Jenny rose from her seat and forced a smile. “Sure, I can take care of that for you. Just fill out this paper.”
“Okay, thanks. Are you by yourself today?” Liz asked, looking around the room for the young man who was an assistant.
“Yep. All alone since last week. Why? Do I look overwhelmed?” she asked with a shrug of her shoulder. Then she leaned forward to whisper. “Want a job?”
Liz didn’t know Jenny all that well, but it was plain to anyone that she was always overwhelmed and too busy even when she’d had an assistant. She wasn’t exactly an easy going person either, but she worked hard at her job.
“Seriously. I mean it,” Jenny said with a straight face.
“Uh, well…”
“Think about it,” she said. “I could use the help. I pay well and you can work from home.”
Two months ago, Liz would have jumped at the opportunity but that was before she became a businesswoman herself. On the other hand, some extra income for those times when the B&B wasn’t running at full capacity might be what she needed.
“Just think about it,” Jenny said. “I haven’t lost my mind yet, so you have time.”
“Well, let me digest that thought for a few days and I’ll get back to you.” Liz backed away, fluttering the advertising form she had in her hand. “I’ll just fill this out over there at the counter.”
“Sure thing. Okay, who’s next?”
Liz filled out the paper and put it in the inbox on the counter and made her way outside, leaving the commotion behind her. She couldn’t help but wonder if Jenny would be better off being the reporter and having someone else run the office aspect of the paper. Without a doubt, she did need extra help and perhaps more than one person. She would think it over and consider how it could be beneficial to each of them. But it would have to wait until after her guest was gone.
In the meantime, she had some baking to do and while she had hoped to use her old wood cookstove she’d have to put that off till another day. She didn’t want to fill the house with smoke which was a real possibility if she didn’t handle the damper correctly, but with Polly’s help she could avoid that. So, she made a couple of quick stops at the grocery and the hardware then headed straight home. With only a couple of days till her guest arrived, there was still time for adding the little luxuries that go with vacationing at an inn. Each of the four bedrooms had a notebook with brochures of places of interest and maps for locating them, a basket of toiletries, a bowl of delicious individually wrapped chocolates just to name a few of the specialty items. She smiled to herself, feeling pleased. Her home wasn’t luxurious so there wouldn’t be china or silver or linens, but neither was it rustic. It was warm and homey with old fashioned stoneware, overstuffed sofas, and the smell of cinnamon. She felt it was perfect and wholeheartedly believed any guest would enjoy it.
The following morning, after milking chores were done, she pulled out her mother’s handwritten recipe book and located the page marked with a sticky note: homemade bread. Thankfully it was a simple recipe, no more than five ingredients, and there were even some “hints” about making sure it turned out wonderful. Hint number one said, “Add a teaspoon of sugar to one-fourth cup of warm water then add the yeast so it can start to rise in the cup.” Hint number two said, “Be sure to mix in a couple of cups of flour before adding the yeast mixture so the shortening doesn’t kill the yeast.” Good to know, she told herself, and added another sticky note to mark it.
She followed the directions exactly as written then kneaded the bread with a push-pull-push rocking motion she’d seen her mother do many times. Humming an old tune, she gave the lump of dough a pat of affection and eyed it with admiration as she placed a fresh dishtowel on top of it. While the dough rested, she placed the greased bread pans on the counter. The kitchen had that lovely yeasty smell already and it wasn’t even baked. She put the bread dough into a large stoneware bowl and covered it with the dishcloth then placed it in the slightly warmed oven to rise. In about an hour the dough had doubled in size, so she carefully punched it down and turned it over in the bowl per the directions and slid it back into the oven. Finally, when the timer went off, she divided it into equal amounts for each of the four pans then dusted the flour off her hands before placing the filled pans back in the warm oven. Hint number three: “Warm the oven for only a few minutes then turn it off before placing the pans inside. Let rise until double then bake.”
“Check,” she said aloud.
From beginning to end took no less than five hours but when the timer went off for the last time and the tops were golden brown, her sense of achievement knew no bounds. There was a fresh batch of butter in the refrigerator and her mouth watered just thinking about that first bite of bread. Later when the bread cooled, she wrapped each one in foil and put them in plastic containers before setting them in the freezer. That is, all but one loaf which she planned to sample with some of Polly’s jam.
In no time she had the kitchen cleaned up and back to normal. Next, she set out the special stickers she’d ordered that stated in bold letters: MAPLE RIDGE B&B. These would go on the clear plastic wrap just before leaving for the Fall Market on Saturday. To celebrate, she made a fresh cup of coffee and sliced the bread, adding butter and jam. After just one bite she smiled, thinking how heavenly it tasted and how perfect the moment was. Then her eye caught the gleam of the chrome on the wood cookstove and she decided the next batch would be baked with wood. Tomorrow she’d talk to Polly about it. And as for the wood, there was enough to get by for a first-time trial, but she would eventually need to find someone who could supply her with split wood for the small firebox on the stove. Reluctantly, Brian Stanford’s offer came to mind and she wondered if she should consider it. The temptation was real, and he did say it was a return gesture on his part. She glanced at the stove again. She needed a wood pile.
