by Marci Bolden
“Absolutely no baked goods on the menu. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“No down for Mr. Walker. He’s allergic.”
“I’ve taken care of it,” Carrie assured him.
“Some of the other actors will push their way around a little, but Ramirez and Walker are the ones you must concern yourself with. We want them happy.”
“Of course.”
“Just do your best to stay out of their way, and everything will go smoothly.” Finally putting some space between them, he grinned down at her, and she had the eerie feeling he would eat her alive if the opportunity arose. “You’re a doll, Carrie. I knew you would be. Let me introduce you.”
She smiled her way through shaking hands with some of the cast members who would be staying in her house. In turn, she introduced Doreen and Natalie. Carrie had been told in advance that Juliet Ramirez and William Walker were to be checked in first, but the two stars had yet to emerge from the limousine. Her anxiety began to rise as she wondered what she should do with the small gathering of guests while she waited for the VIPs to emerge.
Normally, guests would walk into the foyer, where they were greeted and given a tour after they signed in. This was different, and Carrie suddenly felt unprepared. Mama saved the day by taking Grant, an actor who had a supporting role in the film, by the arm and starting a tour for the group. Seeing how easygoing Grant and the others were calmed Carrie’s nerves and gave her hope that the next few months wouldn’t be as stressful as she had imagined. The group was nearly to the side of the house when the driver of the sleek black car stepped out. Her moment of relief faded.
Carrie expected she should feel some kind of excitement since she was about to meet two of Hollywood’s most popular actors, but all she felt was trepidation as her fate unfolded before her. As if taking care of Mama and this house weren’t enough, now she was committed to a houseful of people, two of whom she was instructed to kiss up to yet stay away from at the same time. Carrie’s head throbbed as she hoped the house of cards didn’t come tumbling down.
The first to step out of the car, with the assistance of the driver, was Juliet Ramirez. Her near-black hair fell around her face in long waves full of body and auburn highlights that caught the light. She pulled dark glasses from her face as she looked up at the house, and Carrie almost expected the birds to sing louder and the sun to shine brighter. The woman’s features seemed unnaturally perfect, and her stiff posture seemed mechanical.
For a moment, Carrie likened the actress to a mannequin in a store but forced the judgment away and held her hand out. “Welcome, Ms. Ramirez. I’m Carrie Gable. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“This is lovely, Donnie,” Juliet said, turning away as if Carrie weren’t standing there. “I think I’ll like it here.”
Donnie’s smile grew. “That’s wonderful, darling.”
Juliet finally looked over her shoulder at Carrie. “Have someone get my bags. I’d like to see my room.”
Carrie quickly realized she would be the one getting Juliet’s bags. She hadn’t hired anyone else to play bellhop. “Right,” she whispered as two large suitcases were pulled from the back of the SUV. “Natalie?” She smiled at her friend. “Would you please show Ms. Ramirez to her room?”
Natalie stared wide-eyed at her. She, too, already had an immense dislike for the woman. Natalie kept up on Hollywood gossip and had warned Carrie against renting to the actress. Apparently Ms. Ramirez had a not-so-nice reputation, despite her angelic face. “Sure,” Natalie said with fake cheer. “I’d love to.”
“One moment, Carrie,” Donnie said before she could head for the luggage. “This is William Walker.”
Carrie turned and realized for the first time that there was a man standing next to the open SUV door. Carrie had to admit her heart did a little flip as he stopped taking in the architecture of the house to smile at her. His teeth were straight and blindingly white, but it was the deep dimples in his cheeks and perfectly aligned nose that gave him the signature good looks that kept the world enthralled. Seeing them in person, Carrie had a new appreciation for them. He wasn’t as tall as she’d anticipated him to be. He was only an inch or so taller than her. For some reason, she’d expected him to be unnaturally tall and built, but he was no more a Superman than any other man she’d ever met before. William Walker was, to put it the kindest way Carrie could think, average. Good-looking, but not the Greek god she’d been expecting.
“Will,” he clarified. “Only critics and producers call me William.”
He held out his hand, and she slid her palm against his, instantly taking notice of how smooth and warm his skin was against hers. She’d seen his gray eyes on the television many times, but having him look directly at her did make her heart skip a beat, despite her determination that he was only human. The heat of a blush touched her cheeks when he held her gaze for a long moment, making her wonder if she looked as starstruck as she suddenly felt.
“Carrie Gable,” she managed to say around the lump in her throat.
“Carrie. This is your home?”
She looked up at the house as she pulled her hand from his. “I live here, yes.”
“It’s fabulous.”
“Thanks. Feel free to have a look around.”
“I will,” he said in a tone that implied genuine interest. He stepped to her side as she headed for the luggage. “Let me help.”
“Mike can help with that,” Doreen said, walking back to the vehicles. “Carrie, let Mike do that.”
Carrie glanced up at Doreen. She had given up trying to explain Mike had died years ago. Instead, she offered up what had become her usual excuse for his absence. “He’s at the store, Mama.”
“Oh.” Mama frowned and headed for the luggage. “Well, let me help.”
Carrie lifted a suitcase, testing the weight before gesturing toward her mother-in-law. “Will, this is Doreen.”
