Theirs by Chance

by Karen Ann Dell

  His assault on her willpower faltered. “Temptress that you are, it is very difficult to maintain a knightly demeanor. Your dubbing me with that moniker was poor judgment on your part. It’s certainly not one I would ever have given myself. You’re sure you don’t have time for—”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He sighed and dropped the handful of skirt, smoothing the wrinkles out over her hips.

  “Tuesday is a long damn time away,” he muttered.

  “Abstinence makes the heart grow hotter,” Marjorie misquoted with a mischievous grin.

  “In that case, you’re going to need those oven mitts upstairs by Tuesday afternoon.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Call me if you need anything. I doubt if you’ll be waking me.”

  There was definitely a two-hour stint on the Bowflex and a cold shower in his future.

  Marjorie watched out the kitchen window as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. Good thing she had managed to keep his hand from finding her sweet spot. Because if he had? Game over. Her will power was no match for the ecstasy his talented fingers could produce in mere seconds.

  She divided the cut blossoms between four vases, dropped an aspirin into each one, filled them with water, and loaded them on the dumbwaiter. Dropping a plate of cookies off at the registration desk, she headed upstairs to distribute the bouquets. Satisfied with the final check of each room, Marjorie went to her sanctuary and examined herself in the cheval glass to make sure her disguise was in place. She dropped the chain that held her fake glasses over her head, made sure her skirt and blouse weren’t wrinkled from Lance’s hands and brushed her hair one last time.

  “Okay, bring ‘em on,” she told herself in the mirror. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

  On cue, the buzzer at the front door went off. Glancing at her watch, Marjorie noted the time. One o’clock. Why am I not surprised? She hurried down the stairs to see which of her guests took the early bird prize.

  Mike Kovak and his mom had identical smiles as she greeted them.

  “Hi, Marjorie. I’d like you to meet my mom, Alice Kovak.” Mike put his arm around a short, plump woman with salt and pepper hair in a tight braid that surrounded her head like a halo, bright, bird-like brown eyes, and a cheerful smile.

  “Hello, Mrs. Kovak, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Marjorie gave the woman a brief hug.

  “Oh, dear, please call me Alice. You have a lovely place here.”

  “Thank you, Alice. Hi, Mike, nice to see you again, too.” Knowing his OCD, she offered a quick handshake instead of a hug.

  Mike took over filling out the registration form, so Marjorie offered Alice a tour of the first floor. Back at the front desk, she retrieved the key to the Titania Bedroom and picked up Alice’s suitcase. “Let’s get you settled in. Do you have plans for this afternoon?”

  “Here, I’ll take that,” Mike said, and relieved her of the suitcase. “I’m going to give mom a tour of the radio station and take her to lunch. After that, who knows? Whatever strikes our fancy, hmm, Mom?”

  “You do the planning, son, I’m just along for the ride.” She brushed her hand over Mike’s cheek with obvious affection.

  The three trooped up the stairs and down the hall to a door adorned with a colorful illustration of Titania, the Fairy Queen. Marjorie opened the door and allowed the other two to precede her. This room faced southeast, and the two windows flooded the room with sunshine. The pale yellow walls topped by a floral border below the white crown molding practically glowed. The sunshine made the room practically glow. An oval braided rug in shades of blue, green, and yellow grounded the space, and the queen-size bed was covered by a patchwork quilt of tiny flower prints. Aptly named after Titania, the room evoked the sunny bower of the fairy queen.

  “Oh, my, what a beautiful room,” Alice said. “It feels like you brought a garden right inside.”

  Mike beamed with pleasure, and Marjorie matched him smile for smile. She loved making her guests comfortable and happy with their surroundings while they were with her. She handed Alice her key, explained the alarm system, and reminded her that breakfast was served buffet style from eight to ten every morning. “You’re welcome to come join us for breakfast, Mike,” she told him.

