The Village of Gerard's Cliff (4 page)

But when, an hour later,
Allie heard tires on gravel, her heart skipped a beat, and, for an
instant, her whole being froze. Regaining her senses, she hurried
from the front parlor, where she had been reading, to the window by
the desk, and pulled the curtains aside a bit to peek out. To her
relief, and chagrin, Allie saw that it was Connor, now shutting and
locking the door of his Camaro. She closed the curtain, and heard
his footsteps as they crunched around to the front of the inn, up
the steps.....then, a quick knock on the door.

Allie mentally composed
herself, checked that her sleeve was covering the bruises, and
walked to the door to let him in.

"Hello, Mr. Garrison." She opened the door with her usual
smile. "... Connor, I mean." He strode past her, noticeably
agitated. "Are you alright?" Allie was genuinely concerned. After
walking past her, he had turned back toward her, and seemed to be
wrestling with his thoughts, all the while fidgeting with the keys
that he still held in his hand. His thick, dark brows were
furrowed, and his penetrating stare was unnerving. "Is everything
alright?" she asked him again, as she bolted the front door, and
turned back to him. She really didn't know this man, and wasn't
sure how much she wanted to know about him. Just because he was
about the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, did not mean
she wanted to know all of his deep, dark secrets. Ethan had been
all the drama she could handle in one day. She was starting to feel
uncomfortable with his silent brooding, as his eyes continued to
bore through hers, his dark eyebrows furrowed, and his strong jaw
looking very set and determined.

"Well.." Allie decided to
change the subject. "The Hollands will be back shortly from their
trip into town," she mentioned, in a carefree voice, her hands
clasped. She decided to ignore his strange behavior. "Is there
anything I can get for you from the kitchen before you retire?" She
hoped he had picked up on the word 'retire,' as she did not want to
prolong this agony. What is it with men today, she inwardly
seethed, but continued smiling at him as if she no longer noticed
anything out of the ordinary.

"No...no, don't bother."
Connor seemed to have regained his composure, or made some sort of
decision. At this point, she couldn't care less, she decided as he
pocketed his keys. "I'll head on upstairs." He looked at her again,
but this time with a crooked, thoughtful smile that crinkled his
eyes, and that again, unnerved her.

She returned his look with
a tenuous smile, her brows furrowed as her eyes quickly scanned his
face for some clue to his odd behavior. Then she turned away
quickly, and said dismissively, "Well, good night, then." and
walked toward the desk.

"Goodnight, Allie." She
was startled at his quiet, familiar tone, but as her back was to
him, she gave no indication, and continued walking to the desk. As
she slid behind the tall, pine desk, she listened to his footsteps
growing lighter as they reached the second floor, then heard the
sound of his door closing.

As she was about to head
downstairs to begin a new day, Allie took one last glance at
herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed
back a few stray strands of her hair, which was pulled back in a
neat ponytail, tied with a knotted, filmy, green floral scarf. She
was not too displeased with what she saw...her slim figure was clad
in another turtleneck - dark green this time, and khaki slacks,
finished off with sensible, brown flats. She realized, then, with a
start, that the young woman looking back at her was a widow...and a
recent widow, at that. Why did she keep forgetting that? Her
fluttery reactions to Connor's good looks, to the sight of his
broad back in her dining room chair, and to his eyes, staring at
her in such a familiar way, were not what a new widow should be
feeling. Allie looked into her own reflected, troubled eyes. She
should still be in mourning for Patrick. She should be wearing
black. She should be ashamed of herself. What would Connor think of
her if he knew? But just as quickly, she reassured herself that he
would have no idea that she was widowed...and, why should she care
what he thought about it anyway. She'd only met him two days ago,
for goodness sake. What was he to her, but a guest at her inn, one
out of the hundreds of guests who had stayed at the inn. She shook
back her head in disgust at herself, gave herself one last level
look in the mirror, and hurriedly left her room to prove to herself
that she could be that widow. She owed Patrick that, at the very
least, didn't she?

