Page 4 of Love Bites

“Mm, yes, but much of that was to starve the indigenous peoples into—Ah, Edgar, look! Itisa calf. How spindly it is!”

We sat there, spellbound, as a wobbly brown calf emerged from the dense woods to join its patient mother. The headlightsmade the little one blink its large brown eyes before Mother Moose began meandering forward, her calf at her side. We watched in fascination until we couldn’t see them anymore, the forest swallowing them up completely.

“Even if I do not get Haider Gray to sign over his shop to us seeing that made the trip worth it,” I said as I leaned back into my seat.

“I agree,” Edgar replied as we slowly began to move. A quarter of a mile down the road the high beams hit a bright yellow sign warning to beware of moose crossing.

“That needs moved back up the road,” I said sleepily, my heavy eyelids drifting shut once more. A gentle shake woke me shortly after my eyes had closed again. This time when my lashes blinked opened we were parked in front of a three-story, white-clapboard expanse of a home. “Are we at the inn?”

“Yes, we are. It looks quite rustic,” Edgar noted as my sight darted from flowerbeds filled with reds and pinks to a handmade sign announcing that this was, in fact, The Lakeside Inn. “We’ll check in then I’ll park the car.”

I nodded, unbuckled my belt, and exited the car. Arms over head, I stretched and heard my spine pop and crack. Nothing said middle-age like bones that popped like kindling. We entered the front door and walked to the front desk. There were rooms for guests to lounge on either side of the check-in area The colors here were warm and autumnal, soft golds and dark browns. Rich wooden hutches and shelves filled every corner, tiny statuettes sat on tatted doilies. The air was cool and carried the scent of pine. With apingof the bell on the desk an older man emerged from a room in the back, smiling at us. He was pudgy, shy on hair but heavy on smiles.

“Good evening,” I said as Edgar fussed with the zipper on one of his bags. “We have two rooms reserved under Brauning.”

“Oh yes, the German visitors. Welcome to New Hampshire! You’ll just love it here. The trails and kayaking on the lake are top favorites here. Lots of hikers spotting all kinds of wildlife,” the innkeeper informed us as he ran my credit card through his machine.

“We met one on the way here. A moose and her calf,” I said while signing my name to a small receipt.

“Oh yeah, we have several moose who are regulars. As long as you don’t bother them, or the bears, or coyotes, or bobcats then you’ll be fine.” He handed us key cards. “You’re on the second floor facing the back of the inn. Spectacular view of the trees and Lake Harmony from your balcony. Breakfast is served in the dining room around the corner starting at seven. You’ll have to try my wife’s buttermilk pancakes served with imported fresh goat milk butter topped with local maple syrup from Sam Caldwell’s Stonebridge Maple Farm.”

“We’ll be sure to order them,” I said around a yawn that I could not hold back. “Please, excuse me. We just flew in from Europe and are exhausted. What time is breakfast over?”

“Ten, but if you wish to place an order now we can bring it to your room whenever you wish to wake up. I know how jet lag is,” the innkeeper said. “By the way, my name is Prescott Davies.”

We shook hands. “Good to know. I will be up early though. I have an important business meeting in Caldwell Corners tomorrow bright and early.”

“Then we’ll see you two over breakfast. Pleasant dreams!” Prescott led us to our rooms, up some narrow stairs that reflected the age of this old farm house/inn, on silent feet. The inn was quiet, something I appreciated. I was a light sleeper so rowdy guests soured my sleep.

I was in room 2-B and Edgar was across the hall in 2-C. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to go to breakfast. Or you can sleep in and I’ll drive to the candy shop,” I said as I scanned my card.

“I’ll be happy to drive you,” Edgar said, yawned, and stumbled into his room with a bleary wish for a good night. I entered my suite, flicked on the lights, and found that I was very pleased with the area It was large, done in shades of peach and white, with a king-size bed, a huge corner cupboard housing a television, and French doors that were now locked. I toed off my shoes, dragged my bags to a small settee at the end of the bed, and then stripped down to my boxers. I should have looked at the bathroom but right now I could care less. I was sure it was fine.