“Everybody calls me Mama.” The petite woman held out a hand to him. “I expect you to as well.”
Will smiled as they shook hands. “Yes, ma’am.”
Will and Carrie grabbed two suitcases each and headed toward the house while Mama stopped to tell someone how many presidents had slept at the inn. There was going to be a lot of that going on.
Will stepped into the foyer and paused to scan the dark wood flooring that perfectly complemented the cream-colored walls and crisp white crown molding. The light shining through the decorative windows cast mesmerizing prisms of color about the room. Carrie was used to the display now, but as she watched him, she was reminded how amazing the spectacle could be.
“This is incredible,” he said as he turned in a circle, taking in the room from the high ceilings lined with dark wood support beams to the natural wood flooring that had been polished to an unnatural shine.
Once he stopped spinning, Carrie gestured to the den, silently encouraging him to move along. As he’d done in the foyer, he scanned the room, focusing on the massive built-in bookshelves that matched the dark wood of the support beams. The shelves were lined with old books and family photos, creating a cozy feel to the large room.
“There’s a TV and a fireplace in there,” she said. “Though it’s still summer, it can get chilly in the evening, so feel free to build a fire whenever you like. All of the inn’s rooms have TVs as well, if you prefer solitude. The dining room is there.” She pointed ahead. “We’ll be serving breakfast and dinner in here. Lunch is on you. There are plenty of restaurants in town. Most deliver.”
He looked through the framed doorway. “Is that table hand-carved?”
He walked into the room and ran his hand over the intricate design that outlined the tabletop. The carved oak table and chairs took up the majority of the room, leaving little space for the buffet that sat against the far wall. As in the foyer, the windows were decorative, splitting the light that shone through them and sending it in a thousand different directions. Carrie figured he was used to far more modern surroundings. However, the w
ay he was examining the table made her wonder if he preferred antiques.
“Yes,” she said. “Most of the furniture here was made long, long ago. Mama is determined to maintain the original charm of the place.”
“Good for her,” Will said. Still bent over the table, he looked up and smiled like a kid at an arcade. “My grandfather used to make furniture. I helped him sometimes. When I was younger,” he added as he stood upright. His lips fell, and for a moment, he seemed sad before he caught himself and plastered the smile back to his face. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she said and moved him along to finish the tour. As she went, she pointed out the bathroom and a sitting room with large windows that looked out over the acreage that surrounded the house. When Doreen’s ancestors had bought the land, they’d had well over a thousand acres of farmland. Over the years, that had been sold off piece by piece until only the five acres around the house remained, but that was more than enough for Carrie now that she was in charge of maintaining the property.
She pushed a swinging door open for him to step into the next room—her favorite room. The white walls were lined with dark wood cabinetry, and a marble-topped island sat in the center. Several stools lined the island, but the area was used more for rolling out dough and preparing meals than for sitting. “The kitchen is mostly off-limits to guests. However, through here”—she opened the back door and gestured—“is the patio. There’s a built-in fire pit. We have a never-ending supply of firewood, so feel free to use it whenever you’d like. Make sure to put the top on before leaving it unattended. We don’t want to burn the house down.”
When he looked at her, she put a smile on her face, but she suspected he could tell she wasn’t feeling nearly as welcoming as she was trying to be. She loved sitting by the fire after getting Doreen settled for the night, and having that routine interrupted was one of the bigger disappointments she felt at having made this decision.
“How long have you lived here?” Will asked.
“This is Doreen’s family home. Her great-great-something-grandfather built it. She’ll happily tell you about it sometime. Or all the time,” she amended, thinking of how many times she’d heard the story.
“So your entire life?”
“A lot of it.” Carrie intentionally kept her answer vague as she headed back inside. “Shall I show you to your room?”
“Lead the way,” he said around his famous smile. Stopping in the foyer, he picked up his suitcases and stared up the long stretch of stairs. “Wow. That’s some staircase.”
Carrie followed his gaze up the red runner to the second-floor landing made out of the same dark wood that was found throughout the lobby, den, and kitchen. “Try not to fall down it. I’d hate to have to call all the king’s horses.”
Will laughed as he started up the stairs, hauling his bags with him. He followed her down the hall until she stepped inside the middle room on the left side. As he had throughout the tour, he paused and took in the light blue walls, dark wood accents, and the large windows overlooking the fields. “This is me?” he asked as he eased his suitcase onto the big, round, vintage rug that covered much of the bedroom floor.
“This is you. Grant is across the hall, Donnie is the last door on the right, Juliet is the first room on this side, and Mama is on the far side of you.”
“So you’re the first room on the right?”
Carrie stared at him, wondering if he intended to knock on her door at three in the morning to request his tea.
He must have read her mind—or at least her furrowed brow. “I promise not to stalk you. I was just curious.”
She smiled with embarrassment and let her defensive posture ease. “Yes, first door on the right. Everyone else is on the third floor.”
“Good to know.”
Moving past her, Will set his suitcases down and examined the fireplace. “Does this work?”
She pointed to a switch on the wall. “It’s gas. All you have to do is turn it on. The bathroom is through there.”