That morning was much like
any other morning at the inn. Tilda was already in the kitchen
working on the Eggs Benedict. Allie greeted her with warm
familiarity, and looked out into the dining room. Seeing no guests,
she went to the sink counter and poured herself a mug of coffee,
peering out the window over the sink as she was doing so. "Looks
like we may have rain today," she commented ruefully, turning and
leaning back against the counter. She didn't mind the cold weather
in this part of the country; she just wasn't fond of cold and rain
together. She sipped the hot brew, and watched Tilda fry up the cod
cakes. The back porch door slammed, and Sarah hurried in, seemingly
eager to get into the warm kitchen and get a cup of coffee as well.
She hopped up on the stool and leaned forward, elbows on the
island. Allie and Tilda greeted her in their usual manner, and the
women chatted while waiting for their three guests to come down for
breakfast.

"Allie." Tilda looked
tentatively over at her employer, as she placed the cod cakes in a
container for holding. "That young couple are leaving this morning
after breakfast, you told me, and there are no other guests
arriving for a week." She turned her plump frame toward Allie one
dimpled hand resting on the counter, the other still holding the
spatula. "Do you mind if I take a week off? I would love to accept
that temp job I was telling you about. It would only be for one
week."

"Tilda, that's fine with
me, really." Allie held the steaming coffee up to her lips. "I can
handle things myself here with just one guest." She teased the
woman. "But don't you go and jump ship on me!"

"Never in a million
years!" Tilda grinned, her red cheeks looking even rosier. "I'm
here to stay, don't you ever have a worry about that. I'll go over
the menu with you before I leave."

"So now it's just the two
of us, alone with the mystery man, eh?" Sarah raised her eyebrows
in feigned horror as she laughed.

"He is not a mystery man, Sarah," Allie replied
reprovingly, rather dismayed at her employee's intimations.
Although, if she were honest with herself, she was beginning to
view him as such herself. "By the way." She looked up at Sarah,
"You may as well take the week off, too. " She laughed.
"
Your
mystery man doesn't
need his room cleaned, remember?"

Sarah nodded, pouting her
lips in a mock sulk. "I could use a week off, I guess." She sipped
her coffee thoughtfully, then raised her head and laughed softly.
"He must know when we're talking about him." She lowered her voice,
tilting her head toward the dining room.

Allie and Sarah watched
Connor stride into the dining room, and sit at the same table as
before, his back to the kitchen. Tilda was too busy immersing an
egg in the pot of simmering water, now that at least one guest had
arrived, to join them.

Allie willed herself to
remain aloof. She sipped her coffee. She would go out in a moment,
she decided, and tell him that she hoped he had enjoyed a good
night's rest....the same pleasant conversation she had with all her
guests. She set her mug on the countertop.

She straightened her back as she walked out of the kitchen
and up to Connor's table. "I hope you had a good night's rest." She
tried to look everywhere but his eyes, which she could tell, were
fixed intently on hers. "Tilda will have your breakfast ready in
just a moment," she added, looking somewhere in the vicinity of his
ear, not waiting for his reply to her opening question. She turned
and walked back into the kitchen, feeling slightly ashamed for her
abrupt behavior to a guest at her inn.

The rest of the morning
ran smoothly. Connor went back up to his room immediately after
finishing breakfast. The Hollands ate, then left the inn, with hugs
all around, and many thanks to Allie for a wonderful two nights at
The Colborne Inn, which they would never forget. Sarah finished her
work around the inn, then hurriedly departed for her second job,
apparently deciding that a week off from The Colborne Inn was a
great decision on Allie's part after all. Tilda cleaned up the
kitchen, and went over her planned breakfast menus for the next
week with Allie, although they discovered, after checking out the
pantry, that she would be short a few provisions. Knowing that
Allie was a good cook, she had no problem leaving the breakfasts to
her for a week, and truth be told, she was anxious to see if this
temporary job she had been offered might become another venue for
her to show off her cooking skills. Giving Allie a warm hug, Tilda
wished her well, and headed out the kitchen door.