The peach coverlet called my name and I answered with a sigh as I fell face forward into a soft mattress with a score of fat pillows. Unable to think of anything other than rest, I tugged a pillow under my head, kicked at the coverlet until I could reach it, and then pulled the thin duvet to my chin. The bedding smelled of fresh air and lemons, a pleasing scent that reminded me of my childhood when the maids would hang the sheets out to dry in the summer.

With the remembered scent of the Bavarian sun and wind in my nose, I had a premonition tomorrow would result in me swaying the recalcitrant local candymaker into selling his shop. Opa would be thrilled, I could return to Berlin, and Mr. Gray would be financially set for many years. Yes, indeed, I sighed as sleep slugged me over the head, tomorrow would be a memorable day.

“WHAT NONSENSE ISit to say not until next week?! We are not able to use the enrober to cover our candy with dark chocolate, is that going into your thick skull?!” I hustled into my office, through a throng of workers who were not working, to find Mamie on the phone. “What do you mean have I called the wrong number? What? This is the right number but you are a baboon!”

She then sailed into a litany of French, all cuss words, spurring me to dash into the office and wrestle the landline phone from her hand. Mamie was old but she was very strong.

“Let me handle this,” I whispered just as she released the phone. I nearly went on my ass. As I said, Mamie was strong. Must be all that power yoga for seniors she does. “Thank you. Merci. Go have some coffee and a maple cream. Crocus, get Mamie some coffee.”

“Please, Madame Mamie, let’s work on the chalkboard sign for the sidewalk.” Crocus loved Mamie. Everyone loved Mamie. Well, maybe not the poor slob on the other end of the dark green desk phone. Probs he didn’t love Mamie at all.

“Ignorant baboons,” Mamie spat as she was led gently from the office. The three underlings raced around to fetch her coffee and some fresh maple creams while I sorted the mess with themaintenance department at Cooper & Sons Restaurant Stores. Using my hip I nudged the office door open further so I could kiss ass while keeping an eye on the fireball in bifocals and a crisp summer dress giving Crocus an earful. He nodded as they worked on the sandwich board, his tatted head bobbing along to everything she said. What would I do without Crocus?

It took twenty minutes of apologizing to find out that the repair department was understaffed and overworked, therefore, it would be next week. Or, and this was explained to me curtly, we could find another company to come out.

“Of course, I understand. Next week. Thank you. Yes, good— well, okay then.” I mumbled at the rude hangup on the other end. Placing the phone back into its cradle, I then headed to the pot atop the filing cabinet, only to find it empty. Great. So I made another pot, my attention darting out to the gift shop as the coffee dripped slowly into the pot. “What the hell has happened to customer service anymore? I mean, sure, an irate French womandidcall him a baboon and a cuck, but he didn’t understand the cuck part…”

The bells over the door rang out as I chatted with the plastic orchid sitting on a small shelf with my framed degrees. They needed dusting. A deep, bass voice with a yummy Austrian or German accent tickled my eardrums. I turned my head to glance into the shop. My eyes rounded. If this were a cartoon, they would have shot out of my head then snapped back into my skull while my wolfish tongue unrolled over the filing cabinet. Some howling accompanied by robust table-pounding and stiff-legged kicking would also be taking place.

Standing by the register, giving the freshly made caramel bonbons a long look, was the sexiest mature man I had ever seen. Tall, lean but not skinny, in a sharp blue blazer over a soft gray polo, dark ash-gray pants, and leather shoes. No socks. His hair was trimmed to perfection, a gorgeous mix of ebony andsilver that spread to his groomed scruff. He wore a thick gold watch on his left wrist, no wedding band. I picked all that up as he pointed to the ganache bon bons while he spoke with Crocus. Mamie was over in the corner trying to rearrange the boxed sets of chocolate suckers. Sulking. She was sulking.

Dibs!

You cannot call dibs on people. How many times do you have to be told.

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