To Love Again

His phone rang. “You want to talk now?”

“Yes, please.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse time. I’m speaking to investors.”

Her anxiety heightened. “In an hour then?”

“It’s Monday morning. I’m calling my most important contacts.” He scrunched his mouth in contemplation. “I could hook up with you, say, late this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?”

He reached for the phone. “If you really want to talk. If not—”

“No! I mean yes. I want to talk.” She calculated quickly. Donna said she would stay as long as necessary. “So, this afternoon?”

“Okay.”

Laura picked up a card from his desk and scribbled her cell phone number on it. “Call me when you’re free?”

“Fine.” His phone rang again.

Awkwardly, she stepped back. “I’ll see myself out then.”

He was already absorbed in the phone conversation.

Out on the sidewalk, she breathed in the clean spring air, the smell of baking bread laced with blooming hyacinths. Unexpectedly, her stomach rumbled. In spite of nerves.

She glanced down the street. A sign in the next block caught her eye. Borbey House Bed and Breakfast. She didn’t know just how long Paul Russell planned to put her off, but she intended to stick around until he spoke to her, even if that meant staying until the following day. It might be smart to book a room, just in case. Besides, she was tired. It had taken everything she had to screw up her courage for this visit. She hated this weakness in herself. Before she had married, she wouldn’t have been so intimidated, so frightened. This was just a negotiation. With Jerry’s best friend. Why couldn’t Jerry have let her go? She hadn’t wanted him to get sick, to die…. But she had thought at last she would be out from under his control.

She pulled out her cell phone.

Donna answered on the second ring, and Laura explained the situation.

“Stay as long as you need. My work’s coming along fine. You know I love borrowing other people’s children.”

Laura hesitated, unaccustomed to asking favors. “It could be longer than just overnight.”

“Stay as long as you need.”

Laura clutched the phone. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

Laura felt a little better as she walked the short distance to Borbey House. A bell tinkled when she pushed open the door to the bed-and-breakfast and stepped into an immaculate front room, furnished with inviting antique couches.

“Be right there,” a woman called.

Laura waited by an ancient breakfront that looked like the sign-in desk. Within moments, a perky, attractive woman who looked to be about her age, scooted into the room. “Hi!” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Just finishing up in the kitchen. How can I help you?”

“I’m hoping you have a room for tonight. Well, maybe longer. I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll be here.” The way she felt right now she could climb into bed and pull the covers over her head.

“I have one that fronts on Main Street if you like the view or one that looks out on the back garden if you’d prefer complete quiet. You can see both, if you’d like, and then choose.” Dark eyes twinkled as the woman pushed her brown hair behind her ear.

“That’s a tough call, but I think I’ll take the quiet.” She needed it to recoup.

“Fine. If you change your mind, just let me know. It’s no trouble switching you around.” Laura signed the guest book, a simple register, her writing shaky. “I’m Annie Warren and this is my place, mine and my husband’s.”

“Glad to meet you.” She reached for her purse, fumbling with her wallet. “You’ll need my credit card.”

Annie waved her hands. “Not necessary. We can do that when you check out.”

Laura stared, amazed.

Annie laughed. “I doubt you want to get up at four in the morning to skip out. Besides, a little trust goes a long way.”

“That’s a kind, if somewhat precarious, way to live in this world.”

“It works for me.”

Laura’s anxiety eased somewhat.

“Have you had your breakfast?” Annie put her hands on her narrow hips.

“Actually no. But if it’s too late—”

“Nope. I was just getting around to mine. Would you like to join me?”

Laura was touched by the offer. “I’d love to.”

“The dining room’s still set for breakfast. I haven’t cleared the buffet. The warmers are on under the bacon and sausage, the eggs, too. The griddle’s hot and I was about to make pancakes. Or whatever you like.”

“I adore pancakes. I didn’t expect such bounty.” Laura wandered over to the antique buffet. Jams—she’d guess homemade—in crystal dishes begged to be spread on the plump rolls. And there was a basket of sticky buns as well. She felt as though she’d stepped back into another time when people lingered over breakfast.

“I just made some fresh coffee.” Annie indicated from the stove. “And there’s orange juice on the buffet.”

“Let me,” Laura offered. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Thanks.” Annie pointed. “Just a little cream.”

Laura poured them each a coffee. Retrieving the pitcher of orange juice, she carried it to the only table with place settings.

Annie followed shortly with a platter of fluffy pancakes. “This time of year we get a lot of tourists because of the wildflowers, but it’s still mostly weekends right now.”

“I’m not here for flowers.” She stopped. She didn’t intend to tell this stranger anything about why she was here. Annie just smiled.

“Rosewood’s a good place to be.”

“Oh?”