Checking Inn (13 page)

Ben leans in closer so our bodies are only a foot apart.  “He left without his shoes on?”

“Maybe it was raining, and he didn’t want to ruin the leather,” I offer as my fingernails dig into the knot, urging it to separate, my chest starting to ache. “Or maybe they are her brother’s.”

Ben’s jaw tightens before he shakes his head.  “You and I both know she didn’t have any brothers.”

I hold my hand up to say something, but I have to gasp for breath.  “Or maybe–” I stop speaking and grip Ben’s arm for support, trying to take deep breaths.

“Kate?” The worried tone of Ben’s voice is mirrored by his features as he puts his hand under my chin to study my face.  “What’s wrong?”

“My belt–” I say between gasps.  “I tied it... too tight... can’t get air...”  I know I’m starting to hyperventilate, but I can’t control my breathing. 

Ben quickly transfers the hammer and sandpaper into my hands, his fingers reaching for the belt that is secured around my waist.  His larger hands have even more trouble with the small knot than mine did.  He quickly turns around to survey the workbench, his eyes searching as it becomes increasingly hard for me to stand.  I start to lose focus, and the hazy feeling lets me know that loss of consciousness is fast encroaching.  The sound of Ben banging and throwing things is the only noise that I can hear as the weight of my eyelids is becoming more than I can handle.

The banging suddenly stops and I hear Ben come back to where I’m standing.  I see a glint of something silver before his hand is on the belt, and suddenly I feel an immense sense of release.  I sink to the ground, with Ben’s arms guiding me. I hear my own breath coming in desperate, wheezing gasps. 

“Kate, where is your inhaler?” he asks, and I feel him reaching in my pockets to search for it.

Tears stream down my face and I can’t get any air into my lungs.  I try and grab his arm in a pleading gesture, but he shakes it off and I hear the shed door bang open again and he’s gone. 

It seems like minutes, but it could only have seconds before I hear Ben’s rushed steps return.  My body is shaking from the lack of oxygen.

Ben grabs my face and I feel the cold object shoved in my mouth, a gust of cold medicine forcing my lungs to expand.

He gathers me in his arms, stroking my hair.  “Breathe, just breathe,” he says, his warm embrace so comforting.

My breath turns from wheezing gasps, to short breaths.  Slowly, I’m able to take deep breathes and my arms wrap around Ben’s waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I usually have it in my pocket,” I say.  I don’t know what to say, but that is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” he says, and tries to remove my arms from around his waist.

“No, I’m okay.  I’ll be okay,” I assure him and wrap my arms more tightly around his waist so he won’t get up.

“You shouldn’t be having this many attacks,” he says, but thankfully doesn’t try to move.  “We need to get you to a doctor.”

“I can keep it under control normally,” I say.  “This past week is the first time I have had to use my emergency inhaler in years.”

“Were you born with it?” he asks.

I shake my head.  “I developed it after my father left.”

“Why did he leave, Kate?” he asks, and when he feels my body tense he adds, “Forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

“My father had obsessive compulsive disorder,” I say in a soft tone.  “He left because he couldn’t cope with us anymore.”

Ben doesn’t say anything, but I feel his arms tighten around my back.

“You’ve met my mother, so there is no big mystery there as to why.  If she can find her keys she counts it as a good day.”

“Well, I’m sure he knew that when they got married,” Ben points out.

I can’t help but smile at the way my mother has already charmed Ben around her little finger.

“I don’t blame her for his leaving. I was angry when I was younger and took it out on her, but I never blamed her,” I say.  “We tried to find him, but he disappeared.  We got a letter from his girlfriend a few years ago to say he had passed away of a stroke.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says.

I just nod.  There’s nothing really else to say about it.

“Are you okay now?” he asks.

“Yes, I– what was the shiny thing you had in your hand before?” I ask, looking down.

“I had to cut your belt with a utility knife,” he says, lifting the cut end.

“Oh,” I say, still slightly confused from the lack of oxygen.  “I’m not sure if I have another belt that matches this coat.”

The soft chuckle from Ben brings my gaze from the belt to his face.

“What?”

