Page 11 of Trouble Walked In

A little over an hour later, he pulled into the circular drive in front of the inn. The house was like the woman who owned it, impressive at first sight and even more appealing the longer he looked at it. It really did look like a castle. There was an actual turret, for one thing. The stones on the facade looked like genuine relics. They were sturdy and real in a way most things in his life weren’t.

The place seemed strangely empty for Monday afternoon, but then he supposed most inns probably were. There were no cars in the drive, and no evidence of any parked nearby. He didn’t see anyone walking around outside either. The place was an oasis of calm in the chaos that was his life.

He made his way to the front door and stepped inside. Ornate, rich woodwork, a mop and bucket, and the scent of pine cleanser greeted him.

A long bench sat along the right wall of the entry, and a cluster of small wood dining tables with chairs filled an area on the left, next to an open wood door through which he could hear raised voices having a muffled but heated discussion. He looked around for a reception desk but didn’t see one. Belhurst Castle had obviously been a home first, inn second. He followed the trail of voices to the left, thinking he’d just pop his head in and ask whoever worked back there for Lizzie or Della.

Renic stopped short when he heard his name sail through the doorway to what he assumed was the kitchen, judging by the giant refrigerator he could see through the opening.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset,” a melodic voice said. “It’s my life that’s upside down, not yours.”

It was Della speaking. He’d know that voice anywhere. The voice that spoke next froze him to the spot.

“It’s not just your life, Dell,” Lizzie said. “It never was. Don’t you get it? We’re a family. Your life affects all of us.”

Dishes clinked and clattered.

“Us. Right,” Della said. “Mattie has weepy eyes anytime I call. Piper won’t pick up the phone, but she tweeted something about me bopping along to my own beat when the last album dropped.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Lizzie asked.

One of them turned on a faucet, and the sound of running water muted their voices, forcing Renic to shift closer to the door.

“She means she hates it and me,” Della said. “She hates the boppy stuff. You know that.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Lizzie said in a tired voice. “She misses you. We all do.”

There was a long pause. Renic’s leg twitched toward the door.

“What do you want from me?” Della asked.

He stopped midstep.

“I want you to be happy. Of course I want that.”

“But…,” Della prompted.

“I want you to honor your commitments too,” Lizzie said. “It’s called being an adult. Have you even told your crew that you quit? Do they know?”

“Not…no. Not yet.” Della’s voice was low and even harder to hear.

Renic took another half step toward the door. He could see part of a table and a china cabinet filled with dishes.

“Don’t you think they deserve to hear it from you?” Lizzie asked.

It was quiet for a second or two.

“I’ll send them an email today,” Della finally replied in thesullen tone of someone being bullied into doing the right thing.

“Email. Right,” Lizzie grumbled.

More dishes rattled. Then the water shut off.

“What happened, Della? What made you run away?” Lizzie’s voice was soft and concerned and crystal clear now that it wasn't muffled by water.

She’d asked the exact question Renic had wanted to ask ever since he’d found out Della was missing. He leaned forward a little in anticipation.

“I didn’t run away. I just…” All the defiance in Della’s was gone. “I guess I just…I don’t know.”

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