Mayhem at the Orient Express by Kylie Logan Page B

coming. I’ve got plenty of room.”
    “Except . . .” Amanda’s cheeks flushed the same color as the cabbage roses on the
     wallpaper in the hallway. She plucked at her robe. “I wasn’t planning to stay more
     than a couple nights. That is, I hadn’t exactly made arrangements, if you know what
     I mean, and . . .”
    I had never been accused of being slow, but let’s face it, I was new to this innkeeper
     thing. In fact, I was new to the service industry. It took me a couple moments to
     catch on to what she was getting at.
    “The cost of the room. Of course!” I made up my mind in an instant and hoped my smile
     softened the edges of talking business. “The weather isn’t your fault. How about if
     I charge half the rate I quoted you for however long you stay, including last night.”
    Relief swept over her expression and she disappeared down the hallway and into the
     kitchen.
    “Well, that was a lousy business decision.”
    When I turned around, I found Kate leaning against the wall outside the parlor, her
     arms crossed over her chest and her top lip curled in disapproval. “Your business
     shouldn’t suffer just because she can’t afford to stay here.”
    “And what should I do? Tell her she should go sleep in her car?” Honestly, I wondered
     how people like Kate could look at themselves in the mirror. Then again, when you
     don’t have a conscience in the first place, maybe things like kindness and common
     sense don’t figure into your way of thinking. Shaking my head, I turned back around
     to head out on my original mission and Kate walked over to the door. She’d slipped
     off her boots when she came into the house and she reached for a pair of slipper socks.
     Before she grabbed a pair, though, she stepped back and made a face.
    “Wet spot,” she said, looking down at the floor and shuddering. “Now my socks are
     wet and—”
    “Take two.” I tossed her another pair of slipper socks. “That way you can take off
     your socks and—”
    My words were interrupted by a knock on my front door.
    “Go. Get the tissues.” Kate leaned backward and took a quick look into the parlor.
     “Chandra needs them bad, and she’s going to start wiping her nose in that pretty afghan
     of yours if you don’t get them fast. I’ll answer the door.”
    She did, and I raced upstairs. I had my head inside the closet outside the main bathroom
     when I heard the rumble of a man’s voice.
    “Bea!” Kate called up to me. “There’s a man here who’s looking for a room for the
     night.”
    “I was staying in a cottage over on Mitchell,” the man called out, following Kate’s
     example and raising his voice loud enough for me to hear. “But the heat went off.
     Someone in town told me you had a generator, so I figured I’d take my chances and
     see if you have a room.”
    I loaded my arms with boxes of tissues decorated with flowers and butterflies and
     hurried back to the stairs. “Of course,” I said, starting down. “I’ve got six rooms
     and only one guest and—”
    Three stairs up from the front entryway, I froze and looked down at the man who was
     looking up at me.
    The same man who’d plowed into me outside the Orient Express the day before.
    The man who I’d seen arguing with Peter.
    “Excellent!” Apparently, I don’t have as memorable a face as I always thought. Without
     a flicker of recognition, the man lifted the duffel bag that he’d set on the floor
     next to him and stomped his feet against the hallway rug. He took off his fedora and
     a sprinkling of snowflakes landed on the floor. “I’m frozen to the bone. I can’t wait
     to get settled,” he said.
    “Is it him?”
Behind the man, Kate took one look at my expression (I am clearly not subtle when
     I’m gobsmacked), and mouthed the question.
    I nodded in response and scrambled, wondering if there was a way I could announce
     that I’d remembered there were guests in every single one of my rooms. Before I