Bed and Breakfast (2 page)

“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 black
under 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.

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 that.”

“Shush,” I said. “He might hear you.” I glanced back down the hall to Brent’s room. “Anyway, I like how he dresses. I appreciate a man who keeps himself clean-shaven and tidy.”

“Like Joe did,” Steve said. I paused, thinking of my husband. “Yes, like Joe.” My husband shaved every morning. He ironed his own shirts. He worked at a bank, so he wore a suit to work every day. But he was gone now.

Steve ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He seemed to think about what I had said for a minute. Then he stuck his head back under the sink. “Brent isn’t a plumber, that’s for sure,” he said. “What does he do for a living?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say where he worked.”

“He probably sits at a desk all day. I couldn’t live like that. Imagine being shut up in some office building in the city. I would feel trapped.”

Normally, I would have agreed. I didn’t want to live in the city. But I wasn’t really listening to what Steve was saying. I looked back in the mirror.

“Look at me,” I said, mostly to myself. I rubbed more dirt off my face. “I didn’t even put on makeup today.” How could a man like Brent possibly find me attractive? I felt dowdy in that moment, middle-aged, with no sense of style.

But then Steve said, “A woman as beautiful as you doesn’t need makeup.”

I was stunned. Steve had never said anything like that to me before. “You think I’m beautiful?” I asked him.

He bonked his head on the underside of the sink as he turned to look at me. His face was red. He was embarrassed, too.

“Of course you’re beautiful,” he said. “Didn’t you know that?”

No, I thought, I didn’t.

I looked back at myself in the mirror. My hair was messy from working under the sink. I still had a little black slime on my face. But I did have lovely green eyes. My reddish brown hair framed my pretty, heart-shaped face.

Even though I had already turned forty-five, I looked as if I was still in my thirties. I didn’t have any grey hairs. My figure was still trim because I walked or biked nearly everywhere I went. Steve
was right. I guess I was pretty good-looking for my age.

“You’re not just beautiful,” Steve said. “You’re smart and funny.” Steve hid back under the sink. “Brent would be lucky to have you,” he muttered.

I saw myself differently then. I was beautiful, and I was smart, too, about some things at least. When my husband died, I had turned our home into a bed and breakfast to support myself. I used my computer to promote my business on the internet. People from all over the world saw my ads on websites and came to stay here. Some of my guests came back every year.

Steve was right. Brent
would
be lucky to have me, I thought. I would just have to help Brent figure that out for himself.

Brent wandered back into the kitchen as I wiped the last of the slime off my face. When I saw him smile at me in the mirror, I quickly stepped away from it. I was embarrassed that he caught me looking at myself again. I tried my best not to look at Brent, either. When I snuck a glance at him, he smiled at me, clearly amused by my behaviour.

He clapped his hands. “So, what do people do for fun around here?” he asked.

“Fun?” said Steve. He looked up at Brent from under the sink. “We haven’t had any fun around here since 1985.”

“He’s joking, of course,” I said. Then I played host and told Brent what I usually told my guests. “You could drive over to Bridal Falls,” I said. “The waterfall is lovely. Or you could head into town to shop.”

“Or you could just take a hike,” Steve said. I gave him a warning look. He seemed to be telling Brent to get lost. I should have known then that something was up. Steve wasn’t behaving like himself; he was rarely this impolite.

I tried to smooth over Steve’s rudeness. “Yes, there are many places to hike,” I told Brent. “Or you could take a quiet walk on the beach. The water is just a few steps down that way.” I pointed towards the front door and the road that led down to the lake.

“I think I’ll do that,” Brent said. “Thanks.” He glanced at me, smiling. “Too bad I don’t have someone to keep me company,” he said. Was he really asking me to join him?

I watched as Brent strolled through the front door. He turned and smiled at me again. He gave a little nod towards the beach before he finally left. He was clearly asking me to follow him there.

I couldn’t believe my good luck! Nothing could inspire romance like a walk on the beach. This was my chance to show Brent just how beautiful and smart I really was.

I ran to the bathroom and quickly dabbed on eye shadow and mascara. I didn’t need blush
because I was blushing enough already. Once I put on a little lipstick, I was done.

When I rushed back into the kitchen, Steve glanced up at me and away, then immediately looked at me again. He whistled. “You’re all dolled up.”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “I haven’t even changed my clothes.”

I was embarrassed that Steve noticed I had put on makeup. Brent would, too, then. Would Brent think I was trying too hard to impress him?

I took a last look at myself in the mirror. “Think you can finish putting the sink together by yourself?” I asked Steve as I patted my hair into place.

