“Not if it will make you happy.”
“But it’ll make me damaged goods, as far as the job is concerned.”
“Jobs come and go.”
“Mitch, what would you do?”
“That’s hard to say, since I don’t know the woman.” He looked at Spence pointedly. “Or do I?”
“She’s in the media,” Spence repeated stubbornly. “And it’s kind of…”
“Complicated, I got that,” said Mitch, wondering why Spence wouldn’t provide any more details about this woman. Wondering if it was because she was none other than Hannah Lane. Hannah worked in the media. Hannah was living in Washington, D.C. And Spence had known her off and on for years through the Panorama internship program. Toss in that she was presently hooked up with Aaron Ackerman and, well, that sure qualified as one hell of a complication, didn’t it?
Question: Was it possible that the talented young filmmaker was romantically involved with both men?
Answer: Hell, yes.
CHAPTER 8
“This is absolutely the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life,” Des exclaimed, because it absolutely was-hot, strong and flavorful. She gulped it down gratefully as she huddled there next to the stove in her big coat, both hands wrapped around the mug for warmth.
Jory had gotten two big kettles of bottled water up and boiling on the kitchen’s battered old six-burner propane stove, enough to fill a pair of Melita drip coffeemakers and a ceramic teapot for Ada’s Lemon Zinger.
“Coffee always tastes better when it’s cold out,” she said, smiling faintly at Des.
“Not to mention cold in,” added Hannah, who was lending Jory a hand with breakfast.
Actually, Des had barely recognized Hannah without her bright red lipstick and jaunty beret. She also had on a different pair of glasses-slender, contemporary wire rims instead of those heavy round ones she’d worn last night, when she’d seemed to Des like an effete, rather useless trendoid. But stripped of her war paint and Left Bank costume, Hannah looked a lot more useful than she’d first appeared. Narrow-shouldered, yes, but broad through her hips and flanks, with strong wrists and large, knuckly hands that were no strangers to scullery work. She also seemed a good deal younger to Des, not so much a polished young professional as a college girl with chapped lips and a pink runny nose.
“I hate being cold,” Hannah confessed, shivering in her navy-blue pea coat. She lit a match to another burner and began laying strips of bacon out in a well-worn cast-iron skillet. “I hate it more than just about anything.”
“Once a stone house gets cold, it stays cold,” said Jory, who had on a bulky ski sweater, a down vest and fleecy sweat pants. Her curly ginger hair was gathered into a top knot. She seemed very in charge of things in Norma’s absence. Her bulldog jaw jutted with determination. Her eyes were still puffy and red, though. She’d done a lot of crying after they’d found Norma. “And it’s way hard to warm it back up. I must be wearing six layers.”
“I’d settle for one pair of long Johns,” Des said.
“I can loan you a pair of mine,” she offered. “They’d be too short, and kind of huge in the waist, but they’d keep you warm.”
“I may take you up on that,” Des said, glancing around at the kitchen as she drank her coffee.
Astrid’s Castle had two kitchens, actually. There was the one they were in, a homey old tiled farmhouse kitchen, with its double porcelain sink and six-burner range. There was a long cluttered trestle table where the innkeepers grabbed their meals and did their paperwork. There were windows over the kitchen sink. Through them, Des could see across the frozen courtyard to the caretaker’s cottage. A door led directly out to the courtyard. Next to the door was a gun case.
Des went over for a closer look. There were two deer hunting rifles in it, a Remington Model 700 bolt-action with a side-mounted thumb safety and a Winchester Model 70 Classic. “Do much shooting up here?”
“We find it necessary from time to time,” Jory answered cautiously. “We get foxes and coyotes. City folks with small children don’t much care for those. A few years back we even had a bobcat. We always make sure the case is kept locked, and Les keeps the ammunition upstairs.”
“He’s the hunter?”
“No, Jase is. But Les likes to join him. It makes him feel like the lord of the manor or something.”
A mudroom was just off of the old kitchen. There was a deep work sink in there, jackets on hooks, work boots, a five-gallon bottled-water dispenser. The service stairs ran their way through the mudroom-the narrow staff stairs up to the second and third floors as well as the steps that went down to the wine cellar.
