Chapter 5
It was the day Abby had been waiting for. Real guests—not her friend Caroline or Victor’s crazy ex-wife—real paying customers were coming to her bed-and-breakfast today. Sure, they’d been referrals from Jackie Day’s B and B down by the waterfront, but even so, they were honest-to-goodness guests. Even though the inn wasn’t 100 percent complete, it was good enough, and this week’s visitors would prove that. The question was, where were they?
At five o’clock, she called Jackie. “What time do guests usually check in?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.
“You never know,” Jackie said. “That’s one reason I find it easier to live at the inn.”
“Right.” Abby had considered this, but she knew Paul would throw a fit.
“You can always make a policy,” Jackie advised her. “No checking in past a certain hour—say nine o’clock.”
“Nine o’clock?”
“Well, for your guests’ sake, you have to be reasonable. You don’t want to limit yourself so much that your B and B goes empty most of the time.”
“It’s just that nine is so late. We sometimes go to bed around then.”
“Seriously?”
Abby chuckled. “Yes. Paul and I are turning into regular old-timers, Jackie. We go to bed with the chickens.”
“Not me. I’m a night owl.”
“Then maybe we should have all the night owls stay at your inn and the early birds can stay at mine.”
Of course, Jackie didn’t like that idea much, but she told Abby to be patient and said that she’d actually directed some other guests Abby’s way during the holidays.
“But I won’t be open during the holidays,” Abby told her.
“Is this a business or a hobby?” Jackie demanded.
“Well, it’s a business, of course. But I’m still trying to figure things out. I’m starting out slowly until I get all the kinks out. I’m still in the experimental stage.”
“So you’re experimenting on the guests I sent your way?” Jackie said in a scolding tone. “You’d better treat these people right, or you won’t have much repeat traffic.”
“I am treating them right,” Abby defended. “You should see this place. I’ve pulled out all the stops. Fresh flowers in every room, great toiletries, the best linens, soothing classical music, and I’ve got a killer breakfast menu lined up for the next week.”
“Oh.” Jackie sounded concerned. “What’s the deal? Are you trying to run me out of business?”
“No, not at all, Jackie. I’m just trying to follow your fine example.” Abby glanced over to where she’d placed a china plate of freshly made snickerdoodle cookies by the sign-in book. Should she feel guilty for doing a little extra something to make her guests feel welcome? She wouldn’t tell Jackie about the special handmade chocolate mints she’d bought to put on the beds at night, or the elegant crystal goldfish bowls with live fish swimming happily about that she had placed in the bathrooms. Jackie didn’t have to know everything about this place. Hopefully the word would spread quickly enough.
Abby went into the laundry room, where she’d stashed a couple of crates of Christmas decorations, some extra things she’d borrowed from her own collection at home. Her plan had been to get them placed about the inn to give it a festive holiday atmosphere. Seeing she had time to spare, she decided to go ahead and get started.
She was midway through stringing a faux pine garland around the stairway banister when she heard someone coming in the front door. Excited that her guests had finally arrived, she turned toward the door with a big smile. “Welcome!”
“Yeah, right,” Paul growled as he came into the foyer, shaking rain off his parka and stomping his feet on the pretty welcome rug. “Do you have any idea what time it is, Abby?”
She peered over at the clock above the mantle in the front room. “Seven forty-five,” she told him as she came down the stairs.
“And you’re still here”—he frowned around the space—“decorating for Christmas?”
“I was waiting for the guests to arrive and—”
“And meanwhile your husband is home alone, waiting for you to arrive.” He reached over and took several of the snickerdoodle cookies. “When was the last time you made these for me?”
“You’re not supposed to have white sugar and flour,” she reminded him.
“Or dinner either, so it seems.”
“Oh Paul.” She came over and just shook her head. “You don’t have to be jealous of the B and B.”
“I’m not jealous, Abby, I’m mad.”
The door was opening again, and, worried it would be her real guests, Abby wanted to shoo her rude husband into the kitchen. But before she could, in walked Caroline. As usual of late, Caroline had on her work clothes and a ball cap.
“Greetings,” Caroline said cheerfully. “Hey, this place looks great, Abby.” She turned to Paul as she peeled off her wet jacket. “And how are you doing, Paul?” She smiled warmly at him. “Did your wife ask you my big question yet?”
He frowned. “What big question?”
“Don’t ask him now,” Abby warned her. “Paul’s in a snit.”
“I’m not in a snit,” he retorted. “I’m just hungry and tired of waiting for my wife to come home.”
“And I’m waiting for my guests to arrive.” Abby glanced nervously to the door. “I’d hate for them to walk in while you’re throwing a fit.”
“I know!” Caroline said. “Why don’t I take Paul to dinner?” She pointed to his work clothes. “Someplace casual, since we didn’t dress up. After your guests arrive, you can meet us.” She smiled at Abby. “My treat!”
Abby nodded eagerly. “Yes, great idea. Now hurry along before the guests get here.”
“What if I don’t want to—”
“Come on, Paul,” Caroline urged him, tugging on his arm. “Let’s get out of her hair. How do you expect your wife to run a successful business if you’re hounding her all the time?”
“But I—”
“No arguing.” Caroline was pushing him out the door, looking back at Abby. She winked. “We’ll see you later.” Then she held up her thumb and forefinger like a phone. “Call me.”
