Bed and Breakfast (3 page)

I knew what he meant. Meals were the loneliest times, even meals eaten at home. I hated eating by myself in a restaurant.

“Of course, I understand if you don’t feel it’s appropriate,” he said. “Or if you feel having dinner with me would upset Steve.”

I laughed a little. “Steve?” I asked. “Why would he care?”

Brent shrugged. “I thought you and he might be dating. The way he looks at you . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence.

How had Steve looked at me? Sometimes I caught Steve watching me, but he quickly looked away.

“Steve and I aren’t dating,” I told Brent. “As I said, he’s just a friend.”

“Well, then, how about dinner?”

I tried to sound relaxed, even though I was so excited I wanted to jump up and down. “I’d like that,” I said. “Just let me get changed.” But what was I going to wear?

I ran upstairs and searched my closet for something dressy to put on. I found jeans and pants. I pushed back the messy line of blouses, blazers, summer dresses and coats hanging in the closet. There had to be a nice dress in there somewhere.

Then I found it. Forgotten and hanging in the back was a little black dress. The dress was sleeveless; only thin straps held it up. If the dress still fit, it would show too much skin and too much cleavage. That was exactly what I was looking for.

But would the dress fit?

I took off my jeans and T-shirt and slid the dress on over my head. I struggled to get into it. The dress was just a bit tight. I had put on a few pounds in the past five years. But I managed to get it on.

I kicked my sandals and runners out of the way and hunted for my shiny black high-heeled shoes. I slipped them on. Then I rummaged through
my jewelry box until I found my fake-diamond earrings.

When I was fully dressed, I stepped in front of the mirror. “Wow!” I said to myself. The little black dress hugged my womanly curves. I hardly recognized myself.

Brent just happened to walk out of the bathroom as I was coming downstairs. He stopped and stared up at me. “You look absolutely wonderful,” he said.

That was my Cinderella moment. I felt like the cleaning girl transformed into a princess by her fairy godmother.

But then my heel caught on the bottom step and I fell down. I landed on all fours right at Brent Henderson’s feet.

“Shit,” I muttered as I got up off the floor. So much for my Cinderella moment.

Brent helped me up. “Are you all right?” he asked me.

“I’m fine.” I laughed to cover my embarrassment as I brushed off my little black dress. “I haven’t worn high heels in a long time,” I said. “They take a little getting used to.”

“Well, then,” Brent said, offering me his arm. “Let me help you keep your balance.”

I put my arm through his, feeling both foolish and excited. Here I was, walking arm-in-arm with such a gorgeous man! He led me to the front porch. I kept my mind on getting down the steps without falling again.

The evening was pleasant. The sun shone, though I could see a few storm clouds building. We never know what kind of weather we might get here. The sky can be clear one hour and dark with rain the next.

“You say the restaurant is within walking distance?” Brent asked as we reached his car.

“Yes, just up the road.”

“Shall we walk, then?” He grinned at me. “Or are you up to it?”

“I think I can manage,” I said. But as soon as I said that, I slipped on the gravel under my high heels. I smiled at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice my embarrassment.

“Are you
sure
you can manage?” Brent asked. He actually looked concerned.

I nodded, blushing. “I’ll be fine,” I said. Those damn shoes weren’t going to stop me from having a romantic arm-in-arm stroll with Brent.

Once we were on the pavement, I found walking easier. But I knew I would have blisters on my heels when I got home.

Our town is very small. Everyone knows everyone. On that sunny June evening, almost all my neighbours were outside enjoying the weather. Many were making supper on their barbeques. They watched Brent and me as we walked up the road arm-in-arm, all dressed up. They stared at us, in fact.

Brent smiled and nodded at them. For the most part, they seemed too stunned to say anything, even hello.

“Friendly town,” Brent said, glancing at me. His face told me that he meant my neighbours were anything but friendly.

“They don’t mean to be rude,” I told him. “They don’t often see a man as handsome as you.” I lowered my voice as I added, “I find it hard not to stare.”

“Well, thank you,” Brent said. “But they’re not looking at me.”

