Bed and Breakfast

Bed and Breakfast by Gail Anderson-Dargatz Page B

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Authors: Gail Anderson-Dargatz
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look like a granny’s house.
    “Your towels are here,” I said. I pulled out the top drawer of the dresser. “If you forgot to pack anything, let me know. You’ll find toothpaste and shampoo in the guest bathroom just down the hall.”
    “That’s wonderful,” he said. “Thank you.”
    He was politely sending me away. I knew I should have left the room at that moment. A good bed and breakfast host gives her guests privacy. But I felt drawn to the man. I struggled to think of something to say so I could stay with him a little longer.
    “Perhaps you’d like an extra pillow,” I said. Then I felt silly. There were already four pillows on the bed. “No, these are fine,” Brent said.
    “Well, let me know if you need anything,” I said.
    “Thank you, I will.”
    As he turned to look out the window at the lake, I glanced at myself in the dresser mirror. I had a huge black streak of slime from the sink pipes on my cheek. I quickly tried to rub it off. That only made it worse. I now looked like I had a black eye.
    Brent smiled when he turned from the window to find I was still there. I saw him notice the blackunder my eye, but he didn’t say anything about it. I knew Steve would have pointed it out. Brent, on the other hand, had manners.
    “I take it Steve is your husband?” Brent asked.
    I laughed. “No, no,” I said. “Steve is just here to fix the sink.”
    “My mistake,” Brent said. “You seem very comfortable together.”
    “We’ve known each other a long time,” I said. “Steve was my husband’s best friend.”
    “Your husband passed away?”
    I nodded. “He was killed in a car accident. A driver fell asleep at the wheel and ran into him.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    Brent looked so sad for me that I felt myself start to cry. But I brought my emotions under control. “The accident was a long time ago,” I said.
    “I just lost my wife this winter,” Brent said. “She died of breast cancer.”
    “Oh, no,” I said. I felt the tears return. I knew what losing a spouse was like. But I also thought, So, he’s single.
    “That’s why I’m here,” Brent said. “I just had to get away from our house in Toronto. Too many things there remind me of my wife.”
    I nodded. I understood. There were reminders of my husband all over my old house, even in that very guest room. There was the trim Joe had nailed around the doorway. There was the light fixture he had hung up. Joe and I had papered the walls together.
    “I know exactly how you feel,” I said. “I sometimes feel like Joe is still here with me.”
    “You never remarried?” Brent asked.
    “No.” Brent’s eyes were so beautiful. When he gave me his full attention, as he did now, I felt warmed inside, but also shy. “I don’t get many chances to meet new people here,” I said.
    “Except during tourist season,” Brent said. He winked at me. His smile made my heart beat faster. Was he saying what I hoped he was saying? Could he possibly be interested in me? I said a hasty goodbye and left the room before he could see me blush.

Chapter Four
    I went back to the kitchen and wiped my face clean with a paper towel. I checked in the mirror over the sink to make sure I had removed all the black stuff. My face was still dirty. No, I thought. A man like Brent Henderson could not possibly be interested in me.
    “Well, I just made a complete fool of myself,” I told Steve. I meant talking to my guest with slime on my face. But that wasn’t what Steve heard.
    “Couldn’t keep your eyes off him, eh?” Steve asked.
    I looked down at Steve. He was still kneeling, working under the sink. “I was that obvious?” I asked. If Steve had noticed my interest, Brent must have noticed it, too. Heat rose up my neck and over my face. I was blushing.
    Steve sat back to look up at me. “I suspect he’s used to women staring at him,” he told me. “He’s the kind of man who wants that sort of attention. Look at him. All dressed up like

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