Chapter Two

Ten in the morning and the air was warming. Emily Harrington walked to the end of the railroad station platform while the train chugged away. Not a taxi in sight. She sighed and slung her backpack over her shoulders. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to hoof it to her destination. Her hiking shoes were well-worn, and the pockets on her brown crew pants held anything she needed for the day. According to the brochure stuffed in her pocket, “The Deerbourne Inn is conveniently located near the charming boutiques and antique stores in the town center.”

The enclosed map didn’t indicate the uphill trek. The imposing three-story building’s silhouette crowned one of Willow Springs’ many hills. Several trees shaded the front. The walk would give her time to go over her plans.

Deceiving Nathan Harte about her client bothered her on several levels, but this family research was vital. Her conscience tweaked at her gut. She’d learned young that honesty was important. Well, she was here.

She’d been pleasantly surprised when she’d called for reservations for a week and spoken briefly to Nathan Harte about the inn’s history and Bertha Deerbourne’s past. He’d sounded interested.

Nathan’s description of the contents of the attic had her itching to check all those old documents. Family papers could be the key to the genealogy she was researching. Or they could be very old toilet paper.

Instead of heading for the inn, she turned along the main road. Willow Springs had a charming air. She strolled cracked and tilted sidewalks, tree roots lifting the cement slabs. Granite curbstones lined the streets. Zinnias, marigolds, and roses scented the air. The wide street was edged with mature maple trees that shaded the sidewalks. The post office squatted like a brick toad several buildings from the Town Hall, whose wide marble pillars and entry indicated it was built when the town prospered.

Turning down a side road she headed for the inn. This street was lined with post-World War II bungalows maintained with pride in the picket fences and flower gardens. She smiled when she smelled the red roses climbing a nearby trellis.

A tiny dog, barking madly, rushed the fence. Its white hair bristled in a wild fleece before the owner picked him up with a sweet laugh.

Emily gave a light wave and walked on. The inn was fairly close. She noticed a bank of dark clouds drifting across the blue sky like a fleet of pirate ships. They’d have rain by nightfall.

The inn’s front door was wide open. Close up, the place had a charming, old-fashioned air. Two spreading horse chestnut trees bracketed the front lawn. The frilled leaves made them easy to identify. Prickly pods hung in abundance from the wide branches.

Emily hesitated after stepping inside. She knocked on the heavy door and winced as it bruised her knuckles. Her training had her absorbing details.

“Hello?” she called out.

A wide archway to her right opened into a large parlor. Overstuffed furniture was arranged into conversation groupings. The air was scented by crystal bowls of floral potpourri. The room could have come from her grandmother’s house with its crocheted doilies and brass lamps. A roll-top desk and oak chair waited for letter writers. Oriental rugs defined the areas. On the far wall a large fireplace displayed a polished granite hearth and mantel. An enormous flower arrangement filled the firebox.

“Hello?” she called out again. To her left a set of double doors were closed. A brass plate read “Media Room.” Colored photos of the local attractions decorated the hall walls.

After closing the front door, she followed the bird’s-eye maple paneling past a reception desk on the left. She was surprised to see how messy it was. Piles and piles of paper, small boxes, and a variety of items were strewn all over it. She looked around for some type of bell to press or some way to announce her presence.

Suddenly voices came from further down the hall. When she followed the sound, she noted a brass “Restroom” sign in a short hall. Good idea. She turned the knob and slipped inside.

When she came back out she wasn’t sure who was more startled, the man passing the doorway or herself.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry,” she stuttered after they almost collided.

She glanced at his arm in the sling and noted his face looked drawn and pale.

He frowned. “Who are you?” He glanced past her to the restroom and then back again. “We’re not open for business.”

“Mr. Harte?” She held out her hand. “I’m Emily Harrington. I’m sorry I walked in, but the front door was wide open. I yelled hello but no one came and then I saw the restroom and well, it was a long trip.”

His face was lean, the long bones of his cheeks well defined. The planes and angles were softened by his full mouth.

“Should I know you?” He glared at her as if she was a sales rep.

