“Grace Chapel Inn,” she said in a very businesslike manner.

  “Hello,” said a female voice.

  “Hello,” said Jane in a much friendlier tone. “How may I help you?”

  “Oh, I hope you can help me. I spoke to you a week ago about a reservation for our honeymoon, maybe you remember me?”

  “Actually, my sister Louise handles the reservations. But if you’ll give me a moment, I’ll head to the office where I can take a look at the reservation schedule.”

  “Thank you. You see my husband and I got married last weekend. We had made a reservation to stay at your inn for Memorial Day weekend, on our way back from our wedding trip along the eastern seaboard, but the weather report was so nasty for the time of our travel that we just canceled the whole thing.”

  “You canceled your honeymoon?” asked Jane as she went behind the desk and reached for the reservation book.

  “Well, I suppose we mostly postponed it. We just stayed home. But now that the weather has turned so lovely, I thought perhaps we could get our reservation back at your bed-and-breakfast. It was recommended to us by some very dear friends, and we’d been really looking forward to it. Do you think it’s possible?”

  “When did you want to come?” asked Jane as she thumbed through the pages.

  “We had hoped for this weekend.” Her voice sounded hopeful.

  “Oh.” Jane looked down at the schedule for the end of May, noting with dismay that Justin Hinton was written down from Friday through Monday.

  “I know it’s last-minute,” said the woman urgently. “But we did make a reservation way back in February, and I would so love to stay at your bed-and-breakfast. Perhaps our names are still down for those dates, do you think that’s possible? Garth and Gloria Fairview.”

  “I can see where your reservation used to be,” admitted Jane as she saw where their names had been erased and replaced with the name of her ex-husband.

  “But you’re full up now?” Disappointment oozed from Gloria’s voice.

  “Well, let me see.”

  “Oh, I had just so hoped … I had actually prayed for a miracle this morning.”

  “You know,” Jane began slowly. “It seems to me that if you made your reservation clear back in February, well, perhaps we should honor your original reservation after all.”

  “Really?”

  Jane erased Justin’s name and then wrote down Mr. and Mrs. Fairview, newlyweds. “Yes,” she said with conviction. “Do you still wish to stay until Monday?”

  “Oh yes, that would be wonderful!”

  “Okay,” said Jane. “I have you down.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” gushed Gloria. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”

  Jane wanted to tell Gloria that she had no idea how much it meant to her, but she simply said, “You are most welcome. Travel safely.” She did feel guilty when she hung up, but then she told herself that the Fairviews had made their reservation prior to Justin. And it was their belated honeymoon. Surely, Louise would have done the same thing.

  “Hello?” called a male voice from the foyer.

  Jane closed the reservation book and, assuring herself that the voice did not sound the least bit like Justin’s, she stepped from behind the desk and greeted a middle-aged man who seemed vaguely familiar. Then it hit her. Clive Fagler, the columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer.

  “My name is Clive Fagler. I have a reservation?” he said in a questioning voice, as if perhaps he was in the wrong place.

  “Oh yes, Mr. Fagler.” Jane looked down at her overalls. “Sorry about my appearance,” she said quickly. “I was working in the garden and had to fill in for my sister Louise. She usually handles reservations and guests, but she had to step out.”

  He grinned. “That’s quite okay. I happen to have a pair of old overalls myself.”

  “You do?” She studied his neatly pressed khakis and yellow button-down shirt topped with a neat navy vest, and wasn’t entirely convinced.

  He chuckled. “Yes. Actually, I do. A remnant of my former life of attempting to be a hippie back in the late sixties.”

  She smiled. “My overalls from the old days wore out long ago.”

  “That’s because you, unlike me, must’ve put them to good use. I was simply a wannabe gardener. Although I’ve been considering taking it up again.”

  “Don’t you live in the city?”

  “Yes, but I have a tiny terrace where I thought I might try some potted herbs. Things I might use in the kitchen.”