“I’ve never known a woman who would rather pass out than live with the possibility that her wardrobe might not be completely coordinated.”

“I never said–” I say, but his voice interrupts my slow thoughts.

“I know, I was joking.”  He tucks my hair behind my ear, leaving his hand on the side of my cheek before untangling me from his arms and helping me to my feet.

We both stand in the storage shed, studying each other, wondering if the other one has given something away somehow.  Taking a deep refreshing breath, I remember the weight in my hands and look down to see I am still tightly grasping the hammer and sandpaper.

“What are you doing with these, anyways?” I ask, giving them back to him.

“Trying to get into a lady’s good graces,” he says, taking them from me and putting his hand on my waist to guide me back to the Inn.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Mr. Patterson didn’t get a chance to fix the banister yet, and his arthritis is really bothering him right now.  My dad taught me how to fix things, so I volunteered to help him.”

“You know, it’s against the Inn’s rules to allow guests to use the tools for liability reasons.”

Ben opens the front door and helps guide me through.  “Don’t worry, I won’t sue.”

“You say that now,” I argue and carefully sit down in the chair behind the reception desk, my legs still shaky.

“Kate, you can trust me,” he says, and I look at the serious look in his eyes.

“I know,” I say.

“Whatever the problem is, I’ll help you,” he says, and my eyes can’t look away from the intensity of his stare.  “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you, or the Inn.”

I’m not sure if it’s because of what happened in the shed, or because he has stuck his neck out for me more this week than anyone has ever done for me, but my eyes smart with tears.

“Thank you,” I say.

He waits for me to say something more, but the door opens and my mother comes flying in.

“Hey kids,” she says, ruffling Ben’s already messy hair before coming over and kissing me on the cheek.  “Did I miss lunch?”

“No, we are just about to serve it,” I say and quickly shoot my gaze in Ben’s direction.

“I’ll work on the banister while everyone’s in the dining room and have my lunch later,” he says.

“Oh, I was hoping you would be able to join us,” my mother pouts her bottom lip.  “Can’t it wait?”

“I better not; I’ve got to go over some things with my team on the case this afternoon.  There’s been some new developments,” he says but doesn’t look at me, instead keeping his eyes on my mother’s face.

“Okay, I’ll make sure Luisa brings you a sandwich,” my mother says, taking off her coat and smiling.

“Thanks,” he looks at me only for a second before walking down the hallway to the staircase.

“Developments are good,” my mother says in a hopeful tone.  “Maybe this whole thing will be over with soon.  Though, I’ll be so sad to see Ben go.  I’ve become rather fond of him.”

I force a smile and nod before returning my attention back to the reservation book.

The problem is, so have I.   

Eleven

Ben left right after lunch yesterday, and I haven’t seen him since.  To make matters worse, the storm has knocked out our phone lines, and the town’s cellphone tower is also not operating at the moment.  Everyone is feeling a little antsy not being able to get in contact with anyone, but I have tried to assure them we are working on getting it fixed.

Mom organized a game of charades in the lounge earlier this evening and it seemed to lighten everyone up a little.  I even had a turn, and my team was very close to winning a round. 

I had Becky and Luisa on my team, and it turns out neither of them have heard of the Sound of Music 
(I know, right?)
.  I did an excellent silent remake of the entire movie, though.  “I Am Sixteen, Going On Seventeen” was the highlight, by far.

Mom and I are sitting in the dining room, which is full tonight with all our guests.  We decided to ask everyone to dress informal to keep the fun mood going, and we’ve pushed all the tables together to form a big circle to serve the dinner family style.  I’m laughing at a funny story told by Mr. Shaw when the dining room door flings open.

My mother nearly jumps out of her seat from the bang and I put my hand on her arm in a reassuring gesture.

There, in the doorway, is Samantha’s mother. She stands slightly hunched over, and I can tell from her uneven breathing that she has been drinking.

“You,” she says, pointing at me.  “You did this!”

My eyes widen, and I stand up.

“Mrs. Manning, I haven’t done anything.  If we could just go to the lounge– ” I start, but she interrupts me.

