Darlene poured coffee into Mark’s cup, her hands steady despite the flutter in her chest. The dining room door opened, and Mrs. Clifton walked in, her silver hair neatly styled and her face bright with a wide smile.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Clifton said, settling into a chair at the table next to Mark’s. “The weather is perfect today.”
“It does look like it will be a nice day.” She filled another coffee cup and placed it in front of Mrs. Clifton. “Would you like pancakes this morning?”
“That sounds lovely.” Mrs. Clifton’s eyes sparkled. “And I wanted to tell you that I’ve made a decision. I’m thinking about finding a place to rent here on the island.”
Darlene paused in her serving. “Really?”
“Yes, I’ve fallen in love with this island.” Mrs. Clifton gazed out the window at the morning sunshine. “There’s something special about it. The pace, the people, the sea air.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Darlene set a plate of pancakes in front of her. “The island does have a way of enticing people to stay.”
Her gaze drifted to Mark, who was focused on buttering his pancakes. He glanced up, catching her eye, and she quickly looked away. Of course, Mark had his own life waiting for him—book tours, signings, events. His world moved at a much faster pace than their quiet island. But she couldn’t help but wish it was Mark telling her he was staying on the island.
She pushed the thoughts away and busied herself with refilling coffee cups, but it was hard to ignore the odd ache in her chest at the thought of Mark’s eventual departure.
He finished his breakfast and rose. “I’m headed out to the porch to write a bit.” He pointed to his laptop case. “I want to finish the chapter I’m working out, then print it out for revisions. I’m old-school that way. I revise on paper.”
“I’m glad the words are coming again.”
“So is my agent.” He laughed. “I sent him the first part of the book and he’s really excited. Now if I can just pull it off.”
“I’m sure you will.” Not that she really knew what was involved in writing a book, especially a mystery with all its twists and turns. “Good luck with it.”
Mark headed out to the porch, laptop case in hand, while she gathered up the plates and utensils from the table and carried them to the sink. The familiar routine that usually gave her such comfort felt a bit empty today.
Felicity was busy doing research with Brent. Mark was writing a new book. Even Mrs. Clifton was contemplating a new life. But here she was, doing the same thing, day after day. And now, with the added worry of finances.
She shook her head as she placed the dishes in the sink. It wasn’t like her to feel sorry for herself. Enough of these thoughts. She was a lucky woman. Owner of a lovely B&B and she had a wonderful granddaughter. Her blessings were many.
Darlene tried to remember the feeling of how she was so blessed as she wrestled with the leaky kitchen faucet. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t quite get the leak to stop and it was driving her crazy. Not to mention she wasn’t one to waste water. And leaky faucets led to higher water bills.
She stood up and stretched, her hand on her back. And after she got this fixed—if she got it fixed—she needed to go work on the balcony door in room ten. The last guests had mentioned it was hard to open and wasn’t closing properly. She couldn’t bear to think of guests thinking the Bayside wasn’t kept up properly. A B&B with reviews that said it was cozy could quickly turn into a B&B with reviews that said it was run-down.
She sighed, staring at the stubborn faucet that refused to cooperate. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Mark entering the kitchen. His eyebrows rose as he took in the scene before him.
“Everything all right?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
She straightened up, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “Oh, just trying to fix this leaky faucet. It’s been driving me crazy, but I can’t seem to get it to stop.”
He stepped closer, examining the faucet. “Mind if I take a look?”
She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to trouble him—he was her guest after all—but the offer was tempting. She handed him the wrench. “Be my guest. I’ve been at it for a while now with no luck.”
He rolled up his sleeves and got to work, his forehead creased in concentration. She watched, impressed by his focus and the confident way he handled the tools. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before, a glimpse beyond the grieving widower or famous author.
As he worked, she found herself studying his features. The way his salt-and-pepper hair fell across his forehead, and the intensity in his eyes as he tackled the problem at hand.
After a few minutes, he straightened up, a triumphant smile on his face. “There, that should do it. Give it a try.”
She turned on the faucet, holding her breath. She turned it back off, and to her relief, there wasn’t a single drip. She beamed at him. “You fixed it! Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
He shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s the least I could do. You’ve been such a gracious host, and I know running a B&B isn’t easy.”
A warmth spread through her at his words. It was rare for someone to acknowledge the challenges of her job, and even rarer for a guest to offer assistance. “Well, I appreciate it more than you know. It’s been a bit of a struggle lately, trying to keep up with everything.”
He nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “I can only imagine. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
