Page 63 of The Last Good Man

“I couldn’t tell,” I say, my words meant as a compliment. “You sound just likehim.”

He laughs quietly.

“Don’t tell him that. He hates to hear that.”

Smiling, he looks down.

“Is that all?” he asks as I slide the door closed.

I gesture to the trunk of my car.

“I have a suitcase too.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll bring it to your room. Let me take you to the front desk to meet my wife. How was your trip?”

I hand him the key, and we chat while strolling across the driveway.

“Beautiful place,” I say when we reach the door.

He opens it and invites me in. I walk in, and my eyes go wide with surprise.

The house is even prettier than I imagined.

Fully renovated and still preserving its Victorian charm, the place takes me back to a different time.

What an amazing interior.

Soft music wafts through the air, and people enjoy their afternoon snacks in the dining room.

Herbert introduces me to his wife, Olivia, a petite woman with a big smile and short hair.

She wears a gray dress with a round neckline, a fitted waist, an A-line skirt, and three-inch pumps.

Much older than her, her husband is decked out in black trousers, a white button-down shirt, and a silky waistcoat.

They both notice the direction of my gaze.

“You are welcome to have an afternoon snack with the other guests.”

I ponder the idea. It’s not like I don’t want to sink my teeth in a scrumptious pastry topped with whipped cream and berries.

But…

I’d love to shower, unwind, and get ready for dinner instead.

“What time do you serve dinner?”

“We start at six,” Olivia says. “Our French chef is versed in more than French cuisine, so you can order anything you like.”

“Sounds good.”

“We also have a cocktail hour and offer appetizers and complimentary wine. Since today is Saturday, expect to see more guests tonight. We’re fully booked.”

I mull over my options.

“I’ll skip the afternoon snack then.”

“No problem,” Olivia says, spinning to her desk. “Let me help you get settled.”

---