Miz Scarlet and the Bewildered Bridegroom (20 page)

“Whoa!” The look on the
stunned girl’s face said it all. Kenny hit a nerve. Maybe all this
mocking of my relationship with Kenny was a way for her to test the
adults’ reaction to her notion of romance. I took pity on her.
After all, I’ve spent a couple decades dealing with high school
students.

“Believe it or not,
Jen, we were once in your shoes. We know all about the tug of
hormones. But as you get older and wiser, you want something to
show for your efforts. You begin to understand that romance is so
much more than just physical heat. Being friends first makes it so
much sweeter and it means that when you have a disagreement about
something, it’s a lot harder to walk away from someone who has a
piece of your heart. After all, it’s not like we can spend our
lives in bed. We have to be able to hold an intelligent
conversation once in a while. Don’t forget, you’re studying to be a
nurse. You take your studies seriously, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.” She
looked down at her feet, as if embarrassed we caught her in the act
of snatching a cookie from the off-limits cookie jar. It made me
think she and Shark Boy were more intimate than she let on. It also
made me think her mother had made a point of trying to keep her on
the right track before she died.

“Shouldn’t you put as
much into your relationship as you do your studies? And shouldn’t
you get something worthwhile out of dating? I’m not suggesting that
you have to marry Hammerhead, but when you get together, you
shouldn’t just be killing time. You should be having fun together,
and not just in the sack.”

The crimson flush that
crept up her neck and onto her cheeks was telling. She assumed that
sex was all part of the dating game. Maybe Jenny had doubts of her
own all this time and just never consciously realized
it.

“We do,” she insisted
adamantly. Was she trying to convince Kenny and me of that or
herself?

“Besides,” I continued,
“I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He thinks you’re
something special.”

“He does?” She studied
me carefully for signs I was exaggerating Shark Boy’s interest in
her. That told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t really
all that sure of Michael Sharkey and that made her vulnerable;
vulnerable girls can make some pretty serious mistakes in their
quest to feel loved, especially girls who grew up without
fathers.

“It’s true,” Kenny
agreed. “He reminds me of me at that age. I can tell you that as a
normal, healthy, heterosexual male, I would have leaped at the
chance to tumble into bed with the divine Miz S., but I had just as
much, if not more, fun hanging around with her. Life is always
going to be a compromise, Jen. You won’t ever get everything you
want, so when you negotiate, make sure you get a deal that works
for you. Sex should never be more important than the person who’s
with you.”

These words of wisdom
from a man who had long ago captured my heart reminded me why I was
so glad he was once again a part of my life. As I looked up at him
standing there by the refrigerator, he gave me a
wink.

“And on that note,
class is dismissed,” I grinned.

Just after ten thirty,
I said goodnight to Kenny at the door to the Red Oak Room, stopped
to check on Laurel and January, and then went up to the third floor
suite I shared with Jenny. I wasn’t sure if things would be awkward
between us after the kitchen conversation, but Jen seemed more like
her old self. She was curled up on the sofa with Mozzie and Huck in
the sitting room. I took the arm chair and sprawled out. Huck
hopped down, padded over to his water bowl, and took a few sips.
When he was done, he joined me in the chair. We watched “House
Hunters” together, trying to guess which of the three properties
the couple would pick. I went with the split-level. Jen picked the
ranch. The couple chose the tiny bungalow.

“Well, that’s it for
me. Time to call it a night,” I announced, watching the credits
scroll across the screen. “Sleep tight, Jen.”

“You
too.”

Huck followed me into
my bedroom. I pulled back the covers of my bed, fluffed the
pillows, and padded off to the bathroom to brush my teeth. By the
time I climbed into bed, yawning a few minutes later, I was having
trouble keeping my eyes open. The little dog nestled next to me,
contentedly drifting off to doggie dreamland. In the darkness, I
listened to the peeping tree frogs outside my window. Their
rhythmic symphony lulled me into a deep, restful
sleep.