Allie had the rest of the
day to herself, now that the cooking and cleaning were taken care
of. She needed to go over the books, and work on her budget and
to-do lists for the upcoming holidays. The last weeks of November,
and December looked promising so far, with eight guests staying
during Thanksgiving, which, Allie realized, was just two short
weeks away. Tilda always outdid herself each Thanksgiving at The
Colborne Inn by cooking a massive gourmet dinner. December looked
even better, with the last three weeks booked solid. Christmas and
New Year's Eve were something special, and their guests always
seemed to have a wonderful time. One of Allie's favorite tasks was
decorating the inn, and she was anxious to get out her many boxes
of ornaments and white lights that were in storage.

She knew nothing of her
one remaining guest's plans, and didn't care to. A week would go by
quickly, she reasoned, and then things would return to normal. She
could handle Connor's...Mr. Garrison's strange mood swings...after
all, if she planned it right, she would only have to see him at
breakfast. She was beginning to feel her self-control returning.
She was a strong woman. She was also a grieving widow who bravely
ran a thriving business on her own, and she would not let a
handsome stranger come in and unravel her carefully laid
plans.

Good - no rain yet. Allie
peered out the kitchen window a few hours later, then returned to
checking over the list Tilda had left her. Unfortunately, as Tilda
had said, she was missing several items necessary for the next
week's menu. She would have to go into the village today and get
what she needed.

No time like the present,
she sighed, heading to the parlor to grab her jacket. As she lifted
it from the knob, she realized that she had left the grocery list
on the kitchen island. She sighed again, threw her jacket over one
arm, and retraced her steps to the kitchen. As she walked quickly
back toward the parlor, looking over her list, she ran smack into
Connor. He was descending the last stair hurriedly, his head down,
apparently absorbed in a notebook. "Oh!" Allie took a step back. "I
didn't see you," she stammered. "I thought you had
left."

"My fault, entirely."
Connor, smiled, lowering the notebook to his side. His other hand
went to her shoulder, as he bent toward her. "Are you okay?" He
seemed genuinely concerned.

Connor
- she'd forgotten he was in the inn. Drat! Now she couldn't
leave.

"I'm fine, thank you."
Allie felt the warmth from his hand penetrate the fabric of her
pullover, radiating through her shoulder. She blinked and tried not
to look at him, annoyed with herself.

"Are you heading out?" To
Allie's immense relief, Connor transferred his hand from her
shoulder to his jean pocket. He was eyeing her jacket.

"Well, actually, I was
going to the village to pick up some supplies." Allie began. "But,
since you are here, I can go another time. There's really no
hurry," she added. She glanced up quickly, noticing for the first
time that he was wearing his jacket. She lowered her eyes to
rearrange her jacket to another position over her arm.

"What a coincidence."
Connor was thoughtful. "I'm heading to the village as well. Can I
give you a lift?" He looked at her pleasantly, his eyebrows raised.
"It's a dreary day to drive alone, don't you think?"

Allie was stymied at the
request. She was hoping to have the day to herself, and here a
guest wanted her to spend it with him, cooped up in his car. Still
occupied with arranging her jacket, she hurriedly tried to think of
an appropriate reply to his startling offer.

"Are you allowed to get in
a guest's car?" Allie couldn't tell if he was teasing her, and she
quickly stole a glance upward. "Or is that against inn rules?" He
smiled. She frowned.

What would be the harm
?
Allie surprised herself with the thought. It would only be
for a short time, at any rate. She could handle this, she decided
smugly.

"That's very kind of you."
She looked up at him. "I will take you up on your
offer."

To Connor's surprise, the
drive into the village was going pretty well.