  “Thanks, Marjorie. I’ll take advantage of your offer, probably more than once this weekend, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not a bit. Maybe if you come I can talk Lance into joining us, too.” She turned to Alice. “One of Mike’s co-workers rents the apartment above my garage out back. His name is Lance Fisher.”

  “Oh, yes. I recognize the name. Mike has mentioned him several times to me. He’s a fast learner according to my son.”

  “Well, I hope you get to meet him while you’re here, Alice. He’s a nice man and a wonderful tenant. I’ll let you unpack. If you need anything, press the button on the intercom, I’m usually in the kitchen this time of day.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  Mike put her suitcase on the stand at the foot of the bed and opened it for her. “I’ll wait for you downstairs, Mom. Take your time, okay?”

  “Thank you, son. I won’t be long.”

  As they headed downstairs, Mike apologized. “Sorry to be early, Marjorie. I didn’t expect mom to be ready when I went to pick her up this morning, but when I arrived she was outside on her porch, coat on and suitcase at the ready. I told her she wouldn’t need the coat, but she’s old school and doesn’t feel properly dressed without one.”

  “It’s no problem, Mike. She’s a sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “I bet she’s going to lose that coat by this afternoon though. It’s supposed to be in the eighties.”

  Mike shrugged. “I hope so. Otherwise I may be treating her for heat stroke by dinnertime.”

  By the time Mike and his mother left for the radio station, the two college roommates arrived, chatting nonstop. They settled into the Ariel Room and were changed into shorts and out the door in less than thirty minutes.

  Marjorie barely had time to down a glass of iced tea before the Lancasters arrived with their three-year-old, who was less than thrilled with her trip so far.

  “She needs a nap,” Mrs. Lancaster said, balancing the little girl on her hip and talking over the crying child’s head. “I promise you, she’d not usually like this, but the car ride was long, and I forgot her favorite stuffed animal, so . . .”

  “I may have something that might help in that case. Does your daughter like dogs?”

  “She loves our neighbor’s beagle. That’s the only dog she’s ever been around though. Sally, stop that!” Mrs. Lancaster retrieved the sunglasses that Sally had grabbed and tried to turn in to a monocle.

  Marjorie called down the hallway to the kitchen where Daisy kept watch of the goings on from her bed. “Daisy, here.” Obediently the big animal trotted to her side. “Sit.” Daisy sat.

  Sally clapped her chubby hands and chortled. “Doggie! My doggie!” She strained to free herself from her mother’s grip.

  Mom was a bit unsure about Daisy, given her size. Marjorie reassured her. “She’s great with kids. Very gentle and well-behaved. Sally, this is Daisy. Would you like to pet her?”

  The woman gave up the struggle and put Sally down. “Be nice, Sally. Let her get to know you before you climb all over her.”

  Gleefully ignoring her mother’s directions, Sally skipped over to the dog and threw her arms around Daisy’s neck. She beamed up at her mother. “My dog. Mine.”

  Marjorie squatted to put herself on the same level as the little girl. “Daisy is my dog, and I love her very much. But I’ll loan her to you for the weekend if you promise to behave.”

  The thunderclouds that had briefly gathered in Sally’s eyes dissipated. “’Kay.”

  Mr. Lancaster spoke for the f
irst time. “The dog’s a miracle worker. I told you we needed to get a dog, honey.”

  “You stay home with Sally for a week all by yourself, and then we’ll see how anxious you are to add a puppy into the mix.”

  Marjorie pressed her lips together to hold the laughter in. “Let me show you to your room.” She slipped the key to the Oberon Room off its hook. That little one is going to be a handful. She is cute as a button, though.

  As it turned out, Mr. Northland didn’t arrive until seven o’clock. Marjorie had almost given up on him, hoping his lateness wasn’t due to an accident.

  “Sorry, I’m so late. I had a meeting with a client that ran much longer than I anticipated.” He flashed a smile as he filled in the registration card. “I was afraid you might have given my room to someone else.”

  “No chance of that, Mr. Northland. You paid one night’s deposit to hold the room, so it was yours until tomorrow morning.”

