good time.”
With Mrs. Granger’s unspoken suspicions about what Amanda had planned for her evening still hanging in the air, Amanda leaned over to give the old woman’s powdered cheek a resounding kiss. “I’m sorry about tonight, but how about I stop by and do a bit of work in your garden tomorrow afternoon? I’ll bet it could use some cleanup before you start planting the new batch of seeds.”
Mrs. Granger instantly perked up. “Lovely! I’ll need to soak my pea seeds so they’ll be ready to go.” She watched Amanda gather up her bag, then shook a finger, crooked with arthritis, at her young friend. “Don’t forget what I said about that burglary and protecting yourself, sweetie. You tell that husband of yours to get you two a dog who knows a thing or two about biting the backside off anybody that tries to mess with you or yours.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter 6
The moment she heard the toenails clicking on the wooden floor of the foyer, Amanda had a very good idea who was coming in the house and sure enough, a long, blond nose and a pair of dark eyes poked their way around the doorjamb, into the Inn’s kitchen.
“So, you’re our new puppy,” she said softly, then crouched down so the golden lab could come to greet her. James was right behind the dog, his grin as wide as Amanda had ever seen it.
“Isn’t he a beauty?” he nearly crowed. “Don’t worry, I already made sure Oscar’s outside, looking for mice.”
The doe-eyed dog was a bit timid, but finally accepted Amanda’s petting with obvious pleasure, his long tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he closed his eyes in absolute bliss.
“His name’s Benson. The folks at the Humane Society said his owner died and the remaining family couldn’t keep him. He’s only two years old so he’s still got a lot to learn.”
“Like where to pee?” Amanda asked, laughing as the dog rubbed his large head on hers, then started licking her cheek. “Please tell me he’s housebroken.”
“They said he was,” James said, rushing to assure her. “What do you think?”
Amanda was laughing so hard she nearly didn’t hear him, as Benson thoroughly licked the side of her face, his spring-like tail whipping in joyful greeting.
“If you love him, I’m sure I’ll love him, too, but if he leaves us any little surprises you get to clean ‘em up, okay? I already take care of the litter box.”
“DEAL. I’ll take him with me when I go jogging tonight and see how he does on a leash. If he’s up to it, I may even enter him in the Mutt Marathon.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Want to come running with us later?” he asked, but Amanda laughed and shook her head.
“Ever since I twisted my ankle I’m more of a kayaking sorta girl. The doctor said I needed a couple more weeks before I start jogging again.” She stroked Benson’s broad head. “You two go run and have a great time. I’ll be cheering for you both at the finish line.”
James clicked his tongue and the dog turned to look at him. “Let’s go, Benson,” he said, and the happy Labrador instantly ran over to get into step behind him, heading up the stairs to the master suite.
The back door to the kitchen
clicked open and Jennifer came in, carrying a basket of herbs for the windblown garden on the back acreage. Ever since she had started taking classes to get a degree in hotel management, Amanda had appreciated her more and more. It wasn’t just the fact that she kept the reputation of the Inn as spotless as the rooms, or that she made an amazing shrimp etouffee. She also cheerfully pitched in anywhere Amanda needed help, listened to her boss when she was frustrated, and even had once used her martial arts skills to disable a killer who had broken into the Ravenwood. With the exception of her off-key whistling and her tendency to loudly sing country western music, she was about everything Amanda could’ve dreamed of in an employee.
“The sage and parsley are starting to grow again. They’ll be perfect with the baked chicken,” Jennifer said, plopping the basket on the long harvest table at the back of the room. She pulled out a long stalk and stroked the furry leaves with her finger. “I think this year’s garden is going to be the best yet. Even the flowers are starting to wake up.”
Amanda smiled. “Hey, I need to give you a heads up. We have a new guest, and I think he’s going to need some special treatment.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jennifer asked, looking up, curiosity on her face. “Dietary issues?”
“Not exactly.” Amanda gestured upstairs. “James just came home with a new furry friend,” she said, and Jennifer laughed, knowing that the couple had been talking about pets.
“Let me guess. German Shepherd?”
“Yellow Lab. He’s named Benson and he seems sweet, but we’ll have to see what Oscar says about the whole thing,” Amanda said with a resigned sigh. “I was hoping to wait until the new house was built to get him, but James wanted him now, so there we are.” She glanced over at Oscar’s empty bed. “I swear, sometimes it feels like a real zoo around here, with all the animals and guests and such.” She caught Jennifer’s eye and smiled at her. “Do me a favor, okay? Promise me that even after you graduate and you know everything there is to know about the whole hospitality industry, that you won’t leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you some days.”
There was a partial note of teasing in Amanda’s comment but Jennifer heard the thread of truth in it, too.
“I can’t promise you that, Amanda. You know that.”
“So, when do you graduate?” Amanda already knew, but somehow hearing the words made it all the more real to her.
“June.”
Time to put together a plan for when she goes, Amanda thought with a pang of sadness. Guess I’d better think about what it would take to hire someone new.
A wedding, a dog, and soon, Jennifer leaving.
So many changes, and so soon.
Chapter 7
Amanda walked in the kitchen just as James was hanging up the phone. She gave her husband a quick kiss and set the basket of eggs she’d been carrying on the counter. “I swear, those hens know spring’s sprung,” she said, rummaging in the pantry for empty egg cartons. “They’re going crazy, laying all these eggs. At this rate, I’m going to have to start giving them away to guests when they leave.”
“Make more quiche,” was her husband’s helpful response. “I like your quiche, especially the one you do with ham and caramelized onions. Oh, and some guy called the Inn’s line and was asking about renting a room. He said he didn’t have a reservation, but I told him we had vacancies right now and he could come on over.” James watched his wife’s face for her reaction. “Hope that’s all right.”
