“I wish you’d have come to me before going to the Glandons,” Noah told Zara—again. He sat with her in his car, looking up at Marlow House. They had arrived minutes earlier.
“I’m so sorry, Noah. We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, we do. They didn’t give us any choice,” Noah reminded her.
“I just don’t know how we’re going to pull this off. Maybe you should just forget about me and go talk to Chris. Tell him everything.”
“What if he doesn’t believe me? If he doesn’t believe you? Why should he? We’re strangers to him,” Noah reminded her.
“Then don’t tell him everything,” she suggested. “It’s my fault all this happened. I’ll deal with the consequences of my actions. You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want you risking your life, and this could be dangerous.”
“Do you honestly think I would walk away from you now?” he asked. “Plus, if I don’t tell him everything—or if I tell him everything too soon, it could cost him his life.”
Zara let out a sigh and slumped back in the car’s seat and closed her eyes. “Imagine what would have happened had I not got lost and ended up in Silverton.”
“I just hope this Ramone knows what he’s talking about. You sure the Glandons are arriving tomorrow?” Noah asked.
“That’s what they said.”
“I think I’d better go up first. I’ll tell them you’re in the car on the phone. And then when I come back to get the rest of the luggage, you can come up with me.”
“Sounds good.”
Noah opened the driver’s door and stepped out of the car. He paused a moment before closing the door and said, “Whatever you do, stay in the car until I get back. Promise?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
The scent of pine permeated the interior of Marlow House. It came from multiple sources—the towering noble pine in the living room—festive evergreen wreaths hanging in various rooms throughout the house—and diffused essential oils, a holiday gift from Heather.
Danielle had been humming Christmas carols all afternoon. She stood in the living room, admiring the Christmas tree, its limbs weighed down with gold and red shiny balls. Hidden in the branches were strands of white twinkly lights. They had decorated the tree earlier in the month—the Sunday after her and Walt’s first official date. Most of their friends had helped with the tree, including Ian, Lily, Chris, Heather, Adam, Melony, and even the chief and his boys, along with the guests who had been staying at Marlow House that weekend.
There was no denying the Christmas spirit after the tree-decorating party. The holiday spirit continued with each new round of guests, who usually arrived on Thursday or Friday and checked out by Monday. However, today was Monday, and while guests had checked out this morning, more were arriving this afternoon.
“Everything looks beautiful,” Walt said when he walked into the living room. “I think this tree is even better than last year’s.”
Danielle turned toward him and smiled. “Times like this I wish I would have listened to you, and didn’t start the bed and breakfast.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that. You seem to really enjoy it. Meeting new people—giving you an excuse to bake ten dozen cookies.”
Danielle grinned. “I know. But I really wish we weren’t having any guests this week. I don’t want to share our first Christmas with strangers.”
Walt walked to Danielle and took one of her hands in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have many Christmases together. And it’s a little too late to close up shop now. I believe the newlyweds have arrived.”
Danielle glanced toward the front window, but she couldn’t see the street from where she stood. “They haven’t rung the bell.”
“They’re just sitting in the car. I saw them from my window upstairs.”
Danielle frowned, still looking toward the window. “Maybe it’s not them, just someone lost and trying to figure out where they are,” she suggested.
The doorbell rang.
“See,” Walt said.
Several minutes later Danielle opened the front door, Walt by her side. Standing on the front porch was a man, suitcase in hand. He appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, and by Danielle’s estimation, fairly good-looking, with an athletic physique, sandy-colored hair, and twinkling blue eyes.
“I hope I’m at the right place. This is Marlow House, isn’t it?” the man asked.
“Yes, it is. I’m the proprietor, Danielle Boatman, and this is one of our full-time residents, Walt Marlow,” Danielle introduced. “I assume you’re Noah Bishop?”
“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.” Noah turned toward Walt, prepared to shake his hand when he paused and said, “Wait a minute…you’re that Walt Marlow the author!”
Walt shook his hand and smiled. “Guilty as charged.”
“I recognized you from the picture on your book cover! I just finished your book. I absolutely loved it!”
“Thank you.”
“Wow!” Noah looked at Danielle and grinned. “I had no idea a celebrity lived here.”
Danielle glanced at Walt and smiled. “We are proud of him.”
“I heard they were already talking about making a movie out of your book. It would make a great movie.”
“There is talk, but it’s a little soon to say for sure,” Walt told him.
Danielle craned her neck to get a better view of the street. “And your wife? I believe I talked to her on the phone when she made the reservation.”
“She’s in the car, on the phone. It rang right when we pulled up,” he lied. “She’ll be a few minutes.”
Danielle opened the door wider and welcomed him in. “There’s no reason for us to all stand out here. Please, come in.”
Still holding the suitcase, Noah walked into the house and glanced around the impressive entry hall and asked, “Do you have a lot of guests staying here?”
“At the moment, just Walt—and now you and your wife,” Danielle said. “We have two other guests arriving tomorrow, who’ll be staying through Christmas, like you. I can take you to your room now unless you’d rather wait for your wife,” Danielle asked.
“I’d like to take this suitcase to my room, if you don’t mind, but first, I need to tell you something.” He glanced to the front door and then back to Danielle.
