Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Molly Cannon

  “Hello. Welcome to the Hazelnut Inn. I’m Belle.” She waved the couple standing on the porch inside. The woman introduced herself as Gladys Mitchell while the man came in behind her carrying their luggage. She was a tall, skinny woman that looked to be in her mid-forties, wearing blue jeans and a sleek red parka. Her checks were flushed from the cold. “And this is my husband Ernie.” He was a short man who looked to be around fifty. He had salon-styled hair and the design of his clothes would have suited someone much younger. Ernie seemed to have a hard time taking his eyes off Belle, and Gladys seemed to be on the verge of getting annoyed.

  But Belle was playing the perfect hostess. “Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, we’re so glad you made it. How was the drive?”

  Ernie set the luggage down and looked around the room critically. “The drive was fine. The radio says we might get snow, though.”

  Etta stood in the doorway as Belle took over. “Why don’t we get you settled in your room? I’m sure you’d like to freshen up after your long drive.”

  Mrs. Mitchell spoke up. “That would be great. What time is dinner?”

  Etta meant to walk in and introduce herself, but Belle was already herding them up the stairs. She told them, “Dinner is at eight. We have a wonderful Valentine dinner planned for tonight, but there is a snack tray set up in your room with muffins and hot tea to hold you until then.”

  Etta stood in the parlor feeling let down. Their very first guests and she hadn’t been the one to greet them. On the other hand she’d already begun to worry that Belle would laze around in her room and not pitch in, and here she’d stepped up without having to be asked. It was silly to resent Belle for being the first one to say, “Welcome to the Hazelnut Inn.” She’d have plenty of opportunities to play the hostess. In fact the Gordons, Dean and Sally, were driving over from Fort Worth and should be arriving anytime.

  She went back to the dining room and surveyed the finished results. It was beautiful, a perfect setting for romantic couples celebrating Valentine’s Day. With everyone pitching in, Beulah, Donny Joe, Daphne and even Noah, they were as ready as they’d ever be. Oh, and Belle, too, it seemed. She ran to her room and showered, dried her hair, put on makeup and changed into fresh clothes. Then she tied the pale yellow apron Beulah had made around her waist and went out, determined to beat Belle to the door when the Gordons arrived.

  The snow stayed away, the crowd showed up with a hearty appetite, and Etta loved every minute of it. Daphne was adorable with her bread basket. Beulah served as a charming hostess, Noah kept the wine glasses filled, and Etta and Belle handled the waitressing duties. Using a set menu made it all run like clockwork.

  Hoot Ferguson flagged Etta down on one of her trips to the kitchen. “Ma’am, I just have to say that if all your cooking is this good, I may just have to come try some of that fancy French food the next time you decide to serve it.”

  “I appreciate that, Mr. Ferguson.”

  His wife Maude grinned. “I count it as a blessing knowing there will be someplace in town he won’t balk at when I suggest we go out to eat.”

  “Most of the credit goes to Donny Joe.” She glanced over at the table he shared with Irene Cornwell. She’d somehow forgotten about their standing date until he’d shown up with her plastered to his side, and she admitted to a pang of jealousy. Okay, it was more than jealousy. It was more like torture. Her heart had constricted inside her chest, and a wave of pain and longing swept through her at the sight of them together. She didn’t have any right to feel that way. And Etta knew she had no real claim on Donny Joe. But that didn’t seem to matter. She forced herself to concentrate on what Hoot’s wife was saying, since scratching Irene’s eyes out wouldn’t be good for business.

  She was still exclaiming over the meal. “His ham was delicious, but that chocolate dessert was indescribable. You have to share the recipe. In fact, I was wondering if you’d think about offering cooking lessons. I know at least five women off the top of my head who would sign up.”

  The idea appealed to Etta immediately, but her future plans were still all up in the air. “I’ll think about that, Mrs. Ferguson. That could be fun.”

