Bitter Sweet (22 page)
‘There’s no doubt in my mind.’ He glanced at the application form, then back to Maggie. ‘I imagine there’s a question of zoning out there.’
‘I thought so, too, sir, until I received the Health and Social Services regulations for B-and-B establishments which state dearly that ill were to have five guest rooms or more I’d be considered a hotel, and I could only operate in an area that’s zoned commercial. But as long as I stick to four guest rooms or less I’ll be considered a bed and breakfast, and they are allowed in residential zones. There’s a copy of the pamphlet there for you, too, somewhere.
You’ll find the ruling in paragraph three under HSS t97:o3, the section called Definitions.’
The leader of the group looked as if he’d been poleaxed.
His eyebrows nearly touched his hairline, and his lips hung open. ‘I’m almost afraid to ask.., is there anything else you’d like to add?’
‘Only that I have a former member of this board, Eric Severson, here with me tonight to give me a character reference.’
‘Yes, I noticed him sitting next to you. Hello, Eric.’
Eric lifted a palm in hello.
At last Loretta McConnell spoke up. ‘I have a few questions for Mrs Stearn.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ For the first time Maggie faced the woman whose gaze was shrewd and intimidating.
‘Where would you advertise?’
‘Primarily in the Chamber of Commerce publications, and I intend to make an appeal to Norman Simsons, the author of Country Inns and Backroads, in the hope that my inn will be included in the next edition of his book. And, of course, I’d have a discreet sign in front of the house itself.’
‘No road signs?’
“Cluttering up
‘And the exterior-of the house - are there any changes planned there?’
‘The one stairway, which I mentioned, to meet fire code.
And a new rear verandah because the original one was falling off, but the new one will be an exact replica of the old. The exterior painting has already begun, and the house will be restored to its original colours, which, as you know, is being required by law in some areas of the country. The house will be the same colours chosen by Thaddeus Harding - saffron yellow with tarnished-gold window trim, Prussian blue cornice brackets and a paler
China
blue on the bargeboards. The fretwork and porch rails will be all white. Those are the only changes I have planned. When I hang out the sign that says Harding House, the people who’ve known it all these years will find it just as they remember it in its early days.’
Loretta McConnell took the subtly dangled bait.
‘Harding House?’
‘I intend to keep the name, yes. It’s every bit as much a landmark as this courthouse is. Landmarks ought not to be renamed, don’t you think?’
Five minutes later Maggie and Eric left the courthouse with the Conditional Use Permit in hand.
They held in their hallelujahs as they moved down the echoey halls, but once outside, they both bellowed at once.
She rejoiced while he let out a war whoop, picked her up and swung her off her feet.
‘Holy balls, woman, did you have ‘em bulldozed! Where in God’s name did you get all that information so fast?’
She hughed, still amazed, and exclaimed, ‘Well, you told me to present them with facts!’
He set her down and smiled into her face. ‘Facts, yes -but they weren’t expecting the World Almanac, and neither was I! Maggie, you were magnificent!’
“Was I?’ She chuckled and felt her knees beginning to wobble. ‘Oh, Eric, I was so scared.
‘You didn’t look scared. You looked like Donald Trump putting up another building in
‘I did?’ she asked disbelievingly.
‘You should have seen yourself.’
‘I think I have to sit down. I’m shaking.’ She fell back onto the edge of the concrete planter beside the front door and pressed a hand to her belly.
He perched beside her.
‘You didn’t have a thing to worry about, not from minute one. I’ve sat on that board, Maggie. Do you know how many people come in there asking for permits to build this or that, and they don’t know wild honey from baby shit about what it would take to open it up, the cost of operating it, its chances for success, nothing! You knocked ‘em right off their pins, Maggie. Hell, you didn’t need me there at all.’
‘But I’m so happy you were. When I turned around and saw you smiling, I...’ She interrupted herself and ended, ‘I’m so glad you’re here to help me celebrate.’
‘So am
I.
’ He extended a hand. ‘Congratulations, Maggie M’girl.’
She gave him her hand and he squeezed it. And held it. A little longer than prudent. The name had come out of nowhere, an echo of a bygone time. Their eyes met and held while the October night pressed near, and beside them the light fell through the window of the courthouse door. It felt too good, having her narrow hand in his much wider one.
She sensibly withdrew hers ‘So you’re an innkeeper now,’ Eric remarked.
‘I still can’t believe it.’
“Believe it.’
She rose, joined her hands and hung them over the top of her head and turned a slow circle, looking at the stars.
‘Wow,’ she breathed.
‘Did you see Loretta McConnell’s face when you were slapping all those papers on the table?’
‘Lord, no. I was afraid to look at her.’
‘Well, I did, and I could count her missing teeth, her mouth was open so wide. And then when you laid that colour scheme on her- Maggie, how in the hell did you find out what colour the place was?’
‘I read an article in the New York Times on paint restoration and analysis. It named paint manufacturers who specialize in analysing the old paint on buildings and producing authentic Victorian colours. I contacted one in
Green Bay
. What I didn’t tell Loretta McConnell is that I didn’t accomplish all this in the last three weeks. I started the moment I got back to
Seattle
. I ran up a long-distance bill that would make you quiver and wince.’
He chuckled and grinned at the stars. ‘Harding House Bed-and-Breakfast Inn,’ he mused. ‘I can see it already.’
‘You want to?’ The question popped out of nowhere, prompted by Maggie’s excitement.
