Bed and Breakfast

by Gail Anderson-Dargatz

  “I think I’ll do that,” Brent said. “Thanks.” He glanced at me, smiling. “Too bad I don’t have someone to keep me company,” he said. Was he really asking me to join him?

  I watched as Brent strolled through the front door. He turned and smiled at me again. He gave a little nod towards the beach before he finally left. He was clearly asking me to follow him there.

  I couldn’t believe my good luck! Nothing could inspire romance like a walk on the beach. This was my chance to show Brent just how beautiful and smart I really was.

  I ran to the bathroom and quickly dabbed on eye shadow and mascara. I didn’t need blush because I was blushing enough already. Once I put on a little lipstick, I was done.

  When I rushed back into the kitchen, Steve glanced up at me and away, then immediately looked at me again. He whistled. “You’re all dolled up.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “I haven’t even changed my clothes.”

  I was embarrassed that Steve noticed I had put on makeup. Brent would, too, then. Would Brent think I was trying too hard to impress him?

  I took a last look at myself in the mirror. “Think you can finish putting the sink together by yourself?” I asked Steve as I patted my hair into place.

  “Oh, I think I can handle it,” he said. Then I realized that he had already finished the job and was cleaning the cupboard under the sink. That was my job. I knew then that Steve was taking his time, waiting to have coffee with me. We often drank another cup after he finished fixing something.

  “I can’t stay and chat right now,” I told him. “Catch you later?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said. He sounded disappointed and a little hurt.

  I hesitated as I watched him put the cleaning rags back in the pail and get up off the floor. I didn’t want to let Steve down, especially knowing everything he did for me. But I couldn’t pass up this chance at romance with Brent. I headed towards the front door.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Steve called after me. I didn’t answer him. His voice told me that he already knew.

  Chapter Six

  I walked to the water and turned down the beach. I hoped to catch up with Brent, but he was already a long way ahead of me. I couldn’t get closer without running after him. If I did that, I would look too eager to spend time with him. So I took my time strolling along the sandy beach. We would run into each other when he turned to come back, I thought.

  The water was shallow in the bay. Sunlight reflected off the sandy bottom and made the water appear green in places. Even though our town was in Northern Ontario, the shore looked like a tropical beach. The water was cold, though. I wouldn’t try to swim in it until well into July.

  I reached Brent at the end of the beach. Instead of turning around, he had sat on the boulder that I often sat on. Dressed in his fine suit, he looked out of place. He must have guessed what I was thinking because he looked down at himself. “I should have changed first,” he said.

  “No, you look charming,” I said. Like a fashion model posing for a photographer, I thought. “Am I intruding?”

  “No, not at all. I’m glad you came.” He moved over on the boulder to give me room to sit. “I told you I wanted company.” He grinned, and I felt a thrill run through me. I sat next to him.

  “The beach is lovely,” he said. He waved a hand at the lake in front of us. “I understand why you choose to live here.”

  “My late husband brought me here,” I said. “He got a job at the local bank, so we bought that house.”

  “Your bed and breakfast,” Brent said.

  “Yes, though we never thought of turning it into a B&B at the time. We didn’t think we would stay more than five years. I thought we were too cut off from everything out here. But then I got used to the quiet. When my husband died, I didn’t want to leave.”

  “You mean you didn’t want to leave the life you built with your husband,” Brent said.

  I looked at him, surprised. “Yes,” I said. He understood my feelings perfectly.

  Brent didn’t say anything more. He seemed lost in thought, and I was lost for words. Brent made me feel clumsy, unsure of myself. We sat in silence for a long time.

  “Well, I should let you have your peace and quiet,” I said finally. I was disappointed at how my brief visit with Brent had gone. I stood to leave.

  “No, don’t go,” he said. “Please stay.”

  He looked so sad as he begged me to stay. I hesitated a moment, not sure how to react.

  “I thought I wanted to get away from the noise of the city,” he said, to explain himself. “But now that I’m here, I’m stuck with my own thoughts.”

  “Your memories of your wife,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  I sat back down on the rock beside him. We watched the waves lap the shore at our feet.

  “Winter is the hardest time for me,” I said. “I’m okay in the summer. My house is full of guests. I’m busy making beds, cooking breakfast, cleaning house.”

  “But when the house is quiet . . .”

  “Then I think about Joe, my husband,” I said. “I get so lonely.”

  “I sometimes turn to tell my wife something, but she isn’t there,” Brent said.

  “I used to do that all the time,” I told him.

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “It’s good to talk to someone who understands.”

  I looked down at his hand holding mine. Brent Henderson was holding my hand! I wanted to hold his hand forever. I wanted to start a new life. With him. I looked up at his face, wondering if that was a possibility. But he was gazing at the lake as if he was looking into the past.

  Chapter Seven

  When Brent and I arrived back at my bed and breakfast, Steve was gone. The old sink pipes were in the garbage can, and the floor around the sink was washed. Steve hadn’t left even one of his tools behind. That meant he wouldn’t come for a visit that evening, as he often did on Saturday nights. I felt disappointed.

