Down by the River (2 page)

“Cool.” Morgan grinned. “We need a Scout leader, too, Ms. Grace. None of the mothers want to do it since we left Brownies behind. And the Oakley would be a neat place for Scout meetings. The house is huge inside. There are lots of tables and a big kitchen and all kinds of neat stuff. There's even a real badminton court by the gazebo in the side yard and a rock patio down by the river with picnic tables and an outdoor grill. Plus this cool porch.” Morgan gestured to the deep, shady porch, cluttered with old wicker furniture and spanning the front of the house.

“Aunt Bebe says people used to play croquet on the lawn here a long time ago,” Meredith put in. “I like croquet, and our yard's too hilly for it.”

“See, there's lots you could do here!” Morgan gave Grace a wide grin. “You could open the bed-and-breakfast and make the house happy again. You could lead our Scout troop and maybe even make stuff.”

“Make stuff?” Grace tried to follow this remark, but couldn't.

Morgan shrugged. “Mr. Oakley built a little shop for himself in the old shed by the garage. He was real good at building things and made all kinds of neat stuff, like walking sticks, birdhouses, and picture frames.”

“Oh,” said Grace, beginning to understand. “He did wood crafts.”

“Yeah, and Ms. Mavis just left all his stuff out there in the shed. She didn't even want it. Maybe you could do something with it. No one's hauled it off or anything. “

A small Volkswagen turned off the highway into the long drive leading to the bed-and-breakfast. Morgan squinted to identify it.

“Ugh.” She made a face. “We're out of here, Meredith. It's that icky Ashleigh Anne who helps at the realty.” Morgan made a gagging gesture with one finger to Meredith, who giggled in return.

“We gotta go now,” Morgan told Grace as the girls sprinted toward the side of the house where they'd left their tubes.

Meredith dashed back on impulse to take Grace's hand. “You come buy this place, okay, Ms. Grace? You're really nice, and I like you. And I don't want you to keep living in your house if it's sad.”

She raced off again, waving a hand in the air, her final words trailing behind her. “Besides, we could be friends if you come. Having friends is nice.”

Grace felt an odd lump form in her throat. However, before she could think further about the girls' comments, a young woman climbed out of the car and picked her way up the front walk to join Grace. Beneath a head of frizzy, permed hair, the young girl wore entirely too much makeup and an extremely tight, short skirt, barely covering her hips. A stretchy, tangerine halter top, with spaghetti straps, revealed all too clearly that she wore no bra.

“Obviously
not
Mr. Teague,” Grace muttered to herself.

The girl smiled around the gum she smacked behind orange-painted lips. “Are you Mrs. Conley? I'm Ashleigh Anne Layton, and Jack sent me over here to meet you. He's running late and said for me to let you in the house so you could start looking around.”

She glanced up toward the house and made a face. “You know, this place is really old and full of
totally
outdated furnishings. I don't know why you want to see it. Plus it's sat empty for three years now.” She shrugged. “You might get really creeped out looking at it. There might be ghosts or spiders or something by now.”

Grace stifled a smile while Ashleigh led the way up the steps to the porch.

Stopping to turn around at the door, the girl propped a hand on one hip. “Of course, you being older and all, you might like this place—even if it's old-fashioned.” She gave Grace an appraising look up and down that revealed all too clearly she found Grace's appearance lacking. “Jack said you were, like, a widow or something.”

Considering the source, Grace ignored her comments and appraisal. “Do you mind if I look around?”

“Well, yeah, sure. That's why I came. So you could.” Ashleigh smiled at Grace and cracked her gum again. “Jack said for me to read you this description first, though.”

Ashleigh pulled out a sheet of paper and started to read. “This house was built in the early 1900s as an inn for early travelers to the Smoky Mountains. It has been well maintained and has experienced several renovations. The last owners put in a new heat and air system, modernized the kitchen and baths, and put on a new roof. The house has a large parlor, which includes a half circle of windows in the turret area, a library with a wall of built-in bookshelves, original hardwood floors, a dining room with an antique chandelier, a large country kitchen, and a master bedroom and bath on the first floor.”

At least the girl could read, Grace thought maliciously.

