Page 5 of Resorting to Romance

~ John Daly

“Moooommmm! I’m hoooooommme!” Noah’s voice echoes through the front room of the inn as the door slams shut behind him.

“In here,” I shout at half the volume he just employed.

My son’s face appears around the corner of the kitchen doorway. He shucks his super-hero backpack and plops it onto the floor.

“Inside voices, please,” I remind Noah.

Not that it will do me any good. He’s rambunctious, nearly seven years old, and he lives in the moment. He never did learn to whisper, maybe that skill will come with age.

“Okay. Is there guests here? I’m starved.”

“It’sare.Arethere guests. And, yes. A couple checked in this morning and we have two other guests arrivingtonight. And, starved, huh? That’s pretty dire. Didn’t you eat the lunch I sent you?”

“Yeah. But that was houuurs ago.”

“Okay.” I smile a private smile as I open the oven door. “Wash your hands and I’ll get your snack. Do you have homework?”

“Nope. Just this All-About-Me thing. I have to take a picture of me too. And Mrs. Jensen said I can put just your name under parents.”

I pull the baking sheet out of the oven.

“We can take a picture of you later today. Once Chloe arrives.”

Noah pulls the step stool up to the sink and washes his hands while I place the snickerdoodles on a cooling rack.

“Snickerdoodles! My favorite!” As if I didn’t know my son’s favorite cookie.

Noah climbs onto one of the stools around the island.

“Mine too,” my best friend, Chloe, says from the spot where she just appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Hey, you. I wasn’t expecting you ’til later.”

“Well, I’m here. Maybe it’s the cookies. They were calling to me.”

“Believe it or not, I baked these for my guests.”

“Am I your guest?” Noah asks, batting his lashes just the slightest. That boy.

“You are my favorite guest. And one of the hosts too, so no sneaking extras. Mkay?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Is that faucet dripping again?” Chloe asks, looking at my sink.

I give the knob a tug, hoping it’s just that Noah didn’t shut it all the way off. Sure enough, it’s still dripping.

“Looks like it.”

I had this kitchen renovated a number of years ago, right after I inherited the property. Back then, before Noah was born, Iimagined running this bed and breakfast with the man who was my husband at the time, Brad.

But life had other plans. Or, Brad did.

I don’t run this place alone, though. Far from it. My bestie, Chloe, cleans for me three afternoons a week. My three aunts all live on the island, and they’re always chipping in somehow or another. I have a bookkeeper, Frank, and a few part-time employees. And there’s Kai. He’s become someone I lean on for repairs and upkeep, even though I probably shouldn’t depend on him as much as I do. I trust him, though. And when it comes to home repairs, being able to count on someone not to cheat me or overcharge me, and to know what they are doing … Well, that’s Kai. For now, at least.

“Aunt Chloe!” Noah shouts as if she’s out on the front porch, not ten feet away from him.

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