I glanced back at my neighbours. Brent was right. My neighbours weren’t staring at Brent. They were staring at me.

I looked down at myself, to make sure my dress still covered what it should. It showed a little too much cleavage, all right, but that was on purpose. “I guess they’re surprised to see me in this dress,” I said. “I rarely have a reason to dress up.”

Brent shook his head. “No,” he said. “That’s not it. I think they are staring because they don’t often see a woman as beautiful as you.”

Okay,
that
was my Cinderella moment. I felt like a princess. I had to look away from Brent because I couldn’t stop grinning.

As we passed Steve’s house, Steve left his barbeque to watch us pass by. He still had his flipper in his hand. He had been using the flipper to turn hamburgers on his grill when he saw us.

I waved at Steve and Brent nodded at him. “Hello, Steve,” Brent said. “Fine evening.”

Like my other neighbours, Steve said nothing, at first. He just watched us walk by with a look of shock on his face. Once we passed by his place, I heard him call my name. “Annie,” he said.

I turned back to look at him.

“I told you,” Steve said. “You
are
beautiful. And he
is
lucky to have you.” He waved his flipper at Brent and spoke directly to him. “I just hope he knows it.”

As we walked to the restaurant, I glanced at Brent to see how he reacted to what Steve said. I was afraid Steve had scared him off. But Brent didn’t say anything about it, not right then.

When we arrived at the restaurant, he opened the door for me. We went inside. The restaurant building was an old church. Stained glass windows dimmed the light in the room. Each table held a lit candle. Everything about the place was perfect for creating a little romance. I hoped that was still possible.

The hostess led us to our seats. She took our drink orders and left us menus. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to say something to Brent about what had just happened. “About what Steve said—,” I started.

“That I’m lucky to have you?” Brent asked. He smiled at me, and I suddenly felt foolish for saying anything at all.

“Yes, that’s it,” I said. I paused. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I didn’t want Brent to think I was expecting too much of him.

“It’s okay,” said Brent. “Don’t think anything of it. It’s clear Steve has feelings for you.”

“It is?”

“Of course.” He looked at me, puzzled. “You don’t see it?”

In that moment I saw Steve’s actions in a whole new light. I knew he was leaving his tools behind so he had an excuse to visit. But now I realized why. To him, we were much more than friends. The lilacs Steve brought me that morning
were
for me, and not for my guests.

But his romantic intentions weren’t welcome. I really liked Steve, just not in that way. I couldn’t see him, grubby in his work clothes, taking me out to dinner as Brent did now.

“He wants you, Annie,” said Brent. “He sees me as a threat. It’s okay, I understand. Don’t let it ruin our evening together.”

“No, of course not.”

“The chicken looks good,” he said, looking at his menu.

“Yes, it does. I think I’ll have that.”

The waitress came to take our dinner orders. “Shall I order for you?” Brent asked me. “Please.” I was delighted. My husband had ordered for me when he took me out to fine restaurants. I couldn’t see Steve doing that. When Steve and I ate lunch at the fish and chip shop, he and I paid for our own meals.

“You live in the city, in Toronto?” I asked Brent, after the waitress left.

“Yes,” he said.

“Steve was wondering what you do for a living.”

“Steve wondered, did he?” Brent smiled. He was amused. He knew I was the one who really wanted to know.

“He guessed you weren’t a plumber,” I said.

“No.” Brent smiled. “You can tell Steve I own a gallery.”

“A gallery?”

“I sell works by Toronto artists: painters, photographers, sculptors, potters.”

“Expensive stuff, I imagine,” I said.

“We deal only in the very best.”

“We?” I asked. Did I have competition? A woman he worked with, perhaps?

“I run the gallery with my brother,” he said.

“Ah,” I said, relieved.

“My wife was a painter,” he said. “That’s how we met. I sold her work.”

My heart sank. There was no way I could compete with the ghost of his wife. She was an artist, a city woman who knew all about culture. All I did was run a bed and breakfast in a sleepy little town.

“I suppose I seem simple by comparison,” I said. As soon as I spoke, I wished I could take the words back. Brent now knew I was comparing myself to his dead wife. Worse, he knew I was hoping for more than just a dinner with him. I was asking for too much, too soon.