  As she made her way back to the kitchen the compliments continued. Happy diners finished their meals and began to leave. She spotted Beulah and Noah sitting at a corner table eating and talking quietly now that their duties were done. Belle and Daphne sat close by, mother and daughter catching up on the news of the last few weeks. Etta didn’t want to interrupt them, and there were a few stragglers. She needed to make another round to make sure the people still dawdling over their meal didn’t need anything else. Two of those people were Donny Joe and Irene.

  Irene smiled and spoke as she approached. “Etta, tonight seemed to be a real success. Congratulations. You must be so pleased.”

  In honor of the day Irene was wearing a screaming, tight, red dress that looked both elegant and glamorous. In comparison Etta felt like a milk maid. A dowdy milk maid. Etta managed to smile in return. “Thank you, Irene. Grammy Hazel would be proud, I think. And Donny Joe’s ham proved to be a smashing triumph tonight.”

  The woman rose and gave Donny Joe a look of pure affection. “Was there ever any doubt? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the restroom.”

  Donny Joe stood up as she left the table. He looked spectacular in a charcoal gray suit and a deep pink tie. A small pink rose bud was pinned to his lapel. “I feel like I should have done more. Even Belle helped out tonight while I sat here on my ass letting you wait on me, for Pete’s sake.”

  “You’re on a date, Donny Joe. How would it look if you left Irene sitting here while you ran to the kitchen to slice ham every five minutes?”

  He seemed impatient, not his usual laid-back self. He had tried to talk to her when he’d delivered the Calhouns from the airport. But she’d been forced to put him off. She’d been in the middle of getting the Gordons settled into the Banana Pudding room and didn’t give it another thought until he’d shown up tonight.

  Donny Joe reached out and touched her arm. “Can I see you later tonight?”

  Etta was taken off guard. “Tonight? After you take Irene home?”

  “It shouldn’t be that late. I could help clean up the kitchen.”

  “I plan to have the kitchen clean twenty minutes after everyone leaves. Listen, Donny Joe, relax. Enjoy the rest of your evening with Irene. And if you are feeling awkward because we spent the night together, you shouldn’t. I have to be up extra super early in the morning to serve the first official breakfast of the B&B, so I plan to crash.”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow, then.” He sounded insistent.

  “You’re welcome anytime, Donny Joe. You know that.”

  “Except tonight.”

  “It’s been a really long day.” She started stacking dishes at a nearby table.

  “Sure. I understand.” He didn’t look like he understood at all. “Try to get some rest, would you?”

  Irene walked back into the dining room and grabbed Etta’s arm. “Listen, honey, I just had a brilliant idea.”

  Etta smiled politely, not sure how to respond. She left the dishes stacked on the table and turned around to give Irene her full attention.

  Irene looked at Donny Joe. “Well? Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  He smiled. “Sure. We are all ears, Irene. Tell us your brilliant idea.”

  “I’m going to become a wedding planner.” She grinned and clapped her hands together like she’d just won a prize on a game show.

  Donny Joe looked confused. “What brought that on?”

  Irene spread her hands out like it was obvious. “This place. The Inn. Aren’t you planning on having weddings here?”

  Etta nodded slowly. “Well, yes, that’s what we hope to do down the road.”

  “Nonsense. I can start booking them right away.”

  Donny Joe tried to interrupt. “Look, Irene—”

  “And I think I already have your first victims,” Irene continu
ed merrily.

  “It’s probably not a good idea to refer to potential clients as victims.” Donny Joe volunteered.

  “Oh, pooh. You know I think marriage is for schmucks.”

  Following the conversation was giving Etta whiplash. “And so why exactly do you want to be a wedding planner?”

  “I see a void and I want to fill it. Besides, I haven’t told you the best part.”

  “Well, quit holding out and tell us already.” Donny Joe seemed amused by the whole thing, as if this type of gung-ho flight of fancy was nothing unusual for her.

  “I’ve already lined up the first wedding.” She enveloped Etta in a big hug.

  “Since when?” Donny Joe asked. “Since you went to the bathroom?”

