The Room with the Second-Best View (18 page)

“She's generous. I'll give her that.”

“A bit too generous, don't you think?” She cast a glance toward the B&B's door, which stood open. “It's kind of embarrassing to have someone buy so many gifts for us.”

“She's finally getting a niece, another girl in the family. Let her spoil you if it makes her happy.” Justin extended a hand, and she placed hers into it, reveling in the warmth of his touch. “If I were rich, I'd do the same.”

Which reminded her of a question she'd pondered throughout the day. “All that stuff she bought today must have cost a fortune. Where did she get her money?”

“She worked as an executive assistant for some big corporation up in Boston until she retired. Never married, and she still lives in the house my great-grandfather built when she was a girl. It was paid for decades ago, I'm sure. No mortgage, no car, no family to spend her money on. I'll bet she still has the first dime she ever made.”

“Well, she won't have it long if she keeps buying everything in sight.” A movement caught her eye. Aunt Lorna and Al descended the porch while Millie stood watching from the doorway. “There they are. Pop the trunk.”

Justin did, and then exited the car. Susan rifled through the shopping bags filling the backseat beside her until she found the one from the first department store they'd visited. What would Millie think about Aunt Lorna's gift? Grabbing one of the bags by the handles, she opened her door and stood, wincing when her feet took the burden of her weight.

“Carefully, please.” Aunt Lorna stood off to one side, watching Al and Justin lift the heavy carton out of the trunk. “Seven years is a long time to suffer for one clumsy mistake.”

“Yikes.” Al adjusted his grip on the edges of the large, flat box. “What's in here? Bricks?”

“It's a mirror.” Justin swung so they could both walk forward up the stairs. “A big, heavy one.”

Aunt Lorna turned toward Millie, who had exited the house and stood watching the procedure from the covered porch. “My dear Mrs. Richardson, you will simply adore it. It's a regent's mirror based on an eighteenth century English antique, beautifully beveled and in such a gorgeous bronze that I knew the moment I saw it that it
must
go in the Bo Peep room. It's absolutely perfect and far more suitable than the small one hanging there.”

Millie's jaw dangled, and Al halted midstep. “You bought a mirror for our house?”

Frowning, Aunt Lorna pointed toward Al. “Watch where you're going. Take care on those stairs.”

They turned the box sideways to enter the house and passed out of view.

Aunt Lorna turned. “Susan dear, would you bring one of the—ah. You've got it.”

Susan relinquished the voluminous shopping bag and followed Aunt Lorna to the porch, her expression carefully impassive while the second gift was bestowed.

“This is for you.”

Her expression stunned, Millie stammered, “I—don't know what to say.” She peered into the bag. “What is it?”

Aunt Lorna set the shopping bag on the porch and extracted an item. “Towels.”

“But we have plenty of towels.” She lifted a questioning gaze to Susan, who shrugged.

“Not like these,” Aunt Lorna insisted. “Feel that.” Obediently, Millie rubbed a hand over the towel. “It's Egyptian velour jacquard. I've bought you a dozen, with matching hand towels and facecloths.”

Millie snatched her hand away. “They must have cost a fortune. I can't accept them.”

“Nonsense.” The older woman replaced the towel in the bag. “A quality B&B must have quality bath linens. No offense, dear, but the towel I used this morning practically took the top two layers of skin off.”

Clearly taken aback, Millie remained speechless. Having been placed in the same position many times throughout the day, Susan felt a rush of sympathy for her.

“Now, before the men return, I have a matter I'd like to discuss.” Aunt Lorna looped an arm through Susan's and pulled her toward the house. “Just us girls.”

They entered the parlor, and Aunt Lorna pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind them. Turning, she dusted her hands. “Now, about the wedding reception.”

Oh, no.
A wail of despair nearly escaped Susan's lips. Throughout the day whenever Aunt Lorna brought up the wedding, Justin had deftly turned the conversation. Now it was Susan's turn to have her willpower put to the test.

“There isn't going to be a reception.” She kept a smile in place. “Justin and I agreed on that from the outset.”

“Oh come, my dear.” Aunt Lorna shook her head slowly and fixed Susan with a pitying look. “Men simply don't understand a woman's desires in matters like this.” Before Susan could voice an argument, she turned to Millie. “How about you, Mrs. Richardson? Did you have a reception when you married Mr. Richardson?”

With a nervous glance toward Susan, Millie nodded. “Yes, but we had a rather large wedding, so it was expected.”

“And your daughter?” When Millie looked surprised, Aunt Lorna smiled. “I saw the pictures in the dining room. A lovely girl, and such a beautiful, simple dress she wore. I especially liked the close-up of her and her husband's hands holding the knife poised above their wedding cake, their gold rings shining.”

A misty look appeared on Millie's face. “She was a beautiful bride.”

“And where was that reception held? From the photo I thought it might have been at someone's home.”

Millie nodded. “Mine. Not this one, but where we lived before. Alison married in a hurry because her husband was being deployed overseas. Still, we managed to host a very nice reception for a few cl—oh.” With a glance toward Susan, she lifted her good hand to cover her mouth.

Aunt Lorna didn't miss a beat. “I'm sure it was splendid, and that your daughter was grateful.”

An apology stole over Millie's features. “She was, actually. At first she didn't want photos taken, but many times she's told me how glad she is to have them.”