“Not at all,” Brent said. “You’re refreshing. I feel very at ease with you.”

But something shifted between us. Brent was charming all through supper, yet he also kept his distance. He smiled more at the pretty waitress than he did at me.

I knew my chance at romance with Brent was over. At least, I thought it was. Then the rain began, and everything changed.

The rain poured down in sheets. Water quickly gathered into pools on the pavement. Streams of water ran down the road.

“What the hell?” Brent said as we left the restaurant. “The sun was shining before we ate.”

“Just a regular day around here,” I said, holding my purse over my head. “We better make a run for it.”

I slipped my high heels off and ran down the street in my bare feet. When Brent didn’t follow right away, I took him by the hand and urged him on. We ran down the street hand-in-hand, laughing.

Steve had been watching the downpour from his doorway with a beer in his hand. Then he saw Brent and me running through the rain together. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Brent and I were soaking wet when we reached my bed and breakfast. “I haven’t had that much fun in a long time,” Brent told me. “You make me feel like a kid again.” He kissed me on the cheek.

Then he headed down the hall to his room. “I’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” he said.

I was thrilled. Brent had kissed me! He did have feelings for me after all.

I went upstairs and changed, too, into pants and a T-shirt. Then I started a fire in the downstairs fireplace, thinking it would entice Brent into the living room. The room soon warmed up from its glow.

I sat in my favourite red chair in front of the fire and put my feet up. I sipped a glass of wine and attempted to look both at ease and stylish. When Brent came in, I wanted him to think I looked like a city woman.

But he didn’t come back to the living room right away. As I waited, I shifted my position in my chair, trying to look sexy.

“Brent,” I called finally. “Care to join me in the living room for a nightcap?” I figured the offer of a glass of wine would encourage him to join me.

When he didn’t answer, I walked down the hall to his room to ask him again. I was about to knock on his door when I heard Brent turn on the shower in the bathroom down the hall.

I turned away, disappointed. I imagined he was having a shower before bed, and that was the end of our date.

But then I heard Brent yelp. “Shit!” he cried, as if he was in pain. I heard the shampoo bottle fall into the bathtub. The shower curtain rattled open as he jumped out of the shower.

“Brent,” I called through the bathroom door. “Are you all right?”

Brent turned off the shower taps and opened the door. Dressed in his white bathrobe, he could have been a model in a shampoo commercial on TV. That is, he would have looked like a model if he wasn’t both shocked and angry.

“There was no hot water!” he said. “My shower was freezing!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure what could have happened. Did you turn on the hot water tap?”

“Well, of course I turned on the hot water tap.” He waved at the shower angrily, inviting me to check things out for myself.

I turned on the tap and felt the stream of water, which was icy cold. “You’re right,” I said. “There is no hot water.”

“Believe me, I know,” said Brent. The skin on his face and hands was pink from the cold shower.

I turned on the sink tap. No hot water there. Brent followed me into the kitchen. No hot water there, either.

“I imagine there is something wrong with the hot water tank,” I told him. “I wonder if I can simply turn up the heat.”

“I have no idea,” Brent said. “If I have any kind of problem at my place, I phone my building superintendent.”

“Your superintendent?”

“He takes care of the apartment building where I live,” Brent said. “He’s kind of like your Steve,” he added. “If something breaks, I phone him.”

Steve, I thought. Of course! Steve would know what to do. I ran to the phone.

Steve knocked on the front door. Usually he just walked right in. He nodded hello when I opened the door, but he didn’t smile. He went straight to the kitchen and I followed. Once there, he turned on the hot water tap and felt the stream of water, just as I had.

“See?” I said. “Nothing but cold comes out.”

Steve opened the electrical box on the kitchen wall and checked the breakers. They all looked fine. “The hot water tank is still getting power,” he said. “So something has gone wrong with the tank. I’ll go down into the basement and take a look at it.”

I went back into the living room to wait for him. Brent sat in my favourite red chair, warming himself by the fire. He still wore his bathrobe.