The second kitchen, which had been added on in the past few years, was a charm-free stainless-steel restaurant kitchen designed for high-volume, high-speed output. It had multiple stoves and prep stations, a walk-in pantry and freezer, a separate entrance for kitchen staff and deliveries.
This kitchen was not in use. Not a soul was in there.
“When we just have a few guests, we do breakfast ourselves,” Jory explained, her gaze following Des’s. “The kitchen staff doesn’t arrive until later. Of course, today they won’t be coming at all. I thought we’d do a big breakfast, get some fuel into everyone. Eggs and bacon, a big pot of oatmeal, bread and jam. Sound good?”
“Like heaven,” said Des, helping herself to more coffee.
“I agree,” Hannah said as she turned the bacon, which was starting to sizzle and smell sensational.
Jory got a box of Irish oatmeal out of the cupboard and put another pot on the stove. “One good thing I can say about Astrid’s is we’re always prepared for bad weather. Plenty of food and clean dishes, plus we have gallons of bottled water. That’s all we ever pour at the table.”
“You folks have trouble with your well?”
“Not usually, no,” Jory said, filling an eight-cup Pyrex measure from the water dispenser. “But the coliform bacteria can get a bit iffy during the rainy season, and you don’t ever want to send sixty paying guests home with a dose of the trots. You can’t afford to take that chance. It’s like Norma always says…” Jory’s voice caught, the emotion welling up in her. “Every guest is our most important guest. Which reminds me. Is Mitch on any kind of a special diet?”
“Yes, he is. It’s called the I Never Get Full Diet.”
Jory let out a soft laugh. “And how does he take his eggs?
“Any way you cook them, as long as they’re good and hot. Mitch hates cold eggs, especially if they’re scrambled. He’s been known to hold forth for twenty minutes on the subject of cold scrambled eggs and how they taste exactly like… Damn, will one of you kindly stick a fork in me? I’m starting to sound just like June Cleaver.”
“You are not,” Hannah said. “You sound sweet. I wish someone knew my likes and dislikes that well. I wish someone cared.”
“Me, too,” sighed Jory. “That’s all I ask for. A man who cares.” She stood there with her brow furrowed, taking stock of their progress. “Let’s see… bacon’s going good, and the oatmeal won’t take long once this water’s boiling. I’ll slice up some bread. We can scramble the eggs last, okay?”
“Anything I can do to help?” offered Des.
“We’re on it,” Hannah said briskly, breaking the eggs into a bowl as she tended to the bacon.
“You seem very at home in a kitchen.”
Hannah let out a horsey bray of a laugh. “I should. I started waiting tables when I was sixteen. I’ve worked short-order, slung beers. You didn’t think I was some rich kid, did you? Because I am totally not. My dad works for the U.S. Postal Service. Mom’s an OR nurse at Bethesda Medical.”
“Is that right?” Des took a seat at the table, keeping her company.
“And do you want to talk lack of cool? When I was at Georgetown I lived at home in my same old room in my parents’ same old tract house in Falls Church. Commuted to and from campus every day in my ten-year-old Honda Civic. Even so, I’ll still be paying off my student loans until I’m forty. Not that I’m complaining, but nothing ever comes easy for me. Just the good Lord’s way of testing me, I guess. Like after I got Coffee Klatch made, you know? I figured it was all going to be lollipops and balloons. Development deals left and right. I was applauded at Sundance, you know? But you girls can’t imagine how hard it is out there in Movietown, U.S.A. How ambitious everybody is. How deceitful.” Hannah shook her head as she stood there turning the bacon. “When my internship ended, there was nothing. Nobody wanted me. I was desperate to stay out there, but I couldn’t afford to. Before I knew what hit me, I couldn’t even scare up my rent money. So I came home with my tail between my legs, moved back in with my folks. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do until I met Aaron. He’s been the answer to my prayers. Working with Ada this way is such an incredible opportunity, and Aaron’s been… you wouldn’t believe how sweet he’s been.”