“Yes?” Danielle asked.
“I wanted to warn you about my wife before she gets here. I don’t want to embarrass her, but I think I should explain.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Zara, my wife, is painfully shy. And she has a few—umm—issues she’s trying to work through. I don’t want to say she sufferers from mysophobia exactly…”
“She has a fear of germs?” Danielle asked.
“Mostly, she doesn’t like shaking hands. And touching doorknobs is a problem for her.”
Walt resisted the temptation to say that might present a problem getting in and out of rooms.
“I’ll confess, she wasn’t thrilled about staying at a B and B. I talked her into it after the house we rented fell through. You see, if we rented a house, she would just go through and sanitize all the doorknobs, and then she would feel comfortable opening them.”
“If your wife feels more comfortable wiping down my doorknobs, I won’t be offended. And I understand not wanting to shake hands. I know a number of people who feel the same way,” Danielle said.
“Thank you, that’s kind of you. She usually keeps some wipes in her pocket. But she only uses them when people aren’t around, because she’s self-conscious. That’s normally not a problem, because when we’re together, I just open the door for her and no one thinks anything about it.”
“There was a time most gentlemen did that anyway,” Walt noted.
Noah looked at Walt and smiled. “True.”
“Is there anything else?” Danielle asked.
“Like I said she is shy—self-conscious. So if she doesn’t talk to people, please don’t take it personally.”
After Danielle showed Noah to his room upstairs, where he left his suitcase, the two returned to the first floor. Danielle stayed in the living room with Walt while Noah stepped outside to retrieve his wife.
“I knew a guy once who refused to shake hands,” Walt mused. He sat with Danielle on the sofa.
“Was it the germ thing?”
Walt shrugged. “He never said; I never asked. But I do remember Hal Tucker went to shake the guy’s hand when they first met, and Hal took exception to the guy’s refusal. Almost broke out into a fistfight.”
“I wouldn’t want to shake Hal Tucker’s hand either, and it has nothing to do with germs,” Danielle grumbled.
Walt chuckled in response.
Danielle glanced to the doorway leading to the hall, listening for Noah to return with his wife. “I will admit, I expected him to be much younger.”
“Why’s that? Did his wife sound young on the phone?”
“In a way, but that’s not why. They’re newlyweds, so I just expected them to be younger.”
“It might be their second marriage—like us.”
“He’s older than us—well, at least he’s older than me.” Danielle grinned mischievously.
“I’d remind you that you’re technically older, if we go by my age at death—yet considering Clint was older—I don’t know how old I am anymore.”
Danielle laughed. “Aw, come on, Walt, we know exactly how old you are. You were born in 1899, so on your next birthday you will be, what, one hundred eighteen? I think you look darn good for your age, old man.”
“In my day, young lady, an impertinent wife would find herself over my lap while getting a sound beating.”
Danielle smiled at Walt. “I know you better than that. Even back then you wouldn’t have struck a woman.”
“True,” Walt said with a sigh.
They heard the front door opening. Danielle stood up.
“You coming?” Danielle asked.
“In a minute,” Walt said.
Danielle turned from Walt, but before she took a step toward the door, he reached up and gave her backside a firm swat with the palm of his hand.
Danielle jumped in response and gave a little squeal. She turned quickly to face Walt while her right hand went back to touch the seat of her pants. “You brat!”
“I couldn’t resist,” he said as he stood up from the sofa.
“I’ll get even with you later,” Danielle whispered to Walt as they made their way to the door.
“I’m counting on it,” he teased, reaching out and giving her backside another swat, this one much gentler.
When Danielle met Zara a few minutes later, she wondered briefly if the woman had been a model. Dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and dark slacks, Zara was tall and thin, with a pretty face and shortly cropped hair, with big blue eyes. Danielle had always been envious of taller women, because they were able to carry additional weight. Zara lacked Danielle’s curves, although Danielle never considered herself especially curvy, not when standing beside Lily. She guessed Zara was in her forties and suspected Walt might be correct; this was probably a second marriage for one or both of them.
Danielle noticed Zara wasn’t carrying a purse, and thought, A girl after my own heart. There were many times Danielle had refused to carry a purse, often using one of her pockets to hold her phone and ID, yet in the last year or so she had begun carrying a purse more frequently.
“Would you like a quick tour around the house?” Danielle offered after introductions were made. “So you’ll know your way around.”
“That would be lovely,” Zara told her.
Danielle started with the parlor and then went to the living room, pausing a moment at the downstairs bedroom.
“I normally save this room for guests who have difficulty with the stairs,” Danielle explained. “Tomorrow we have two gentlemen arriving, and one of them will be staying in this room.”
She gave them a quick tour of the kitchen and then took them into the library, Walt trailing behind them. Displayed where the original portraits had once stood were Clint’s reproductions. Danielle explained the paintings’ history.
Zara studied the portrait of Walt and then looked over to him. “She’s right, you do look just like your cousin.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
Zara turned her attention back to the painting and cocked her head slightly. Still looking at it, she said, “I can almost imagine you stepping out of that painting. That you are Walt Marlow. This Walt Marlow.”