Page 91 of One Wrong Move

Harper saw it on our drive through, and after locking the car and grabbing our stuff, we trudge toward it. It’s located right next to the tiny church.

The Crown Bed and Breakfast.

It’s an old stone structure with a single car parked outside. So someone should be inside. And indeed… someone is. She doesn’t look up when we come in through the door, despite the little bell that gladly announces our arrival.

“Percy, is that you?” the woman asks and flips another page of the newspaper. Short gray hair curls around her head, and a pair of red frame glasses rest on her nose. Her rolling accent is stronger than I’ve heard down in London. “I think the Harcourts are dropping by tomorrow with the new bed. Did you clear out the yellow room?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Harper says, “but we’re not Percy.”

The woman looks up from her spot behind the wooden counter. The decor is all English countryside, with floral wallpaper and carpeted floors.

Her eyes widen. “Oh my! I can see that you’re not. My apologies. Have you come for a room?” There’s an almost hopeful note in her voice.

“Yes,” I say. “We had an accident just around the corner, blew out a tire on the car. We won’t be able to get it replaced until tomorrow.”

“Oh, dear,” the old lady says with a shake of her head. “That’s a shame. Well, we’ve got room for you. And hot food if you’d like, though you’d have to pop down to Ethan’s two streets over to pick something up. Unless he’s closed the kitchen early tonight. He does that sometimes if there’s a good program on telly.”

I blink at her. What a way to run a business. “We might attempt that later. Could we check in? I think we’re both in need of a shower. If you have a phone, too, I’d love to borrow it and make the calls for the car.”

“Of course! Come, come, let’s get you sorted.”

I lay my credit card flat on the counter. Harper looks around with those bottomless eyes, taking in the reception space, peering through the doorway to a room beside it. It’s traditionally decorated… but there’s an industrial table saw in the middle instead of the dining room table.

Renos?

The lady grabs a key from behind the counter. “We have the largest room available for you.”

I clear my throat. “We need two rooms, please.”

She pauses, and a frown mars her face. “Oh. I’m so sorry, dearies, but we only have one available.”

“Is the place fully booked?” Harper asks. It’s a wonder she can keep the disbelief out of her voice.

This place is deserted.

“No, no,” the innkeeper says with a little laugh. “We’re renovating. We have five rooms, you see, but there was some water leakage a few years back, and then, well....” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Permits, building companies, you know. Things take time. Right now, there’s just one that’s fully ready. I’m Edith, and my husband is Percy. We run this place.” She blinks at us from behind her red frame, smile back in place. “Would you like to see the room, at least? It’s quite lovely and spacious.”

My brain is short-circuiting again.

It happens so quickly and so frequently around Harper that I haven’t gotten a proper handle on it, yet. I should have, after all these years, but now it’s disintegrating.

Spending the night together.

She won’t want that. I look down at her, needing to see her eyes. But she’s looking right at the lady. “Thank you,” Harper says warmly. “We’d love to see it, and if there’s only one room available, that’s what we’ll take.”

Something reaches inside my chest and grips tightly. It makes it hard to breathe.

Harper follows the woman, and I trail after them both through the claustrophobically narrow hallway. Paintings hang on the walls—canvas after canvas of men and women on horseback and English landscapes.

The room isn’t large.

There’s a four-poster bed in the center with a paisley pattern on the cover, a window overlooking surrounding fields and the setting sun, and a door to what must be a bathroom.

And a single chair in the corner.

“This is it,” the lady says warmly. “Please make yourself at home. I’ll be in the lobby for at least another two hours, come down whenever you like to borrow the phone. We don’t have a mechanic around here, or I’d be ringing a repair shop right this minute.”

“Thank you,” I say woodenly. My eyes can’t seem to look away from the bed.

---