Free Bed and Breakfast by Gail Anderson-Dargatz Page A

was so good-looking that he could have been a movie star. His hair was blond and his eyes sparkled blue. Something about him made me feel both thrilled and nervous.
    “I knocked at the front door, but you didn’t hear me,” he said. He opened the screen door and cameinto the kitchen. “I phoned yesterday. I booked the night here.” He carried an overnight bag.
    Now I knew who he must be. “Mr. Henderson,” I said. I got up off the floor and offered him my hand. We shook hands before I realized that slimy stuff from the old kitchen pipes covered my fingers.
    “Call me Brent,” he said. He looked down at his hand. It, too, was now dirty with slime.
    “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” I said. Already I had embarrassed myself in front of my attractive guest.
    Brent looked disgusted. I gave him a towel, and he wiped the slime off his hand. He wore an expensive suit and a colourful shirt and tie. No one dressed like that in our town.
    I felt very poorly dressed next to him. I wore jeans and a T-shirt with a silly happy face printed on it. What would such a stylish man think of me?
    “I didn’t catch your name,” Brent said as he handed back the towel.
    “I’m Annie. Annie Clark.”
    I couldn’t take my eyes off Brent. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and he carried himself with confidence. He was clean-shaven and smelled good. Expensive aftershave, I thought.
    Steve was on his knees at my feet. He smelled like the slime in my old kitchen pipes. He looked like a plumber. When he saw me staring at Brent, he cleared his throat so I would notice him.
    “Oh, and this is Steve,” I said.
    “Steve Armstrong,” Steve introduced himself. Without standing up, he held out his hand to Brent. Slime from the pipes also dirtied Steve’s fingers. He knew it, too.
    Brent paused a moment before shaking Steve’s hand. He didn’t want to get his hands dirty again. But he shook Steve’s hand anyway.
    I handed Brent the towel again and apologized for Steve. Brent wiped his hands once more. “The drive up here from the city went faster than I expected,” he said. “There wasn’t much traffic. This town is pretty quiet, too, isn’t it?”
    I nodded. “For now,” I said. “The tourist season is about to start.”
    For most of the year, our town is so quiet that deer, rabbits, and foxes live here with us. They walk up the roads and come right into our yards. Then, in June, the tourists arrive. People travel here for the sandy beach and the sun. They come for thepeace they don’t find in the city. Then they drive their motorcycles back and forth along our quiet country roads.
    “This is a great place to relax,” I told Brent. Then I couldn’t think of anything more to say. I just stood there, gazing at Brent like a love-struck teenager. Brent’s eyes were such a pure, clear blue that I wondered if he was wearing coloured contact lenses.
    Brent looked from me to Steve and back again. He smiled as if he thought we were very strange. I imagine we did look odd to him. We were two country bumpkins, staring at this handsome stranger from the city.
    “May I see my room?” Brent finally asked me.
    Steve elbowed me in the leg to get me to respond. “Yes, yes, of course,” I said. “This way.”

Chapter Three
    Brent picked up his overnight bag and followed me down the hall. I put him in the largest guest room. The room had a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a desk. My guests shared the main-floor bathroom. If they wanted to watch TV, they joined me in the living room.
    “I hope this is all right,” I said.
    “Its perfect,” he said. “It’s exactly what I pictured.” He put his bag on the bed. Then he looked around at the flowered wallpaper. “I feel like a kid on vacation at Granny’s house.”
    I was sure Brent didn’t mean to insult me. I didn’t take his comment that way, anyway. The house was old, so I had decorated it with antiques, flowered wallpaper, and matching bedspreads. Thehouse was charming, but it did