“It’s highly suspicious, and I’ve got to say, Charlie, I’m worried about it.” Lauren, the Gossip Inn’s happy-go-lucky chef, stood in front of the stove in the kitchen, a frown creasing her brow. “She’s never done anything like this before.”
All morning, Lauren had been stirring her pot of gravy and gossiping shamelessly about my grandmother, the owner of the inn, Georgina. Or Gamma as I liked to call her. Now, Lauren was as proficient at gossiping as everybody else in Gossip, Texas, but she’d never extended that behavior toward Gamma.
That meant something was seriously amiss.
Lauren gave another stir of her pot, her red eyebrows creeping upward. “She’s been leaving the inn at strange hours of the morning. Usually, she stops by for a bite to eat and a cup of coffee when I arrive, but this morning? Nothing. She didn’t even greet me! It ain’t right. Now, Charlie, you know I wouldn’t talk ill of Georgina, I’d rather eat a jar of pickled peppers, but this is just too weird to ignore.” Lauren brandished her spoon. “What if she’s in trouble with… sinister forces?”
In Gamma’s case, sinister forces could mean anything from her arch-enemy, Jessie Belle-Blue, a pashmina aficionado in need of a serious attitude adjustment, to an ex-arms dealer from Kuwait. That came with the territory when you were a retired ex-spy.
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation for Georgina’s behavior,” I said.
Of course, at the Gossip Inn, rational explanations usually involved spy work, fake ghosts, phantom cats, murderers and corpses, so that probably wasn’t a comforting thing to say.
Lauren shivered delicately. “I still don’t like it. This is not the right way to approach the holiday season.”
“Laur, don’t stress, OK? I’ll talk to her about it,” I said. “Besides, Georgina’s a grown woman. She can look after herself.” She could look after herself better than most Navy Seals.
Lauren muttered under her breath but returned to her pot stirring in silence.
It was just before the lunch service at the Gossip Inn, and there weren’t too many guests at the moment. Most folks were at home with their families, and those who were staying here had been surprisingly docile. Which meant they weren’t throwing tantrums or stealing the inn’s cutlery. A fun positive for year-end.
But I was still caught up in my usual duties. Herding cats, catering to strange requests, and occasionally fixing a problem for one of the townsfolk.
Now that I thought about it, I’d been doing a lot more “fixing” than I had been cleaning the inn. Could it be that Gamma was upset with me about my lack of attentiveness to my usual duties? Just last week, I’d been asked to find a stolen jewelry box by a wealthier town resident, and I’d done it too. Granted, I’d found the jewelry box buried in the backyard—her Labrador had gotten into a habit of burying everything he could get his paws on—but it had kept me busy.
Busier than I’d thought possible in Gossip.
I glanced toward the kitchen doorway where the cats dozed in a line. Three of them, Snowy, the newest addition to the inn, was white as her name, Cocoa Puff, brown, sweet, and lazy, and Sunlight, who was a ginger kitty and full of mischief.
Sunlight was my cat, whereas Cocoa and Snowy belonged to the inn, but I loved them equally. Dearly.
I gnawed on my bottom lip.
What if it’s… time?
“Charlie?” Lauren’s voice brought me back from my musings.
I turned to her. “Right. Sorry. What do you need me to do?” I’d also been neglecting my duties as Lauren’s helper in the kitchen. It was a quieter time, so she’d been managing everything by herself, but I still felt guilt over it.
“Nothing in particular,” Lauren said. “I’m just curious about what’s on your mind.”
I went over to the cats and gave each of them a scratch behind the ears, considering my answer.
Lauren waited patiently, using the time to lay out dishes on the countertops.
“I’m thinking about my future,” I said, truthfully. “At the inn, mainly.” By this point, I’d figured out that I did fit into Gossip. I might not have been used to small town living when I’d first arrived, but I’d grown to love it. In a big city, there was anonymity, but there was a lot less “care” than there was in Gossip, at least in my experience.
“What about it?” Lauren asked, watching me as she worked. “I know you’ve been a little busier than usual of late.”
“A lot busier,” I said. “I know I haven’t exactly been helping that much.”
“Now, don’t say that. You’ve got your own stuff going on. I’m sure that being an assistant at the Gossip Inn was never your long term plan.”
That was true, of course. I had arrived at the inn over a year ago, only because it was the best place for me to hide out from my rogue spy ex-husband, Kyle Turner. Now, that was over. He was behind bars for good, and I was retired. Free to live my life how I pleased, as long as I didn’t draw too much attention to myself.
Working at the inn had been a cover, never a life choice.
But I loved it here.
“Charlie?”
“I don’t know,” I said, at last. “I love the inn. I love the kitten foster center. I love being around the cats, though I could do without all the guests, particularly the grumpy ones.” I paused, considering. “I think what I’d like is to start my own business. Be the problem fixer for Gossip. Maybe have my own place to live?”
“And leave the inn?” Lauren sounded scandalized, hurt even.
That was what I’d been afraid of. And if Lauren reacted like that, I could only imagine how my grandmother would feel.
“Nothing’s decided yet,” I said, smiling at her. “Come on, let’s focus on the lunch service.”
Lauren wriggled her nose. “Aw, Charlie, I didn’t mean to discourage you. I guess, I just can’t imagine the inn without you anymore. You’re as much a part of the Gossip Inn as the cats or Georgina herself.”
“Or you,” I said.
She colored a pleasant pink. “You’re too sweet. And you’re right. Let’s finish setting up the—”
A shrill scream rang out from the hallway. All three cats leaped to their feet and scattered in different directions.
“Help me! Please,” the cry came. A woman yelling at the top of her lungs. “Charlotte Smith. I need your help!”
I turned around and darted from the kitchen, my pulse racing.