Chapter Fifteen --

I was pleasantly
surprised to find I had survived the night when my alarm went off
at half past six. Opening my eyes, it took me a moment to awaken
fully, but when I did, I saw golden light fall across the floor,
the sun’s early promise of a beautiful day.

I fed the inn guests
and the Googins girls, plying them with French toast, bacon, and
fruit salad, pouring coffee freely, and when they had all had their
fill, they scattered to the four winds. While Jenny led Shark Boy
and Dr. Van Zandt to the summit of White Oak Hill and Lacey drove
my mother and Edna to the local party store in search of goodies
for the Pinault-Magnusdotter wedding, Kenny headed to the office.
The only one left at the inn besides me and the pets was Ruth,
looking forward to some sleep now that the night shift was over.
Bur would keep an eye on things from his perch in the carriage
house.

Careful to avoid making
excess noise, I got down to my daily duties as an innkeeper. There
were beds to make, bathrooms to scrub, and carpets to vacuum. At
half past nine, Jenny returned and got to work on the first floor,
zipping through the dining room and living room before tackling the
powder room and foyer. Michael Sharkey and Dr. Van Zandt retired to
the library for a game of chess and a chat, killing
time.

“Michael?” I paused to
speak with him as I passed by on my way to the kitchen. “Jen said
you two were headed to the beach. Would you kids like me to pack
you a picnic lunch? I could do a couple of sandwiches on ciabatta
bread, fruit, cookies....”

“Gee, I hate to give
you more work, Miz Scarlet.” The use of my nickname caught me by
surprise. It made me think Shark Boy and Jenny had been talking.
Maybe friendship and love were beginning to mix. “We could grab
something on the road.”

“I’ve got a cooler and
ice packs. I don’t mind,” I told him cheerfully.

“That would be great.”
Shark Boy’s enthusiastic response made me think he was a little
short on cash when it came to entertaining Jenny in high style.
Dating can be expensive, especially for a young man working his way
through college.

I did a load of sheets
and then made my way to the kitchen to pack a picnic lunch for the
teens. As soon as Jenny returned the vacuum to the closet and shut
the door, she raced up the stairs for her suit and towel. Tote bag
in hand, she appeared in the kitchen a short time later, ready to
fetch the cooler.

“Do you kids want to
take sand chairs with you? You’ll find them in the back of the
garage.” I handed Jenny a bottle of sunscreen. “Better safe than
sorry.”

“Oh, there you go,
fussing over me again!” The teenager crossed her eyes in mock
frustration, but when Shark Boy turned away, she threw an arm
around my shoulder and gave me a quick hug. “Thanks, Miz
Scarlet.”

“You’re
welcome.”

Dr. Van Zandt wanted to
take Laurel to the Frog and Cricket for a meal when she returned
from her shopping expedition, so I printed out a map and directions
to the Farmington restaurant. He sat on the sofa in the library,
watching the news.

“The ladies seem
excited about this upcoming wedding,” he commented.

“They do, don’t
they?”

“I guess you’re never
really too old to appreciate romance,” he said, “even if you’re too
old to do anything about it.”

“Sometimes the
occasional romantic gesture has power all its own. Besides, youth
is wasted on the young. As long as you’re breathing, life goes on.
You might as well enjoy it. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? As
Cole Porter suggested, you should face the music and
dance.”

“Sometimes timing is
everything,” he sighed. Was he wrestling with his feelings for
Laurel or processing the shock of finding out his cancer had
returned? Something told me that was his question to answer, not
mine. I left him to it and went back to work.

Lacey had an
ophthalmology appointment at one thirty. She and Edna had lunch on
the sun porch before she left.

“So, what will you do
now?” I asked the Queen of Clean when the front door shut and we
were alone.

“I’m at loose ends,”
she admitted.

“If you’d like to watch
a video....”

“It’s not really my
thing, as you young people like to say.”

