“And he makes me feel like I am doing everything wrong, even when I’m not.”
Jane’s smile widened. “That sounds very much like how you used to describe the people you ended up liking.”
I glared at her. “You have paint on your cheek.”
She laughed. “Give me part of your list.”
“Jane,” I protested, but she held out her hand patiently so I ripped the list in half, and handed one part to her.
“It’s going to be a long night,” she commented. “We had better get it done.”
Chapter Eight: Caffeine, Carbs, and Delusion
Dex.
I woke to the sound of a hammer. The clock on the nightstand read six. Inspector Mercer was due in two hours.
The smell of fresh paint drifted under my door. I pulled on a shirt and shoes before I stepped into the hallway. To my left at the exit someone had mounted the fire ordinance code in a frame. No doubt the hammering I had heard had been to put the nail in the nearby wall.
As I approached the main part of the inn, I could hear the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen, muffled footsteps, and low voices.
When I reached the foyer, I stopped. Two cocoa mugs sat empty on the front desk beside a half-used paint roller and Lucy’s clipboard. A list was taped to the counter, every box checked in her small, precise handwriting. The last line read Mercer 8 a.m.
She had stayed up all night to finish the list. Of course she had.
I really should have known. Lucy had stayed late many times as needed to make sure tasks were done when she had been employed by me.
The reception room looked different. New outlet covers gleamed. The baseboards had been scrubbed and repainted. Even the chandelier leaned less than usual. The Bennet’s had done everything on Mercer’s list by sheer force of will, caffeine, and probably divine interference. I could feel a smalltug of admiration underneath my irritation. The woman was relentless.
It really was too bad Lucy was determined not to return as my secretary, I thought with a pang.
Helen’s voice floated from the kitchen door as she spied me. “Dex, dear, pancakes?”
I followed the smell of butter and caffeine. The kitchen was a study in barely controlled chaos. Kitty stood at the stove in a flannel robe, flipping pancakes with the flair of a game-show host. Braxton was pouring orange juice. Lydia filmed both of them, narrating into her phone like an over-caffeinated news anchor. Jane sat at the table, hair in a messy bun, eyes glazed from lack of sleep while William calmly sipped his coffee and read the newspaper.
“Where is Lucy?” I wondered, looking around.
“Painting the hallway,” Jane mumbled, reaching for a pancake without looking. “She has been up since… well, technically, since yesterday.”
“Of course she has,” I muttered, a little annoyed that we had been left out. I realized that I would have stayed up later to help. “No one thought to wake the rest of us?”
“Waking you would have slowed her down,” Helen said cheerfully. “We plan things. She executes them. It is a good system.”
“It is an inefficient system. She should have delegated some of the work. Lucy should have given us the opportunity to help,” I replied, taking a mug from the counter.
“Tell her that, if you want to lose an argument,” Jane said dryly, pulling a piece off of the pancake and popping it into her mouth.
I found I preferred Jane when she had a lack of sleep. It made her far less shy and she said what she was thinking.
Before I could respond, Lucy appeared in the doorway, clutching a paintbrush like a weapon. Her hair was pulled into a knot that had given up halfway, and a streak of pale blue paint decorated her cheek. She looked like exhaustion personified and infuriatingly alive.
“You’re up,” she said when she saw me. “Good. Can you tighten the railing by the stairs? I expect the inspector will check the integrity of the railing and I ran out of battery on the drill last night. It’s plugged in where the rest of the tools are.”
I set down my coffee. “You could have asked last night for us to help.”
She blinked. “You were asleep.”
"That's usually when people rest. I had assumed that you would be going to rest as well,” I admonished with a frown.
