Free Autumn Dreams by Gayle Roper Page A

tray of the items in her hand. “Done.”
    Cass smiled. “When you take them out, ring the breakfast bell, will you? It’s eight-thirty.”
    “I hope they don’t all come at once. I hate having to serve everyone at the same time. Someone always has to wait.”
    “They’ve got an hour time frame. I think some will make it a lazy Sunday.”
    “I hope.”
    For the next hour and a half, Cass was busy in the kitchen keeping the food coming as the various guests appeared. Brenna and Jenn, much to Jenn’s obvious disgust, circulated among the guests and offered the breads and beverages. Then it was all over for another day. Sated guests wandered from their tables, mingled in the common room for a few minutes, then disappeared to their private rooms. Cass began filling the dishwasher. She also filled the sink with hot, sudsy water for the cut glass and the gold-edged dishes. She glanced at the clock. Ten. If she moved quickly, she’d just have time to grab a bite and change her clothes for church.
    But where was Brenna with the rest of the dirty dishes? From the size of the pile resting on the counter many pieces were still missing. Cass pushed open the swinging door into the dining room. No Brenna. No Jenn either, but that wasn’t a surprise. She undoubtedly took off as soon as the last guests left their tables. Hopefully she was upstairs getting ready for church.
    Cass dropped back into the kitchen, then pushed open the swinging door to the registration area—and found Brenna. She opened her mouth to say something to the girl when she was struck by Brenna’s unnatural stillness. Tension vibrated from her. As far as Cass could tell, Brenna was staring at the registration desk. She tried to see around the girl to see what was holding her in thrall, but for once her height didn’t help her.
    Then Brenna reached for the phone.
    Cass watched as she put the receiver to her ear. The faint, melodic tones of the number buttons drifted in the air. Brenna twisted and stared blankly out the side window as she waited for the call to connect. Then without saying a word, Brenna slapped the receiver back on the cradle. She remained motionless for several seconds, one hand holding the phone, the other pressed over her mouth. Then she turned her face into her shoulder and swiped her cheek on her shirt. Tears?
    Cass recalled Dan’s words:
“She was making a phone call when I saw her, or at least almost making one. And I could swear she was about ready to cry.”
    Cass stepped back into the kitchen, her hand on the door tokeep it from making any noise as it slid shut. She returned slowly, thoughtfully to her dirty dishes. What a mystery Brenna was.
    A few minutes later as Cass slotted a piece of antique Limoges china with its pink flowers and gold banding into the dish rack to dry, the door from the dining porch shot open, and Brenna came in with a loaded tray.
    “They loved the sticky buns,” she said brightly, just like she hadn’t cried in years. “They’re all gone.”
    Cass studied her. No sign of weeping except maybe the slightest redness around her eyes. “Then it’s a good thing I held back some for our breakfast.”
    “You held back some what?” Jared asked as he thudded down the stairs and into the kitchen, bringing the aroma of his pine-scented aftershave to mingle with the breakfast fragrances of cinnamon, cheese, and bacon.
    “Sticky buns.” Cass held out a Corelle dish with six on it. Jared smiled and reached. “And you can only have two!”
    He stopped and shook his head. “Aunt Cassandra, Aunt Cassandra, what have I done to deserve such cruel punishment?”
    “If you don’t like it, you can get out the Cheerios. You know where they’re kept.”
    “I already had some earlier, remember?”
    “Then you don’t want any quiche?” She shot him a teasing glance. Jared was so easy to have around. What had happened to that family niceness gene when it came to Jenn?
    “I guess I can force a piece or two to