by Becki Willis
“Think of it as a trial run. A chance to get your feet wet, before you jump head first into a cold creek!” Fred added with a bright smile.
“No, you don’t understand. We can’t accommodate guests yet. The place is a disaster!”
“Now, now,” Sadie said, patting Hannah’s arm again. “Don’t fret your pretty little head about it. Not everyone’s as tidy a housekeeper as Fred. You just wait. Give us an hour, and we’ll have everything right as rain.”
Hannah threw Walker a beseeching look. When Sadie would have marched up to the front porch of the old inn, the lawyer stepped in her way.
“What Miss Duncan is trying to tell you,” he asserted, his voice firm, “is that we had an intruder last night. He made quite a mess of both offices. The place truly is a disaster.”
“An intruder!”
“Was anything stolen?”
Fred clasped her hand to her heart. “They didn’t steal the good silver, did they?”
Good silver? Hannah hadn’t noticed any good silver.
“From what we can tell, nothing was stolen,” Walker assured the women. “But we’re still putting things to rights.”
“The ledgers are okay, aren’t they?” Sadie looked worried.
Hannah understood her concerns and nodded. “Yes, they appear to be. I’ve been reading through them the last few days, so they were one of the first things I checked. A few wrinkled pages, but nothing too damaged.”
“Oh, thank the dear Lord. Those ledgers hold the history of the inn, you know.”
“Yes,” Hannah agreed with a smile. “I’ve enjoyed reading the notes jotted down here and there. It’s almost like a journal.”
Her answer pleased Sadie. With a wink to her sister, the gray-haired woman cooed, “Ooh, we’ve got ourselves a keeper, Fred. She’s going to fit in here just fine.”
“In more ways than you can imagine,” Walker agreed with an enigmatic smile. He opened the door and gave a gallant sweep of his arm. “Ladies, after you.”
Chapter Nineteen
True to their word, Fred and Sadie swept into the inn like twin cyclones. While Sadie whipped the front office into a semblance of order, Fred tackled Room 3.
Before Hannah could finish sweeping the front room and straightening the chairs, Fred came bounding down the stairs with a satisfied smile upon her face.
“All done,” she reported. “The Houston Room is ready for our guest.”
Hannah frowned. “Which one is the Houston Room? I didn’t realize they had names.”
Fred lifted a delicate shoulder. “Wilhelmina and I were great friends, but that is one thing we disagreed on. I thought the rooms should have their own identities. You may have noticed, they each have their own decor. Their own personality, if you will.”
Personality, Hannah wondered, or ghost?
“So which room is the Houston Room?”
“Room 3, just like we discussed.”
“We also discussed canceling the booking, yet you still changed the linens.”
“Of course I did. Those things were all dusty from no use.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “And of course, we couldn’t cancel the booking. We didn’t get a telephone number.”
“But—” Hannah bit back her protest. From the look on Fred’s face, it would do no good to argue.
And here I thought I was the boss, Hannah groused, with an imagined roll of her eyes. Clearly, these ladies run things around here.
If she were being honest, it was probably a good thing. Hannah didn’t know the first thing about running an inn.
“Don’t worry, by the time he checks in, you’ll never know anything was amiss last night.”
Hannah looked doubtful, but Fred’s smile was confident.
Sadie poked her gray head out from the check-in cubicle. “All done in here!” she called merrily. “If it’s okay with you, we’ll dash up to the house, unpack, and be back before our guest arrives. I wouldn’t look for him until after dinner. We told him the kitchen was closed this evening.”
Her comment brought up a new worry. “Oh, that’s right,” Hannah fretted. “You mentioned breakfast. I’m not sure we have the makings for it.”
Both women were instantly alarmed. “You didn’t get rid of the girls, did you?” Sadie’s voice rose with a touch of hysteria. “Henny Penny and Loosey Goosey? They’re our best laying hens!”
“Please tell me Buttercrunch is still here.” Fred’s lower lip trembled with worry.
“Of course, of course,” Hannah was quick to assure the sisters. “All of the animals are still here, right down to the chickens. Nothing has changed.”
