Room At The Inn (The Jeff Resnick Mysteries) by LL Bartlett Page B

to the loveseat across the way. "Don't let her upset you. You'll just get a sick headache and then neither of us will have any fun."
    It took a moment for my words to sink in; she'd said the same thing to me earlier. A smile cracked her solemn features. "Okay, you win."
    I heard footsteps cross the living room above. Moments later Susan came down the stairs, looked around the barroom , and frowned. "Is Ms. Marshall around?"
    "I think she's in the hot tub," Maggie volunteered.
    Susan looked chagrined, picked up a clean glass and poured herself a large sherry from the decanter on the bar. I got the feeling this wasn't something she normally did—God forbid she should let her hair down in front of the guests. Ah, but we weren't paying guests, I reminded myself. I settled back in my seat, grabbed a magazine off the end table and flipped pages, trying to ignore Susan as thoroughly as she ignored me.
    "Mrs. Andolina is not happy with her," Susan continued.
    "So we heard."
    Susan took another sip. "As long as she isn't drinking, Eileen's the perfect guest. But after she's had a few—"
    Maggie joined our hostess at the bar. "I don't envy you dealing with such things."
    I buried my nose deeper into the magazine, trying not to listen.
    "Don't get me wrong, I love running the inn. But sometimes I have a bad day. Today is one of them."
    We must have run into her when she was having a string of them, I thought as I put the magazine down and wandered back into the game room. Racking up the table, I picked up a cue and sank balls while the women talked.
    "It's an odd mix of guests this weekend," Susan continued. "There's not a lot of interaction going on. But at least we have good help."
    "Didn't you say Nadine was new?"
    "Yes, but she's working out. Thank goodness we've had Adam all season."
    As I moved to the side of the pool table, Susan perched on the piano bench, slipped off her left shoe and massaged her foot. "We hired him last spring to help Zack with the renovations. He asked to stay on when we opened again in May. He plans to go to college next semester for hotel management. He'd be good at it. But then he'll be gone and we'll have to start interviewing all over again."
    "Sounds like it's hard to keep good help," Maggie said.
    "It is. Especially in a seasonal business like this. I can't blame them for finding other jobs when we're closed, but it's damned inconvenient."
    I racked up for another game, aware of the lag in their conversation.
    "I've been admiring that mirror on the stairway," Maggie said.
    "Do you want to buy it?"
    I glanced up as Maggie blinked in surprise. "Well—"
    "Just about everything in the inn is for sale. It's my surplus."
    "Surplus?"
    "I rent space in one of the antique co-ops in Waitsfield. It's not a great moneymaker, but it helps make ends meet during the months we're closed."
    "I've thought about doing the same thing, but I never had the capital to get started.”
    "In spring, I go on buying sprees for weeks at a time. Usually in Pennsylvania and Ohio. After the autumn leaves are done and the tourists leave, we'll be closed for six weeks and I'll split my time between here and the co-op. We hope to renovate the rest of the rooms in time for ski season. That should make a big difference to our balance sheet. Come April, I'll go on another buying trip."
    "Sounds like you've got all the bases covered."
    Susan finished her drink and slipped her shoe back on. "I'd better warn Ms. Marshall about her mouth." She pursed her lips, as though taking on the bitch persona. She didn't have to stretch far to find it. "Good night," she said to Maggie, once again ignoring my presence. She took the dirty glasses to the kitchen. Moments later we heard the screen door bang.
    I looked up over my cue stick to see Maggie watching me from the doorway. "Don't even think about it."
    "About what?"
    "Starting an antiques business."
    "I don't have the money. But maybe I can talk Brenda into going in on it with me."
    "Don't ask her