  “That’s right. I ran into Marla Jean in the hallway, and next thing you know I’d convinced her that this would be the absolutely only place in the whole wide world for her and Jake’s wedding. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Donny Joe didn’t look all that impressed. “Hey, I already had plans to do that.”

  “Please.” Irene looked at him like he’d lost is mind. “Jake doesn’t like you, Donny Joe. Everyone knows that. So, it’s a good thing I stepped in before you screwed everything all up.”

  “Why doesn’t Jake like you?” Etta was once again reminded of all the small town insider fodder she wasn’t privy to.

  “Most of the men in this town suspect Donny Joe of having designs on their women,” Irene explained matter-of-factly.

  “I’ve noticed that. But don’t most of the women think you have designs on their men, too?”

  Irene flapped her hands like that was the silliest idea ever. “Heavens no. I’m a widow. I married a wealthy old goat when I was nineteen. Sven died and left me with enough money to last me three lifetimes. Men around here are threatened and intimidated by a woman like me.”

  Etta felt her eyes getting wide as pizza pans. She hadn’t expected to learn so much about Irene in such a short amount of time.

  “So, do we have a deal?”

  “Well,” Etta said thoughtfully. “We certainly have something to talk about.”

  “Great. You just name the time and place. Then I’ll drag Marla Jean over sometime next week and iron out all the details.”

  Donny Joe went to fetch their coats. While he was gone Irene’s tone changed from bright and airy to one of serious intent. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Etta had been watching Donny Joe leave the room. Her head snapped back to Irene. “Pardon me?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you, but I see the way he watches you.”

  Etta didn’t know whether to be irritated or intrigued. Donny Joe watched her? “I appreciate your concern, but I get the impression he can take care of himself.”

  Before Irene could respond Donny Joe came back with the coats. They bundled into them and said their good-byes. Etta began gathering the last of the dishes and carted them out to the kitchen. The Inn was settling into a quiet night now that the big Grand Opening dinner was over. But it had been an unqualified success, without question.

  The Calhouns procured an extra bottle of wine from Noah and headed upstairs to their room. The Gordons and the Mitchells had retired, too, saying they had big plans for the next day and wanted to get an early start. Belle led Daphne around to say her good nights and then went to tuck her into bed. Noah and Beulah sat together on the sun porch in side-by-side rockers, rocking and talking and laughing like the old friends they were. Then he leaned over and kissed her. Etta smiled. She didn’t remember Beulah ever looking so happy.

  The dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and Etta was finishing the last of the pots and pans when Belle came back into the kitchen.

  “Sorry. Daphne wanted me to read to her, and I didn’t have the heart to say no. I’ll take dish duty for the rest of the weekend to make up for it.”

  Etta placed the pan she was washing in the drain. Belle’s words caught her off guard. Belle was never sorry to miss out on her share of the workload. “Don’t worry about it. Catching up with Daphne should be your priority right now.”

  “No, I mean it. I plan to do my part from now on. So, I’ll be on dish duty for the rest of the weekend. No arguments. Deal?” She held out her hand until Etta gave in and shook it.

  Together they went to the dining room and started stripping the tablecloths from the tables. Belle carried a bundle to the washing machine by the back door and arranged them inside the machine. Etta found a basket for the bunch she was carrying and leaned against the dryer so she could talk to her sister. “What’s going on, Belle? Where’s Roger?”

  “Roger had to get back to Houston, so he dropped me off here.”

  “So, he’s coming later?”

  She seemed to want to avoid answering the question. Instead she changed the subject. “Daphne couldn’t stop talking about this place. About you and Donny Joe and Beulah, and that cat. Goodness, how she talked about that cat. Oh, and Mr. Nelson. I can’t tell you how surprised I was to find him living here now.”

  “It’s been a real group effort, and Daphne pitched in like a trooper. So, quit avoiding the subject. Tell me about Roger. Did you get married?”