  Then I cheered myself with the thought that Brent was there. He would stay the night in my home. I planned to ask him to sit with me in the living room later on, as guests sometimes did. I felt that if we spent more time together, his obvious feelings for me would grow. However, I never expected what happened next.

  “Is there a place to eat dinner in this town?” Brent asked me.

  I thought briefly of suggesting the fish and chip shop where Steve and I sometimes had supper. But Brent was dressed in a suit. I suspected he had a different sort of restaurant in mind. A fine-dining restaurant was in order.

  “The Old Church Restaurant is just up the road,” I said. “The food there is excellent.”

  “Would you care to join me?” he asked. My heart skipped a beat. Brent must have seen the shock on my face. “I hate eating alone,” he explained. “Honestly, I haven’t enjoyed a meal since my wife passed away.”

  I knew what he meant. Meals were the loneliest times, even meals eaten at home. I hated eating by myself in a restaurant.

  “Of course, I understand if you don’t feel it’s appropriate,” he said. “Or if you feel having dinner with me would upset Steve.”

  I laughed a little. “Steve?” I asked. “Why would he care?”

  Brent shrugged. “I thought you and he might be dating. The way he looks at you . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  How had Steve looked at me? Sometimes I caught Steve watching me, but he quickly looked away.

  “Steve and I aren’t dating,” I told Brent. “As I said, he’s just a friend.”

  “Well, then, how about dinner?”

  I tried to sound relaxed, even though I was so excited I wanted to jump up and down. “I’d like that,” I said. “Just let me get changed.” But what was I going to wear?

  I ran upstairs and searched my closet for something dressy to put on. I found jeans and pants. I pushed back the messy line of blouses, blazers, summer dresses and coats hanging in the closet. There had to be a nice dre
ss in there somewhere.

  Then I found it. Forgotten and hanging in the back was a little black dress. The dress was sleeveless; only thin straps held it up. If the dress still fit, it would show too much skin and too much cleavage. That was exactly what I was looking for.

  But would the dress fit?

  I took off my jeans and T-shirt and slid the dress on over my head. I struggled to get into it. The dress was just a bit tight. I had put on a few pounds in the past five years. But I managed to get it on.

  I kicked my sandals and runners out of the way and hunted for my shiny black high-heeled shoes. I slipped them on. Then I rummaged through my jewelry box until I found my fake-diamond earrings.

  When I was fully dressed, I stepped in front of the mirror. “Wow!” I said to myself. The little black dress hugged my womanly curves. I hardly recognized myself.

  Brent just happened to walk out of the bathroom as I was coming downstairs. He stopped and stared up at me. “You look absolutely wonderful,” he said.

  That was my Cinderella moment. I felt like the cleaning girl transformed into a princess by her fairy godmother.

  But then my heel caught on the bottom step and I fell down. I landed on all fours right at Brent Henderson’s feet.

  Chapter Eight

  “Shit,” I muttered as I got up off the floor. So much for my Cinderella moment.

  Brent helped me up. “Are you all right?” he asked me.

  “I’m fine.” I laughed to cover my embarrassment as I brushed off my little black dress. “I haven’t worn high heels in a long time,” I said. “They take a little getting used to.”

  “Well, then,” Brent said, offering me his arm. “Let me help you keep your balance.”

  I put my arm through his, feeling both foolish and excited. Here I was, walking arm-in-arm with such a gorgeous man! He led me to the front porch. I kept my mind on getting down the steps without falling again.

  The evening was pleasant. The sun shone, though I could see a few storm clouds building. We never know what kind of weather we might get here. The sky can be clear one hour and dark with rain the next.

  “You say the restaurant is within walking distance?” Brent asked as we reached his car.

  “Yes, just up the road.”

  “Shall we walk, then?” He grinned at me. “Or are you up to it?”

  “I think I can manage,” I said. But as soon as I said that, I slipped on the gravel under my high heels. I smiled at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice my embarrassment.

  “Are you sure you can manage?” Brent asked. He actually looked concerned.

  I nodded, blushing. “I’ll be fine,” I said. Those damn shoes weren’t going to stop me from having a romantic arm-in-arm stroll with Brent.

  Once we were on the pavement, I found walking easier. But I knew I would have blisters on my heels when I got home.

  Our town is very small. Everyone knows everyone. On that sunny June evening, almost all my neighbours were outside enjoying the weather. Many were making supper on their barbeques. They watched Brent and me as we walked up the road arm-in-arm, all dressed up. They stared at us, in fact.

  Brent smiled and nodded at them. For the most part, they seemed too stunned to say anything, even hello.

  “Friendly town,” Brent said, glancing at me. His face told me that he meant my neighbours were anything but friendly.

  “They don’t mean to be rude,” I told him. “They don’t often see a man as handsome as you.” I lowered my voice as I added, “I find it hard not to stare.”

  “Well, thank you,” Brent said. “But they’re not looking at me.”

  I glanced back at my neighbours. Brent was right. My neighbours weren’t staring at Brent. They were staring at me.

  I looked down at myself, to make sure my dress still covered what it should. It showed a little too much cleavage, all right, but that was on purpose. “I guess they’re surprised to see me in this dress,” I said. “I rarely have a reason to dress up.”

