“Now,” she said as she hooked her arm in mine. “I need your eyes.”
She pulled me into the kitchen and pointed at a long list of ingredients. “Do we have enough powdered sugar? And does this look like nine dozen or twelve dozen if we double? I know Jane said it was enough but I’m thinking she might be wrong”
“It looks like you both are trying to feed a village,” I observed.
“Exactly,” she said, and put a pencil in my hand.
I checked quantities, consolidated two lists into one, and listened to Mom and Jane debate the merit of traditional cookies versus more modern cookies. When I finished, I slipped away to continue to get those surge bars for the extension cords.
“Lu-cy." Kitty sang my name like a warning from the top of the stairs. She bounced down with a wreath in both hands. “Quick question. Two bows or one?”
“One,” I said without thinking.
“But one looks lonely. Come hand the wreath with me on the front door and we can decide,” she pleaded.
“I need to just grab something,” I told her.
“Please,” she said, eyes wide.
“Fine,” I caved into her demand, following her to the front door to help hand the wreath. We arranged the bow and a few sprigs of cedar. She took a picture, declared it perfect.
I made it to the parlor door after the wreath situation. The knob turned, but the door was locked. I jiggled the knob. It wouldn’t open.
I turned and found Dex down the hall with a level in his hand and sawdust on his sleeve. He looked like a man who had an answer and wasn't going to tell me.
“We’re stabilizing a joist,” he said calmly.
“A joist?” I repeated, skeptical.
“It’s sagging. We are going to prop it up in the basement. I noticed it when I was cleaning out the room yesterday,” Dex replied.
“Do you know where the extra surge protector bars went?” I asked.
“Jane has them,” Dex answered. “I would prefer it if you don’t go into the room. Too many people in a small space isn't safe."
“How many is too many?” I wondered.
“One,” he said all too seriously. “If her name is Lucy.”
“That’s rich. This is my house,” I retorted.
“You will like it more when the floor is level. You can see it later,” he said, almost smiling.
“What am I supposed to do until later?” I asked with a touch of frustration. Today had simply been weird. I felt like everyone knew something I didn’t. Meri elbowingKitty, everyone trying to make sure I didn’t go into the parlor, and now it was locked. Also, I had the sneaking suspicion that Dex wasn’t entirely being truthful.
“Everything else. Your list is longer than mine,” Dex dryly replied.
“That’s something I can rectify,” I muttered.
Dex smiled, and I felt a fluttering sensation under my ribs. He really was handsome when he smiled.
“Fine. I’m going,” I said, and walked away before I did something I might regret, like strangle him for being the most confusing man on earth.
Besides, I had a plan. I knew where the spare key to the parlor was. Going to the front desk, I pulled open the top drawer and grabbed the set of spare keys. Once I had a moment, I would find out exactly what was going on.
From that point on, the house converted to a farce in three acts where I was always two steps away from the door and never closer. Mom asked me to taste-test the hot chocolate mix against the other hot chocolate mix to determine which one felt more like childhood. Jane needed a second set of hands to grease sheet pans. Meri wanted my opinion on whether the check-in table should be next to the door or perpendicular to it. Lydia staged a mock coat check with Kitty and took forty photos from different angles to decide which looked “most like people would have fun responsibly." Every time I headed toward the back hall, someone appeared in my path. I am not paranoid by nature, but even I can do the math.
Around noon Dad returned from the hardware store with lengths of trim and a look that meant he had haggled successfully. Dex took the wood without comment and disappeared. The thump of hammering started a minute later, steady and certain. At first I wondered if they were the coat racks for the room behind the front desk but I remembered that the coat racks were being built in the workshop, not the parlor. I am not a fool.
