The Perfect Hope Part 33

"He was a good man. Had his flaws, like any. Made me crazy some of the time, and made me laugh a lot. I wouldn't have had him any different. Not one bit." She put an arm around Hope's shoulder for a hug. "If Ryder doesn't make you laugh, you toss him back. s.e.x isn't worth it if he doesn't make you laugh. I think I'll go interrupt his day before I go nag at Clare."

Hope watched her walk across the lot in her red sneakers, hailing Ryder as she went. And he straightened, shook his head, and grinned down at his mother.

Who wouldn't want to be Justine when they grew up? Hope thought, and slipped back inside.

SHE DIDN'T HAVE time to think about potential lovers or ghosts, or anything else once the Friday arrivals began to roll in. Hope walked-or jogged-up and down the steps too many times to count. She figured until the fitness center opened, she got plenty of cardio right on the job. She showed guests to their rooms, answered questions, accepted compliments on the decor in the name of her boss, served refreshments, offered advice on dining and shopping.

When her Civil War couple returned, she set them up with wine-on request-in The Courtyard.

Some guests, she knew from experience, wanted a private little getaway where the innkeeper was nearly as invisible as Lizzy. Others wanted her to be a part of their experience, wanted to share with her the adventures of their day.

She listened and chatted when it was called for, vanished when it wasn't. And like Justine with the town, Hope kept her ear to the ground of Inn BoonsBoro.

By five, with a full house, she had guests scattered around The Courtyard and in The Lounge.

"I can stay," Carolee told her. "And that woman in E&D has you running your tail off. She a.s.sumed we'd have a wine list," Carolee said, trying for a snooty accent. "And she certainly hopes we have Greek yogurt. It's not that I minded running out to get it, but she could've asked nice-or better, in advance."

"I know, I know. She's a pill." Hope poured out another bowl of bar mix. "It's only two days," she said like a mantra. "It's only two days. And maybe she'll be less of a pill as it goes on."

"That type was born being a pill. She snapped her fingers at you."

She had, Hope remembered, but for some reason it made her laugh. "Oh, girl, girl-because I'm much too important to be expected to remember or use your name-do you at least have water crackers available? I'd like to give her a water cracker."

Now Carolee laughed. "Oh well, everybody else seems really nice, and ready to relax and enjoy. I can stay," she repeated.

"No, you go home. You have to be back bright and early to help me make breakfast for this crowd. Civil War Bob's bound to keep everybody entertained again."

"He couldn't entertain that one if he juggled fireb.a.l.l.s naked. You call me if you want me to come back. I can even bunk in your spare room if you need me."

"You're the best." Because she was, Hope drew her into a hug. "I'm on it. Don't worry."

She carried out more bar mix, another bottle of wine, and smiled easily when The Pill asked her for c.o.c.ktail olives. Since she had some, she put them into a pretty bowl, carted them out. She chatted with those who wanted to chat, went back in to check on the guests in The Lounge.

And made the rounds until she could take a breath and offer up a prayer of thanks when The Pill and her husband went out to dinner.

Civil War Bob-bless him-talked his wife and two of the other couples into pizza delivery and games in The Lounge. She heard the good, satisfying sound of laughter and knew there would be no finger-snapping from that quarter.

She could get a little dinner herself, maybe do a little research while she ate-with that ear to the ground in case she was needed.

But first, she'd do a sweep of The Courtyard to gather up any dishes or napkins.

She stepped out into the balmy evening. Such pretty light, she thought, and quiet now that the Fit crew had knocked off. Next empty night, she'd treat herself to dinner in The Courtyard. She might even fix something fussy, just for herself, have a couple gla.s.ses of champagne. A little innkeeper indulgence, she thought as she gathered empty bottles for recycling.

Maybe he'd gotten noisier, or she more attuned, but she looked over just as Ryder stepped under the arch of wisteria.

"Some party," he commented.

"We've got a full house, and some of them took advantage of the nice evening. You're in town late."

"Had some things. Meeting at Vesta."

"All those irons in the fire require meetings."

"So Owen claims."

"He's right." She gestured toward the building under construction. "The roof's looking good. I think I can imagine that part finished. It's going to look so much bigger, and so much better."

He took the tub she used for the bottles. "I'll get it."

"I've got it."

"I'll get it," he repeated, muscling it away. He carried it to the shed, dumped them in the recycling bin. Before she could pick up the bag of trash she'd finished filling, he took that as well.

"Thank you."

He shut the shed door, turned to study her.

"Is there something-"

"Yes."

After silence followed she lifted her eyebrows. "All right, what?"

"Yes," he repeated. "I'm considering the idea."

"You-Oh." Not a conversation she'd expected to have with an inn full of people playing gin rummy.

"That's not accurate. I've finished considering the idea."

"I see. And what's your conclusion?"

He gave her that look-that not exactly a smile, a sneer, a smirk. "What do you think?"

"I'm going to take a leap and say you've concluded in favor."

"Good leap." He reached out; she stepped back.

"I have people inside. Guests inside. I wouldn't call this an optimum time to move forward with that conclusion."

"I wasn't figuring on wrestling you to the ground here and now." But he put his hands in his pockets as the image of doing just that had considerable appeal. "So, what would you call the optimal-Christ, now I'm talking like you. When's good for you?"

"I-"

He pulled his hands free, waved it away. He had smoother moves than that, for G.o.d's sake. She just threw him off-stride. "You want dinner or something? That's fine. You've got a night off sometime, or a night without bookings. I can work with that." When she hesitated, he shrugged. "Unless you've changed your mind."