“And a sitting area.” He looked to several dark blue high back parlor chairs grouped by a large window.
“So, that’s it. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Carrie,” he called before she could leave. When she stopped and lifted her brows curiously, he gave her a warm smile. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thanks.” She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Turning, she nearly bumped into Juliet Ramirez standing with her hands on her hips and narrowed eyes. “Ms. Ramirez.”
“The sheets on my bed are not what I requested.”
Carrie searched her mind, delving into the very depths, but nothing came to her. “I don’t recall a request for sheets.”
“What is the thread count?”
She nearly laughed but managed to contain it because the woman before her was clearly serious. “I don’t have any idea.”
“Well, it’s not high enough. They feel like sandpaper.”
Donnie came out of his room, appearing as if panic were about to overtake him. “Is there a problem?”
“My sheets are cheap,” Juliet told him.
Donnie put a reassuring hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “Well, Carrie will take care of that. Won’t you, Carrie?”
Carrie forced a false bright smile. “Of course.”
“Now,” Juliet demanded. “I will not sleep on those sheets.”
“No, of course not.” Carrie grabbed the suitcases she’d left by the door and stepped around Juliet and into her room to strip the bed of perfectly soft sheets.
Chapter 2
Will hesitated when he found Carrie in the dining room the next morning. He had sensed through the check-in process and dinner the night before that she wasn’t thrilled to have the actors as her guests. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed, but he had found himself fascinated by the thinly veiled resentment. Where most people fell over themselves to suck up to movie stars, Carrie had only taken the necessary steps and, if he’d read her correctly, had done so begrudgingly.
While his peers were busy gossiping about the industry, Will had watched Carrie move about the room with a subdued poise that matched that of any actress he’d worked with over the years. Her slender frame, gentle voice, and soft smiles betrayed the strength he’d seen in her dark eyes every time she glanced at him. She had a quiet confidence that was likely missed by most. He was intrigued by her muted behavior.
When their hostess turned and noticed him standing in the dining room, she gave him one of the smiles he’d seen all throughout dinner—kind and professional—but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Good morning, Will. I hope you slept well.”
“Like a baby. That room is wonderful and…” His words drifted off as he sniffed the air. “Do I smell sausage?”
“You do,” she confirmed. “That’s what I had for breakfast. Your menu consists of fresh-cut fruit, yogurt, and granola.”
His face sank and his stomach protested. “No. No, no, no. This is Iowa,” he stated with a firm tone. “I’m not eating granola while in Iowa. I want farm-fresh sausage and eggs over easy.”
She laughed, she actually laughed, and her eyes lit in a way he hadn’t seen in his short stay. “I thought someone might. I made extra sausage, and I’m happy to fry you a couple eggs.”
Will’s mouth started to water as he flashed back to breakfasts during his childhood. His mom always made a big meal on Sunday mornings with more food than their family could eat. Leftovers were dropped off at his grandparents’ homes by noon. The routine was the same every weekend—they’d eat, then head to his father’s parents to check in and leave the meal. Then they crossed the small town where he’d grown up to visit his mother’s parents. His maternal grandfather had been Will’s favorite person in the world.
“Did you happen to make homemade sausage gravy?” Will asked hopefully. “Biscuits?”
Carrie’s laugh returned. “Sadly, I did not. I’m happy to add biscuits and gravy to th
e breakfast menu tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I’d like that,” he said. “I’d like that very much.”
“Okay. For today, I have sausage and eggs over easy, coming right up.”
“Thank you. In the meantime, I think I’ll have some of that delicious-looking fresh fruit,” he said and began loading up a plate as she disappeared. He was settling into his spot at the table when Mama came into the room, a pitcher of orange juice in her hand. “Good morning,” he said with a cheerful tone.
She stopped and looked at him for a moment, and then a bright smile spread across her painted lips. That was one thing Will had noticed straightaway when he’d arrived the previous day. Carrie was casual in her jeans and barely there makeup, while Doreen wore slacks and blouses and vibrant red lipstick. Carrie’s long brown hair was swept back in a braid, but Mama had a fashionable silver bob. They seemed to be complete opposites. Where Carrie was more down-home comfort, Mama added just enough splash to be noticed. Carrie seemed to want to blend into the background, but Mama wanted to be seen.
“Did you sleep well?” Mama asked.
“I did.”
“That’s nice. Would you like some orange juice? It’s fresh-squeezed.”
“That sounds great. Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.” She filled a glass and sat down across from him. “Is today the first day of your film?”
Will shook his head as he finished a bite of pineapple. “We shot some scenes in LA before heading here. Those were the indoor shots that needed to be done at the studio. Most of the scenes here will be filmed outside. We don’t have scenery like this in California.”
“Iowa is beautiful. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I grew up right here in this house. I’d never want to leave.”
She gave him a wide smile that made him feel at ease, like he was family instead of a guest and certainly not an actor she needed to put on airs with. Despite her salt-and-pepper chin-length bob and fresh makeup, she came across so grandmotherly, he half expected her to pull an oven-fresh cookie from her apron pocket and serve it up with a glass of warm milk.