Page 28 of The Seaside Homecoming
Another idea occurred to her. She had no idea what the various Indian languages might look like in written form, but perhaps this was something Sonali had written.
Other possible explanations came to her as well, and none of them were frightening.
Then why did she feel uneasy?
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and alarm shot through her. She shoved the paper inside and slammed the drawer shut.
Sonali Patel stepped over the threshold and paused, staring across the room at her, suspicion gleaming in her kohl-lined eyes.
“What are you doing, Miss Summers? Poking about? Mr. Hammond guards his privacy, you know.”
“Just tidying up a few things.”
“If you say so.”
Mira and her father entered behind her, hand in hand. Claire stilled in anticipation. Would Sonali accuse her?
Instead the woman’s glower vanished as she turned to smile at the man. “Good morning, Mr. Hammond. Does not our Mira look charmingly today?”
The little girl was dressed in a green-and-gold sari much like Sonali’s.
He grinned down at his daughter. “Indeed she does.”
Then he raised his gaze to Claire, still standing frozen behind the desk.
“Miss Summers. Everything all right?”
“Y-yes.”
Sonali said, “She was searching your desk, to ‘tidy it,’ she says, but I wonder.”
“I simply found a coin and placed it in the drawer.”
He waved dismissively. “My private desk is upstairs. Either of you are welcome to use this one—or tidy it.” One corner of his lips quirked. Then he said, “But first, let us have breakfast.”
He glanced toward the table, smirk fading. “Although it has not yet arrived.”
“Is that not one of her duties?” Sonali pointed at Claire with round-eyed innocence.
“Yes,” Claire blurted. “I shall go down and offer my help.” She turned and hurried out, eager to be useful—and for a respite from Miss Patel.
After breakfast, Claire helped Mary clear the tables in both morning room and dining room. Then Mr. Hammond set Claire to work at the morning-room desk with ledger, tradesmen’s bills, laundry lists, a few lodging inquiries from potential guests, and the registration book.
He, meanwhile, retreated upstairs to his private study.
Claire sorted the bills and listed the amounts owed in the ledger, a few of which were overdue. Not, she gathered, from lack of funds, but from lack of an organized system.
Then she opened the registration book and flipped through backward with interest, past the recent, fairly empty pages, to pages upon pages filled with information for guests coming and going. What might they—she—do to attract more guests once again?
A short while later, Mr. Hammond paused at the open door, dressed much as he had been when she’d first arrived, stick in hand. “Off for a jaunt.”
She held up her forefinger. “Before you go, may I ask ...Do you know why the previous owner sold the boarding house? Was it not profitable?”
“On the contrary. It was quite profitable.”
“And that’s why you bought it?”
“No. Well, partly. After she married, she simply decided she could not manage both this place and her husband’s home.”
