Chapter IX
As she was about to head downstairs to begin a new day, Allie took one last glance at herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed back a few stray strands of her hair, which was pulled back in a neat ponytail, tied with a knotted, filmy, green floral scarf. She was not too displeased with what she saw. Her slim figure was clad in another turtleneck - dark green this time, and khaki slacks, finished off with sensible, brown flats. She realized, then, with a start, that the young woman looking back at her was a widow...and a recent widow, at that. Why did she keep forgetting that? Her fluttery reactions to Connor's good looks, to the sight of his broad back in her dining room chair, and to his eyes, staring at her in such a familiar way, were not what a new widow should be feeling. Allie looked into her own reflected, troubled eyes. She should still be in mourning for Patrick. She should be wearing black. She should be ashamed of herself. What would Connor think of her if he knew? But just as quickly, she reassured herself that he would have no idea that she was widowed...and, why should she care what he thought about it anyway. She'd only met him two days ago, for goodness sake. What was he to her, but a guest at her inn, one out of the hundreds of guests who had stayed at the inn. She shook back her head in disgust at herself, gave herself one last level look in the mirror, and hurriedly left her room to prove to herself that she could be that widow. She owed Patrick that, at the very least, didn't she?
That morning was much like any other morning at the inn. Tilda was already in the kitchen working on the Eggs Benedict. Allie greeted her with warm familiarity, and looked out into the dining room. Seeing no guests, she went to the sink counter and poured herself a mug of coffee, peering out the window over the sink as she was doing so. "Looks like we may have rain today," she commented ruefully, turning and leaning back against the counter. She didn't mind the cold weather in this part of the country - she just wasn't fond of cold and rain together. She sipped the hot brew, and watched Tilda fry up the cod cakes. The back porch door slammed, and Sarah hurried in, seemingly eager to get into the warm kitchen and get a cup of coffee as well. She hopped up on the stool and leaned forward, elbows on the island. Allie and Tilda greeted her in their usual manner, and the women chatted while waiting for their three guests to come down for breakfast.
"Allie." Tilda looked tentatively over at her employer, as she placed the cod cakes in a container for holding. "That young couple are leaving this morning after breakfast, you told me, and there are no other guests arriving for a week." She turned her plump frame toward Allie, one dimpled hand resting on the counter, the other still holding the spatula. "Do you mind if I take a week off? I would love to accept that temp job I was telling you about. It would only be for one week."
"Tilda, that's fine with me, really." Allie held the steaming coffee up to her lips. "I can handle things myself here with just one guest," she teased the woman. "But don't you go and jump ship on me!"
"Never in a million years!" Tilda grinned, her red cheeks looking even rosier. "I'm here to stay, don't you ever have a worry about that. I'll go over the menu with you before I leave."
"So now it's just the two of us, alone with the mystery man, eh?" Sarah raised her eyebrows in feigned horror as she laughed.
"He's not a mystery man, Sarah," Allie replied reprovingly, rather dismayed at her employee's intimations. Although, if she were honest with herself, she was beginning to view him as such herself. "By the way." She looked up at Sarah, "You may as well take the week off, too, " she laughed. "Your mystery man doesn't need his room cleaned, remember?"
Sarah nodded, pouting her lips in a mock sulk. "I could use a week off, I guess." She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, then raised her head and laughed softly. "He must know when we're talking about him." She lowered her voice, tilting her head toward the dining room.
Allie and Sarah watched Connor stride into the dining room, and sit at the same table as before, his back to the kitchen. Tilda was too busy immersing an egg in the pot of simmering water, now that at least one guest had arrived, to join them.
Allie willed herself to remain aloof. She sipped her coffee. She would go out in a moment, she decided, and tell him that she hoped he had enjoyed a good night's rest....the same pleasant conversation she had with all her guests. She set her mug on the countertop. She straightened her back as she walked out of the kitchen and up to Connor's table.
"I hope you had a good night's rest." She tried to look everywhere but his eyes, which she could tell, were fixed intently on hers. "Tilda will have your breakfast ready in just a moment," she added, looking somewhere in the vicinity of his ear, not waiting for his reply to her opening question. She turned and walked back into the kitchen, feeling slightly ashamed for her abrupt behavior to a guest at her inn.