She swallowed. “You don’t remember? I’m Emily Harrington. We spoke on the phone. I told you I was writing a genealogy about a family from Willow Springs and a big part of it was the Deerbourne Inn. I made reservations.”

He frowned. “I remember now, but you made reservations for the end of September. Why are you here now?”

Before she could answer, a blonde woman walked down the hall. She looked surprised, but unlike Nathan Harte, she looked friendly. “Hi. I couldn’t help but overhear.” The other woman held out her hand. “I’m Liz Norton, Nate’s housekeeper and cousin.”

Emily shifted her gaze to Liz, grateful for a friendly welcome as they shook hands. “I called a few days ago and made reservations for the 27th. At the time”—she licked her lips and glanced nervously at Nate—“you said that was fine and I could stay a week.”

Nate shook his head. His emerald gaze flashed at her and her breath caught in her throat. No one had eyes that burning color. “No. You said September 27th, not August. There’s no way I would have said it was okay. We aren’t even open and now with what’s happened…” He gestured at his cast.

Liz touched Emily’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for the confusion but I could see if maybe one of the other inns has a room.”

Emily’s heart sank. She needed to stay here to be able to research as much and as long as she wanted to. “I really want to stay here. To experience the inn firsthand and take it all in, walk the property, etc. Is there any way at all I could stay? It looks to me like you could use another hand. No pun intended. I don’t have to be a real guest. I mean, you don’t have do anything except let me sleep here. I’ll even take my meals in town. I’ll pay the regular rate, of course, even though you aren’t open yet.”

“That’s impossible. We don’t have any rooms ready and I’m in no shape to have anyone underfoot. I’m sorry,” Nate interjected.

She could see Liz relenting although Nate looked like her pleas were falling on deaf ears.

“We could use some more help until I get the rest of the housekeeping staff hired,” Liz said to Nate. “With your arm the way it is, it will free me up to help you in the kitchen. You sure you want to spend your vacation doing this?” she asked Emily.

“I swear it will be great. A change of pace and a chance to feel a part of everything I’m writing about.”

“What is it you do in your regular job?”

Emily had been ready for that question and she glanced at Nate who watched her intently. “Mostly my office work is writing reports, interviewing people, you know, desk job, the whole bit. But I’m a history nut. I’m obsessed with it and I really want to write about this inn and the town.”

“Nate, get Emily some coffee. And be nice.”

Emily absorbed details about the impressive kitchen. Straight ahead sat tables and chairs with a long counter separating the work area from the eating space. She didn’t recognize half the cooking equipment beyond a frying pan and coffee pot. The scent of mint herbal tea filled the room. Appliances gleamed like polished diamonds; ceramic tiles covered the floor in a rough stone pattern.

Nate’s sharp green gaze lingered on her well-worn Vermont State T-shirt and wrinkled pants before he relaxed enough to smile. “Have a seat. You look like the heat is getting to you, too.”

Emily slid her arms free of her backpack and eased onto one of the wooden chairs. She couldn’t reconcile this weary man with the energetic award-winning chef in all the articles.

Emily’s conscience gave her a sharp pinch at the fib. Her train ticket burned a hole in her pocket.

Thunder crashed overhead.

“My sheets!” Liz shrieked. She ran out the door before Nate struggled to his feet. Emily saw where she headed and rushed out to help. Clothespins flew and sheets were tossed helter-skelter into the basket. Rain fell in a flood.

Laughing like hyenas, they stumbled in with the full wash basket.

“Too late,” he laughed. “They’re soaked. You can always brag they’re rainwater soft.”

“Damp, not soaked,” Liz protested and brushed her tangled hair from her face. Refastening her pony tail, she grinned at Emily. “A few minutes in the dryer will take care of that. I’ll put them into the dumbwaiter right now.”

The promised storm sluiced rain over the solarium roof like a waterfall. Liz opened a door in the far corner of the kitchen to reveal the dumbwaiter and loaded the basket.

When Liz gestured at the pot, Emily accepted a cup of hot coffee. She nodded at Nate. “I’d hoped to take a peek at those family records we discussed.”