  “That’s a super idea. I have an herb garden that I adore. It’s so handy to simply step out your door and cut a bit of fresh rosemary or basil to add to a dish.”

  “So you garden and cook?”

  She looked shyly down at her Crocs, then back up. “Actually, I’m a cook by profession, and I do the cooking for the inn.”

  His eyes lit up. “You and I have some things in common.” Then he got a serious look. “Do you write too?”

  She laughed. “No. Not unless you count recipes.”

  “That’s a relief.” He laughed. “I was starting to get an inferiority complex.”

  “By the way, I’m Jane Howard. I love your column.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My two sisters and I own and run the inn.”

  “Well, it’s a beautiful house, and the town looked charming when I drove through. I’m looking forward to my stay here.”

  “I hope you have a relaxing and refreshing time. Would you like me to show you to your room?”

  “I’ll just go get my bags. I left them in the car.” “Need help?”

  He grinned. “No, but thanks.”

  Jane hurried to check out her image in the mirror in the foyer. She’d completely forgotten that she still had on her straw hat. She removed it, shoving it behind the reservation desk, and then she returned to the mirror, where she quickly smoothed her hair and wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. At least she had on a pretty, rose, lace-trimmed T-shirt.

  “Can you believe this weather?” commented Clive as he came back inside. “One week it’s like winter and then we’re plunged smack into summer.”

  “Yes, it has been extremely unpredictable,” she said. “But I’ll take this warm weather over that nasty stuff anytime.”

  “It was like the never-ending winter.”

  “Mr. Fagler, if you’d sign the book there,” she said as she pointed to the reception desk, “I’ll get your key.”

  “Please,” he said, “call me Clive.”

  “Certainly, Clive.” Louise had given Clive the Sunset Room, Jane’s favorite. She took the key and, when he set down the pen, pointed to the stairs. “Your room is on the second floor. Unless you’d like a tour of the inn first?”

  “I would love a complete tour of the inn.” He looked at her. “And your garden too, if that’s okay, Ms. Howard.”

  “Please, call me Jane. I’ll be more than happy to give you a tour, including my garden, not that it’s anything fancy. I might even be able to give you some herb-growing tips.”

  “That sounds great, but I’d like to change into something a little cooler first. This woolen vest seemed a good idea this morning, but I’m baking in it now.”

  “Right this way,” she said as she led him up the stairs. “While you’re changing, I’ll clean up a bit. I’ve pretty much promised my sisters that I won’t wear my gardening clothes in the house. I think they’re worried that I might put off the guests.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I doubt you could put off anyone, Jane.”

  “Here is your room.” She turned the key in the door, letting it swing open to reveal the terra-cotta-colored walls with the faux finishing that gave it an old-world touch. “It’s called the Sunset Room.”

  He went in, setting his bags on the floor by the bed. “It’s lovely.”

  “Thank you,” said Jane. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  He walked around, looking at the interesting styles of painted furniture and finally taking in the various pieces of carefully matted and framed Impressionist prints. “Nice choices of art.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He turned and peered curiously at her. “Let me guess, Jane, you’re a decorator too?”

  She shrugged. “I like to dabble. It was fun doing the inn.”

  “I had a feeling, when I first met you, that you were the creative type.”

  She was starting to feel self-conscious. “Well, I hope you’re comfortable here. If there’s anything you need, just let us know.”

  “We’re still on for the tour?”

  “Oh yes,” she said, remembering her promise. “Just give me about thirty minutes, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jane hurried up to the third floor and to her room. She didn’t know why she felt nervous. Was it because Clive Fagler was a well-known writer? Or was it because he seemed to be giving her some positive attention? Or, perhaps it wasn’t Clive at all. Perhaps her jitters had to do with Justin and that she’d erased his reservation.

