The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel by Anita Stansfield Page A

try something new.”
    “What did I tell you?” Chas said smugly.
    “And what new profession would you suggest I take up?” Jackson asked, just curious to see what she might say.
    “What about innkeeping?” she asked without missing a beat. “You could take care of me and give Chas a vacation.”
    “What a great idea!” Jackson said. “I’ll have to give that some thought.”
    “Now,” Granny went on, “I believe Charles would tell you to travel. He really loved Niagara Falls. Have you seen Niagara Falls, young man?”
    “I have,” he said. “Have you?”
    “Oh, I have. Nothing like it! How about Mt. Vesuvius?”
    “Can’t say I’ve been there,” Jackson said. “And you?”
    “Never made it to Mt. Vesuvius. But Charles did. He was very impressed with that as well. Fire and water. Grand extremes. He was like that.”
    Jackson knew her husband’s name had been Walter, so he asked, “Who is Charles? Your brother?” He saw Chas roll her eyes discreetly.
    “Heavens, no!” Granny laughed. “Mr. Dickens, of course.”
    “Of course,” Jackson said with some hesitance.
    “You need to understand,” Chas said to him, “that Granny has trouble with the line between reality and fantasy. She’s spent so much of her life reading everything by and about this man that she’s lost touch with reality.”
    “She’s joking,” Granny said.
    “No, I am not!” Chas said, but she laughed when she said it. “I can assure you, Agent Leeds, that the ghost of Charles Dickens resides in this house—or at least he visits occasionally.”
    “That’s not boring,” Jackson said and turned to Granny. “So, what is it that Mr. Dickens would tell me to do?”
    “When he was alive I think he would have told you to travel and take in the world. Now, I think he would tell you to follow your heart, and be true to it. I think he would tell you not to worry about silly things like money, but to find joy in the simple things of life. I think if he could do it over, that’s what he would do.”
    “I’ll give that some thought as well,” Jackson said.
    Chas left the room to check in with Polly and get her grandmother a cup of coffee. She knew she’d be asking for it soon. She returned to find Jackson and Granny still chatting. Chas handed Granny the coffee, and the old woman said to Jackson, “I like it with just a little cream and lots of sugar . . . to keep life sweet.”
    “Granny likes sugar in lots of things,” Chas said. “I have to nag her to eat her vegetables . . . and her fiber.”
    “Tell you what, Granny,” Jackson said, “if you promise to eat your vegetables and fiber, I promise to eat more sugar.”
    “Good boy!” she said as if he’d just gotten an A on his math test. “You look like you could use a little sweetening up.”
    “I’m sure I could,” Jackson said.
    “He likes his coffee black,” Chas said to her grandmother. Then she reminded Granny that one of her favorite shows was on TV, and she told her that Jackson would come back later. He hovered in the doorway until Chas had Granny settled, then he followed her down the hall when she came out.
    “Did Polly tell you that I’ll be having supper at the inn again tonight?”
    “She did. Are you sure you can afford it?”
    “I’m sure. Six again?”
    “I’ll see you then,” she said, and he forced himself to go in a different direction.
    Chas noticed Jackson leaving in his rented car, and she wondered where he might have gone. Probably just to explore the town a little. He probably had cabin fever. When she heard someone come in the door, she poked her head out of the office to see who it was, not entirely surprised to see Jackson. “Hi,” she said, pretending not to notice the brown paper bag he was carrying that obviously had a bottle of liquor in it.
    “Hi,” he replied and went up to his room.
    Jackson had enjoyed his little exploration of the town. Now he was actually glad to be alone for a few minutes and have a drink.