Ashleigh flipped the page. “On the second floor are four guest bedrooms, each with its own private bath. The bedrooms have floral themes, and each room has a plaque on the door to designate the name of the room. On the third floor, the two bedrooms with a sitting area and bath can be rented as a suite or used by the owners for family and friends who visit.” She paused, scanning down the page. “The house has a three-acre lot, shade trees, outdoor porches, a patio, a gazebo, a two-car garage, a workshop, and two driveway entrances.”

Grinning, Ashleigh looked up at Grace. “That's it. Except that Mr. Teague said to tell you Mavis Oakley left a lot of furniture in the house, all negotiable with the sale.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although I can't imagine why anyone would want the furniture either. It's like
really
old, too.”

Ashleigh's cell phone jumped to life, playing a popular rock song. She pulled it out of a chartreuse purse slung over her shoulder, turned it off, and checked the message.

“It's a call from the other place where I work at nights—the Shady Grove. I tend bar and sing with a band there.” She offered Grace a self-important smile with this announcement. “I need to ring them back. It's probably about my work schedule.”

She leaned over and unlocked the front door. “Can you look around by yourself while I make my call? I couldn't answer any big questions for you anyway.” She shrugged indifferently. “I'm only temping at Jack's office today because his mother had a doctor's appointment. He'll be along in a little while. He got tied up in Wears Valley at a closing with Kendrick Lanier, his friend at Mountain View Realty.”

The girl sent a Cheshire cat smile Grace's way. “I wish I'd been there with those two sexy, good-looking men at the closing. Wowy zowy. The pheromones off those two could heat up a whole room.” She giggled and then looked somewhat disappointed at the lack of enthusiastic response from Grace.

Shrugging, Ashleigh flopped down in a wicker chair and propped her feet on the stool across from it. “You go on in and look around all you want. I'll sit out here, make my call to the Shady Grove, and watch for Jack.”

Relieved to lose Ashleigh Layton as a tour guide, Grace let herself in the house. “Honestly!” she muttered, shutting the screen door behind her, but leaving the main door wide open. What sort of real estate agency would hire someone like that to represent them? She shook her head, annoyed, but then caught her breath as she looked to the right of the entry hall into the front parlor. It was stunning—like walking into a country garden.

Grace looked around in delight. The carpet in the parlor—a periwinkle blue scattered with a delicate floral design—partly covered the rich hardwood floors and set the tone perfectly for the room's decor. Wallpaper, curtains, and pillows echoed the floral theme, with the furniture upholstered in lush fabrics that repeated the rug's rich shades and created an eclectic but totally inviting room.

“Oh, my.” The words slipped out as she turned around in wonder. “Look at the lovely arched built-ins.” Moving closer, she discovered the shelves filled with an array of collectibles, china and books, tastefully selected to promote the character of the room.

Grace caught her breath. “And look at that stunning piano!” Her eyes moved to the grand piano that perfectly fit the oval curve of the house's turret. Someone had shown very good taste in decorating here.

Having visited many bed-and-breakfasts over the years, Grace saw immediately that this one carried an individuality to make it well remembered by any guests who visited. What a shame this place was closed now!
I'd stay here every time I came to visit Margaret rather than in the motel on the highway,
she thought.

Eager to see the rest of the house, Grace wandered across the entry into a library decorated in a similar color scheme of blues, creams, and deep red, but in a more subdued tone. A broad antique desk sat under the front window, built-in bookshelves lined one entire wall, and inviting upholstered chairs sat tucked in the corners of the room, reading lamps situated beside them.

Ashleigh leaned her head in the door as Grace left the library to start down the hallway. “Are you all right in there, Mrs. Conley? If you're getting creeped out, I can walk around with you.”

“I'm fine, Ashleigh. You don't need to accompany me.”

“Oh, good.” The girl blew out a breath of obvious relief. “Then I'll just stay out here and watch for Jack. If you have a problem, you holler, okay?”

“I'll do that,” Grace replied, heading down the hall beside the front staircase. She passed a downstairs bath off the entry and then paused to glance into a gracious dining room with four guest tables and chairs. Arched built-ins held a mix of pale blue and floral dishes, and floral curtains and area rugs added cozy charm.