  She quickly showered and dressed in a pair of cream-colored linen pants topped by a pale blue silk top, then slipped into a pair of sandals. It felt so good to be wearing summer-weight clothing again. She brushed out her hair and put it into a French twist, and then even put on a beaded necklace in shades of blue and silver. She added a large silver cuff bracelet and also a light spray of cologne. Then she hurried back downstairs, expecting to find Clive waiting. Instead she found Louise. And she was frowning.

  “Jane?”

  “Yes?” Jane glanced toward the dining room.

  “Did you take a reservation today?”

  Jane swallowed hard. “Uh, yes, let me explain—”

  “You canceled Justin’s reservation?”

  Jane took her sister by the arm and led her back to the kitchen. “We have a guest, Louise. Clive Fagler arrived. I showed him to his room. And he’s coming down soon so that I can give him a tour.”

  Louise looked Jane up and down from head to toe. “You certainly cleaned up nicely, Jane.”

  Jane stood straighter. “I would think you’d appreciate that.”

  Louise smiled wryly, then pointed to the reservation book, tapping her forefinger on the spot where Jane had made her little adjustment. “What exactly is going on here, Jane?”

  Jane looked at Louise with pleading eyes. “The poor woman was beside herself, Louise. They had planned to stay here for their honeymoon—their honeymoon—and she’d actually been praying—”

  “They canceled that reservation, Jane.”

  “I know. But when she told me that they hadn’t even gone on their honeymoon because of the weather, and how much they wanted to come to Grace Chapel Inn, and how their friends recommended—”

  “That shouldn’t matter, Jane.”

  “It matters to them, Louise.” Just then Jane heard the sound of voices out in the foyer. It was impossible to make out the actual words, but it was clearly Belle having a conversation with Clive.

  “Oh no,” said Jane, holding a finger in front of her lips.

  “What is it?” whispered Louise.

  “Belle must’ve gotten back just in time to make the acquaintance of Clive Fagler.”

  Louise frowned. “Oh dear.”

  Jane paused, trying to listen, but it seemed the voices were slowly moving away from them. Perhaps Belle was giving Clive the tour herself. “Maybe I should go rescue him,” suggested Jane.

  “Not so quickly,” said Louise. “What about our little double-booking problem?”

  “The Fairviews booked it first.”

  “But they canceled, Jane.”

  “And now they have un-canceled.”

  “But, as you know, I booked that date for Justin.”

  “And I un-booked it.”

  “You are making up words, Jane.”

  “I’m simply being creative. Please, Louise. Let this go.”

  “But what will I tell—”

  “Tell Justin there’s been a mistake. Tell him there was a prior booking made clear back in February, Louise. Tell him that there was a mix-up. Tell him that they were newlyweds on their honeymoon. Tell him that they—”

  “Perhaps I should let you tell him”—Louise actually smiled—“since you are so full of wonderful excuses.”

  “Okay,” said Jane. “Give me his phone number and I’ll be happy—”

  “You know that I don’t have a phone number.”

  “See,” said Jane. “That’s just another good reason to give up his room. Guests always give you phone numbers, addresses, the works. I’ll bet he didn’t even secure the room with a credit card, did he?”

  “Well, no—”

  “And if you’ve told me once, Louise, you’ve told me a dozen times, to secure the room with a credit card, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts, Louise. If this reservation had been made properly, it wouldn’t have been canceled.”

  Louise gave Jane a skeptical look. “If this reservation had been made by anyone besides your ex-husband, it never would’ve been canceled either.”

  Jane shrugged. “I suppose not. I’m sorry, Louise, really I am. It was a desperate move made by a desperate woman.”

  Louise chuckled. “Even so, it puts me in a difficult position.”

  “Blame it on me, Louise. Really, I can take it. Tell Justin that I am the bozo who messed up the reservation. I would much rather have Justin mad at me than you mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Jane.”

  “I know I’ve frustrated you. And I’m sorry. Really, I am. It’s just that I couldn’t bear to have Justin staying in our family home, whether or not it’s an inn, not for one single night, let alone three. It was simply too much.”