“I can take you upstairs this afternoon for a couple hours. There are boxes of records.” He scratched his chin. “I’m under orders to rest, so sitting in the attic fits. But we aren’t open.”

Liz frowned at Nate, her hands on her hips. “So what are you doing with our first guest?”

A mischievous look passed over his face before Nate smiled. He turned his cup slowly in his fingers for a minute, then nodded.

“The handy men and Liz are working in the rental rooms, but we do have the spare room we save for my sister, Vicki. If I remember correctly, it has twin beds. She says she’ll be coming for the opening.”

“It’s not very fancy.” Liz threw a him a puzzled glance. “She’ll have to use the bathroom down the hall.”

“Perfect for an unexpected guest.” He drained the last of the tea and gave Liz a thin smile. “You can tell Vicki her room is occupied. Or they can share for a day or two.”

“Vicki will love that.” Liz squealed like a kitten with its tail stepped on.

Emily wondered what family situation she’d walked in on, then decided it didn’t make any difference. If Nate gave her access to the old documents, she’d be too busy to notice.

The brisk scent of rain blew along the hall.

“So what happened? You’re so bruised you look like a Picasso painting,” Emily asked.

“Darn hit-and-run driver.” Liz impatiently pushed to her feet. “He’s got a broken arm along with those bruises.”

He groaned when he moved his shoulder. His green eyes glinted with impatience. “Look, I’m serious. We’re not ready for guests, but if the spare room is okay, it’s a place for you to sleep.”

“I’m not hard to please.” Emily’s stomach knotted and she wanted to turn down Nate’s offer but her heart said to accept. She held out her hand in acceptance. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s only a few days before I’m due back at work.” Emily knew her curly red hair was a mess and behind her sunglasses her hazel eyes looked tired. She hefted her backpack to her shoulder.

“Let me show you the way,” Liz said. Her expression was welcoming and warm. “With Nate hurt, we don’t have anyone to help with luggage. I know it looks like we have plenty of rooms, but none of them are one-hundred-percent finished. I’m washing the new bed-linens. A few rooms need touch-up paint, so Nate’s room and this spare are really the only ones with beds to sleep in.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“My children and I have one of the small cottages. Nate had it remodeled before anything else so we could move in.” Liz sighed and grief wrinkled her face. “My husband died last year while on duty. He was a firefighter and the roof caved in on him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emily squeezed her shoulder.

“It’s better being away from where it happened. And Nate needed me. Us. My children love the inn.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I have no idea why I’m sharing all this with you. Anyway, it was the best decision I’ve made. The kids love Nate, and having something else to focus on has definitely helped me. And frankly, I don’t think Nate knew what he was getting into when he inherited this place.”

Liz crossed to the short hall with the restroom. She opened a paneled oak door to reveal a simply furnished bedroom. A crystal bowl of dried flower potpourri scented the air. The twin beds were separated by a table with a rose painted china lamp. Two matching hand-made quilts covered the beds. The pale blue walls had several Vermont landscapes hung between the tall windows. An old-fashioned chifforobe was the only space to hang clothes since there was no closet.

“The bathroom and shower are there.” Liz pointed past Nate’s bedroom door. “Nothing fancy. Nate says he might make the two rooms into a suite. He needs privacy.”

“You mentioned he inherited it? Was it a family property?” Emily kept her questions light and not probing.

“That’s a long story, so I’ll let you get your things unpacked. Take a rest if you want. We’ll be around somewhere, so feel free to explore.” Liz handed Emily a brass key. It was heavy and warm from her pocket. With a small wave she stepped back through the door and closed it behind her.

Poor woman, being widowed so young. Emily wondered how old the kids were.

Emily sat on the edge of the nearest bed. Her fingers traced over the hand-made quilt. She recognized a log cabin pattern in blue and brown. She kept her expression blank. Liz was right about the fresh smell of the bedding.

Emily chewed her bottom lip. For now, she’d change her clothes and show Nate she was serious about helping out. Whatever secrets the Deerbournes had would stay tucked away in the attic for another day.