  Tall, late thirties, trim figure, nice dresser. Black hair, startling blue eyes, and a dense five o’clock shadow over a chiseled jaw. In other words, a hunk.

  He’d barely finished filling out the card when Lance came through the back door and sauntered down the hall. Marjorie hid her surprise and concentrated on her guest. “Let me take your bag, Mr. Northland, and I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Tom, please. And I can handle this. You just lead the way.”

  He and Lance both reached for his suitcase at the same time.

  Lance beat him by half a second. “Allow me. You’re a guest.”

  “Really, it’s no problem.” Northland put his hand out to take possession of his bag.

  Marjorie did the tennis match routine between the two of them. Really? They’re going to have a tug of war over the suitcase?

  “Tom, this is Lance Fisher. He’s . . .” My boyfriend. No, my lover. No, my . . . “a permanent guest.”

  Lance shook Tom’s outstretched hand rather than relinquish the suitcase. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

  The other man capitulated with a curt nod. “You, too. Thanks.”

  Well, isn’t this just peachy. Do I need to give them each a ruler so we can end this competition? I hope he doesn’t mind being in the Puck Bedroom, I bet it’s a lot cozier than what he’s used to. Oh, well . . .

  Chapter 15

  The weekend continued to unfold in unexpected ways. Friday morning she had Mike, Alice, and Lance in the dining room for early breakfast. It was a first for Lance, but having Mike there too smoothed the way. Another milestone. With every step Lance took toward recovery, Marjorie’s heart soared. It gave her hope that one day Lance would come for breakfast, and never leave.

  Today, Lance stayed for a second cup of coffee after Mike and Alice left.

  “It’s nice having you here for breakfast,” Marjorie said.

  “I’m always here for breakfast,” Lance replied as he reached around and snagged another cinnamon bun from the platter on the buffet.

  “No. I mean here here. In the dining room. With the other guests.”

  Lance merely shrugged as if it were no big deal.

  Tom Northland came down, freshly shaved, dressed in more casual clothes that no doubt had designer labels. He nodded to Lance, served himself from the buffet and sat on her left. Which put him across from Lance.

  “I hope you slept well, Tom. Did you find the room satisfactory?” Marjorie asked.

  “Very nice, actually, although a bit cramped for my purposes. I have paperwork to catch up on this weekend and had hoped there would be a desk of some sort in my room.”

  “I’m sorry, but your late reservation got you my last room. You’re welcome to work in here after I clear the breakfast dishes.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll make do upstairs. I find it difficult to concentrate with other people going in and out.” He added butter and raspberry jam to his English muffin and started in on a bowl of fruit.

  Lance, silent up to this point, leaned forward and topped off Marjorie’s tea.

  Marjorie pressed her lips together to hide a smile, grateful he didn’t feel the need to pee on the table leg to mark his territory. “Lance is one of the program engineers at the local radio station, WMES.”

  Tom acknowledged her comment with a nod and kept on eating.

  “What line of work are you in, Tom?” Lance asked.

  “Construction. Commercial and residential properties. I got a tip that Blue Point is growing and now would be a good time to scout out some land for housing development.”

  “I hope you’re not considering those high-rise type of buildings,” Marjorie said. “The town has so much charm, it would be a shame to obliterate its beauty with modern, characterless designs.”

  Tom flashed even white teeth. “Nah, don’t worry. I like to build housing that fits into the existing landscape, so I’m thinking of starter semi-detached or town house units that would be priced for first-time buyers. I’ll take my cues from the existing summer cottages with their clapboard siding and nautical touches. I might add a few more of those as well.” He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a business card. He put it on the table in front of Marjorie. “If you know of anyone who owns land around here, I’m interested in buying.”

  Lance reached across the table and scooped up the card, his eyes narrowing as he read it.

  Holding her teacup in both hands, Marjorie used it to hide another smile. She had no interest in the handsome Mr. Northland but couldn’t deny a glow of warmth thinking that Lance might just be a tiny bit jealous.

