The Room with the Second-Best View (21 page)

In the brief silence that followed, Millie congratulated herself. She'd said what needed to be said and defended her friend.

“You make it sound as though we aren't grateful.” Frieda swiveled in her chair so that she faced Lulu directly. “You
have
done a tremendous job on the application. Goose Creek is fortunate to have you as a concerned citizen, and we're certainly grateful for your participation on this committee.” Then she turned toward Millie. “The fact is, we do have another candidate, one who deserves consideration. Violet Alcorn.”

Frieda's words sent a shock of ice water down Millie's spine.

“No.” The word came out as a whisper. Millie cleared her throat. “Violet hasn't been involved in this process at all. She doesn't know a thing about the program.”

“I've spoken with her at length,” Frieda said. “She's read the documentation and is eager to undertake the responsibilities. And since she's lived in Goose Creek for several decades, she has the benefit of having preestablished relationships with the town's leaders and business owners.”

“Violet will make a wonderful manager.”

Millie aimed a shocked stare at Lulu.

“Really.” She held Millie's gaze without blinking. “It's true, what Frieda says. She knows the folks and the town better than me. And whatever she doesn't know, you can help her with, just like you were going to help me. She's your best friend, right?”

To which Millie had no ready reply.

“So we're agreed?” Frieda paused, and when no one voiced an opinion, settled the glasses back on her nose. She picked up a pen and wrote Violet's name on the application. “There. Phyllis, will you make copies and take them to the city council meeting tonight?”

Millie sat numbly while Phyllis took the application. Across the table, Lulu picked up her knitting. Her needles blurred like a hummingbird's wings.

Exiting the city hall building, Millie rounded on Lulu. “I can't believe you did that.” She tried not to pitch her voice at lecture-tone, but failed. “We had Tuesday on our side, and Phyllis was leaning our way. The three of us could have overridden Frieda, and the job would have been yours.”

Lulu adjusted the strap of her knitting bag on her shoulder. “It's the truth, girlie. Violet will be a better manager.” She displayed a toothy grimace. “Like my Honey Bun says, sometimes you gotta just take one for the Gipper. Or the Creek.”

“I disagree about Violet being better suited for the job.” A twinge of disloyalty pinged in the back of Millie's brain, but she ignored it in favor of the truth. “She has many fine qualities, but she's about as organized as a three-year-old. And she can barely spell her own name. You're far better at written communication, and you're…” Millie cast about for a compliment, but the only thing she could think of was the disastrous purple turnip pie. “You're not afraid to experiment with new things. The only thing Violet has going for her that you don't is a friendship with longtime Creekers.” She allowed her expression to become stern. “And you
will
have that.”

Cocking her head on her long neck, Lulu narrowed her eyes. “You and Violet on the outs, are you?”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“C'mon, girlie.” Lulu punched her on the shoulder a little too firmly. “Rocking on a high horse won't get you anything but a sore rump. And you can't afford to do that again, can you?” She indulged in a typical Thacker guffaw, which drew a glance from Hazel Duncan, who was just entering Cardwell's across the street. “Climb down outta that saddle and make up with your friend.”

Millie spoke through gritted teeth. “You don't know what you're asking.”

The laughter disappeared from Lulu's features. “I have a pretty good idea. You two fell out because of me, and I can't stand the thought.”

Sympathy twisted Millie's heart. “It has nothing to do with you,” she lied.

Lulu stared at her a moment, eyes narrowed. When she spoke again, it was with a seriousness that Millie had never seen her display.

“Listen, the main reason I wanted that job was so people would look kindly on me. Now is that a good enough reason?” Before Millie could answer, she did. “No. So let Violet have the job. You'll help her, because that's the kind of gal you are. And while you're at it, you might be able to gouge some of the rocks out of the path between my house and hers, if you know what I mean.”

Millie knew exactly what she meant.

“Hellloooo!”

They both turned to see Lorna hurrying in their direction at a fast waddle, a large box clutched to her ample bosom. “My dear, you'll never guess what I've found for you.”

Since she wasn't close enough to hear, Millie didn't bother to bite back a groan. Another gift? And this after FedEx had delivered a candelabra during breakfast this morning, purchased on eBay.

Millie loaded her voice with all the sternness she could muster. “Lorna, you really must stop buying me gifts. It's embarrassing.”

“Nonsense. They're not for you, they're for the B&B.” The woman arrived, slightly out of breath, and balanced the box in one hand so she could reach into the purse dangling from her shoulder with the other. “And I got something for you too, my dear. A token in appreciation for chauffeuring me to town.” She extracted a bag and offered it to Lulu.

Lulu opened the bag and pulled out a wad of tissue paper.

“Be careful,” Lorna cautioned as she unwrapped a pair of small objects. Displaying her typical tactlessness, Lulu held one of the tiny silver bowls up and asked, “What the heck is that?”

