Page 3 of Baking With A Ghost
I wasn't letting Carl take anything else of mine. Three years of my life was enough. He would have to pry Gran's pans from my cold dead hands if he wanted them.
"Are you John, by chance?"
A short, grey-haired lady stands at the open door to the bed and breakfast, head cocked, as she waits for my answer.
"I am. Are you Mary?"
My long legs carry me up the path and she motions for me to come inside.
"I am, it's nice to finally meet you, John. Are you okay parking on the street tonight? The driveway is full until tomorrow."
Placing my bag on the floor, I stretch out my back. "That's cool. I just need food, a shower and a bed for now. It looks like it's a quiet enough neighbourhood. I shouldn't worry about it out there, right?"
Shaking her head, she closes the door and locks up. "Gosh, no. Quiet as a mouse, but some people don't like parking on the street. It's a city thing I guess. Do you like roast beef? That's what I made for supper and if you're hungry I can leave a plate in the breakfast nook for you."
I'm already arriving well past normal check in time. She's wonderful for accommodating me. It doesn't feel right to accept her own dinner as well.
"Only if you put it on the bill for me, Mary. You've been wonderfully helpful and I don't want to keep you up any longer."
She hands me a room key from a peg board, hanging over a small desk in the living area. "Nonsense. Everything good in this town is closed and you don't want to go out for fast food. You've traveled all day. As you said, a shower, meal and a good bed is what you need and you have all three here."
My face splits with a grin.
"I do indeed."
"It's not rocket science." She laughs and I smile bigger. "Fresh towels and toiletries are in the bathroom so take as long as you like. The kitchen is through the door over here. Come down when you're done and it will be waiting for you. If I'm not here when you're finished, just leave the plate in the sink. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast from 8 – 9:30 A.M in the same place. Straight up the stairs, the second room on the left is yours."
Mary disappears into the kitchen with a dismissive wave and I take the stairs to my room, marveling at the old photographs in the hallway. They seem to be historical photos of the town and despite my want for a hot shower, I pause to read all the titles on my way up.
When I finally do reach my room, it's better than any hotel room. I'm tempted to fall face first into the puffy cloud of a bed in front of me but I need to take care of an important task first. Dropping my bag on the bed, I dig out my phone from my pocket and hit video call for Ivy.
The ring isn't even finished on the first go and her sleepy face fills the screen.
"Hey, you. I'm sorry it's so late, but I made it just fine."
"Thanks, Johnny. I was waiting up for you. What took so long?"
"Traffic, construction, the usual summer shit show. I just got in about ten minutes ago. Time for shower, food and bed. I'll be at my new place tomorrow and hopefully my furniture will arrive on time so I can sleep in my own place."
She yawns and I chuckle. "I'll fill you in tomorrow. Get to sleep, beauty."
"I will now that I know you're okay. I love you."
"Love you, too."
Throwing my phone on the bed, I peel out of my clothes and hit the shower. I sigh out loud as the warm water hits my back. There's no substitute for good water pressure and a massaging shower head. Well, there is, but masseurs don't tend to come with a normal rented room in a bed and breakfast. If this shower is any indicator of what I should expect from Mary and her establishment, it's no wonder she's so popular.
The warm water, coupled with the extremely long day, has me forgetting about roast beef dinners and I sink into the marshmallow soft bed with a sigh. My body thanks me as I fall fast asleep.
"I'msosorryImissed dinner. I fell right to sleep."
Mary smiles and slides a coffee cup over to me. "It's okay, dear. I know what it's like to spend the day traveling. My husband had to travel a lot for work. Sometimes he'd fall asleep at the table when he got home." Her smile is tinged with sadness, as her gaze shifts to a photo of a newly married couple from at least fifty years ago hanging on the wall. Even I can tell the woman is Mary.
"What kind of work did he do?"
As she settles the breakfast choices on the table for me, she chatters away about her late husband.
"He was a financial planner. He worked for a local company and most of his clients were in neighbouring towns or the city. It's not big enough here to sustain a profitable book, so he always attended shows to look for more clients. One time, I made dinner and came out and caught him just as he was falling asleep and almost fell into his soup bowl." She chuckles and pulls up a chair when she's done with the breakfast spread. "I lost him early, far too early. I could never date after, nobody was ever as good as Ed."