“Not you,” she says, waving her arm like she is trying to swat away a fly.  “You!”

I follow her gaze to my mother, who sits with a steely look on her face.

“Stephanie, I haven’t done anything, and you’re drunk.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” she spits out the accusation.  “You murdered my baby!”

The guests, in unison, let out a shocked gasp.

“Mrs. Manning, let’s go to the lounge where we can talk about–” I try and approach her, but she shoves me into the wall.

I see Ben enter from the kitchen doorway.  He takes one look at me and then moves his gaze to Samantha’s mother.  “What the hell is going on?” he asks.

My mother is on her feet now, and comes to stand between me and Mrs. Manning.  “I haven’t killed anyone Stephanie, but if you lay one more finger on my daughter I might be tempted.”

Mrs. Manning’s face passes from worry to amusement in a flash.  “That threat is getting a bit old now, don’t you think?” she asks.

“Maybe it’s time I actually followed through,” my mother suggests.

I frown as I look between the two women.

“You were jealous when you couldn’t keep your husband away from me then, and you’re just jealous my daughter is more successful than yours now.”

I put my hand to my mouth at Mrs. Manning’s implication and look to my mother for her reaction.

“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, Stephanie.  Because you just lost your daughter, I am going to pretend you never said that.”

“
Lost my daughter
?” she yells.  “She was murdered!  At your Inn!”

“And Detective Gable is doing everything he can to make sure the murderer is found and arrested,” my mother says, never taking her eyes from Mrs. Manning’s face. 

“What was she even doing here?” she asks, looking around wildly as though the answer is written on the wall somewhere.

“She came to write a review, like you asked her to,” I remind her.

“I didn’t ask her anything!” she says, looking at me again.  “I told your mother that I had done her all the favors she deserved in this life– keeping your father entertained all those years ago.”

She laughs hysterically and sends herself off balance again. 

Ben comes to stand beside her, grabbing her arm.  “Mrs. Manning, you’ve had terrible news today.  I’m going to take you back to the police station.”

She tries to pull her arm free.  “I’m not going anywhere with you!” she yells.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, putting his other hand on her shoulder to lead her out of the dining room.

I look around at the guests staring at me and I shake my head.  “I’m so sorry, I–”  I have no idea what to say to them.  “Excuse me.”

I walk out of the dining room and through the hallway to the reception area where I put my hands on the desk for support.

“Kate?” My mother says hesitantly from behind me.

“Is it true?” I ask, and when she doesn’t reply I turn to face her.  “Did he have an affair with Mrs. Manning?”

My mother pauses before running her hands through her hair.  “Your father was a complicated man, Kate.  He had a disorder.”

“Did he have an affair with Mrs. Manning?” I ask, more forcefully this time.

“Yes,” she answers.  “When I found out I asked him to stop.”

“Did he?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“No,” she sighs.  “In the end I told him he needed to stop, or he couldn’t see you anymore.  I didn’t want you to be the laughing stock of the town because your father couldn’t control himself.”

“So he left,” I say, slowly lowering myself into the reception chair.

“I couldn’t tell you before.  I didn’t want you to hate me–”  Mom breaks off as tears roll down her face.  “I knew he wouldn’t stop for me, but I had convinced myself he would control himself for you; instead my pushing just forced him to leave.”

This is just too much.  Too much has happened.  There is too much to process.  I feel my mind shutting down, my body going detached and cold.  I just can’t do this right now.  Any of it.

The front door opens as Ben comes back inside.  “Detective Rice is taking Mrs. Manning back to the station,” he says, looking from my mother to me.  “I’m sorry.  I tried to call and warn you that we had finally got in contact with her but–”

“Our phone lines have been down all day,” I explain, and am surprised at how remote and detached my voice sounds.

“I will speak to her, try and keep it out of the papers…” my mother offers, but I shake my head.

“There’s no point.  Our guests all know, the story will be all over town within the hour,” I say, getting up and picking up my coat and purse.

“Kate, you can’t leave here like this–” Ben says and grabs my arm to stop me.

I look him in the eye and offer a small smile.  “I’m fine.  I knew this was coming.”