Wandering into the kitchen, she clasped her hands in pleasure, loving the huge space with all the white cabinetry, the big center island for preparing food for guests, and the way they'd painted the hardwood floors periwinkle blue with stenciled flowers to match the parlor carpeting. How charming.

She peeked through the wide French doors by the breakfast area into a shady screened porch simply crying out for guests. She could imagine them sitting out there, enjoying their morning coffee and listening to the sounds of the mountain river.

Wandering across the hallway to find the master bedroom and bath, Grace spotted more Waverly florals, creams, and sky blues in the wallpaper and curtains in the empty room. The color scheme ran throughout the entire downstairs of the inn, but the previous owner obviously had taken all the furniture from this bedroom. It looked bare after seeing the rest of the downstairs still furnished.

Upstairs, as Ashleigh had read from the specs earlier, Grace found four floral-themed guest rooms—the Iris Room, the Rose Room, the Azalea Room, and the Laurel Room. All the furniture, including bedspreads, sheets, and even towels in the adjoining baths remained. Although a little dusty from being shut up for three years, the rooms still looked ready to welcome overnight guests.

On the third floor, the color scheme grew more subdued. The area, named the Magnolia Suite, had two bedrooms, an ample bath, and a sunny sitting room with an expanse of windows looking out from the upper turret.

No furniture or anything here, Grace noticed, looking around. Except drapes and those botanical prints on the walls. Obviously, Mavis Oakley had taken these furnishings to her new home. But it was wonderful that she'd left the bulk of the furnishings behind in the rest of the house. They so defined the bed-and-breakfast's character. Grace found herself liking Mavis Oakley for that. She could have easily sold the furnishings at auction for profit. Probably could yet if a new owner didn't want them.

As Grace started back down the lovely staircase, she could hear Ashleigh's voice from out on the porch. That girl was probably still on the phone, Grace thought, but then she heard a deeper voice answering in reply. Well, well. Maybe Mr. Teague had finally decided to make an appearance. Grace paused to look at her watch. And over an hour late. Unbelievably rude.

Half way down the stairway, she paused. She could see Ashleigh standing in front of the open door talking to the Realtor, her back to Grace.

In embarrassment, Grace realized the words she could overhear Ashleigh speaking to Jack Teague were seductive ones, with nothing whatsoever to do with real estate. As Grace hesitated on the stairs, Ashleigh moved closer to Mr. Teague, plastering herself against him and arching one of her legs around him suggestively.

Frozen in place and horrified to be witnessing this intimate situation, Grace didn't know what to do. Should she clear her throat and speak out? Or slip back up the stairs?

She studied the Realtor through the door more closely. Certainly no young boy Ashleigh's age, but more a man Grace's own age or older, with salt and pepper hair and a roguish touch of a beard and mustache forming on his face. When he smiled, dimples flashed in his cheeks. Obviously a good-looking man, and from the way he acted—smug and relaxed—Grace thought she recognized the type, an aging playboy, still pursuing and charming the young girls. She frowned at the thought. Of course—to be fair—Grace could see Ashleigh Anne Layton was certainly contributing to the situation. The word
slut
came to mind, although Grace chastised herself for thinking it. Perhaps the girl was only flirting, seeing if she could gain the interest of an older man like Jack Teague.

Grace's eyes narrowed. He shouldn't be encouraging Ashleigh, regardless of the situation. She was practically a minor compared to him. Seeing Jack's hand reach around now to settle on Ashleigh's bottom, Grace found she'd seen quite enough.

She cleared her throat loudly, and saw Mr. Teague's eyes lift to hers in surprise. Ashleigh—with her back turned to Grace—didn't hear the sound, but Jack Teague did. To Grace's further shock, the man didn't immediately pull back from the girl. Instead, he shrugged with casual ease, winking at Grace and then letting his eyes rove over her with interest while Ashleigh continued to writhe against him. Unbelievable! Apparently, the man felt more or less indifferent to the girl's attentions. Grace found that even more disgusting somehow—that he could give Grace the once-over while this young girl still crawled around on him.