“Oh, thank the good Lord,” Sadie said in relief. “You had me scared there for a minute. As long as we have eggs, milk, and flour, we have the makings for breakfast.”
“It’s just that… I didn’t plan for extra people.” Did they know about the imprisonment clause? She wasn’t exactly free to run to the grocery store and pick up last-minute supplies.
“Walker is in town right now,” Sadie pointed out. “I’ll check out the kitchen, make a list, and have him pick up anything else I need.” She started toward the hallway but stopped herself. Glancing worriedly at Hannah, she said with a cloud of uncertainty, “That is, if you want me to continue doing the cooking. I suppose with you being the new owner and all, you might be making some changes.”
Torn between needing to assert her authority and wanting to reassure the older woman, Hannah tried to accomplish both. “For now, I see no reason to change things. I would appreciate you preparing breakfast for our guests.” She shot the other sister a smile, as well. “And thank you, Fred, for preparing the room. Now, if one of you would be so kind as to show me how to get into the computer…”
“Come with me,” said Fred, crooking her slender finger.
With the Tanner sisters gone, the inn seemed particularly quiet. Walker was still in town, Leroy had followed the red Cadillac to the cabin in the woods, and there was no sign of Orlan Varela or Caroline today. Hannah was alone at the inn.
She kept the doors locked as she worked in the front office. Before leaving, Fred gave her a quick tutorial on how the reservation system worked, jotted down the passwords to various programs, and left Hannah to poke through the computer at her own pace.
Caught up in teaching herself how everything worked, Hannah was soon oblivious to time, but the sound of an approaching car finally snagged her attention. A glance at the clock confirmed she had been hunched over the computer for most of the afternoon.
The vehicle didn’t sound like Walker’s truck, but perhaps it was Fred and Sadie. Hannah finger-combed her long tresses as she hurried to the front door.
A hint of worry niggled its way up her spine. Instead of the vintage convertible she expected, she saw a nondescript dark sedan. Had their first guest already arrived?
Apparently so. A man stepped from the backseat with a duffel bag in his hand. He spoke to the driver and then stood back so the car could pull away. Rather than move forward, he stood for a long moment, looking over the property. Something in his sweeping gaze made Hannah increasingly uncomfortable. Where, she wondered, was everyone? Walker should have been back by now, and the Tanner sisters hadn’t returned yet, either. That meant she was here alone with a man who eyed the place as if it were a side of prime beef.
She thought of Everett Tinker, and how he had ogled the property in much the same manner. Thank the Lord, this man looked nothing like the obnoxious handyman. This man was much smaller, almost thin. Even though his jeans and t-shirt were faded and a bit worn, they looked clean and fit him better than the baggy overalls of the carpenter.
“Stop it,” Hannah hissed to herself. “This isn’t Everett Tinker. This man has a reservation. He’s just looking over the place, wondering if he made a wise choice. Perfectly normal, under the circumstances.” She gave a rueful snort and muttered, “Lord knows, it doesn’t look like much.”
No need adding to his discomfort by looking too ea
ger. Hannah unlocked the door and hurried back to her cubicle. She grabbed her phone and saw she missed a text from Walker, saying he stopped at the office and would be later than expected. Great, she moaned. And somehow, she had failed to get a number for the Tanners. It really was just her, and the man now coming through the door.
Hannah gathered her courage and tried to sound more congenial than she felt. “Hello,” she called, “and welcome to The Spirits of Texas Inn.” She hoped her forced smile didn’t waver.
The man glanced around the big open room, blinking in rapid succession. Hannah felt a stab of empathy for him. He was obviously nervous, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
“Excuse the mess,” Hannah said, her voice now warmed with sincerity. “We’re under new management and haven’t had time to sort everything out yet. I apologize for the current state.” In truth, the room looked exactly as it had when she first arrived. With no visible signs of last night’s break-in, her apology was directed more to the drab interior and the outdated furnishings.
“Looks better than I expected,” the man remarked, moving forward.
