Deadline. Metsy Hingle

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СКАЧАТЬ in the details. Open shutters surrounded the multipaned French-style windows, giving the house an added charm and a sense of protection. She knew a little about architecture, and she recognized the columns that braced the roof of the porch were a Queen Anne design. Exiting the car, Tess continued to admire the house. She noted that the mill-work on the base of the columns featured a cloverleaf theme that had also been adapted for the rafter tails and the post brackets. The white-on-white scheme pulled it all together, giving the building a sense of unity. At the bottom of the porch, white and yellow chrysanthemums had been planted along the border of a white wooden skirt that echoed the same detailing on the house. Five wooden steps led up to the porch, where white flower boxes placed on either side of each window were filled with more lush, yellow chrysanthemums.

      Suddenly eager to go inside and see the rest of the place, Tess popped the lock on the trunk of the car and hurried to the rear to gather her bags. With her suitcase and computer travel case in tow, she headed up the stairs and into the guesthouse. It was like walking into someone’s home—someone’s beautiful antebellum home, Tess amended. The floors were made of polished oak. An heirloom rug filled the center of the floor. On it rested an antique table with a cut-glass vase filled with fresh white roses.

      “Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to Magnolia Guesthouse,” a lovely blond woman with a sugary accent greeted her from behind the counter. “May I help you?”

      With those blue eyes, skin like milk and pretty smile, all the girl needed was a hoopskirt, Tess thought, and she would have been convinced that she had been transported back to the nineteenth century. Shoving aside her foolish thoughts, Tess walked over to the registration desk. “Hello. I’m Tess Abbott,” she said as she set down her bags. Up close, she realized the girl was a little older than she’d thought at first glance, probably in her mid-twenties. Yet she’d ma’amed her as if she was pushing forty instead of someone who had just turned twenty-nine. “I believe you have a reservation for me.”

      “Did you say Abbott?”

      “Yes, I did,” Tess informed her and thought she’d caught a flicker of recognition on the other woman’s face. But it was gone so quickly, Tess was sure she’d been mistaken.

      “Just give me a sec,” the woman said as she punched data into a computer system.

      Definitely not the nineteenth century, Tess thought, smiling to herself.

      While the girl worked at the computer, Tess used the opportunity to scan the rest of the room. She noted the small silk pillows in rich jewel tones with needlepoint appliqués propped along the back of a settee. A lush green ficus tree sat in one corner. Another table with more roses sat near a window. Her gaze gravitated to the far wall, dominated by a traditional fireplace. A fire burned invitingly in the grate, reminding Tess of the damp chill in the air when she’d gotten out of the car. Her eyes lifted to the painting above the mantel. It was the portrait of a beautiful redheaded woman sitting in a garden that looked very much like the one that she’d seen outside.

      “Oh, here you are, Ms. Abbott. It looks like we were expecting you yesterday,” she said in that same slow, sweet voice.

      “Yes, I had hoped to arrive yesterday evening. Unfortunately, I was delayed. I did call and leave a message that I’d be arriving a day later than planned.”

      “Yes. So you did. It looks like you spoke with Ms. Maggie. She’s the owner of Magnolia Guesthouse. She’s left a note in the system for me to call her when you arrive.” The girl picked up the phone. “If you’ll just give me a sec, I’ll let Ms. Maggie know that you’re here.”

      A few moments later, a striking pixie of a woman with a friendly smile came bustling down the hallway. “Ms. Abbot,” she called out and extended her hand. “I’m Maggie O’Donnell. Welcome to Magnolia Guesthouse.”

      “Thank you,” Tess told her.

      “I realize it’s late and you must be tired, so I won’t keep you. But I wanted to talk to you about your accommodations.”

      The woman was right. She was tired, and after the day she’d had and the incident at the convenience store, she didn’t need anything else to go wrong. “Ms. O’Donnell, please don’t tell me there’s a problem with my reservation.”

      “The name’s Maggie,” she corrected. “And there’s no problem at all. It’s just that you requested one of the cottages and since you were arriving so late and wouldn’t have a chance to view them this evening, I wanted to suggest that you spend tonight here in the main house. Then tomorrow when it’s light and a bit warmer, I’ll give you a tour of the grounds and show you the cottages. That way you can decide which one you’d like to stay in for the remainder of your visit. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

      Tess paused. She’d thought being in a cottage, away from the main house, would afford her more privacy while she investigated. She’d also hoped that she might even do some Internet research tonight on Lester De Roach.

      “Of course, if you’d prefer, I can go ahead and put you in one of the cottages tonight.”

      “No. You’re right. I would like to look over the cottages tomorrow. So the main house will be fine for tonight. Thank you for suggesting it.”

      Maggie smiled at her. And Tess couldn’t help herself. The woman’s energy and friendliness were contagious. “Excellent. Then I’ll leave Mary Lee to get you registered and show you up to your room. Tomorrow morning, you just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll give you that tour I promised.”

      “Thank you,” Tess told her, and after giving the girl behind the counter instructions, Maggie disappeared back down the hall.

      “Ms. Maggie’s right. You’ll like staying here in the main house. Truth is, I think the rooms here are prettier than the cottages,” Mary Lee said in a whisper, as though she was sharing privileged information. She punched more information into the computer. “Here we go. Now, do you want to put the charges on a credit card or will you be writing a check?”

      “Credit card, please.” Tess retrieved her Visa card from her purse and handed it to the girl.

      The young woman zipped the piece of plastic through the machine, then handed it back to Tess, along with a receipt. “If you’ll just sign right here.”

      Tess signed the receipt and the girl gave her a copy, which she stuffed into her purse.

      “You’ll be in the Lady Charlotte Suite tonight,” she explained, handing Tess an old-fashioned door key, the kind that up until now, she’d only seen in old movies. “It’s right up the stairs and the last door at the end of the hall. If you’ll just give me a sec, I’ll help you with your bags.”

      “That’s okay, I can handle them,” Tess told her as she hooked her computer bag to the front of her suitcase. “But thanks anyway.”

      “Sure thing. Oh, by the way, we serve a country breakfast beginning at seven-thirty in the dining room. You don’t want to miss it.”

      “That sounds good. Is it possible for me to get a wake-up call for six-thirty?”

      “Of course. And if you need anything in the meantime, just ring down to the front desk. I’ll be here all night.”

      “Thank you, Mary Lee,” Tess said, and once again she thought she’d detected something in the way the girl looked at her. An eagerness, almost as if she was bursting with a secret, СКАЧАТЬ