Alicia shook her head. “Didn’t hear much. Just a lot of yelling. And before I could drag myself up the stairs to tell them to pipe down, the whole thing apparently blew over. Anyway, they got quiet, so I just left it alone. Although”—she turned back to the range—“I did pick up a word or two. Something from the missus about cheating, which doesn’t surprise me, given that fellow’s flirtatious behavior.”
“Oh?” I mulled this information, which fit with Lincoln Delamont’s aggressively charming persona and well-groomed good looks.
A little too well groomed for my taste, I thought, experiencing a pang as a vision of my late husband’s tousled hair and lazy smile flashed through my mind. “I guess not all is well with that marriage. Too bad, when they have a child …”
I closed my lips to silence my next words as that child bounded into the kitchen, the dining room door slamming behind her.
“Any coffee yet?” Tara Delamont asked, popping a pair of earbuds out of her ears.
She was all legs and arms and wide chestnut eyes. A girl just this side of beautiful.A shore she will soon reach, I thought,when she grows into that tall, slender frame.
“That’s served along with breakfast,” Alicia said, without turning away from the range.
“But I just want coffee.” Tara’s lower lip jutted out.
I’d dealt with enough teenagers to know arguing over this topic was a waste of time. “On the counter,” I said. “Mugs are in the cabinet above the percolator.”
Tara grimaced as she stared at the silver urn. “That’s different.” She glanced back at me over one narrow shoulder. “So what, you just use that tab or something?”
“Yes, it’s just like a water cooler,” I said, hoping she’d experienced one of those. “We do have a single-cup coffee machine, if you prefer using that.”
“Nah, this is fine.” Tara grabbed a white ceramic mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee from the percolator. “It’s pretty cool, actually.”
“Everything old is new again,” I said, and smiled as Tara flashed me a grin.
A good kid. I hope she isn’t going to be too hurt by her parents’ problems.The knowledge that this was unlikely sobered me. I’d spent eighteen years as a high school teacher. I knew the damage family issues could cause in the lives of young people.
“Thanks,” Tara said as she left the kitchen, cradling her mug to her chest.
“Children these days.” Alicia cracked eggs into a large metal bowl. “It’s a wonder they don’t all grow up stunted, the way they eat. Or don’t,” she added, furiously whisking the eggs.
“They seem to survive somehow,” I replied, fluffing my short cap of hair. I knew better than to argue with Alicia on thissubject.As on many others, I thought with a grin. “Anyway, I suppose I’d better greet the guests.”
I tugged the hem of my cranberry blouse down over my black slacks. After experimenting with wardrobe choices when I’d first taken over Chapters, I’d found that adopting an elegant simplicity was my best option. A flowing silk or linen-blend blouse paired with plain cotton or wool trousers was always my best bet. I needed to look put-together, but not too fussy.
Walking into the dining room, I called out “Good morning” and reminded myself to smile. Knowing guests liked a cheery hostess, I’d trained myself to smile more frequently. It wasn’t too difficult—I’d also learned to project a pleasant but tough attitude when I’d taught high school English. This was just a different mask.
“Hello,” said a tall, lean woman in her mid-thirties. She was seated at one of the three round tables in the dining room, wearing a tight tank top that showed off her well-toned arms. Her lightly tanned skin still held a sheen of perspiration from what I suspected was an early-morning run.
The husky man seated beside her was at least twenty years older. His cropped white hair gleamed in vivid contrast to his weathered face. Todd Rowley looked like someone who’d spent too much time in the sun, which wasn’t surprising, given his self-proclaimed love of sailing. “Good day, Ms. Reed,” he said. “I hear we have a full English breakfast today.”
“Yes, and it’s just about ready. But please, call me Charlotte. I may be the proprietor of Chapters, but we don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“Good, so you can call me Todd,” the man replied, with a broad smile.
“And Kelly,” the woman chimed in, tossing her long braid of golden-brown hair behind her shoulders.
I studied the couple for a moment. Todd Rowley was a fifty-seven-year-old entrepreneur who owned a lovely yacht named theCelestial, currently docked at the Beaufort harbor. His much younger wife—his third, if what I’d heard was true—had once been a track star and had, according to her comments at the previous evening’s cocktail party, almost made the U.S. Olympic team.
Almost.I examined Kelly’s intelligent face. She had a natural beauty that most would envy, but I detected a well of sadness in those lovely hazel eyes.As if her life was all about that “almost,”I thought, with sympathy. It was a situation I understood. I’d almost led a different life as well—filled with love, and children, and … I shook my head. No, I couldn’t dwell on such things.
“Had a good run this morning?” I asked brightly.
“Oh yes,” Kelly Rowley replied. “Surprisingly, the streets were uncrowded. I heard there was a major fishing tournament going on over in Morehead City and was afraid Beaufort would be packed full of visitors this week.”
“Oh, they’re here. They just tend to head over to the Big Rock tournament early. You’ll run into a lot more people later in the day, when they come back to their inn or hotel rooms,” I said, as a tall, lanky man entered the room. “Hello, Scott.”
“Hi.” The man ran his hand through his silver-threaded auburn hair. “How’s everyone this fine day?”