The rest of the morning ran smoothly. Connor went back up to his room immediately after finishing breakfast. The Hollands ate, then left the inn, with hugs all around, and many thanks to Allie for a wonderful two nights at The Colborne Inn, which they would never forget. Sarah finished her work around the inn, then hurriedly departed for her second job, apparently deciding that a week off from The Colborne Inn was a great decision on Allie's part after all. Tilda cleaned up the kitchen, and went over her planned breakfast menus for the next week with Allie, although they discovered, after checking out the pantry, that she would be short a few provisions. Knowing that Allie was a good cook, she had no problem leaving the breakfasts to her for a week, and truth be told, she was anxious to see if this temporary job she had been offered might become another venue for her to show off her cooking skills. Giving Allie a warm hug, Tilda wished her well, and headed out the kitchen door.
Allie had the rest of the day to herself, now that the cooking and cleaning were taken care of. She needed to go over the books, and work on her budget and to-do lists for the upcoming holidays. The last weeks of November, and December looked promising so far, with eight guests staying during Thanksgiving, which, Allie realized, was just two short weeks away. Tilda always outdid herself each Thanksgiving at The Colborne Inn by cooking a massive gourmet dinner. December looked even better, with the last three weeks booked solid. Christmas and New Year's Eve were something special, and their guests always seemed to have a wonderful time. One of Allie's favorite tasks was decorating the inn, and she was anxious to get out her many boxes of ornaments and white lights that were in storage.
She knew nothing of her one remaining guest's plans, and didn't care to. A week would go by quickly, she reasoned, and then things would return to normal. She could handle Connor's...Mr. Garrison's strange mood swings. After all, if she planned it right, she would only have to see him at breakfast. She was beginning to feel her self-control returning. She was a strong woman. She was also a grieving widow who bravely ran a thriving business on her own, and she would not let a handsome stranger come in and unravel her carefully laid plans.
Good - no rain yet. Allie peered out the kitchen window a few hours later, then returned to checking over the list Tilda had left her. Unfortunately, as Tilda had said, she was missing several items necessary for the next week's menu. She would have to go into the village today and get what she needed. Well, no time like the present, she sighed, heading to the parlor to grab her jacket. As she lifted it from the knob, she realized that she'd left the grocery list on the kitchen island, and she sighed again, threw her jacket over one arm, and retraced her steps to the kitchen. As she walked quickly back toward the parlor, looking over her list, she ran smack into Connor, who was descending the last stair hurriedly, his head down, apparently absorbed in a notebook. "Oh!" Allie took a step back. "I didn't see you," she stammered. "I thought you had left."
"My fault, entirely." Connor, smiled, lowering the notebook to his side. His other hand went to her shoulder, as he bent toward her. "Are you all right?" He seemed genuinely concerned.
Connor - she'd forgotten he was in the inn. Drat! Now she couldn't leave.
"I'm fine, thank
you." Allie felt the warmth from his hand penetrate the fabric of her pullover, radiating through her shoulder. She blinked and tried not to look at him, annoyed with herself.
"Are you heading out?" To Allie's immense relief, Connor transferred his hand from her shoulder to his jean pocket. He was eyeing her jacket.
"Well, actually, I was going to the village to pick up some supplies." Allie began. "But, since you're here, I can go another time. There's really no hurry," she added, glancing up quickly,and noticing for the first time that he was wearing his jacket. She lowered her eyes to rearrange her jacket to another position over her arm.
"What a coincidence." Connor's voice was thoughtful. "I'm heading to the village as well. Can I give you a lift?" He looked at her pleasantly, his eyebrows raised. "It's a dreary day to drive alone, don't you think?"
Allie was stymied at the request. She was hoping to have the day to herself, and here a guest wanted her to spend it with him, cooped up in his car. Still occupied with arranging her jacket, she hurriedly tried to think of an appropriate reply to his startling offer.
"Are you allowed to get in a guest's car?" Allie couldn't tell if he was teasing her, and she quickly stole a glance upward. "Or is that against inn rules?" he smiled. She frowned.
Well, what would be the harm? Allie surprised herself with the thought. It would only be for a short time, at any rate. She could handle this, she decided smugly.
"That's very kind of you." She looked up at him. "I will take you up on your offer."
The Village of Gerard's Cliff Page 8