The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel Read Online Free Page A

added with perfect kindness, “If you’d like, you could bring your supper downstairs and eat with me and Granny. I’m afraid we’re the only company available, since you’re the only guest in the house. Most people leave on Sunday.”
    Jackson quickly figured how to save face and not be unkind. She was sharp enough to see through him, and he had to soothe his defensive impulse with a reminder that he respected her. “Thank you for supper, Chas . . . and everything else. You’ve been very kind.”
    “I told you I take very good care of my guests.”
    “And I can see that you are a woman of your word.”
    She left the room asking, “What time would you like to eat breakfast?”
    “What time will it be ready?”
    “You’re the guest. You can choose. Seven, eight, nine, or ten.”
    “Nine,” he said, hoping to sleep in a bit.
    “I’ll see you in the dining room just off the entry hall at nine. Good night . . . Jackson.”
    She left and closed the door. Jackson let out a long sigh, put some wood on the fire, and ate his sandwich. He wondered if it was the atmosphere or the hands that had prepared it that made it taste like the best sandwich he’d ever eaten. Or maybe he was just hungry. He stopped trying to analyze and just ate the sandwich before he went to bed, wondering why he felt lonelier than he’d felt since he’d left the home of his childhood more than twenty years ago. And yet, somehow, he felt less alone. Chas and Granny were in the house. The thought made him chuckle. They both added character to the house.
    * * * * *
    Jackson slept well but woke up early. He knew snow was still falling since he’d left the blinds open last night. The clock on the bedside table was flashing numbers, which meant the power was back on. Since the fire had long since gone out, he concluded that the only reason he wasn’t freezing was due to the furnace running. He laid there for a long time, comforted somehow by his surroundings. The room was even more amazing in daylight. He loved the Victorian details of woodwork and plaster that held no hint of modern architecture. And it had been restored so beautifully! He gave himself credit for good instincts when he’d picked this place out of the list on Google when he’d been searching for a remote bed-and-breakfast. Thinking of the breakfast part, he hurried to shower and get dressed in order to get to the dining room by nine.
    Jackson lovingly stroked the polished wood banisters as he descended the two flights of stairs and quickly found the room where six little tables with two chairs at each were aesthetically arranged, with a sideboard against one wall that he suspected would display a buffet on mornings when there were other guests. Today it had little more than a pot of hot coffee and a pot of hot water, side by side on a hotplate that kept them warm. He heard some noises from the kitchen where he could only see a refrigerator and a counter. While he was pouring himself a cup of coffee, he heard Chas call, “Good morning. Have a seat and I’ll be right there.”
    “No hurry,” he said and sat at one of the tables where he could see the snow falling. On the table were cloth napkins and dainty silverware and goblets.
    “There are some newspapers over by the window if you’re interested,” she told him from the other room.
    Normally he would have wanted to look at a paper. Today he felt like it would encroach on his hiding from the world. “Good coffee,” he said when she walked into the room with a tray.
    “That’s what Granny says.” She set a china plate with a muffin and a tiny dish of butter in front of him, along with a pretty little bowl of fruit.
    He looked up at her. She was wearing an apron in the same deep green shade as the napkins, and he was startled by a little quiver in his stomach. It was a sensation he’d not experienced for years, but again he asked himself if he were attracted to her, or her kindness. Or perhaps simply to her company