Free 5 Check-Out Time by Kate Kingsbury Page A

morning.”
    “Perhaps Mr. Baxter can be persuaded to do it,” Arthur said, amusement coloring his voice.
    A harsh voice rang out behind them, making Cecily jump. “No, Mr. Baxter will most definitely not be persuaded to do it.”
    She swung around to see Baxter advancing toward her, his face looking like the onset of a thunderstorm.
    “I think I hear the trap,” Arthur said and stepped smartly through the main door, closing it behind him.
    Cecily wrinkled her nose at his desertion, then said brightly to her manager, “I hear there has been some excitement here tonight.”
    “If you are referring to that brat of a boy,” Baxter said stiffly, “then your information is correct. Since you seem to have discussed the matter thoroughly with the doorman, however …”
    He’d said “doorman” in the tone of voice one would use to describe cow manure.
    Cecily winced. “Arthur was merely giving me the details,” she said, meeting his brittle gaze with a defensive frown. “As owner of this establishment, I am entitled to be informed, am I not? I really think it matters not who gives me the information. Since Arthur was directly involved with the incident concerning Gertie, I asked him for an explanation. But why I should feel obliged to explain myself to you, I have not the faintest idea.”
    Baxter stood there without answering, his gaze steady on her face, a muscle twitching in his temple. “I don’t like the way he addresses you with such familiarity,” he said finally.
    Annoyed with herself for allowing him to intimidate her, Cecily said crossly, “Oh, piffle, Baxter. You are just being finicky, and I can’t imagine why. If you had been here when I arrived, naturally I would have relied upon you to inform me of the problem. As it was, Arthur was the first person I saw. Now, if you have some quarrel with that, I am sorry, but I have no wish to deal with it tonight. I am tired and I am going to bed.”
    She waited for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, in a voice so low she could barely hear it, he muttered, “Good night, madam. I trust you will sleep well.”
    She watched him stride across the floor, his coattails flapping furiously behind him, and she felt a deep ache of regret. How she hated arguing with him. Now she would have to wait an entire night before making peace with him.
    She had Stanley Malton to thank for that, she thought as she stomped up the stairs to her suite. Tomorrow she would deal with them both. Baxter and Stanley. And out of the two, she was looking forward to dealing with Baxter the least.
    When she awoke the next morning, Cecily decided to tackle Stanley first. Reaching the bottom of the stairs on her way to breakfast, she caught sight of Gertie crossing the foyer, and called out to her.
    The housemaid bobbed a clumsy curtsey as she reached her. “Good morning, mum.”
    “Good morning, Gertie.” Cecily peered closer at her flushed face. “Are you feeling better? Arthur tells me you had a nasty scare last night.”
    “I bleeding did, mum. That little bugger stopped me ’eart, he did. I thought it was a real baby he was chewing on. I’ll never forget it. I never saw nothing so ’orrible in all me born days. I could kill the miserable—”
    “Gertie!”
    The irate voice echoed across the foyer from the direction of the stairs, and Gertie groaned. “I swear that Mrs. Chubb has eyes in the back of her head. Begging your pardon, mum, but I’d better scarper before she has me liver for dinner.”
    “One minute, Gertie.” Cecily raised a hand to detain her. “I don’t suppose you know where Stanley is now, do you?”
    Gertie drew her eyes together to meet across her nose. “At the bottom of the sea, I wish. Last time I saw him he was scampering out the back door, on his way to the gardens. Probably going to dig up all the bleeding roses, I shouldn’t wonder.”
    Again Mrs. Chubb’s voice bellowed up the stairs, and Gertie flinched. “Will that be all, mum?”
    Cecily