Hannah tried not to frown. She wasn’t certain, but the statement could have been an insult. Then again, she reasoned, it may have been a backhanded compliment. Either way, she suspected it was truth. Given the bedraggled appearance of the town as a whole, it didn’t inspire high expectations.
Interjecting a note of brightness into her voice, Hannah tried another smile. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yeah, sort of. I met a couple of women in town who said I should stay here. One of ‘em was dressed in a cowgirl get-up, and the other one was in a Hawaiian shirt with big flowers all over it.” His hand twirled in the air, indicating the pattern of bold flowers Sadie had worn. “They said they could set me up for the night.”
“Certainly. I’ll just need to see your driver’s license and credit card, please. If you’ll fill out this form, we’ll get you right into a room.” Hannah smiled and pushed the clipboard toward him.
Instead of reaching for the paper, the man scratched his head and gnawed on his lower lip. “Yeah, well, about that…”
Alarms went off in Hannah’s head as her smile slipped. “Is there a problem?”
“Well, you see, I don’t exactly have a driver’s license. And my ole pappy taught me to pay cash wherever I go. ‘Son,’ he always said, ‘a man can get in a heap ‘o trouble, charging and owing his whole life. Pay cash, and you never got ta worry.’” He left out part of what his father taught him, the part about not leaving a trail. Cash was the preferred method when you wanted to stay incognito.
“I’m sorry, but without proper means of identification, I’m afraid we can’t give you a room.”
Hannah heard herself saying the words, even as she wondered where they came from. They simply flowed from her mouth, as if she had been formally trained for the job. Common sense, she assured herself. She had stayed at enough hotels to know the drill. Hadn’t everyone?
“That’s why I had the car drop me off, you see. It’s one of those newfangled taxis, where you call up a number and they send someone to pick you up in their own car. Being as I don’t have a license, I can’t rightly drive a vehicle. Wouldn’t want to break the law, after all.” He flashed a sheepish smile that was designed to look innocent, but it left Hannah wondering how he had gotten to Fredericksburg in the first place, if he didn’t have a vehicle of his own.
“I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change the fact that without some form of identification, I can’t rent you a room.”
“Oh, well, if that’s all…” He dug into his wallet and pulled out an assortment of cards. Most were of the customer loyalty variety. “See here? That’s me, Delroy Hatfield.”
Hannah reluctantly looked at the cards now scattered over the counter. The man obviously liked his food, as over half of them were to restaurants. One was for a grocery store chain she had never heard of, another was to a miniature golf course. Only the pharmacy discount card looked remotely official. But it was the address on the card—Olathe, Kansas—that made her stand up a bit straighter. What’s taking Walker so long?
“Again,” she said, fingers inching over to locate her phone on the lower desk, “I need some sort of official ID. Something with a photo.” She glanced down, making certain her cell was within reach. Could he see over the counter? More importantly, was there a panic button somewhere, like they had in banks? At the moment, it seemed like an excellent idea.
“I gotcha, I gotcha.” He went back to dig in his wallet further. After a bit of a struggle, he pried out a worn, plastic-coated employee card and presented it to Hannah with a triumphant smile. “It’s an old picture, but that’s me, right there in black and white.”
She didn’t point out that the picture was, in fact, taken in color. Those colors were now faded and weak, but there was no denying the image on the card. He appeared several years younger in the photo and sported not only a full head of hair, but a fuller face. The years had thinned his hair and lined his face, and somewhere along the way, he had dropped at least twenty pounds, but at some point in time, the man named Delroy Hatfield had been employed at Piedmont Fertilizer Plant. She held the proof in her hands.
“See? That should do it, won’t it?”
A commotion behind her pulled Hannah’s attention away from the expectant man.
“We’re back!” A singsong voice preceded the flurry into the room. From the sounds of it, both sisters tromped through the hallway from the back door. “And in plenty of time before—oh! You’re here!” Surprise rang in Sadie’s voice as she rounded the corner and saw the man standing at the front desk. She stopped so abruptly, her sister bumped into her from behind. While Fred grumbled beneath her breath—something about a clumsy ox and a disjointed nose—Sadie beamed at their new guest.
