PH02 - Do Not Disturb by Kate Kingsbury Page A

brief nod in their direction, apparently unperturbed by the sight of the owner of the hotel on her knees with the colonel, who was grinning foolishly.

    Wondering what the widow had been doing in the basement at that hour, Cecily scrambled to her feet and called out a hasty “Good night!”
    Mrs. Parmentier lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then climbed the stairs at a fast clip.
    “Fine figure of a woman, that,” the colonel said, puffing as he regained his feet. “Too bad she’s off her rocker.”
    Startled, Cecily looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Oh, yes,” the colonel assured her, his head nodding slowly up and down. “Quite doo lally, old bean. Tried talking to her. Would have none of it. Acted most strange. Most strange.”
    He shook his head sadly, his watery gaze on the widow as she turned the corner to the next flight. “Ghastly waste, that’s what I say. Would have made some gentleman a spiffing wife. With those hips she could have turned out enough brood to fill a cricket team.”
    Cecily swallowed hard. She had to make allowances. And the colonel was a guest. She had to remember that. But at times it was extremely difficult to keep quiet. “Mrs. Parmentier is a bereaved widow. We have to respect her suffering.”
    “Oh, quite, quite. Didn’t mean to be disrespectful, old girl. No, that would never do.” Obviously flustered, the colonel dragged his pocket watch from his vest pocket. “Ah, I see it’s time for a spot of cheer. Have to have the old nightcap, you know.”
    If he had much more, Cecily thought, someone would have to pour him into his bed. “I’ll say good night, then,” she said, starting to move off.
    The colonel stopped her with a soft tap on the arm. Dropping his voice, he whispered, “Ahem … I don’t suppose there’s, ah, a card game going on belowstairs, by any chance?”
    Knowing quite well that there were at least three card rooms occupied, Cecily looked him in the eye. “I’m afraid not. We don’t get much call for that out of season.”
    He looked disappointed for a moment, then visiblycheered up. “Ah, well, I’ll toddle along to the drawing room, then. Might find someone to share a nightcap with me.”
    “I think that’s an excellent idea. Good night, Colonel.” Cecily smiled to herself as she went down the basement stairs. If he did but know it, she’d saved the colonel a considerable amount of money. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against the kind of gamblers who enjoyed the amenities of the Pennyfoot Hotel.
    She found the kitchen deserted, as was usual that time of night during the off-season. Filling the kettle, she reflected, as she always did, how much simpler it made things to have running water. When she was growing up, the water was drawn every day from the well, though she had no doubt it tasted better for not having been run through iron pipes.
    She carried the kettle over to the stove and set it on top. The coals still glowed, and it took a matter of seconds to poke some life into them and then add a lump or two to bring up the heat. She had often thought how much more convenient it would be to have hot running water. But then, one couldn’t have everything.
    The kettle had just begun to sing when the kitchen door opened and Baxter poked his head around it. “Ah, there you are, madam,” he said, coming into the room. “I thought you might be here.”
    “You are just in time,” Cecily said, measuring tea into the large brown kitchen teapot. “Cup of tea?”
    “That would be very nice. But please allow me to make it.”
    She sent him a reproving glance. “You know perfectly well that this is one chore I prefer to do myself.”
    He said nothing, standing by the door as if not certain what to do next.
    “Baxter,” Cecily said gently, “I do wish you would sit down. There is no one here to see, and I assure you it will not offend me in the least. On the contrary, it would be a good deal more relaxing for me.”
    “But not for me,