Page 6 of Finding Michael

If chatting with her meant time to lick his wounds before he had to see Michael again, then he was game. He could use a night to prep for the meeting with the lawyer in the morning, too. He rolled his eyes.Licking my wounds…What had happened to him? He was the one with savvy. He worked people over and got what he wanted. With a few questions and a handful of his trademark smiles, he controlled the situation. Not now. What was it about the small town and the adorable librarian that had gotten to him?Adorable…Nah, Michael was cute, but he wasn’t Tristan’s style.

“Excuse me. Sir?”

Oh God. He’d forgotten about the woman on the other end of the line. “Sorry. My… I’ll be there once I find the place. I haven’t been back to Sullavan in a long time and I’m all turned around.” Talk about the understatement of the century.

“Absolutely. We’re on Main Street next to the Hallsman Used Car lot. Can’t miss the house. It’s a powder-blue Victorian,” she said. “The sign is rather large, too.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.” Good God. The place was next to a car lot? What was he doing? He put the phone on the passenger seat, then gripped the steering wheel. He’d lost his damn mind. Getting away from his publisher, avoiding his agent and the emailing fan weren’t the best reasons to run to Sullavan. Sure, he was supposed to meet up with the lawyer and discuss his uncle’s estate, but still. He had to start the next book and needed a plot. Would he find the start he wanted in Sullavan? He hoped so.

“You can do this,” he muttered. “One foot in front of the other. Come on, Tris. You’re the man. Act like it.” He pulled out of the library lot, then made his way to the center of town. He located the B&B right where the woman had said—next to the car lot. She hadn’t been kidding about the blue house sticking out. The sign dominated the front yard.

He parked behind the house and strode around to the front, then drank in the view. A white fence obscured the front of the car lot. Wind rustled down the street and the leaves on the towering maple trees seemed to wave at him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. A few large houses lined the street for a couple of blocks. From his vantage point, he noticed the manicured lawns and overflowing flower beds. The houses piqued his interest. He’d have to do some exploring.

When he headed up to the front door of the B&B, characters started talking to him in his head. Whoever the characters were, at least one of them lived in a grand old house. He’d have to write his ideas down in his notebook and hope he could keep up.

He strode past the wraparound porch and into the lobby of the B&B. A woman stood behind the desk. When she looked up, her eyes sparkled. “Hello,” she called.

“Hi.” He folded his hands on the marred wooden counter. “This is the lone hotel in town?”

“Sure is. I’m Molly. My mother owned this grand lady when I was a kid and I took over after she retired. Are you the gentleman I spoke to on the phone?”

“Yes. I’m Tristan.” He sighed. “I’m out of sorts and could use a place to stay.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tristan.” She scribbled something on her tablet, then turned the screen around. “Sign in here and I’ll get you a room. We’re happy to have you for as long as you’d like to stay. Lord knows we’ve got plenty of room.”

“No guests?” He’d spotted the vacancy notification on the website, but wasn’t sure if the icon was a decoration. He signed his name, then nudged the tablet back to her.

“We’re empty.” She tapped the screen. “I haven’t had any guests since the hotel went up over by the freeway. I guess no one wants to come to Sullavan. They’d rather stop just off the main path without venturing south.” She shrugged. “It’s not like we have a lot to see. We’re a plain town with nice people and we’re glad to have you.”

“I’m glad to be here.” He patted his back pocket. “Do you need my credit card?”

“I trust you.” She slid a thick leather fob with two keys attached across the counter. “These are yours. Room three. Get your bags and, if you’re hungry, I’ve got split pea soup on the stove. You parked behind the house, correct? The red car?”

“Thank you and yes, I did. Is that the wrong spot?”

“You’re fine. We have camera security, but I wanted to be sure. Hurry up and come back for supper.” She winked, then disappeared into a room behind the counter.

“Thank you.” Tristan nodded. He hadn’t had that kind of soup in years. His stomach growled. Yeah, he needed to slow down, eat and reorganize his life. “I’ll be right back.” He left the lobby long enough to retrieve his things from the car, then returned to the building. He wandered up to the second floor and located his room with ease. He should’ve asked about the rates, but did that matter? He’d be staying at least a week. Maybe she’d give him a volume discount.

“Good. You found it.” Molly stood in the doorway. “I’ve got extra towels. Just ask. Also, I forgot to let you know what the rates are. It’s a hundred a night, but I’m willing to negotiate. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know. Any questions?”

“Nope. I’m good. I’ll see you in a bit for something to eat.”

“Perfect.” She left him to his thoughts.

Tristan sank onto the bed. Weariness set in bone-deep. A nap would’ve been nice…but so would food. He forced himself to get up and unpack. If he didn’t set his things out now, he’d never get it done and would spend the week or so living out of the bag. He plunked the tablet and his notebooks on the desk, then dragged his toiletries into the bathroom. For a tiny B&B, the place was nice and clean. He admired the artwork on the walls. Were the people in the photos Molly’s family? He stared at a photo of a woman in a hoop skirt. She was frowning at the photographer or something happening behind him. He settled on the edge of the desk and picked up his notebook. What was the woman’s name? Why was she upset?

He scrawled down notes. He could see the situation in his mind. She’d just lost her husband and was expected to submit to a photograph to commemorate the date. The reason she was scowling was because her son was racing around behind the camera. She wanted to laugh at his exuberance, but was expected to look stern. Her son would end up being the father of someone important for the book. Tristan grinned. He’d think about her and the son later, but he had a start.Hell yes.

He abandoned his things and tucked his notebook into his back pocket. He’d work on the story later—after dinner. Split-pea soup sounded divine. He headed back to the first floor, then stood in the middle of the foyer.Well…shit. Where’s the kitchen?

“Hello.” A man strode through the foyer. “Can I help you?” His eyes sparkled and when he smiled, he showed off his teeth. “I’m Barry. I haven’t seen you around before.”

Tristan paused. Wasn’t Barry quite the forward guy… “I’m staying here for a few days, so yes, I’m new. I’m looking for the kitchen or dining area. Molly told me to meet her for supper.”

“Don’t get too wound up with Molly. She’s sweet, but she’ll never settle down.” Barry nodded, then pointed to the door to the right. “Dining room is in here. It’s an informal setting.”

“Great.” Did that mean he’d be stuck with Barry?Oh boy.He followed Barry into the dining room. He’d expected three or four tables, but instead noticed one gigantic one. Barry hadn’t been kidding about the informality. He selected a seat and pulled his notebook from his pocket before he settled on the chair.

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