He was home.
27
DIANA
Diana decided to fight rumors with transparency. If people were whispering about the inn's finances, she'd open the books. If they questioned her competence, she'd prove it with service. Saturday's soft reopening would set every record straight.
"Tea flights and gossip," Twyla said, setting up her contribution to the afternoon's offerings. "My favorite combination."
"I'm hoping the gossip works in our favor this time." Diana arranged cinnamon loaves on tiered stands, the kitchen smelling of butter and spice. "People love to talk. Might as well give them something positive to talk about."
"Smart strategy. Nothing kills rumors faster than visible success."
The parlor buzzed with activity as Diana set up the book swap in the corner by the windows. Locals had been dropping off volumes all week, everything from romance novels to historical biographies. Freya had contributed a collection of herbalism texts, while Edgar had mysteriously provided several books on "theoretical applications of practical magic."
"Ready for the invasion?" Rowan asked, bringing in fresh scones from the kitchen.
"Ready as I'll ever be." Diana straightened the last tablecloth and surveyed her work. "Think people will come?"
"They'll come. Curiosity alone will guarantee a crowd."
He was right. By two o'clock, the parlor was full of townspeople balancing teacups and browsing book selections with the studied casualness of people who definitely weren't there to evaluate the inn's stability.
"Diana," said Varric, accepting a delicate china cup, "this is lovely. Very professionally organized."
"Thank you. I wanted to showcase what the inn can offer the community year-round, not just during special events."
"Wise approach. Consistency builds trust."
Diana moved through the crowd, refilling cups and answering questions with the easy confidence that came from knowing her business inside and out. When Mr. Simonson mentioned concerns about operating costs, she had detailed budgets. When Sera Quinn asked about future events, Diana produced a calendar that ran through spring.
"Impressive planning," said Tom Brewster, documenting the afternoon with his camera. "Mind if I ask about the recent delivery issues? Heard there were some complications with suppliers."
"Temporary setbacks," Diana replied smoothly. "We've established relationships with multiple vendors to ensure consistent service. Actually, the delays pushed us to find local suppliers, which benefits the whole community."
"Smart business practice."
From across the room, Diana caught Maeve's eye. The lioness shifter had claimed a strategic position at the small bar cart, her presence a silent declaration that anyone thinking of causing trouble would answer to her first.
"Having a good time, Maeve?"
"Best entertainment I've had all week." Maeve sipped her tea with predatory satisfaction. "Love watching people realize their gossip was garbage."
"Has there been much gossip?"
"Some. Mostly the usual small-town nonsense. Financial troubles, competency questions, whether you're really qualified to run this place." Maeve's smile was sharp. "Amazing how quickly those concerns evaporate when people see actual competence in action."
Diana felt a warm flush of satisfaction. This was working exactly as she'd hoped.
"Diana," called Miriam from her chair by the fireplace, "come settle a debate. Mrs. Patterson insists the inn's guest registry from 1987 recorded a celebrity visit. I say it was just someone with the same name."
"Let me check the archives." Diana retrieved the leather-bound guest book from the office, its pages heavy with decades of signatures. "October 1987... here we go. M. Streep, New York. Stayed three nights, requested extra pillows and Earl Grey tea."
"Could be anyone," Miriam maintained.
"Except for this note in the margin," Diana continued, "'Lovely inn, perfect for quiet retreat. Will recommend to colleagues. - M.S.'" She looked up at the gathered crowd. "Written in the same handwriting as the signature."
"Well, I'll be damned," Mrs. Patterson said with obvious delight. "Meryl Streep slept in our inn."