  “You’re pretty far from home,” Lance said.

  “True.” Tom shrugged. I’m always attracted to seaside development, so I have quite a few projects under construction all across the country. But as you can see, my main office is in Portland, Oregon.”

  Marjorie dropped her cup, spilling tea over the cloth and breaking a semi-circle off the saucer. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She fumbled with her napkin to sop up the spill, her hands visibly shaking.

  “No harm done.” Tom added his napkin to soak up the liquid spreading his way on the cloth. “At least to me. I think your beautiful china took a fatal hit, though.”

  Lance gathered the pieces of broken china. “I’ll bring you a fresh cup and saucer from the kitchen.”

  “No. Don’t bother. I’ve had enough tea already.” She stood on shaky legs and gathered the wet linens while both men picked up plates and silverware to give her access. “I want to get a fresh tablecloth on before the Lancasters come down.”

  She took the bundle and went to the kitchen, where she had to sit down again and calm her pounding heart. Daisy came over, put her muzzle in Marjorie’s lap, and gave a tentative wag of her tail.

  I’m okay. I’m okay, she told herself as she rocked back and forth on the chair and stroked Daisy’s head. Just a surprise, that’s all.

  Lance came in and crouched next to her. “What the hell, Red. Are you all right?”

  “Fine. I’m fine. So clumsy of me.” She forced herself to stop rocking. “Was Mr. Northland angry? I hope I didn’t splash any tea on him.”

  “He seemed okay. He’s gone back upstairs now, I guess to get to that paperwork. What spooked you like that? It was just a cup of tea that you dropped. Not a hand grenade.”

  A cup of tea to you. A hand grenade to me.

  “Nothing. I was just embarrassed to do something so clumsy in front of a guest. I’m good now.” She stood, opened the door to the basement, and tossed the stained cloth down the stairs. “I’ll get a clean one and reset the table.”

  The Lancasters came down twenty minutes later to a clean table and fresh linens. Sally was in angel mode, and made a beeline for Daisy. Mark Lancaster fixed a plate for his daughter and coaxed her to let go of Daisy long enough to get some food in her. Dore
en Lancaster ate like a bird: tea, toast and a spoonful of fruit. The three were booked on a charter tour of the bay, and Marjorie reminded them to take sunscreen.

  An hour later, all the guests but Mr. Northland were out and about. Temporary peace and quiet reigned. Dishes done, food stored, kitchen cleaned. Marjorie went up to make up the beds in the guest rooms.

  She’d really like to know who gave Tom Northland the tip to build here.

  But she was too afraid to ask.

  Labor Day dawned with a cloudless sky and a temperature in the mid-seventies. A perfect day to end the official summer season. There would be a concert in the town square at seven o’clock, the musicians all townspeople with a remarkably good repertoire considering their amateur status. Then at nine-thirty there would be a fireworks display out on the bay.

  Marjorie planned an afternoon wine and cheese social for her guests as a special treat for the holiday. Lance put up the canopy she’d bought for Dev and Amanda’s wedding reception to shelter the long table with assorted cheeses, crackers and other hors d’oeuvre, plus a large copper tub filled with ice and several varieties of wine, beer, and sodas. The oak tree provided enough dappled shade to accommodate chairs and folding tables.

  “That ought to do it,” Lance said, as he pounded in the final stake that secured the canopy. Daisy trotted over with her ball and nudged him in the leg. “No, I think we’ll have to hold off on ball play this afternoon, girl. Too much chance to knock over something important.”

  “Absolutely,” Marjorie agreed. “Daisy, your job is to keep Miss Sally occupied and happy, understand?”

  The dog cocked her head then lay on the grass as though resigned to accept the hugs and tugs the little girl showered her with whenever she had the opportunity.

  “How about a cold beer for you, Sir Lance?” Marjorie held up a bottle with ice chips sliding down the sides to drip on the grass.