Ophelia (Hamlet 2)

“What am I going to do with this big place all to myself?”

“I don't know.” Lucas raised his eyebrows. He looked at her in that piercing way he had, the one that made Maria think her brother had the ability to see right through to the heart and soul of her. And then he asked her something he had never asked her before—

“What do you want to do?”

The house was as empty as it had ever been before. Over the years, she had spent countless nights inside alone. It was different now, though. She wasn’t waiting for someone to come back.

It was so weird. No wonder she had trouble falling asleep.

She’d expected to be settled in at the Hamlet Inn. Instead, she was lying in her childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, letting Lucas’s question whisper through her mind.

What do you want to do?

It wasn’t just Lucas. No one had ever asked her that before.

She didn’t have to work. Maria wasn’t naive. Regardless of her home being in such a small village, she knew that most everyone needed to make a living in some manner. Her brother, for example, had strived to be a physician for as long as she could remember. He claimed he had a desire to help others, heal them. Secretly, Maria thought her overprotective, control freak brother loved the idea that he had a hand in playing God by becoming a doctor.

Lucas didn’t have to work. He wanted to.

Maria… it never crossed her mind. After her parents both passed, she simply stepped into her Mama’s shoes. She tended to the house, did the laundry, cooked the suppers. The De Angelis family had more than enough money that she could exist happily in her quiet way in her quiet house without ever having to work.

Now the house was too quiet.

But, Maria thought in a burst of sudden inspiration, it didn’t have to be.

“You want to what?”

Ignoring the incredulous tone in her brother’s voice, Maria finished sliding a pair of poached eggs and a pile of crispy bacon onto a plate before plopping it right in front of Lucas. She figured she had a much better chance of convincing him of her idea when he had some good food inside of him.

It was part luck and another part knowing him as well as she did that led Lucas back to their—she supposed it was now her—kitchen table. Always an early riser, Maria bet that Lucas would be up and on his way to the hospital at an hour when the rest of Hamlet would still be asleep.

She was right. And so what if he was a married man now? Breakfast to Caitlin was a bowl of cereal. He couldn’t turn down an offer of bacon and eggs.

Getting him to agree to her plan, however… that might prove to be a little trickier.

“A bed and breakfast. You know? A place where guests can stay the night and I can offer them a nice meal before they go.”

Lucas picked up his fork, dug into his plate. “Isn’t that what the Hamlet Inn is for?”

She expected that argument. “That’s more like a hotel. I want my B&B to be cozier, more homey. I wouldn’t have too many rooms. Maybe five or six. That way I won’t feel like I’m wasting all this space.”

He nodded at the chair across from him. The one Maria habitually took when they sat down to eat together. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

Her stomach was tied up in knots. She was too nervous to eat. “Later. Promise. But, first, tell me what you think.”

Lucas snorted. “You don’t want me to do that.”

“Luc!”

“What?” He picked up a piece of bacon, chewing on it thoughtfully. “You don’t honestly believe I’d actually approve of this scheme of yours, do you?”

No. Not if she was being honest. The idea had seemed so perfect, in the quiet and solitude in the middle o

f the night, that she couldn’t help but hope.

With a frown, she slumped into her chair.

Lucas raised his eyebrows at her easy defeat. He took a sip of the orange juice he knew she had squeezed for him by hand and said, “It’s a good thing the house is yours then. It doesn’t matter a damn if I’m against it or not. Which I am, mind you. It’s still up to you.” He held up his plate. It was already empty. “If you’re not gonna have any, can I have some more?”