Page 15 of You Chive Me Crazy
Zoe was still quiet, but I was certain that would end when she saw the sign on the street.
In three, two, one . . .
“No, no, no, no, no . . .” Zoe’s mouth gaped open and her head swiveled rapidly, side to side, as I turned into the driveway of the Serendipity Inn. “Please tell me you’re joking. We’re staying at a bed-and-breakfast?”
Pulling into an open parking spot, I stuck the car in park. “That is correct, curly fry.”
“Don’t call me that.” She stared at the pastel green, one-hundred-year-old Victorian home with the welcoming front porch with four rocking chairs out front. “Why would you even choose a place like this? It’s like I’m suddenly the heroine in some cheesy made-for-TV movie. Is the owner also the mayor?”
I sighed. “According to their website, a married couple named Marty and Betsy own the place. And just so we’re perfectly clear, my boss booked this place, not me. There were no other rooms available in the entire city. Believe me, I checked. For what it’s worth, this place has amazing reviews online, although I do have reservations about the name.”
I got out, went around to the passenger’s side, opened Zoe’s door, and held out my hand. “Come on. I’m sure there will be plenty more for you to complain about once we’re inside.”
Zoe hesitated, finally accepted my hand, and slid out of the car. But I could see the wheels working in her head, that she wasn’t done yet. She was playing the waiting game while she plotted my demise.
I popped open the trunk and grunted as I pulled out her suitcase. “Are you sure you don’t have a dead body in this thing?”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “It’s not like the thought didn’t cross my mind, but then who would have driven me here?”
I chuckled. “Good point.”
The front door opened, and an older couple stepped outside.
“Welcome to the Serendipity Inn!” the woman said with an inviting smile. “I’m Betsy and this is my husband, Marty.”
“Welcome, Lucas!” Marty said, matching her enthusiasm and tipping his khaki olive Tilley hat in my direction.
I hesitated, surprised he knew my name since I hadn’t even checked in. “Thank you?”
Betsy squeezed her husband’s arm. “Don’t be scared, Lucas. Marty is a big fan of yours. He has read all your reviews dating back to the very beginning when you were working as a newbie reporter for theGarden Grove Gazette.”
Marty perked up. “My favorite review has to be the one you did at that Mexican restaurant in Chicago.Enchila-Di-Da.” He chuckled. “Beef that tasted like it was scraped off the Tri-State Tollway with a rusty spatula, tortillas apparently made of corn that was regurgitated from a rabid Rhodesian Ridgeback, and a monstrous, malodorous mole sauce that was served with a complimentary side of Montezuma’s Revenge.” He clapped me on the back. “Remind me to get you to sign a dinner napkin for me, so I can frame it.”
I nodded, still in shock that another person had memorized one of my reviews. Rolando’s words popped into my head.
You’re like a rock star, dude.
Buy some leather pants and enjoy the ride while it lasts.
Zoe glanced at me like I was a freak. I sensed her disapproval of my harsh criticism of that restaurant, but that was my claim to fame, not hers. Besides, those reviews were valid, if not a tad exaggerated.
“Changing the topic—I only had you down on the reservation for one person,” Marty added. “I didn’t know you were going to bring your lovely lady friend.”
I glanced at Zoe, then back to Marty. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting it either, but I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“Not at all!” Betsy said, perking up. “That will make your stay even more special since we’ve got you set up in the Love Shack.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry—the what?”
Marty chuckled. “The Love Shack, our honeymoon suite. It initially was booked, but we had a cancellation. It was obviously meant for you! You’ll have the entire top floor to yourselves. Lots of privacy for you love birds. Don’t worry, if we need anything, we will just bang, bang, bang on the door, baby.” He winked.
I couldn’t believe he was serving up lyrics from a B-52s song.
How old was this guy?
Marty was probably old enough to be my grandfather, although you could easily be fooled by his bright pink T-shirt, cargo shorts, and a family-sized portion of energy.
I gestured to Zoe. “Oh, we’re not—”