Amanda smiled and was just about to answer him when there was a timid knock on the Inn’s massive front door. Just as Amanda’s hand was reaching for the doorknob it slowly swung toward her and an older man took a single, hesitant step inside.
He didn’t look like her normal guest. His threadbare wool coat was old and boggled out of shape in places, as though he’d worn it for weeks at a time. He’d pulled a black knit cap over his shoulder-length, gray hair, and his full beard was scraggly and clumped.
“Um, I called earlier,” he said in a soft voice, his faded blue eyes locked on Amanda. “The man on the phone said it was okay for me to stop by and you might have a room available.”
Amanda smiled warmly. “Yes, we do have rooms open right now.” She walked over to the foyer desk and pulled out the reservation log. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Smith. Wendell Smith.”
The name caught her attention and she paused. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard of someone using the common name of ‘Smith’ as a pseudonym. The older man apparently could see her hesitation, and quickly pulled a driver’s license out of his pocket.
“This is me,” he said, and when Amanda checked the license she could see the man was listed as Wendell Smith.
“Thank you. And how long would you be staying, sir?” she asked, her pen poised above the creamy paper. She’d transfer all the guest’s information into her laptop later, but she loved the history of the leather-bound book, with information about guests going back decades. Recording each new person’s name seemed like a continuation of everything beautiful and permanent the Inn stood for.
He blinked at her. “I’m not sure yet. That depends on some things.” Fumbling in his deep coat pocket, he pulled out three wadded up bills. “Would this do to get me started?” he asked, hesitation in his voice as he gently set the money on the reservation desk.
Amanda flattened out the rumpled money. Three hundred-dollar bills, as old and worn as the man who stood before her.
“You don’t need to pay up front, but if you’d like, we can put these toward your account.” She smiled. “Would you like to bring in your luggage?”
“No luggage right now.”
His eyes didn’t meet hers. Amanda had never had a guest with no suitcases or backpacks before, but nothing in the man’s appearance made her worried for her safety or the welfare of her other guests. Unusual, but not dangerous.
She pulled a key out of the normally-locked desk drawer. “I’ve got a lovely room right at the end of the hall, with an ensuite bath. Would that work for you?” she said, knowing it would, and when he nodded she led him upstairs.
His eyes widened as she opened the dark wooden door, glossy with years of use and some recent lemon oil. The man gulped once, then again, before softly saying “It’s beautiful.” He turned toward her, and the ghost of a small smile played around his lips. “You’ve done very well for yourself.”
Amanda didn’t know how to answer his statement, exactly. “Um, thank you,” she said, then told him about the evening’s wine tasting and gave him the details about breakfast in the morning. Closing the door behind her with a pasted-on smile, she dropped it as soon as she’d shut the door behind her.
What an odd bean.
Coming back downstairs, she was mulling over their new guest when she saw James standing at the reservation desk, talking quickly into his phone and jotting notes on a nearby scratch pad.
"Email it to me, along with the itinerary," he said, then nodded his head a couple of times while he listened. "Sounds like the paperwork's all done then. I'll call the Boston police department and give them a heads up. Thanks for letting me know, Charlie." He tapped his phone's screen to hang up the call, then gave a low whistle of surprise.
"What's up?" Amanda asked, and James nearly jumped in surprise.
"That was the sheriff. The extradition for Fiach Monroe just came through, and they're sending me and Red to go get him. I'll need to fly out of Eugene right after I finish the Mutt Marathon, it sounds like. Looks like I’ll be missing band practice, too, and we’ve got that fundraiser for the elementary school that we’re supposed to play." He ripped the sheet of paper off the pad and walked over to put his arms around his wife. "You okay with that? With me going?"
She chuckled, her head leaning on his chest. "That's kind of rhetorical at this point, isn't it? When they say go, you go."
He sighed. "Yeah, that's about the way it works." James dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. "It sounds like i
t won't take more than a couple of days, at the longest. I’ll let my dad know I’m leaving and I'll call you as soon as I know more, okay?"
She reached up and kissed him back. "Okay, but you'd better tell that dog of yours that I'm in charge of him now. We don't want any misunderstandings about that."
"Deal."
Chapter 8
Maybe it was a good thing the Mutt Marathon hadn’t been advertised for people outside Ravenwood Cove. The parking lot of the Sandford Lake Park was already overflowing with vehicles and runners. Families and teams were spilling out of vans and trucks, clutching their water bottles and paperwork. The Hortman brothers had been part of the team who built the new woodland trail that encircled the lake, and it had become a favorite place for joggers and people taking early evening strolls. The loop around the lake wasn’t long enough to be a true marathon, but runners who wanted more of a challenge could continue on a four-mile loop on the main road to Likely, then cross the two-lane road and run back toward the park. The finish line was within sight of the starting point and marked by a multi-colored arch of balloons.
There were bragging rights and a small trophy attached to winning the marathon, but every dime of the entry fee went toward upkeep costs of the park. Their county definitely wasn’t the richest in Oregon, and a loyal group of volunteers had banded together to try to keep Sandford Park as safe and well-kept as possible.
James was in his element. He’d exchanged his usual cowboy boots for a pair of new running shoes and couldn’t stop grinning. After having been at work for over nine hours, mostly spent doing paperwork to document a large drug bust the day before, he seemed thrilled to be letting Benson out of the car. The yellow lab tried to sit patiently while James snapped on his leash, but Amanda could see that every muscle under his smooth coat was tensed and ready to go. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that the dog was actually smiling in anticipation.
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