Susan gulped. On the mantel at Daddy's house stood a treasured picture of her mother in a lovely wedding gown, gazing up into her new husband's face. How many hours over the years since Mom's death had Susan spent staring at that photo? Would her own daughter one day ask to see pictures of her parents on their wedding day?

Stand firm.
She could almost hear Justin's voice.
Don't give in.

“I'm sure we can get someone to snap a picture of us in the pastor's office,” she said. “Uncle Mark will do it.”

“No doubt that will be very nice.” Aunt Lorna's tone sounded as though she doubted it. “But why not there?” She pointed toward the fireplace along the back wall. “Such a beautiful room, and that carved mantel was absolutely made for a bridal photo.”

As one, Millie and Susan faced the fireplace. The mantel
was
gorgeous, and the ornate vase Millie had placed on one end sparkled with light from the crystal chandelier.

“You could swing by here when you leave the pastor's office.” Millie spoke slowly. “Pose for a picture or two. Another place I've always thought would be lovely for a bridal photo is the staircase in the front hall.”

“Well…” Thoughts whirled in her head. Was there anything wrong with having a picture or two taken in this beautiful house? After all, Justin had done a lot of work here and even lived here for almost a year. In a way it would be kind of appropriate. “I think that would be okay.”

“Wonderful!” Aunt Lorna beamed. “You won't be sorry, Susan dear.”

She opened the door and swept out of the room, Millie in tow.

Susan followed more slowly. What was this lingering sense of failure? She'd agreed to a couple of photos. That actually wasn't even a change to any of the arrangements she and Justin had made. And she
did
want pictures of her wedding day.

Still, she couldn't help thinking about Justin's warning. She'd just cracked open the door, and Aunt Lorna had planted a sturdy foot in the opening. What was next on the determined lady's agenda? St. Paul's Cathedral?

Chapter Thirteen

Y
es, tomorrow will be perfect.” Speaking into the receiver, Millie jotted a note on the calendar. “I appreciate your fitting me in.”

She hung up the phone and finished writing
Cable installation—afternoon
in her awkward left-handed script. That would make Miss Hinkle happy. And Justin, who was working on a house in Frankfort, had promised to stop by Walmart and buy a television to go in the Bo Peep room. She'd given him a budget and told him to purchase the best one to be had for that amount of money. No doubt he would refuse payment, but Millie planned to insist. She patted her pocket, where she'd tucked cash from her secret stash. If necessary, she would hide the money in his toolbox when he wasn't looking.

Normally she would have been stationed behind the veterinary clinic reception desk at this time of the morning, but last night she'd called Alice and asked her to fill in for the foreseeable future. The young mother had been embarrassingly eager, which left Millie with a guilty feeling in her stomach. Albert might grumble about the lost income, but as the sole supporter of her five children, Alice needed the money far more than Millie.

She caught sight of Rufus napping on his cushion. “Oh…before I forget.”

He raised his head, watching as she rummaged in her purse for the small notebook she carried to jot down reminders. Flipping to the end of a to-do list that had more items crossed off than not, thank goodness, she wrote
Call Angela Parrish.
Though she knew Angela only casually, Angela's son worked for the county's public health department. Perhaps he could pull some strings to arrange a health inspection of her kitchen. How embarrassing not to have thought of that earlier. Hopefully Angela's son could convince the inspector to overlook the lapse this once.

The doorbell rang. Millie glanced at the clock. Nine twenty. Still a while before she needed to get breakfast for Miss Hinkle. Thank goodness the woman slept late. If Albert had to face her over breakfast every morning for the next three weeks, Millie feared he might find temporary lodgings for the duration.

She hurried down the hallway to forestall a second ring that might awaken her guest.

A less-than-pleasant surprise awaited her on the porch. Frieda Devall stood with her purse straps clutched in both hands, wearing a floppy straw hat and a shamefaced expression.

“I came to apologize,” she said before Millie could come up with a safe greeting. “And to ask a favor.”

The need for a favor explained the apology from the normally stiff-necked woman. Assuming a gracious smile, Millie opened the door wider. “Come in. There's fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

While Millie retrieved a clean mug, Frieda selected a chair at the kitchen table. Though her guest fidgeted with her hat and her purse, Millie did not indulge in the small talk she knew would set Frieda at ease. Still offended on Lulu's behalf, she was determined that any ice-breaking must originate with the offender.

When steaming mugs sat between them, Frieda finally spoke. “Violet and I talked after church yesterday.”

The opener took Millie by surprise. Many times on a Sunday afternoon, Violet joined Millie and Al for a lunch of leftovers. Of course yesterday Violet had been absent from Sunday school, had selected a seat on the opposite side of the sanctuary for the service, and had avoided looking in Millie's direction. Yet she had spoken with Frieda?

Stinging, Millie stirred a spoonful of sweetener into her coffee simply to give herself something to look at besides Frieda's sharp-eyed gaze. “Did you?”

“She told me you're still angry over the whole Main Street Manager thing.”

Millie chose her words carefully. “I'm more offended than angry. You have no idea how hard Lulu has worked on this application. To deny her the opportunity to head up the program once we're approved is unfair.”

“
Lulu
has worked hard?” Frieda leaned forward and caught Millie's eye. “From what I understand, you've worked just as hard. Lucy Cardwell told me you did all the talking when the pair of you met with her and Leonard to get their support, and John Hockensmith said the same thing. I understand you even put in calls to Carl Sickmiller and Randy Offutt about the vacant buildings they own.”