To Love Again. Bonnie K. Winn

“You’ll need my credit card.”

      Annie waved her hands. “Not necessary. We can do that when you check out.”

      Laura stared, amazed.

      Annie laughed. “I doubt you want to get up at four in the morning to skip out. Besides, a little trust goes a long way.”

      “That’s a kind, if somewhat precarious, way to live in this world.”

      “It works for me.”

      Laura’s anxiety eased somewhat.

      “Have you had your breakfast?” Annie put her hands on her narrow hips.

      “Actually no. But if it’s too late—”

      “Nope. I was just getting around to mine. Would you like to join me?”

      Laura was touched by the offer. “I’d love to.”

      “The dining room’s still set for breakfast. I haven’t cleared the buffet. The warmers are on under the bacon and sausage, the eggs, too. The griddle’s hot and I was about to make pancakes. Or whatever you like.”

      “I adore pancakes. I didn’t expect such bounty.” Laura wandered over to the antique buffet. Jams—she’d guess homemade—in crystal dishes begged to be spread on the plump rolls. And there was a basket of sticky buns as well. She felt as though she’d stepped back into another time when people lingered over breakfast.

      “I just made some fresh coffee.” Annie indicated from the stove. “And there’s orange juice on the buffet.”

      “Let me,” Laura offered. “What do you take in your coffee?”

      “Thanks.” Annie pointed. “Just a little cream.”

      Laura poured them each a coffee. Retrieving the pitcher of orange juice, she carried it to the only table with place settings.

      Annie followed shortly with a platter of fluffy pancakes. “This time of year we get a lot of tourists because of the wildflowers, but it’s still mostly weekends right now.”

      “I’m not here for flowers.” She stopped. She didn’t intend to tell this stranger anything about why she was here. Annie just smiled.

      “Rosewood’s a good place to be.”

      “Oh?”

      “People are welcoming here.”

      Laura reached for the syrup. “I’m just here for a visit.”

      “It’s a fine place to visit, too.”

      “Is the real estate market doing well here?”

      Annie poured some cream into her mug. “I don’t really know. But you could check with Paul Russell down the street.”

      Laura choked on her bite of pancake.

      As she coughed, Annie patted her on the back and handed her a glass of water. “Sip slowly. The maple syrup is strong. I should have warned you.”

      Once she caught her breath, Laura said. “No, it’s lovely, really.” She sipped more water, took some time wiping her mouth with the cotton napkin. “Is he a friend of yours?”

      “Paul? Yes. He’s a member of my church.”

      “Church?” Laura didn’t mean to spit the word, but Jerry hadn’t included church in their plans. He’d been too busy with barbecues, boating and golf. And between the disillusion with her marriage and the control Jerry held over her, she had drifted far from the days when her grandmother had taken her to church.

      Annie must have sensed her discomfort. “How about some orange juice?”

      “Thank you.”

      Annie poured her a glass. “So, are you here to check out the real estate market?”

      “In a way,” Laura hedged. She had been hiding the truth about her abusive marriage for so long it was second nature to keep everything quiet.

      “I have a friend, Emma McAllister, whose husband is a contractor. He’s working on a house not far from here. He just built a new home for the owner.” She put the pitcher down. “And they don’t want to sell this one because they want to keep it in the family. Seth’s fixing it up to rent it. If you want to look inside, he’s probably around.”

      “Oh, I don’t know….”

      “I hope I’m not being pushy. It’s become a habit since I started running the bed-and-breakfast. That, and because I was single so long and rattled around the house alone I tend to treat my guests as friends.” Annie grinned. “Sorry, there I go. But the house really is great—if you want to get an idea of the market here.”

      “I could take down the directions, I suppose.” She did have hours to kill and maybe she would show Paul she had initiative and could learn quickly.

      “If Seth’s not there, check the back door. It might be unlocked,” Annie said, getting up to find a pen and paper.

      “Really? The house is left open?”

      “This is Rosewood. We don’t have any crime to speak of.”

      But leave an empty house unlocked? Laura couldn’t imagine such a thing. She had lived in the city so long, in the right area, the one Jerry had chosen. Still, security systems were a fact of life.

      Intrigued, after breakfast Laura followed the directions Annie had given her. She found the address easily. And sighed as she stared at the two-story folk Victorian, falling immediately in love with the front gable and side wings, corbels, the gothic details, the welcoming porch. The rosebushes that appeared to be as old as the house itself.

      A man was sweeping up on the driveway.

      “Hi. Are you Seth?”

      “No. The boss isn’t here.”

      “Oh. I heard I might be able to take a quick look inside.”

      He paused, holding the broom still. “Sure. The owners are planning to put it up for rent. I imagine they want people to look at it. The front door’s unlocked.”

      “Thanks.” She entered the foyer, then stepped into a large living room with high ceilings and a beautiful fireplace with an intricately carved mantel. Plaster walls, original woodwork, tall arched windows that allowed the light to stream in. It was amazing. The rest of the rooms were just as great. She wasn’t in real estate yet, but this place would have to rent for a small fortune. Well, some lucky family would be happy here.

      She checked her watch. Even dawdling, she still had way too much time to kill. She thought about going back to the bed-and-breakfast for a nap, but she didn’t want to wake up disoriented for the meeting. So she decided to check out the town.

      The entire place was a step back in time. She wandered around Whitaker Woods, a store full of handmade furniture, each piece a one-of-a-kind design. She peeked into the windows of the costume shop, Try It On, intrigued by the unique designs she hadn’t expected to find in such a small town.

      Her phone rang. “Hello.”

      “Laura? Paul Russell. I can’t squeeze in a meeting after all.” He sounded tense.

      “Oh.” She looked down the street at Distinctive Properties. It was within walking distance.

      Before she lost her courage, she headed for his office. “I only need a minute.”

      “Another time.”

      Paul was still on the phone when she pushed open the door. She took the chair angled in front of his desk.

      “I told you I didn’t have time to meet,” he said after he hung up.

      “That’s why I came to you.” She gripped her purse.

      He frowned. “You just show up here, after I told