Chapter Three
It was Wednesday and the big day had finally arrived. Her first real day of opening the Maple Ridge Bed & Breakfast. After the morning milking and mucking chores were done, she made a quick walk-through of the house for the third time in as many days, telling herself she wasn’t nervous at all just a perfectionist doing the right thing. She looked at the wood cookstove in the kitchen regretting that she hadn’t contacted Polly, but she hadn’t taken it off the list yet. Neither had she talked to Brian about the woodpile but then she did have enough to get by.
Ms. Dennison wasn’t due to show up until late afternoon which the website specifically said was the check-in time. In the meantime, Liz prepared a batch of cinnamon rolls for breakfast the next morning to add the delightful aroma to the spotless house. By the time the rolls came out of the oven, she had the kitchen tidy again, feeling more than a little pleased. But before the rolls had cooled enough to put them into a sealed container, the front doorbell rang. Thinking it was probably the mailman with a delivery, she grabbed a towel and dusted the flour off her clothes as she opened the door. Instead of the mailman, she was met by a tall blonde woman wearing the latest fashion in clothing which seemed more suitable for arriving at the Hilton. Her blue suit with a silk scarf and low-heeled pumps were definitely out of place for a country vacation. Obviously, the woman was Ms. Dennison and she was more than a few hours early, but Liz maintained her composure and smiled, knowing her mother would have been proud to see her collect herself so quickly. And even though the urge to push back the tendrils of her hair and straighten her flour-dusted sweater was strong, she ignored it.
“You are Elizabeth Marsh?” asked the woman who stood in front of several pieces of luggage which could imply she was prepared to stay for two weeks or more.
“I am,” Liz said, still smiling as she stepped aside. “Welcome, Ms. Dennison. Please come in.”
“Thank you, and please, call me Claire.” She picked up a piece of luggage in each hand and stepped into the large foyer. Liz retrieved the remaining pieces and set them near the stairway.
“I hope it’s all right i
f I’m early. This is my first time in this area and I’m no fan of using the GPS so I thought it best to get an earlier start to be sure I didn’t get lost.” She smiled politely and then studied the house. “This is a lovely place. Very quaint.”
“Thank you. This was my grandparents’ home and was passed on to my father.”
“Oh, so you live with your parents. Are they here too?” She leaned toward the doorway to the living room as though she might find other people in the house as well.
“No, I’m the new owner.” Liz saw no reason to elaborate on the circumstances behind her newly acquired home and business, or the whereabouts of her parents. “Well, let’s get you situated in your room and then I’ll give you a tour of the house.”
Leading the way upstairs, Liz carried two pieces of luggage while Claire followed behind with two more. At the end of the hall, Liz opened the door to the Blue Room and stepped inside. The windows faced the back of the house as well as the side where the view overlooked the pasture and the barn as well as the wooded area beyond. This room’s antique bed and dressers had been in the family for over a hundred years but after her mom had them restored, they looked like new. The blue coverlet matched the blue in the curtains while the carpet was a soft grey.
“How lovely,” Claire said softly. “Very relaxing and that’s just what I came for.”
“The private bath is here,” Liz said, opening a door to a blue and grey room with a white tiled floor and a small window that let in plenty of light. “And here beside it is the walk-in closet.” It was a lovely room and probably would be the most requested.
“Breakfast is served in the kitchen from seven until nine. You can choose pancakes topped with local maple syrup and sausage or eggs fresh from the henhouse. And if you prefer something less filling, I have bagels, fruit, and yogurt.”
Claire gave a small shake of her head. “I always go for a run in the morning so fruit will be plenty. And coffee.”
“There are some flyers and maps on the bedside table that might be a help for planning where to have lunch and dinner.”
Claire smiled, “Thanks. I’ll look through them. I don’t have a lot of interest in sight-seeing, just relaxing and an occasional drive through the countryside.”
“Well, this Saturday is the local Market Day which is the last one for this year. You might want to stop by and take a look. And the Java Café is a great place for a lite lunch and great coffee.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that. And what time does this event happen?”
“Everyone will be set up by ten in the morning and stay until later in the evening. Live music begins around seven.”
“I think I picked just the right week to be here.” Claire smiled again.
“Good. Now, I’ll let you get unpacked. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Claire kicked off her shoes. “I’m going to enjoy this visit. I can just tell.”
Feeling pleased, Liz smiled as she backed out of the room then pulled the door closed behind her. So far so good. Even breakfast would be a breeze, although she was a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t be whipping up a great country breakfast.
Back in her kitchen again, she decided against a quick change of clothing since the damage had already been done by greeting her guest in floured clothing and a collapsing ponytail. She gave herself a better dusting off then pulled the ponytail scrunchy from her hair and finger combed it. She refused to berate herself for not being ready several hours ahead of time when the check-in time was as plain as day. And she refused to be intimidated by expensive, and out of place, designer clothes. Instead, she would celebrate this day by brewing a cup of her favorite coffee while she considered the rest of her list.