  Louise pressed her lips tightly together as if she was trying to think of an amicable way to resolve this.

  “Even Kenneth was concerned for my well-being,” continued Jane quickly. “He was surprised that you’d booked Justin here. He didn’t think I should have to stay under the same roof as Justin.”

  “Kenneth said that?”

  “He did.”

  “Hmm.”

  “So, please, Louise, can’t we just let it go? Really, I’m happy to take the entire blame. And I’m sure Justin will assume it was my doing anyway.”

  Louise closed her eyes and rubbed her chin. Finally she nodded. “All right, Jane, we’ll do this your way.”

  Jane hugged her sister.

  Then Louise stepped back and looked at Jane. “And I will take the blame, Jane. If Justin asks, I will tell him it was my mistake.”

  “But you—”

  “The truth is it was my mistake, Jane. Kenneth is right. You are right. I never should’ve booked Justin a room here in the first place, at least not without your consent. I’m sorry.” Louise’s eyes were getting moist.

  “Louise?” Jane peered at her. “It’s okay. Don’t take it so hard. You’re not crying, are you?”

  “It’s just that I, well, I suppose I thought that perhaps Justin was coming to make things right with you.” She sniffed. “I know it may sound terribly old-fashioned, Jane, but it has always troubled me that your marriage ended. I’ve often wondered if I should have done something more … as your older sister. Perhaps I neglected something, something that would have made a difference.”

  “Oh, Louise.” Jane firmly shook her head. “You didn’t do a thing wrong. You’ve always been supportive. If anything, you did it all right by having such a strong marriage yourself. I never got to witness Father and Mother’s marriage, though I know it was a good one. But seeing you and Eliot in a healthy relationship gave me hope that I could have the same thing. The fact that Justin and I never got there had nothing to do with you.”

  “You are certain?” Louise dabbed her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

  “Positive. But it’s sweet that you were so concerned.”

  “It’s only because I care about you, Jane. And it’s possible that Justin has changed. He could be coming here to make things right with you. What if he wants to win you back? What if he’s coming to talk you into returning to San Francisco with him?”

  Jane took in a deep breath. “I think that’s highly unlikely.”

  “But don’t you think it could be a possibility?”

  Jane bit her lip. Maybe it was a slim, very slim, possibility. “I don’t know.”

  Louise took in a deep breath and stood straighter. “I suppose that all we can do is to wait and see.”

  “Yes.” Suddenly Jane remembered Clive … in the hands of Belle. “Did you say anything to Belle about Clive, Louise? I mean in regard to her manhunt mission and how he should probably be off-limits?”

  “Oh dear!” Louise put her hand to her lips. “I meant to say something. I just never found an opportune moment.”

  “Well, perhaps Clive will actually find Belle appealing.” But, even as Jane said this, she secretly hoped it wouldn’t be so. It seemed as if Clive had found Jane appealing. And she had enjoyed his admiration. She would be disappointed if he showed Belle the same sort of attention. Still, she told herself that was silly.

  “You should go and find them, Jane,” said Louise urgently. “Make sure that Belle is not monopolizing the poor man’s time.”

  “Well, I did promise him a tour of the inn.”

  “Hurry, Jane. There’s no telling what Belle may have told the unsuspecting man by now.”

  Jane paused in the foyer, listening to determine which direction Belle and Clive had gone. Or perhaps Belle had whisked him away to points unknown in her pink convertible. Jane hoped not. She thought she heard voices and headed toward the library, where she discovered them. She stood in the shadows of the doorway, quietly looking on and trying to decide whether to intrude. Clive had donned a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses and seemed to be examining the cover of one of her father’s old books. Then he carefully opened the leather-bound book and curiously peered inside without speaking. Meanwhile, Belle, less than a foot away, watched with wide-eyed interest and a pleased smile.

  “Is it what you thought it was?” she asked.