Abby nodded with relief as she blew Caroline a thank-you kiss. No sooner were they gone than another couple came in. “Welcome,” Abby said again. Smiling warmly at the neatly dressed thirtysomething pair, she moved to her position behind the registration table that she’d set up in the foyer. “You must be the Hawleys,” she said as they closed the door.
“Is this the Coastal Cottage?” the man asked.
“That’s right,” she said pleasantly. “Welcome to Coastal Cottage.”
“But I thought there was a water view,” he told her in a slightly disgruntled tone.
“Besides the rain, that is,” the woman added as she removed and shook off her scarf. “Does it always rain like this on the Oregon coast? It felt like we drove through a flood to get here.”
“Western Oregon is known for its rain.” Abby’s smile stiffened. “It’s what keeps the place green and pretty. But don’t worry—we get sunshine, too. In fact, the forecast gets better in a few days.”
“But you’re still not on the ocean,” the man pointed out again.
“No, we’re not. But we are conveniently located near a lot of nice—”
“I was certain this place had a water view,” he persisted. “The river or the bay or some sort of water?”
“Besides the rain,” the woman said again.
“You might be thinking of the other bed-and-breakfast in town,” Abby told him. “It has a bay view, but it’s also—”
“Yes, that’s it,” the man said. “I think we’re at the wrong place.” He reached for his wife’s hand. “Come on, Tara, let’s go.”
“But your reservation is here,” Abby said quickly. “And you will be charged for your first night whether or not you stay.”
“But this is the wrong place,” he insisted.
“You were referred here from the other B and B,” Abby explained in a tight voice, “because they are full.”
“Oh.” He pressed his lips together with an irritated expression. “So we might as well stay here.” He turned back to his wife. “But they can’t make us stay more than one night.”
“Maybe we’ll like it,” she said hopefully. “It’s kind of cute.”
He rolled his eyes. “But it’s not by the water.”
As she ran his credit card for one night only, Abby tried to pretend that this hadn’t started all wrong. She smiled and spoke in an amicable tone as she gave them the tour, explaining when and where breakfast was served.
“Are we the only guests here?” the man demanded.
“Well, I’ve only just started this place up and—”
“Hopefully you won’t be shutting it down soon.” He laughed in a rather snide way.
“Oh, Glen,” the woman said, checking him.
“Hey, you can’t promise a water view then not deliver. That’s like a bait and switch, and unless I’m mistaken, it’s against the law.”
“But I didn’t promise a water view,” Abby explained. “That’s the other B and B.”
“It was misleading,” he told her as he took a couple of the cookies.
She just nodded with a frozen half smile. “I’m sorry you felt misled, Mr. Hawley. I do hope you enjoy your stay. Would you like me to show you to your room?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
Keeping her smile in place, Abby showed them to the master suite, and Mrs. Hawley commented on how nice it was. That was something. But Mr. Hawley’s attitude made Abby feel slightly sick inside. What if every guest reacted like that?
Abby went into the kitchen and then kept on going to the laundry room, where she closed the door and turned on the faucet of the laundry sink, and while the water gushed down the drain, she just cut loose and cried. What had made her think she could do this? Or that running an inn would be fun? Really, Abby should have her head examined. As usual, Paul was right! Not that she planned to let him know about this. At least not yet. If she was going to go down, she would go down fighting.
Abby held her head high as she walked into the diner. She smiled and waved at Paul and Caroline, who were seated by the salad bar. No way was she going to reveal what a disaster her first guests had turned out to be.
“You’re just in time,” Caroline told Abby as she sat down. “I think your husband just agreed to be my contractor.”
Paul shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me,” Caroline insisted. She stuck out her hand. “Do we have a deal, Paul Franklin?”
He gave her a lopsided grin, then stuck out his hand. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
Caroline nodded to Abby as she shook Paul’s hand. “You’re our witness.”
“So did you get your guests all tucked into bed?” Paul teased. “Read ’em a bedtime story and give ’em some milk to go with their cookies?”
“Yes,” she retorted, “then I kissed them good night.”
They all laughed.
“So really,” Caroline asked, “how did it go? Were they totally wowed by how great the place is?”
“Oh, yes.” Abby tried to sound convincing. “Wowed is the word.”
“You’re going to be so busy,” Caroline said as she picked up a roll. “I’ll really need to get into my own place before long. But don’t worry, I’m on it.”
Abby planned to set Caroline straight later—just not in front of Paul.
“Sorry I was so grumpy earlier,” Paul told Abby. “You know how I get when I’m starving to death.”
She nodded. “And I’m sorry I didn’t get home earlier. I know how low blood sugar brings out the beast in you. I can see that I still have a few bumps to iron out in this whole B and B business.”
“Speaking of food, you want me to flag down the waitress?” Caroline offered. “Their fish and chips are pretty good.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll just graze tonight.” Abby stood and made her way over to the salad bar, relieved to escape any more talk about her bed-and-breakfast. She really didn’t like telling lies, not to anyone, and especially not to her husband or friends. It tied her stomach in knots. She wasn’t even very good at it. As she loaded her plate with greens and other supposedly healthy things, wishing she was having fish and chips instead, she wondered how long she could keep up this charade. How long until everyone figured her out and she was forced to throw in the towel? Which would be, of course, a fine-Egyptian-cotton-luxurious-bath-sheet sort of towel.