Seated at the table, she studied the checked off items, noticing the one thing she’d been avoiding that nevertheless nagged her the most: the wood cookstove. Her determination to get it going was still there. After all, the nights were getting cooler and it wouldn’t be long before a good frost covered everything. She remembered there was nothing nicer than a warm kitchen on a cold morning. Even though she had a guest in the house, she saw no point in putting it off, so she called Polly for some pointers on what to do first. It had been a long time since she’d helped her mother start a fire in it, so she knew a refresher was in order. Luckily, Polly was in the house and said she’d be right down.
A few minutes later she was at the kitchen door with Max whose tail wagged with complete happiness for the chance to visit. She held up a small leather sling for Liz to see.
“I didn’t know if you had any kindling so I brought some of mine just so we don’t have to go hunting for any. And I see you have wood that’s already split in the woodpile out there.”
“I’m hoping it’s enough to last for at least a few times of baking.” Then she added, “I’m sure I can make it last.”
“Just ask Brian. He does it for me and I’m sure he would for you too.”
“I suppose so.” Liz didn’t want to think about that yet.
“Let’s see how the firebox looks.” Polly opened the little door with a lift of the handle and peered into the small dark interior. “Won’t really know until we can see if the chimney will draw smoke.”
Liz watched while she adjusted the damper on the stove pipe then struck a wooden match which she’d pulled from her pocket and put it into the empty firebox. Closing the door till it was open just a crack, they both leaned down to see if the match would burn brighter. In no time the flame grew and the wisp of smoke went toward the back and not out the front where they watched.
“I’d say we’re good to go. Let’s just build a small fire to be on the safe side.” Polly stacked several pieces of kindling teepee style then lit it, closing the door slightly to create a draft. “The kindling is very dry so that’s a guaranteed way to get it going. Remember that.”
Liz nodded. “It’s been a long time but it’s coming back to me now.”
“I can’t imagine that your dad didn’t clean the chimney before he left.”
Liz agreed. He was a stickler for upkeep and safety.
“Now let’s get some of those small pieces of wood from the pile.”
“I’ll do that,” Liz said and hurried out.
When she came back, she heard Max barking up a storm and found Claire standing at the far end of the table. Bess maintained a safe distance with her back arched and every hair on her tail stuck straight out. Her dislike of Max was obvious, to say the least.
Polly tried to hush the dog and get him to be still. “What’s up with this?” Polly said to him, still trying to quiet him and finally succeeding.
“I think he doesn’t like me,” Claire said, biting her lip with a concerned frown.
“Just give him a minute,” Polly replied. “He’ll get used to you.” But she looked worried. “That’s better.” She patted his head when he finally stopped barking then he laid down by her feet. “Now then, let’s see if we have to build that little fire again. The trick is to keep an eye on the damper, turn it down if it gets too hot but not all the way or the house will fill up with smoke for sure.”
“Um,” Claire cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll be on my way to check out the countryside and the quaint little towns. Oh, and I do want to stop by Falls Point. I saw it in the brochures upstairs. What a beautiful spot. And it’s so close, just down the road, but you already know that I’m sure. I doubt if I’ll be back early. So much to see, you know.”
“The front door will be unlocked for you,” Liz said. “Enjoy your drive.”
Perhaps messing around with the wood stove should have been postponed because of her guest being there, but this kind of activity just came with the premises. She felt no need to apologize for it since her B&B was part of country living which was the way it had been advertised, photos and all. Most likely Claire found it interesting even if it wasn’t her style, at least Liz hoped she did.
“Thanks. I will,” Claire responded. After a quick glanc
e at the dog, she wasted no time in getting out the front door.
Max gave a low growl in his throat when she was gone.
“For shame,” Polly spoke in a low voice aimed at the culprit. “I don’t know what came over him. I’m sorry, Liz. I’ll leave him home the next time.”
Liz patted Max on the head. “It’s hard to say what irritated him. Maybe she was wearing a perfume that he just didn’t like. I’m sure he has a keen sense of smell like all dogs. And she might even have a dog at home and he picked up that scent. Who knows? But you can bring him anytime. Like you said, he’ll adjust.”
Polly nodded. “I think he will. I hope.”
“So,” Liz turned toward the stove. “I think that little fire died.”
“Well, we’ll just start over. This time I’ll let you get some practice and I’ll watch and offer suggestions.”
After a few pathetic attempts, she had the fire going and the damper adjusted as well as the baffles that made the heat flow around the oven’s box. Not a whiff of smoke escaped from any doors on the stove.
“I’d say it’s working great!” Liz couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. “I love this stove.”
“You’ll enjoy it this winter. I use mine all winter long and into the spring too. Keeps the dampness out.”
“Now if I can keep from burning the bread, I’ll consider it a success.”
“It takes a little experimenting, just like mixing ingredients. Pretty soon you just get the feel of how to make it work. And remember, different kinds of wood make hotter fires than others. But don’t worry about that too much. Brian knows which ones you’ll need.
“You seem to trust him with a lot of things.” Liz still wasn’t so sure.
“Well, he’s been helpful to others besides me. Seems like a thoughtful man. And he likes all my animals,” she finished with a wide smile. “I think that says a lot.”
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