Free Bed and Breakfast by Gail Anderson-Dargatz

Chapter One
    I waved goodbye to my first guests of the summer. My busiest season had just started. I run a bed and breakfast in my big old house. Travellers rent my bedrooms, and I serve breakfast in the morning. I love welcoming visitors, but I don’t do it for fun. Without my paying guests, I would have to sell my home.
    The couple I was waving to was about my age, in their mid-forties. The man put a hand on his wife’s back as he opened the car door for her. Joe, my husband, used to do that for me, before he died.
    After the couple drove away, I stood on my porch, thinking of my husband. Joe was a handsome man who took pride in his appearance. Every Saturday night, we went out to dinner together. We often walked along the lakeshorelater in the evening. We always stopped and kissed under the stars.
    But Joe was killed in a car accident five years ago. I had been alone ever since. Now I wanted to share dinner with someone. I longed for a man to talk to during the long nights of winter. I wished now for the kind of romance I had shared with Joe.
    I was lonely, but I wasn’t alone. I had friends. In this small town, everyone looked out for everyone else. Steve was my closest friend. Before Joe passed away, Steve was his best friend. Now that Joe was gone, Steve watched over me.
    In any case, this morning I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I had dishes to wash and beds to make. I knew at least one new guest would arrive that day. A man named Brent Henderson would stay overnight at my bed and breakfast.
    I turned to get ready for my guest and walked right into Steve. “Steve!” I said, “You surprised me.” As always, he had come in through the kitchen door at the back without knocking. I hadn’t heard him walk through the house to the front porch.
    Steve was dressed in his grubby work jeans and T-shirt. His brown hair was a mess. There was stubble on his chin. He usually came to my place torepair something. Today, he looked the same as he always did, ready to get to work.
    Steve grinned and held out a handful of lilacs. “Here you go, Annie,” he said.
    I took the flowers. “For me?” I asked him.
    Steve brought me something from his garden nearly every day. I knew his gifts were an excuse for a visit. He also pretended to forget his tools at my place a lot. That way he could come back, pick up his tools, and have another chat over coffee.
    But this was the first time he offered me flowers, so I was a little worried. Steve and I were old friends. I didn’t want him to think we were anything more than that.
    He must have seen the concern on my face. “I thought you might like flowers for the guest rooms,” he explained.
    I blushed. I felt silly for worrying that the lilacs were just for me. “They’re lovely,” I said. “Thanks.”
    Steve and I went inside the house. I ran some water into a vase for the lilacs. Then I poured cups of coffee for Steve and me. We sat at the kitchen table to drink them and talk.
    “So I’m fixing the leak under the sink today?” he asked me.
    I nodded. Steve was the best handyman in town. He could fix anything that was broken. My house was a hundred years old. Guests said it had “character.” In other words, it needed a lot of work. Steve had to repair something almost every week.
    “I sure appreciate everything you do for me,” I said.
    “You pay me well enough,” he said. “Besides, what are friends for?”
    Steve and I were friends, good friends. We were best friends. That is, until Brent Henderson arrived.

Chapter Two
    After I did my chores, I helped Steve with the plumbing under the sink. We had almost finished taking the old pipes apart before putting in new ones. I was on my hands and knees beside Steve when I heard an unfamiliar voice, a man’s voice.
    “Hello?” he said through the screen door of the kitchen.
    I jumped, bumping my head under the sink. “Oh!” I said, holding the back of my head.
    A very handsome man stood at the screen door. He