Compromising Positions

“Yeah? Well, you’d best watch yourself. A woman that beautiful is nothing but trouble.”

They walked back out to Amelia and found her inside the large display window, examining the details on the bed.

“Well, I’ve got good news and bad,” Jerry began. “Good news is there’s no one else making a claim on this piece. Bad news is Miss Abigail has decided to leave the decision up to you two.”

“How’s that going to work?” Sam asked.

“Hell if I know. But you’re going to have to fight this one out yourselves. When you’ve got it sorted, give me a call and I’ll write up the paperwork. Until then, Benny says he’ll keep the bed here.”

After he walked out, they stood next to each other, silently, both of them weighing their options. Amelia was the first to speak. She removed her phone from her purse. “Where can I buy some bed linens? Sheets and a pillow?”

“Why would you need that?”

“I’m going to stay here, live here in this bed, until you give up your claim. Unless you want to give up right now, which would save us both a lot of time and trouble?”

“I’m not giving up. It’s my bed. It’s a family heirloom.”

“And you thought by seducing me, I might forget that point? Well, I haven’t. You can kiss me all you want, Sam Blackstone, and it’s not going to shake my determination.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

“You want to stay here in this dusty old window?”

“Yes. I hope the store has a bathroom. Why don’t you go check on that for me?”

“I’m not going to stay here,” Sam said.

“Then you’re giving up already?”

“No. But this isn’t the way to decide this. We could flip a coin. We could arm wrestle or cut cards. We don’t have to live here.”

“Well, I am going to live here. I’m going to sleep in my bed until it’s all mine.”

He cursed beneath his breath. This was crazy. How was it that she was dictating the terms? Hell, they could take the bed back to the inn and live in relative comfort and seclusion.

“Hello! Anyone here?” A moment later Minerva Threadwell came around the corner. She wore a bright purple warm-up suit and had her gray hair pulled into a tidy bun at the top of her head. Rabbit-fur earmuffs covered her ears and she looked as if she’d just happened in on her morning walk. “Oh, here you are. I just got a tip that there was new development on the bed. I can get it into our Thursday edition.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her notepad and pen. “Care to comment?”

Sam groaned. “Is this really what you consider newsworthy, Minerva?”

“It’s a small town,” she said in a clipped tone. “I take what I can get. So, whose bed is it, yours or hers?”

Amelia pulled a business card out of her pocket. “Amelia Sheffield of the Mapother Museum. And it seems Miss Farnsworth left the decision up to us. So, I’ll just be staying here, sleeping in this bed, until Mr. Blackstone agrees to let me take it to Boston for my exhibit.”

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Minerva said. “Kind of a John Lennon-Yoko Ono thing.”

“What?”

“Oh, right,” Amelia said. “A sleep-in.”

“So you two are going to sleep in the bed together?”

“I’m not sleeping here,” Sam protested.

“Then what’s to prevent her from taking off with your bed in the middle of the night?” Minerva asked, an inquisitive arch to her eyebrow.

Sam cursed beneath his breath. “I guess I’ll be sleeping here with her.”

Minerva’s smile widened. “Now, that will make the story even more interesting. You’ll be sharing the bed?”

“No,” Sam and Amelia said at the same time.

Then Sam realized this could be the opportunity he’d been hoping for. “I mean yes,” Sam said. “It’s only fair. It is my bed.”

“It’s my bed and you won’t be sleeping in it,” Amelia said.

“Which is it?” the reporter asked. “Are you going to sleep together or not?”

“Yes,” Amelia said.

The reporter turned to look at Sam. “And...you’re all right with that?”

“Sure,” Sam said. He sent Amelia a lazy smile. “I don’t plan to do a lot of sleeping.”

He heard a tiny gasp catch in Amelia’s throat and took satisfaction in the realization that he’d managed to rattle her. Miss Cool and Collected had a weak spot. Was she imagining what might happen once the lights went out?

“What’s so important about this bed?” Minerva asked.

“George Washington slept in this bed,” Amelia said.

“I expect he slept in many beds over the course of his life,” Minerva commented.

“It’s not very important,” Sam countered. “But it’s always had a home with the Blackstone family. Ms. Sheffield doesn’t seem to understand the value of family traditions.”

“Do you have proof that George Washington slept in the bed?”

Amelia nodded. “Of course. Mr. Blackstone’s grandfather included paperwork on the provenance with copies of Washington’s signature from the inn’s guest book. I’ve done other research, as well.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” Minerva said. “I’d also be interested to know the value of the bed.”

“On second thought, I could have been wrong,” Sam murmured. “Maybe that wasn’t the bed in the corner room. I may have confused things.”

Minerva looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’d like to send Wilbur over to take a photo. How long do you think it will be before the two of you are in bed together?”

“I’ll leave that up to Ms. Sheffield,” he said.

“No comment,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed with color.

“I have enough for now, anyway,” Minerva said. “I know how to contact both of you. If I need anything else, I’ll drop by.” She sighed. “Wilbur’s going to want to get this on the noon news.” Minerva tucked her notepad into her pocket and hurried out the front door.

They stood in silence for a long moment before Sam clapped his hands. “All right,” he said. “We’re on. I say we meet back here at noon with everything we need and then we’ll get started.”