“It's a salt cellar, dear.” Lorna poked a finger into the tissue. “And there's a little spoon to go with it. All the best dinner parties have a salt cellar for each guest at their table. I've bought you four, in case you and your husband entertain.”

“Well, don't that beat all? My Honey Bun is gonna be so impressed.” Lulu displayed a toothy grin. “Thank you, Miss Hinkle. That's awful friendly of you.”

“Call me Lorna, dear.” She turned a sly smile on Millie. “You must wait to see your gift. I know the perfect place for it. I want you to see it displayed there, so you'll get the full effect.”

During the drive home, Lorna prattled on about how much Millie would love the gift she'd purchased, and how beautiful the wedding reception would be, and how hand-thrown pottery bowls could be bought far more cheaply on eBay than at the stores she'd visited that morning. Millie barely listened, her thoughts focused instead on Lulu's comments. Should she take the first step in mending her fences with Violet? Even though the move to steal the manager job from Lulu was a thoroughly despicable act?

They arrived at home, and Lulu parked the car near the porch. When they reached the front door, Lorna stepped in front of them.

“You two wait here,” she commanded. “I'll only be a moment.”

She entered, closing the door behind her.

“Do you want me to cook something for that reception?” Lulu asked. “I've got a recipe for mini quiches that look real nice on a fancy doily.”

“I don't think that's what Susan has in mind,” Millie answered, still distracted by thoughts of Violet. “But thank you for the offer.”

The door was thrown wide. Lorna waved an expansive hand. “Enter!”

They stepped inside. At first Millie saw nothing different in the entry hall. Perhaps Lorna's gift had been placed in the parlor.

“Good gravy, would you look at that?”

Lulu had fixed a rather horrified stare on something. Millie followed her gaze. When her eyes fell on the gift, she couldn't hold back a gasp.

There, resting on her Louis XIV entry table, a hideous visage fixed its menacing grimace on her. It was none other than Chester, the appalling clay bust from the Freckled Frog.

Chapter Fifteen

W
hy can't we eat in here like we always do?” Al asked glumly. “You know I don't like putting on airs.”

Millie bustled from the refrigerator to the table to pour cream—real cream, he noted—into a small pitcher. “Because it's Sunday, and she's getting up early enough to go to church, and it's the nice thing to do.”

“I don't see why I have to be nice. She isn't.”

Millie turned a scolding look on him. “Because this is your house, and she is your guest.”

“She's a customer,” he corrected. “A paying customer.” Which, in his opinion, was the only positive thing about Miss High-and-Mighty Hinkle's stay.

“In the B&B business they're called guests.” Millie stepped back to examine the coffee tray. “And stop grumbling. You sound like an old bear.”

He hadn't realized he'd grumbled, but the remnants of a bearlike growl were rumbling in his chest. Completely justified, in his opinion, but he cut it off in deference to his wife.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Millie glanced upward. “Would you take the coffee tray? I'll get the casserole.”

He obeyed and arrived in the dining room at the same time as their guest.

Catching sight of him, she drew up short. Her gaze circled the table. “Three settings this morning?”

Somehow she managed to make the question sound like an insult. Al clamped his jaw tight as Millie entered from the kitchen.

“I thought it would be a nice change to eat family style this morning.” Her cheery tone made a pleasant contrast to the Hinkle woman's.

Millie slid the hot casserole onto a trivet in front of his plate. She used her right hand to position the dish. The sling had disappeared several days ago, and though she still wore the wrist brace, she'd assured him the pain was practically gone. Al enjoyed seeing his wife almost back to normal. The sight of her in pain left him feeling helpless and somehow like a failure.

Miss Hinkle gave a haughty sniff. “In all the best B&Bs the owners serve their guests. They don't dine with them.”

The words scraped across Al's nerves. “Fine with me.” He started to pick up his plate and take it to the kitchen, but Millie stopped him with a tight-lipped glare.

She turned a smile on the odious woman. “I know it's probably not the best practice, but I thought on Sundays we might relax the rules a bit. Since you're staying with us for such a long visit, I've almost come to think of you as family.”

Al nearly choked. That old bat, family? Not likely.

The words charmed her though. She reached out a large hand and gave Millie's arm an affectionate pat. “I've grown fond of you too, dear.”

She turned an icy glance toward Al, and her lips snapped shut.

What had he done to alienate her? He had no idea. If he could figure it out, he'd do it again in hopes of driving her away.

As he settled the napkin in his lap, he noticed that Millie wore a frozen expression. Miss Hinkle stood beside her chair, looking down her nose at him.

Oh for heaven's sake.

Not bothering to hide a sigh, he rose, tossed his napkin on his plate, and slid out her chair.

“Thank you.”

He turned to offer his wife the same courtesy. Millie had already seated herself, but she gave an approving nod and a quick wink. That wink did wonders to lighten Al's attitude. They were coconspirators, Millie and he, the same as always. He resettled himself.