Room at the Inn

As Alicia slid out the door, an older, much larger woman pushed through carrying a tray of cupcakes. “It’s fixing to snow again. We’ve had more snow this winter than—Carson Vance! What are you doing on that ladder?”

“I’m polishing the ceiling, Mrs. Miller.”

The third-grade teacher put her hands on her capacious hips, her mouth set in a habitual frown. But after a few moments’ inspection, the frown softened. “It’s coming along very nicely.”

“I think so, too.”

“See that you don’t fall off.”

“Will do.”

Julie tried to take the cupcakes, but Mary Miller said, “I’ll carry them,” and marched into the dining room.

“Thank you so much for making these.”

“I always make cupcakes for the bake sale.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s he doing here?”

“Polishing the ceiling?”

“Don’t treat me like I was born last Tuesday.”

Julie mentally rolled her eyes. When she’d arranged to have bake-sale donations dropped off at her house, she’d thought it would be more convenient than finding somewhere to put them all at the library, then carting them over to Bruce’s store, where the sale would take place. She hadn’t counted on everyone’s bringing their treats through the back door into the kitchen to ogle Carson.

They were doing it on purpose. Everyone in town knew he was staying here, and thanks to Bruce, most of them probably knew he was working on her ceiling. They all wanted a look at him.

They wanted a look at him and her together.

“It’s temporary.”

Mary made a snorting sound. “Of course it’s temporary. It’s Carson.”

“His dad sent him over.”

“His dad should know better. I thought you were done with that boy.”

“Do you need anything else? I’ll get your tray back to you next week.”

Her frown lines deepened. “Just be careful.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

When she’d gone, Julie checked out the window for more cars. The drive was empty. For now.

She got herself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen island. “I’m sorry about all the disruption,” she said.

He twisted around to look down at her. “I feel like a monkey at the zoo.”

“I didn’t think.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “They’re all just curious. And very, very protective of you.”

“What did she say?”

He flapped the hand that was holding the rag and climbed down from the ladder. “Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me by letting me eat one of those cupcakes with the white frosting.”

“Knock yourself out.”

He washed his hands and retrieved one from the dining room, and Julie got him a plate, thinking how much easier it was to talk to him since they’d cleared the air. Still awkward, but at least not so … tense. Carson took a bite from the cupcake, then peeled a twenty out of his wallet, setting it on the counter. “For the bake sale.”