Page 7 of Finding Michael

“Are you a writer? Or a journaler?” Barry plopped down beside him. His knee brushed Tristan’s. “What do you do for a living? What brings you to Sullavan?”

Tristan kept his notebook shut. He tended to be the one asking a hundred questions, but still. “First, I’m a writer, yes. Blogging and journaling was never my strong point. I’d rather put the effort into the story rather than something silly for a webpage, but that’s me. I make a decent living from my writing and I’m here because of it.” He wasn’t ready to mention his uncle to Barry. The nosy bastard probably had a story about them knowing each other or something.

“Nice. I’ve wanted to write a book for ages, but haven’t. I’ve heard it’s not hard to write. I just don’t have the time.” Barry unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap. “Molly!”

The door on the far side of the room opened and she stepped into the space. She held a large soup pot. “Dinner’s ready. I need to grab the rolls.” She placed the pot at the middle of the table on a ceramic warmer. “Bowls, utensils and the silver are all on the sideboard. Help yourself. Barry, you’ve done this before. Give me a hand.” She disappeared behind the door again.

Barry shrugged. “I come here often for supper. She makes good food.” He picked up the bowls and plates. “Can’t knock her soup.”

“Thanks.” Tristan held on to his notebook while he retrieved the silverware. Something about Barry didn’t sit right with him. The guy was too pushy. Too nosy. He placed the silverware in front of the two plates, then retrieved a place setting for Molly. “You didn’t set one for her.”

“Oh.” Barry shrugged again, then took his chair. “She works here. She can get her own.”

If he’d even been a little attracted to Barry, that sentiment blew his feelings up. He might be a cad himself, but he liked men with manners.

Molly returned with a basket of rolls. “Barry…did you set a place for me?”

Before Barry could say anything, Tristan spoke up. “I did. Thought you might like to take a load off.”

“I appreciate it.” She grinned, then elbowed Barry. “See? You could take some pointers from him.”

“I’d like to do something else,” Barry muttered.

Molly sat opposite Tristan. “You’ll have to excuse my cousin. He’s not used to people with manners.” She scooted her chair to the table. “I hear you’re a writer.” She smiled. “I love to read.”

“What genre?” Tristan asked. He waited for her then Barry to fill their bowls.

“Oh…I’ve got tons of books on my tablet. I like pretty much anything, but old Hollywood biographies are my favorite. There’s something exciting about learning about people.” She waggled her head. “It’s kind of like working here. I see different people each day…well, most of the time, and I get a snapshot of their lives.”

“Nice to find someone else who enjoys them.” He winked.

“Please.” Barry elbowed Tristan. “Who reads?”

“I do.” Molly picked up one of the rolls. “Tristan, did you stop by the library? We’ve got a small one, but Michael keeps the biography section stocked. I’m sure he’d work out something if you found a book while you’re here. If nothing else, tell him to put it on my account.”

“I’ll have to do that.” Tristan sighed. He liked the odd family feel to the B&B. Molly intrigued him almost as much as Michael.

“Speaking of the librarian, where is he? I thought he was coming by for dinner.” Molly left her seat, then strode up to the window. “Barry, you didn’t scare him off again, did you?”

Barry and Michael had a thing? Tristan dipped a piece of his roll into the soup. She wasn’t kidding about making good split-pea soup. He hadn’t had anything like it ever.

“I left him alone.” Barry dropped his voice to a whisper. “Ever since we broke up, he’s been bitter.” He shook his head. “I guess when you have a taste of Barry and give me up, I’m hard to forget.”

“I’m sure.” Tristan focused on his soup. Michael didn’t seem like the type to pair up with Barry. They were too opposite.

“There he is.” Molly rushed out of the room. When she returned, she had her arm around one of Michael’s. “We’ve got a spot for you. Always.” She waved her hand. “Michael, I’d like to introduce you to Tristan. You already know Barry. Tristan, this is our fantastic librarian, Michael.”

Tristan met Michael’s gaze. The tips of his ears burned. He hadn’t expected to run into Michael again or for the temperature to rise so fast. He focused on his soup, but noticed Michael sat beside Molly. Was he with her? Just friends? Why did that matter to him?

“Hi. Good to see you again,” Michael said. “I met Tristan over at the library.” He filled a bowl with soup. “Barry.”

“Nice to see you. I’ve meant to call you. We should get together again.” Barry reached across the table. “We had good times together.”

Tristan froze. He’d walked into a strange situation. He switched his gaze between the three people. He could see them as friends, maybe. He should leave them all alone. He didn’t belong in the middle of their drama.God.He had plenty of his own crap to deal with. Besides, he’d be out of Sullavan once he talked with the attorney and had his story started.

“Did you want any of the books donated to the library for the book sale?” Michael asked. “Maybe for the rooms? I’ve got a lot of recent bestsellers and those copies on the shelf aren’t in bad shape.”

Molly nodded. “That’d be nice.” She grinned. “Tristan likes to read, too. He’s going to come by to check out the biography section.”

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