“Oh, I think I can handle it,” he said. Then I realized that he had already finished the job and was cleaning the cupboard under the sink. That was my job. I knew then that Steve was taking his time, waiting to have coffee with me. We often drank another cup after he finished fixing something.

“I can’t stay and chat right now,” I told him. “Catch you later?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. He sounded disappointed and a little hurt.

I hesitated as I watched him put the cleaning rags back in the pail and get up off the floor. I didn’t want to let Steve down, especially knowing everything he did for me. But I couldn’t pass up this chance at romance with Brent. I headed towards the front door.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Steve called after me. I didn’t answer him. His voice told me that he already knew.

I walked to the water and turned down the beach. I hoped to catch up with Brent, but he was already a long way ahead of me. I couldn’t get closer without running after him. If I did that, I would look too eager to spend time with him. So I took my time strolling along the sandy beach. We would run into each other when he turned to come back, I thought.

The water was shallow in the bay. Sunlight reflected off the sandy bottom and made the water appear green in places. Even though our town was in Northern Ontario, the shore looked like a tropical beach. The water was cold, though. I wouldn’t try to swim in it until well into July.

I reached Brent at the end of the beach. Instead of turning around, he had sat on the boulder that I
often sat on. Dressed in his fine suit, he looked out of place. He must have guessed what I was thinking because he looked down at himself. “I should have changed first,” he said.

“No, you look charming,” I said. Like a fashion model posing for a photographer, I thought. “Am I intruding?”

“No, not at all. I’m glad you came.” He moved over on the boulder to give me room to sit. “I told you I wanted company.” He grinned, and I felt a thrill run through me. I sat next to him.

“The beach is lovely,” he said. He waved a hand at the lake in front of us. “I understand why you choose to live here.”

“My late husband brought me here,” I said. “He got a job at the local bank, so we bought that house.”

“Your bed and breakfast,” Brent said.

“Yes, though we never thought of turning it into a B&B at the time. We didn’t think we would stay more than five years. I thought we were too cut off from everything out here. But then I got used to the quiet. When my husband died, I didn’t want to leave.”

“You mean you didn’t want to leave the life you built with your husband,” Brent said.

I looked at him, surprised. “Yes,” I said. He understood my feelings perfectly.

Brent didn’t say anything more. He seemed lost in thought, and I was lost for words. Brent made me feel clumsy, unsure of myself. We sat in silence for a long time.

“Well, I should let you have your peace and quiet,” I said finally. I was disappointed at how my brief visit with Brent had gone. I stood to leave.

“No, don’t go,” he said. “Please stay.”

He looked so sad as he begged me to stay. I hesitated a moment, not sure how to react.

“I thought I wanted to get away from the noise of the city,” he said, to explain himself. “But now that I’m here, I’m stuck with my own thoughts.”

“Your memories of your wife,” I said.

“Yes.”

I sat back down on the rock beside him. We watched the waves lap the shore at our feet.

“Winter is the hardest time for me,” I said. “I’m okay in the summer. My house is full of guests. I’m busy making beds, cooking breakfast, cleaning house.”

“But when the house is quiet . . .”

“Then I think about Joe, my husband,” I said. “I get so lonely.”

“I sometimes turn to tell my wife something, but she isn’t there,” Brent said.

“I used to do that all the time,” I told him.

He took my hand and squeezed it. “It’s good to talk to someone who understands.”

I looked down at his hand holding mine. Brent Henderson was holding my hand! I wanted to hold his hand forever. I wanted to start a new life. With him. I looked up at his face, wondering if that was a possibility. But he was gazing at the lake as if he was looking into the past.

When Brent and I arrived back at my bed and breakfast, Steve was gone. The old sink pipes were in the garbage can, and the floor around the sink was washed. Steve hadn’t left even one of his tools behind. That meant he wouldn’t come for a visit that evening, as he often did on Saturday nights. I felt disappointed.

Then I cheered myself with the thought that Brent was there. He would stay the night in my home. I planned to ask him to sit with me in the living room later on, as guests sometimes did. I felt that if we spent more time together, his obvious feelings for me would grow. However, I never expected what happened next.

“Is there a place to eat dinner in this town?” Brent asked me.

I thought briefly of suggesting the fish and chip shop where Steve and I sometimes had supper. But Brent was dressed in a suit. I suspected he had a different sort of restaurant in mind. A fine-dining restaurant was in order.

“The Old Church Restaurant is just up the road,” I said. “The food there is excellent.”

“Would you care to join me?” he asked. My heart skipped a beat. Brent must have seen the shock on my face. “I hate eating alone,” he explained. “Honestly, I haven’t enjoyed a meal since my wife passed away.”