Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3) by Sara M. Barton Page B

adored her? For an
attractive woman, my good friend was sometimes clueless on matters
of the heart. Maybe she had been through too much in her lifetime
to ever let her guard down again. Or maybe it was just that the job
was so tough, she had lost her faith in humanity.
    By nine, Max was ready to head out the
door on his way to New Haven for a shortened work day, carrying a
thermal mug of hot black coffee for the hour-long ride. He paused
by the door, promising to return by five, and then he asked what I
was serving for dinner.
    “Roasted chicken with the works and
grasshopper pie.”
    “Excellent. I’m looking forward to it.
Do you want my credit card?”
    “Credit card?”
     

Chapter Nine --
     
    “So you can charge me for the room and
the meals, Scarlet.”
    “Don’t be silly. You’re here to keep
Larry and Mickey safe.”
    “I can’t accept your hospitality
without reciprocating in some fashion.”
    “I’ve closed the inn for the week, Max.
This is all about family.”
    “In that case, how about some wine to
go with dinner?”
    “Wine would be nice, Max. I’d like
that.”
    “Great. I’ll pick up a couple bottles,
and maybe some after-dinner liqueurs. What do the Googins girls
like?” he wanted to know.
    “Amaretto, Bailey’s Irish Cream....” I
gave him a grin. “And Lacey knocks back the occasional eggnog or
peppermint schnapps.”
    “I’ll find something appropriate. What
can I get for you?”
    “Oh, Max!”
    “I insist. I slept like a log last
night. And that breakfast? The best....” Apparently, the bachelor
was enjoying the inn experience. “I could really get to like this,
Scarlet.”
    “I’m glad. Drive safely. We’re supposed
to get four inches of snow today.”
    “Tell me about it. I’m not looking
forward to I-91 on the trip back. It’s likely to be
bumper-to-bumper if the snow starts to pile up. See you later,
alligator.”
    “In a while, crocodile,” I replied
automatically, remembering the hokey old phrase from my youth. It
was so like Max to say something like that. He was just your
ordinary good guy, I thought, with a big dose of decency coursing
through his veins. As I shut the door on the cold wind blowing in
from the north, I thought about Larry and Max. He would be good for
her. He was probably the only guy around who could make her feel
safe.
    Half an hour later, Mickey and I took
the dogs for a walk in the neighborhood. The snow was already
falling; the heavy flakes accumulated quickly, leaving the
sidewalks slushy. The teenager took Mozzie’s leash tentatively,
nervously. Dogs were still foreign to her, but I could tell she had
an affinity for the canine members of the inn.
    “Why is he walking funny?” she asked
me, as the King Charles Cavalier spaniel reluctantly trotted along,
shaking a limb every few steps.
    “The ice from the sidewalk is getting
stuck in the pads of his feet. That’s our cue to turn around and go
back home.”
    “Poor thing. Should I pick him
up?”
    “No. He needs to relieve himself.
Heaven knows how bad things will get before the snow ends. We’ll
just have to warm him up when we get back.”
    “How come January isn’t walking
funny?”
    “Her coat is very short, so the ice
doesn’t cling to her fur the same way. Huck, on the other hand, is
less than thrilled,” I pointed out. It was true. The Yorkshire
terrier was tearing up the sidewalk, desperate to get back to the
house.
    Bur was waiting for us when we stepped
into the foyer. “It’s about time!”
    “It’s about time for what?” I
asked.
    “We’ve got to go pick up Leaping Larry
the Lawnmower. He missed his connecting flight and now he’s stuck
in Newark.”
    “What’s going on?” My mother joined us
in the hallway, attracted by the commotion. Bur quickly
explained.
    “Can’t he just take the train?” I
asked, as I pulled off my jacket. “By the time you get down there
and then drive back....”
    “No, he can’t. It’s Friday, so the
traffic is crazy