Blissfully Yours. Diann Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ gaze follows mine. “It is nice. Mitch has done a good job with it.” She turns to me again. “You’re excited—I can see it in your eyes.”

      Whether the excitement comes from the new adventure or the possibility of seeing Mitch again, I can’t be sure. I have a suspicion, mind you, but time will tell.

      “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

      I pick up my luggage and follow Candace up the stairway to our left.

      “Mitch isn’t here. He had to run some errands,” she says over her shoulder, reading my mind. “Your room is right near the stairway.”

      We get to the top of the stairs and walk three steps to our left. Candace places my luggage on the floor and opens the door with a key. She shoves the door open, steps back and lets me go in first.

      Inside the room is a spacious bathroom, complete with shower, bath and ceramic tile flooring. A cathedral ceiling gives the bedroom a spacious feel. However, even though the room is very nice and simple, it’s, well—beige has exploded all over the place. A king-size bed with a beige quilt hugs one beige wall, with two small stands on either side. An animal skin of some type hangs above it. Double doors from the opposite wall lead to a balcony patio. A small stone fireplace flanks the right wall. A small chair and stand with the telephone sit near the fireplace.

      “Very pretty,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment with the beige attack. My world is not the same without bright reds, yellows, greens and blues.

      Candace shrugs. “It’s nothing elaborate, but it is kind of cozy.”

      Maybe not elaborate color-wise, but everything looks comfortable. Candace’s idea of elaborate and mine are two different things. We come from different worlds.

      “Oh, dear, I almost forgot Guacamole. I have to get him from the car.”

      Candace smiles and bites her lip. “You know, I forgot to tell Mitch about Guacamole.”

      I stop. “Is that a problem?”

      She shrugs. “Too late now.”

      She doesn’t seem worried about it, so I figure it must be all right. I run down the stairs and out the door. Opening my car, I grab the handle of Guacamole’s travel cage and decide to come back later for my packed boxes. I’m thankful I’ve wrapped a blanket around the bottom, or he’d be mad at me. Same as me, he hates the cold. I take him inside and up the stairs, where Candace is still waiting in my room.

      Her eyebrows lift. “So this is Guacamole in the flesh.”

      “Yep,” I say like the proud mama I am. “Haven’t you seen him before?”

      “Just pictures.” I notice her face doesn’t look all that pleasant as she watches Guacamole shuffle around in his cage. The good news is his green body stands out in the room, and suddenly I’m thankful he’s not a white poodle.

      “I think you’ve found the perfect name.” She laughs. “How long have you had him?”

      “Guacamole is two years old. Iguanas can live as long as twenty years.”

      “Amazing. That takes true commitment.”

      I nod. “If I ever get married, the man will have to love Guacamole, too.” I stick my fingers in Guacamole’s cage and rub his tail. “I have a wooden habitat for him—looks similar to open bookshelves, complete with warming lights. But it’s open in the front so he’s free to roam. I hope that’s all right.”

      Candace’s eyebrows lift.

      I can’t help but laugh at her expression. “Guacamole is litter-trained, so you don’t need to worry about, um, surprises.”

      She relaxes. “What does he eat?” she asks, still looking a little worried.

      “Bedposts, wooden chairs. Now, he’s not into pine wood. Mainly walnut, cherry, that kind of thing.”

      Candace’s eyes grow large as snowballs.

      “I’m kidding.” I laugh. Candace’s shoulders relax. “He eats healthier than I do. Staple veggies such as okra, green beans, butternut squash, acorn squash, mustard greens, some fruit occasionally—bananas, berries, peaches, pears, that kind of thing. Pretty much anything in the produce section,” I say with a laugh. “You’re sure your brother won’t mind, right?”

      “Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it,” Candace says with a lighthearted tone of voice.

      We hear the front door open downstairs.

      “I think that’s Mitch.”

      My heart blips again. I put Guacamole’s cage near the bed and follow Candace down the stairs. I glance at the banister and wonder for a fleeting second what it would be like to slide down it.

      At the sight of Mitch, I struggle to breathe. My teeth stick together as though I’ve got a wad of saltwater taffy in my mouth. His thick, wavy hair is pushed away from his forehead with a bit of gel, and stylish sideburns end where his chiseled jawline begins. There’s not an ounce of fat on his body. The word buff comes to mind. I’m sure he must have been a football star at one time.

      He extends his hand. “Hey, Gwen, good to see you again,” he says, flashing a grin.

      My teeth are still stuck together, so I merely smile and shake his hand. He looks at me kind of funny, and I realize I’m still grasping his hand. I reluctantly give it back to him. Killjoy.

      We step away from the door so he can get through, though I’m very tempted to stay put so he has to move me himself. My teeth start to hurt, and I pry them apart.

      Mitch steps into the great room, and we follow him.

      “So you got everything taken care of at the bank?” Candace asks.

      He nods. “I think we’re almost ready for opening day.” He casts a quick glance my way. “We do have one glitch, though.”

      I cast my prettiest smile and wonder what that could possibly have to do with me.

      “Granny is coming tomorrow,” he says to Candace.

      Their eyes lock. “Granny Windsor?”

      Judging by the look on Candace’s face, I’m thinking this can’t be good. Yoo-hoo, anyone want to fill me in here?

      “Did she say how long she would be staying?”

      “Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Mitch says. “She wanted to come and check out my new place. I told her it would be great to have her here. Then the next thing I knew she decided to be the cook for the B and B. I don’t really know how that happened.”

      “That’s Granny for you,” Candace says, shaking her head.

      Well, this is embarrassing. I’ve barely moved in, and I’m already laid off—before I cook my first meal. Can’t somebody tell Granny I was here first?

      “Mitch, you should have told her you had a cook already.”

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