  Brent shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’s not it. I think they are staring because they don’t often see a woman as beautiful as you.”

  Okay, that was my Cinderella moment. I felt like a princess. I had to look away from Brent because I couldn’t stop grinning.

  As we passed Steve’s house, Steve left his barbeque to watch us pass by. He still had his flipper in his hand. He had been using the flipper to turn hamburgers on his grill when he saw us.

  I waved at Steve and Brent nodded at him. “Hello, Steve,” Brent said. “Fine evening.”

  Like my other neighbours, Steve said nothing, at first. He just watched us walk by with a look of shock on his face. Once we passed by his place, I heard him call my name. “Annie,” he said.

  I turned back to look at him.

  “I told you,” Steve said. “You are beautiful. And he is lucky to have you.” He waved his flipper at Brent and spoke directly to him. “I just hope he knows it.”

  Chapter Nine

  As we walked to the restaurant, I glanced at Brent to see how he reacted to what Steve said. I was afraid Steve had scared him off. But Brent didn’t say anything about it, not right then.

  When we arrived at the restaurant, he opened the door for me. We went inside. The restaurant building was an old church. Stained glass windows dimmed the light in the room. Each table held a lit candle. Everything about the place was perfect for creating a little romance. I hoped that was still possible.

  The hostess led us to our seats. She took our drink orders and left us menus. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to say something to Brent about what had just happened. “About what Steve said—,” I started.

  “That I’m lucky to have you?” Brent asked. He smiled at me, and I suddenly felt foolish for saying anything at all.

  “Yes, that’s it,” I said. I paused. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t want Brent to think I was expecting too much of him.

  “It’s okay,” said Brent. “Don’t think anything of it. It’s clear Steve has feelings for you.”

  “It is?”

  “Of course.” He looked at me, puzzled. “You don’t see it?”

  In that moment I saw Steve’s actions in a whole new light. I knew he was leaving his tools behind so he had an excuse to visit. But now I realized why. To him, we were much more than friends. The lilacs Steve brought me that morning were for me, and not for my guests.

  But his romantic intentions weren’t welcome. I really liked Steve, just not in that way. I couldn’t see him, grubby in his work clothes, taking me out to dinner as Brent did now.

  “He wants you, Annie,” said Brent. “He sees me as a threat. It’s okay, I understand. Don’t let it ruin our evening together.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “The chicken looks good,” he said, looking at his menu.

  “Yes, it does. I think I’ll have that.”

  The waitress came to take our dinner orders. “Shall I order for you?” Brent asked me. “Please.” I was delighted. My husband had ordered for me when he took me out to fine restaurants. I couldn’t see Steve doing that. When Steve and I ate lunch at the fish and chip shop, he and I paid for our own meals.

  “You live in the city, in Toronto?” I asked Brent, after the waitress left.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Steve was wondering what you do for a living.”

  “Steve wondered, did he?” Brent smiled. He was amused. He knew I was the one who really wanted to know.

  “He guessed you weren’t a plumber,” I said.

  “No.” Brent smiled. “You can tell Steve I own a gallery.”

  “A gallery?”

  “I sell works by Toronto artists: painters, photographers, sculptors, potters.”

  “Expensive stuff, I imagine,” I said.

  “We deal only in the very best.”

  “We?” I asked. Did I have competition? A woman he worked with, perhaps?

  “I run the gallery with my brother,”
he said.

  “Ah,” I said, relieved.

  “My wife was a painter,” he said. “That’s how we met. I sold her work.”

  My heart sank. There was no way I could compete with the ghost of his wife. She was an artist, a city woman who knew all about culture. All I did was run a bed and breakfast in a sleepy little town.

  “I suppose I seem simple by comparison,” I said. As soon as I spoke, I wished I could take the words back. Brent now knew I was comparing myself to his dead wife. Worse, he knew I was hoping for more than just a dinner with him. I was asking for too much, too soon.

  “Not at all,” Brent said. “You’re refreshing. I feel very at ease with you.”

  But something shifted between us. Brent was charming all through supper, yet he also kept his distance. He smiled more at the pretty waitress than he did at me.

  I knew my chance at romance with Brent was over. At least, I thought it was. Then the rain began, and everything changed.

  Chapter Ten

  The rain poured down in sheets. Water quickly gathered into pools on the pavement. Streams of water ran down the road.

  “What the hell?” Brent said as we left the restaurant. “The sun was shining before we ate.”

  “Just a regular day around here,” I said, holding my purse over my head. “We better make a run for it.”

  I slipped my high heels off and ran down the street in my bare feet. When Brent didn’t follow right away, I took him by the hand and urged him on. We ran down the street hand-in-hand, laughing.

  Steve had been watching the downpour from his doorway with a beer in his hand. Then he saw Brent and me running through the rain together. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  Brent and I were soaking wet when we reached my bed and breakfast. “I haven’t had that much fun in a long time,” Brent told me. “You make me feel like a kid again.” He kissed me on the cheek.

  Then he headed down the hall to his room. “I’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” he said.