‘Now?’
‘Now. I’ve just got to go see it now that I know it’s really going to happen! Want to go with me?’
‘Absolutely. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.’
He had to stretch his legs to keep up with her on their way to the truck. ‘I’m going to run the classiest inn you ever saw!’ she proclaimed as they hurried along. ‘Sour cream scones and Battenberg lace and eyelet bedding and antiques’
everywhere! Just you wait and see, Eric Severson!’
He laughed. ‘Maggie, slow down, you’ll break your neck in those high heels.’
‘Not tonight. Tonight I’m charmed!’
She chattered all the way back to Fish Creek, spilling plans, from the most major such as where the laundry facilities would be, to the most minor - a dish of candy always available in the parlour, and cordials for the guests at bedtime. Amaretto, perhaps, or creme de cacao with cream floated on top. She had always been partial to creme de cacao and cream, she told him, and loved to watch the two colours swirl together after taking the first sip.
At her house he parked beside the thick wall of arborvitaes and followed her down a set of broad steps to the newly-restored back verandah where she unlocked the door and led the way inside.
‘Stay there till I find the light switch.’
Eric heard a click, but all remained black. The switch sounded again, four times in rapid succession. ‘Oh, damn, they must have disconnected something. The Lavitskys were using their dectfic tools when I left today, but.., just a minute- wait here while I go try another light.’ A moment later he heard a dull thud and the scrape of wood on wood.
‘Ouch!’
‘Maggie, you all right?’
‘It’s just a little bruise.’ More clicking. ‘Oh, shoot, I guess nothing’s working.’
“I’ve got a flashlight in the truck. Wait, I’ll get it.’
He returned in a minute, shining a light into the kitchen, catching Maggie in its beam. She looked incongruous, wearing high heels and suede, standing beside a sawhorse with a pile of broken plaster at her feet.
They stood in the dark room, their features highlighted by the dim flashlight, much as they’d been highlighted by dash lights years ago when they’d parked until the wee hours.
He thought, You shouldn’t be here, Severson. And she thought, You’d better move. Fast.
‘Come on, let’s go look at the house.’
He handed her the flashlight. ‘Lead on.’
She showed him the kitchen where there would soon be white cabinets with glass doors; the maid’s room where the exterior wall had already been replaced; the tiny bathroom which would be for her private use, tucked beneath a stairway just off the kitchen, with its angled ceiling and beadboard wainscot; the main parlour with its fine quartersawn maple floor which she would use for her guests, and the music room which would become her own parlour; the pocket doors which could close to divide the two; the dining room where she would serve hot scones and coffee at breakfast time; the main stairway with its dramatic banister and newels; three upstairs guest bedrooms, and a fourth, which would be divided to create the new exit and an additional guest bath.
‘I saved the best for last,’ Maggie told Eric, leading him through one last doorway. ‘This...’ She stepped inside.
‘... is the Belvedere Room.’ She flashed the light around the walls and crossed to a door on the opposite wall. ‘Look.’
She opened it and stepped out into the cool night air. ‘This is the belvedere. Isn’t it lovely? In the daytime you can see the bay and the boats and
‘I’ve seen this from the water many times and always imagined it must have an impressive view.’
‘It’ll be my best room. I’d love to have it for my own but I’ve come to realize that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
Not when I can use the maid’s room downstairs, and have my own small bathroom, with access to the kitchen and second parlour. So, I’ve decided to make the Belvedere Room the honeymoon suite.’ She led the way back inside.
‘i’m going to put in a big brass bed and pile it with mountains of lacy pillows. Maybe an armoire on that wall, and over there a cheval mirror, and white lace on the windows so the view is never completely cut off. Of course, all the hardwood floors and woodwork will have to be refinished. Well, what do you think?’
‘I think you’re going to have a busy winter.’
She hushed. ‘I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘And...’ He glanced at the illuminated face of his watch. ‘I think it’s time I got you back home before your mother has a fit.’
‘I guess you’re right. She’ll probably be waiting up, ready to treat me as ill were fourteen years old again.’
‘Ah, mothers - they’re all a thorn in the side at times.’
They headed downstairs together with the light bobbing before them. ‘I can’t imagine yours being one.’
‘Not often, but she has her moments. She gets on my case about
Nancy
working and being gone all the time. She thinks that’s no way for a marriage to run.’ Reaching the bottom of the steps, Eric added, ‘The trouble is, neither do I.’
In the dark, Maggie halted. It was the first time Eric had hinted at anything being amiss with his marriage, and it left Maggie searching for a graceful reply.
“Listen, Maggie, forget I said that. I’m sorry.”
‘No... no, it’s all right, Eric. I just didn’t know what to say.’
‘I love
Nancy
, honest to God, I do. It’s just that we seem to have become so remote from one another since we moved back here. She’s gone five days a week, and when she’s home I’m out on the boat. She resents the boat and I resent her job. It’s something we have to work out, that’s all.’
‘Every marriage has its troubles.’
‘Did yours?’
‘Of course.’
‘What? If you don’t mind my asking.’
They remained where they’d stopped, with Maggie aiming the flashlight at the floor between them.
‘He liked gambling and I resented it. I still go on resenting it because it’s what finally killed him. The plane he was on when he died was heading for a gambling junket in
Reno
.
He went there once a year with a group from Boeing.’
‘And you never went with him?’
‘Once. But I didn’t like it.’
‘So he went without you.’