  “Actually, we didn’t. That’s a long story. In fact, he played me for a fool. I know, big surprise, right? So, since Daphne is going to school here I just decided it was best if I came back here and helped with the Inn for the rest of the school year. I’m ready to do my part, Etta. And you’ll be happy to know you can go on back to Chicago whenever you’re ready.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Belle’s words rang in her ears. Go on back to Chicago whenever you want. Exhaustion the size of a two-ton boxcar suddenly landed on her shoulders. She closed her eyes as she thought of the many and varied ways her life had fallen apart in such a short amount of time. In a matter of weeks she’d lost her grandmother, lost her restaurant, and lost any meaningful plan for the future. She didn’t trust herself to talk about it without screaming bloody murder.

  “Let’s talk in the morning, Belle. Okay? I’m ready to fall on my face.”

  Belle turned to look at her with real concern. “Sure, Etta. I know you’ve been working hard. And I meant what I said about doing the dishes tomorrow.”

  “As I recall the offer was for the rest of the weekend.”

  Belle grinned. “You got it, sis.” She reached over and gave her a hug. “Thanks for taking such good care of my little girl.”

  “Goodnight, Belle.”

  Etta made it to her room and into her pajamas before the first sob escaped. She wasn’t one to give in to tears or self-pity. But she’d been holding in so much sorrow and anger that it had finally run out of places to hide. She gave herself permission to have a good old-fashioned boo hoo. Burying her face in her pillow she waited for all the hurt and disappointment she felt to erupt like a long dormant volcano. But it seemed she wasn’t very good at it. She croaked and hiccupped and wailed her despair. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and her nose ran like it had a train to catch. And she didn’t feel one damned bit better when she was done.

  The startling thought that she wanted to talk to Donny Joe blazed through her brain and wouldn’t go away. He was probably still out with Irene. The merry widow. They were probably dancing at Lu Lu’s or worse, together at Irene’s house canoodling on the giant piles of money her husband had left her.

  She moaned and shook her head to erase the image.

  He’d said he wouldn’t be out late. He’d said he wanted to see her. The hound dog. She could call him. But if he was with Irene that could be awkward. She could sneak next door and see if he was home. Even more awkward if he was with Irene, but the sneaking part meant that they wouldn’t see her. She could scope out the situation and choose her course of action after she gathered more data.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she threw her gray puffy parka over her pajamas and stuck her feet into the cowboy boots she’d bought recently. After d
ancing with Donny Joe at Lu Lu’s last time she was struck with an overpowering, irresistible need to buy boots. Just in case she got to go dancing with him again. They were pale yellow with lots of decorative stitching and even now, wearing them with her purple polka dot pajamas, they made her feel happy. She needed to start finding more “happy.” And right now sneaking over to Donny Joe’s in the dead of night was just the thing to make her happy.

  Easing down the hallway she glided over the creaking wood floors without a problem. She made it through the dining room and through the maze of wooden tables successfully. Then she was in the kitchen and the dishwasher whirred and the washing machine chugged away in its wash cycle, both easily covering any noise she might cause while making her escape. She silently and with great care opened the back door and went outside.

  The cold night air socked her in the face like a fist, freezing her ears and the tip of her nose within seconds. She could see her breath, little clouds of icy fog accompanying her across the darkened back porch. On the way down the back steps she promptly tripped over one of Noah’s new flower pots. She’d forgotten about the flowers.

  “Damn it all.” The curse flew from her lips as the pot tumbled down the stairs with a loud crash. A light went on inside the house. Then another. Throwing stealth and sneakiness out the window, she stuffed her hands in her pockets and ran full out, heading for Donny Joe’s back deck.

  Her thin pajamas were no match for the fierce wind that chased her across the yard. Even her puffy parka was practically useless. She launched herself onto his deck like a fish trying to throw itself from the lake onto the dock, and then scrambled to her feet. Her only thought was to get inside.

  She pounded on the back door loudly and impatiently. He might be asleep. She didn’t care. She just wanted in. A long few minutes later Donny Joe appeared at the door holding a baseball bat.