“You made it! Did you have any trouble finding the place? I hope you remembered to eat before you came. Did you try the authentic German place we told you about? I hope you tried the schnitzel. It’s to die for.” She fired off one sentence after another, never waiting for a response. “Did Hannah get you all checked in? We have your room ready for you. Fred went up earlier and freshened it, just for you. Did you give him the welcome packet, dear?”
Hannah had no idea what a welcome packet was, much less where to find one. She tried to answer, but Sadie didn’t stop long enough for her to squeeze a word in.
“You’ll have to jiggle your key just a bit, because the lock sticks sometimes. Where’s your key? I’ll show you what I mean.”
Delroy shook his head. “I don’t have a key.”
“Don’t have a key? Why ever not?” Sadie whirled and stared at Hannah in confusion. “Why doesn’t this man have a key?”
“Because we’re having a bit of a problem checking Mr. Hatfield in.” At last having the opportunity to speak, Hannah put as much authority into her voice as she could muster. “It seems he doesn’t have a proper form of identification, nor a credit card to secure the room.”
“But you just called him Mr. Hatfield, so obviously you know who he is.” Spoken with such innocence, the explanation sounded so simple falling from Sadie’s lips.
“Yes, but—”
Before Hannah could protest further, Sadie continued. “And Sister and I invited him here.”
Hannah scowled, once again torn on how best to handle the Tanner sisters. They had been Miss Wilhelmina’s loyal caretakers for years. No doubt the inn’s success, however loosely defined, was due in large part to these dedicated women. But Hannah was their boss now, not the other way around. As owner of the property, she should have the ultimate authority on what—and who—was allowed.
She would have said as much had their very first guest not been standing there, watching the silent showdown between the women. And of course, there was the fact Sadie’s hazel eyes watered with tears and her face crumpled with vulnerability. She wilted before Hannah’s eyes, her bright demeanor fading faster than a sinking
sun.
“Of course you did,” Hannah said hastily, hoping to put the older woman at ease. “But there’s still the matter of payment. Mr. Hatfield doesn’t have a credit card.”
Fred was the one to speak up. “You have cash, don’t you?” she asked the waiting man.
“Sure do!” Instead of digging into his wallet again, Delroy Hatfield reached into the pocket of his t-shirt. He pulled out a handful of wrinkled twenties. “Got cold cash, right here.”
“We’ll take it!” Fred’s matter-of-fact nod gave Hannah no room for protest.
Seething inside, Hannah pushed the clipboard under Hatfield’s arm. “You’ll need to fill out this paper. Sign at the bottom, and initial everywhere you see an ‘x.’” She shot Fred a warning glare, daring her to skip yet another formality. While the man signed as directed, Hannah continued in a stiff voice. “One last signature, in our ledger here, and Fredrika will show you to your room.”
“What about breakfast?” the man asked eagerly. “You ladies promised breakfast.”
Sadie’s smile was once again bright. “Of course we did. Just be down here in the morning, anytime between six and nine, and I’ll cook you up a fine meal.”
“Out here, or in the kitchen yonder?”
“Here in the dining room,” Sadie confirmed.
Fred reached past Hannah and snagged the key, but Hannah failed to notice. She was too busy wondering how Mr. Hatfield knew where the kitchen was. It could be a logical assumption, she supposed, deducing that the kitchen was near the dining room. Yet something about their guest put her on edge. He seemed harmless enough. A bit simple minded, if anything. But she couldn’t forget the look in his eyes as he stood outside, surveying the whole of the property. That look was best described as a gleam, and it made her distinctly uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he, too, was from Kansas.
Hannah didn’t mind admitting, if only to herself, that she was eager for Walker to return.
“Hannah.”
Sadie’s voice pulled her from her worries. She glanced over at the other woman, surprised to find her looking so contrite. “Yes?” Fred and Delroy Hatfield were already upstairs, and Hannah hadn’t even noticed.
