Page 4 of Quinn

Impressed with the camaraderie between the brothers, their skill, and their craftsmanship, she found herself continually distracted by deep southern voices that settled over her as smoothly as a napoleon brandy. And then there was the jeans. Lord did those brothers know how to wear a pair of pants. Thank heaven she wasn’t going to be working up close and personal with any of the brothers, she’d lose all her fingers chopping her vegetables and trying not to watch them. She didn’t care whether or not she was caught on film, as long as it wasn’t eyeing the hunky hammer wielding cowboys. Yep, she had one mission, save her brother and stay away from the smooth-talking Construction Cousins.

Easy peasy.

The next thing she knew, the sound of the captain’s voice over the loudspeaker announcing their approach to the Midland-Odessa airport drew her out of a deep sleep. Maybe this was a good sign that for the first time in months, she was finally able to get some decent sleep, even in the uncomfortable seat of an airplane.

Her carryon flung over her shoulder, she exited the plane and followed the trail of passengers like ants to a picnic. By the carousel, her name sprawled across a cardboard sign caught her eye. Next phase of her journey had gone off without a hitch, she wasn’t stranded at the airport in the middle of nowhere. She would happily take this as a sign that she’d made the right choice.

In no time at all, her bags were in the trunk of the car and she was driving through oil country Texas to her new home. Just as she’d done on the plane, after miles of West Texas dirt, she’d grown bored with the scenery and fallen asleep. Not till the car bounced over uneven ground did she open her eyes. Ahead she could see the small town in the distance. It didn’t look like much, but it was blissfully quiet.

The car drove over a slight hump and the rest of the way to town was smooth concrete. She couldn’t help but wonder if road repair was on the to-do list for the Construction Cousins. In minutes, the sleek black SUV pulled up in front of a beautifully restored old building with white-washed shipboard, crisply painted shutters, and colorful pots painted with fresh flowers. To her surprise, the driver carried her bags down the front walkway. This was too large a house just for her. Maybe there was an upstairs apartment, or a guest house in the backyard.

No sooner had she stepped onto the curb than two women came scurrying out. “Welcome to the Parlor B&B.”

A little confused, Eloise muttered, “Hello.”

“Do you have a reservation?” the tall redhead asked. “If you don’t that’s just fine. We have plenty of rooms.”

“At least till next week,” the shorter blonde woman spoke up. “There’s a big group of Red Hat ladies coming to stay.”

All she could do was nod and smile. She was good at smiling, even when she had no idea what was going on. “I’m Eloise Carey, the chef for the town’s new restaurant.”

The two women’s brows rose high on their foreheads in precise synchronization before they turned to face each other, shrugged, then turning back sporting identical grins.

“We were expecting a man,” the blonde said.

“And aren’t you a nice surprise.” The redhead slipped her arm inside the crook of Eloise’s elbow and began walking.

Back home, Eloise would have gone into panic mode, but here, here she felt like she’d just been whisked away by a favorite grandmother.

“I’m sure you’re going to love it here,” the redhead continued. “We’ve given you the best room.”

“It has the nicest view.” The other woman hurried along at her side.

“Room?” Eloise mumbled. “You must be mistaken. The agreement called for an apartment.”

The two women leaned slightly forward, once again looking at each other before straightening and smiling at her.

The redhead must be the leader of the pack, because she spoke first. “I’m sure the misunderstanding will be straightened out soon enough, but for now, we’ll take very good care of you.”

She didn’t let her smile slip, and even though she believed every word the women said, especially about taking care of her, something deep in her gut told her that her good start had just taken a nose dive.

Chapter Three

The warmth of early morning baking lingered in the old brothel turned B&B’s kitchen. Humming, Eloise arranged her pastries with precision—croissants golden-brown and flaky, bear claws dusted with powdered sugar, cinnamon rolls with just the right swirl. She’d risen before dawn, grateful Sister and Sissy had welcomed her use of their commercial kitchen. It had been a very long time since she’d woken up and felt like singing. Despite the surprise of finding herself in a B&B and not her own furnished apartment, life was looking good. Very good. After all, she had weeks before Danny’s arrival to fix the housing error.

The Sisters had been a whirlwind of hospitality since her arrival. Having grown up in the foster care system, Eloise had always envisioned what it would be like to have a family, and these two ladies with their perkiness and eagerness to indulge her, certainly fit the image she’d created of sweet grandmothers. Not that either of the women were old enough to be her grandmother, but they still fit the bill.

“Oh, my.” Sister took a slow moanful bite. “Don’t tell Toni I said this, but I think she’s got some stiff competition.”

“Toni?”

“Yes,” Sissy nodded in agreement, her tall frame leaning against the kitchen counter, “Toni’s Brook Farraday’s wife. The town gained ten pounds a person when she moved to Tuckers Bluff, married Brooks, and began supplying the Silver Spoon Café with fresh baked goods.”

“And don’t forget Meg’s B&B. Her guests get early morning treats too,” Sister mumbled over another bite.

“I swear,” Sissy smiled, “watching you work with the precision of a military strategist has been very interesting. I think this is the most use this new kitchen has seen all year.”

Carefully, Eloise arranged everything on a professional catering tray. According to the bag Sister had pressed into her hands that morning, the coffee came from a local roaster. The rich, robust aroma of Colombian beans combined with her secret ingredient would hopefully give folks a hint at the culinary expertise she was bringing to Sadieville. The final approval from the city council had given her carte blanche with the restaurant. So many ideas had ricocheted in her mind. She could hardly wait to begin. Even though she would not be the proprietor of this new venture, the body and soul of the restaurant would be all her. The coffee was just a smidge of a prelude.

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