“What is your thing?” I
admit I was curious. I didn’t know much about Edna Rivera. “How do
you like to relax?”

“I don’t. I work. I
eat. I go to bed. I get up and do it again the next
day.”

“But you must have some
favorite way of having fun.”

“Not
really.”

“What do you do on
Saturdays?”

“I volunteer at my
church. We give the place a thorough cleaning, to get it ready for
Sunday.”

“What do you do on
Sundays?”

“I go to church. I come
home. I clean my house. I usually have dinner with my sister and
brother-in-law.”

“In other words, you
don’t know how to have fun,” I decided.

“I’ve spent my life
working, Scarlet. I had to put food on the table, so I did what I
had to do.”

“What did you like to
do for fun when you were growing up?”

“Oh, I liked to read
books.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful
afternoon, Edna. Why not sit in the garden and read for a
while?”

“I didn’t bring a book
with me.”

“We have a library
filled with books. Why not pick one?”

“I’m not used to
frittering my time away on silly things like
stories.”

“You think reading is a
waste of time?” I’ll admit I was shocked to hear that. No wonder
Larry was always working. Like mother, like
daughter.

“There’s always
something that needs doing, Scarlet. We can’t neglect our
responsibilities,” she reminded me, somewhat dourly. I rolled my
eyes heavenward in dismay.

“A mind needs a good
housecleaning once in a while, too,” I pointed out. “If all you do
is work, work, work, you can get stuck in a rut.”

“Well, life isn’t
always about having a good time, Scarlet.”

“No, but all work and
no play makes
you
a dull girl. Good books lift you up and let
you take a journey to places you’d never get to go on your own.
They inspire you to think outside your little box, Edna, and look
for opportunities you might not otherwise recognize. Take a good
love story, for example....”

The frown she wore on
her face softened slightly as I pushed back. This old battle ax had
no intention of conceding the war until I mentioned the part about
the love story. That was her Achilles heel. She had kept the torch
burning for Big Larry all these years. Was she ready to pour a
little fuel on the fire?

“Okay, okay!” She threw
her hands up in the air. “I surrender. I’ll read a book. But it
better be a good one, or I’ll take a chunk out of your hide, missy!
None of this vampire nonsense! I want a proper book about human
beings...and it better not be one of those heaving bosom tales,
either. No pirates robbing, raping, and pillaging!”

“Edna, come with me,” I
instructed her, turning on my heel just barely in time to hide my
smile. Boy, she was one tough cookie. No wonder she walked away
from books. If she had indulged her desire for love stories, she’d
have yielded to that magnetic tug of attraction long ago and
confessed her stupidity to Big Larry. That little secret she kept
for more than three decades changed three lives, four including
Michaela’s, all because she was too stubborn to admit she was human
and made a mistake.

I considered Edna’s
personal life, not because I’m a Nosy Parker, but because I was
trying to figure out what books to suggest to the woman whose heart
was so repressed, it wouldn’t show up on a
cardiogram.

“This is our library,”
I announced, leading the Queen of Clean into the one room at the
inn treasured by all the members of my family.

My late father’s
history tomes sat on the shelves beside my mother’s beloved
collection of ornithology, botany, and gardening books. There were
classics like
War and
Peace
,
A Tale of Two
Cities
, and even a tattered copy
of
Make Way for
Ducklings
. My grandmother had been
schooled in the needle arts; we still had many of her favorites for
quilting, cross-stitching, embroidery, and even clothing design.
Over the years, partly because my mother felt confined in her
wheelchair, we had expanded our book collection to include a number
of mysteries, love stories, romantic suspense novels, and even
thrillers. Laurel normally bought a book or two each month,
perusing the respected reviews for potential winners. If, after
reading the book, she still liked it, it was added to the shelves.
If she didn’t, it went to the annual Cheswick Library Book Sale or
to Goodwill. A lot of our guests took advantage of our collection,
borrowing a book to read before bed or down by the pond on a nice
day.