LITMIR.BIZ

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everything from desk drawers to wardrobe doors but had still not found it.

      Emily went down the long staircase, its banisters now polished and glistening, the fluffy carpet looking resplendent, the brass runners setting off the colors perfectly. But just as she was admiring everything, she noticed that there was a blemish on the carpet – a smudgy, muddy footprint. It was clearly from a man’s boot.

      Emily paused on the bottom step. Daniel needs to be more careful when he’s clomping around, she thought.

      But then she realized the footprint was pointing away, heading toward the front door. Which meant it had come from upstairs. But if Daniel was still in bed, then the only way the footprint could have gotten there was from her guest, Mr. Kapowski.

      Emily rushed to the front door and flung it open. Just the day before, Mr. Kapowski had driven up the newly formed driveway in his estate car and parked. But now his car was gone.

      She couldn’t believe it.

      He had left.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Panicking, Emily rushed back into the house.

      “Daniel!” she cried up the stairs. “Mr. Kapowski’s gone! He left because I wasn’t up in time to make him breakfast!”

      Daniel appeared at the top of the stairs wearing only his pajama bottoms, his broad shoulders and muscular chest on display. His hair was a mess, giving him the air of a hurried schoolboy.

      “He probably just went to Joe’s,” he said, trotting down the steps toward her. “You were going on about how amazing the waffles were, if you recall.”

      “But I’m supposed to make him breakfast!” Emily cried. “It’s a B and B, not just a B!”

      Daniel reached the landing and swept Emily up into his arms, holding her gently around her waist. “Maybe he didn’t realize what the second B stood for. Thought it stood for bath. Or bananas,” he joked. He pressed a kiss into her neck but Emily batted him away and wriggled out of the embrace.

      “Daniel, stop fooling around!” she cried. “This is serious. He’s my first ever guest and I wasn’t awake in time to make him breakfast.”

      Daniel shook his head and rolled his eyes with mocking affection.

      “It’s no big deal. He’ll just be having breakfast down by the ocean instead. He’s on vacation, remember?”

      “But there’s an ocean view from my porch,” Emily stammered, her voice growing thin. She sank down onto the bottom step, feeling small, like a child who’d been put on the naughty step, then dropped her head in her hands. “I’m a horrible host.”

      Daniel rubbed her shoulders. “That’s not true. You’re just a little unsteady on your feet right now. Everything’s strange and new. But you’re doing fine. Okay?”

      He said the last word sternly, almost paternally. Emily couldn’t help but be comforted. She looked up at him.

      “Do you want me poach you an egg at least?” she asked.

      “That would be delightful.” Daniel smiled. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss onto her lips.

      Together they went into the kitchen. The noise of the door opening stirred Mogsy the dog and her pup, Rain, from their slumber in the utility room, just the other side of the barn doors. Emily knew that keeping the dogs out of the kitchen and any parts of the house she needed as the B&B was an absolute must if she didn’t want to get closed down for health and safety reasons immediately, but she felt bad confining the dogs to such a small portion of the house. She reminded herself that it was a temporary situation. She’d been able to have four of Mogsy’s five pups adopted by her friends in town, but Rain, the weak runt, was a harder sell, and no one seemed even remotely interested in taking the mama, who was, to put it gently, an ugly mutt.

      Once the dogs were let outside and fed, Emily went back into the kitchen. In the meantime, Daniel had managed to pop out into the garden to fetch this morning’s eggs from Lola and Lolly, the chickens, and brew a pot of coffee. Emily took a mug gratefully and breathed in the aroma, then went over to the large Arga stove – another relic of her father’s she’d had restored – and got to work practicing making poached eggs.

      Of all the rooms in the house, the kitchen was one of Emily’s favorites. The poor room had been ravished by time and abandonment when she’d first arrived, then a storm had whipped through it causing further damage, and then the toaster had blown up and caused a fire. The smoke damage had been far more destructive than the actual fire; that had only damaged a shelf and consumed some cookbooks, whereas the smoke had managed to permeate every crack and crevice, leaving streaks of black and the odor of burnt plastic wherever it had touched.

      In just six short months, everything that could have gone wrong with the room had. But after some grueling late nights toiling away, it had now finally been re-re-restored and looked charming, with its retro fridge and original white Victorian Belfast basin, and its black marble work surfaces.

      “Turns out,” Emily said, plunking her fifth attempt at a poached egg on Daniel’s plate, “that I’m not such a horrible cook after all.”

      “See?” Daniel said, cutting into the white of the egg and letting the golden yolk spill across his toast. “I told you. You have to listen to me more often.”

      Emily smiled, enjoying Daniel’s gentle humor. Ben, her ex, had never made her laugh like Daniel did. He’d never been able to comfort her in her moments of panic either. With Daniel it was like nothing was ever too big to handle. Be it storm or fire, he always made her feel like everything was okay, was manageable. His steadiness was one of the most appealing things about him. He could calm and soothe her in the same way looking out at the ocean calmed her. But she was still never certain where he stood, whether he was feeling what she was feeling. She felt that their relationship was like a riptide, one they couldn’t control even if they wanted to.

      “So,” Daniel said, munching happily on his breakfast, “after we’ve eaten, we should probably start getting ready.”

      “Getting ready for what?” Emily asked, sipping on her second mug of steaming black coffee.

      “It’s the Memorial Day Parade,” Daniel said.

      Emily vaguely remembered attending the parade as a child and wanted to see it again, but she’d already messed up enough today to allow herself a trip.

      “I have too much to do here. I need to make up the guest bedroom.”

      “Already done,” Daniel replied. “I fixed up the room while you were with the dogs.”

      “You did?” Emily asked suspiciously. “Did you replace the towels?”

      Daniel nodded.

      “And the mini shampoos?”

      “Yup.”

      “What about the little sachets of coffee and sugar?”

      Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Everything that needed to be replaced was replaced. I made the bed – and before you say anything, yes, I do know how to make a bed, I’ve lived alone for years. Everything is ready for him when he returns. So, are you coming to the parade?”

      Emily shook her head. “I need to be here for when Mr. Kapowski gets back.”

      “He doesn’t need babysitting.”

      Emily chewed her lip. She was nervous about her first guest and desperate to do a good job. If she couldn’t make this work, she’d be returning to New York with her tail between her legs, probably to sleep on Amy’s couch, or worse, in her mom’s spare room.

      “But what if he needs something. More pillows? Or – ”

      “ – more bananas?” Daniel interrupted with a smirk.

      Emily sighed, defeated. Daniel was right. Mr. Kapowski wouldn’t be expecting her to wait on him hand and foot. If anything, he would probably prefer her not to interfere too much. He was on vacation,

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