LITMIR.BIZ

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pillow and towels. And also maybe the mattress was very firm and um…a bit on the thin side.”

      Emily nodded, acting like his words weren’t striking a chord of anguish in her heart.

      “But really, it’s fine,” Mr. Kapowski added. “I’m a light sleeper.”

      “Well, okay,” Emily said, realizing that making him speak was a worse course of action than leaving him unsatisfied with his room. “Well, what can I get you for breakfast?”

      “Eggs and bacon, if that’s not too much trouble,” Mr. Kapowski said. “Fried. And toast. With mushrooms. And tomatoes.”

      “No problem,” Emily said, worrying she didn’t have all the ingredients he’d listed.

      Emily hurried into the kitchen, awakening Mogsy and Rain immediately. Both dogs began yapping for their breakfast, but she ignored their whines as she raced over to the fridge and checked what was inside. She was relieved to see that she had bacon, although there were no mushrooms or tomatoes. At least there was bread in the bread bin, a surplus Karen from the general store had dropped around the other day, and eggs she could source thanks to Lola and Lolly.

      Regretting her choice of footwear, Emily rushed out the back door, across the dewy grass, and to the chicken coop. Lola and Lolly were strutting about their pen. They both tipped their heads to the side at the sound of her approaching footsteps, expecting her to supply them with fresh corn.

      “Not yet, little chickadees,” she said. “Mr. Kapowski comes first.”

      They pecked their frustration at her as Emily rushed over to the hen house where they laid their eggs.

      “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered as she looked inside to discover nothing there. She turned her face down to the chickens, hands on hips. “Of all the days for you two not to lay eggs, you choose today!”

      Then she remembered all the poached egg practice she’d undertaken yesterday. She must have used at least five! She threw her hands up in the air. Why did Daniel make me worry about poaching eggs? she thought with frustration.

      Emily headed back inside, disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to provide the breakfast Mr. Kapowski wanted today either, and began grilling the bacon. Whether it was due to her anxiety or her lack of experience, Emily seemed unable to perform even the most simple of tasks. She spilled coffee all over the counter, then left the bacon under the grill too long so that the edges were crisp and black. The new toaster – a replacement for the one that blew up and ruined the kitchen – seemed to have much more sensitive settings than the last one, and she managed to burn the toast as well.

      When she looked at what she’d produced, the final breakfast on the plate, Emily was less than satisfied. She couldn’t serve that mess of a meal. So she went to the utility room and scraped the whole thing into the dogs’ bowls. At least with the dogs fed that was one thing ticked off her to-do list.

      Back in the kitchen, Emily tried once again to create the meal that Mr. Kapowski had ordered. This time, it came together better. The bacon wasn’t overdone. The toast wasn’t burned. She just hoped he’d forgive her for the missing ingredients.

      She glanced at her watch and saw it had been nearly thirty minutes, and her heart raced.

      She rushed back into the room.

      “Here we are, Mr. Kapowski,” Emily said, reemerging into the dining room with the breakfast tray. “I’m so sorry for the wait.”

      She realized as she approached the table that Mr. Kapowski had fallen asleep. Unsure whether to be relieved or annoyed, Emily put the tray down and began to back silently out of the room.

      Mr. Kapowski’s head suddenly sprung up. “Ah,” he said, glancing down at the tray. “Breakfast. Thank you.”

      “I’m afraid I don’t have any eggs or tomatoes or mushrooms today,” she said.

      Mr. Kapowski looked disappointed.

      Emily went out into the corridor and took some deep breaths. The morning had been incredibly labor intensive, considering the amount of money she was ultimately making for her effort. If she wanted to sustain the business, she was going to have to become a little more efficient. And she needed a contingency plan in case Lola and Lolly had another lay-less day.

      Just then, he emerged from the dining room. It had been less than a minute since she’d delivered his food.

      “Is everything okay?” Emily asked. “Do you need something?”

      Once again, Mr. Kapowski seemed reticent to speak.

      “Um…the food is a bit cold.”

      “Oh,” Emily said, panicking. “Here, let me heat it up for you.”

      “Actually, it’s okay,” Mr. Kapowski said. “I need to be getting on really.”

      “Okay,” Emily said, feeling deflated. “Do you have anything nice planned for the day?” She was trying to sound like a B&B host rather than a panicking girl, although she felt much more like the latter.

      “Oh, no, I meant that I need to be getting home,” Mr. Kapowski corrected.

      “You mean you’re checking out?” Emily asked, taken aback.

      She felt a cold chill spread over her body.

      “But I had you down for three nights.”

      Mr. Kapowski looked awkward.

      “I, um, just need to get back. I’ll pay in full, though.”

      He seemed in a hurry to leave and even when Emily suggested knocking off the price of the two breakfasts he hadn’t eaten he insisted that he just pay the bill in full and leave immediately. Emily stood at the door and watched him drive away, feeling like an utter failure.

      She didn’t know how long she stood there, lamenting the disaster that had been her very first guest, but she became aware of the sound of her cell phone ringing from inside. Thanks to the terrible reception she received in the old house, the only place Emily could get a signal was by the front door. She had a special hall table just for her phone – a beautiful antique piece she’d recovered from one of the closed-off bedrooms in the B&B. She paced over to it now, bracing herself to see who it was.

      There were not many good options. Her mom hadn’t been in touch since that emotional late-night phone call they’d shared in which they discussed the truth about Charlotte’s death and, more specifically, Emily’s role – or lack of – in it. Amy also hadn’t been in touch since her cavalier attempt to “rescue” Emily from her new life, though they had made peace since. Ben, Emily’s ex, had called numerous times since she’d upped and left but Emily hadn’t answered a single one of his calls and now the frequency of them seemed to be diminishing.

      She braced herself as she peered down at the screen. The name blinking up at her was a surprise to see. It was Jayne, an old school friend from New York. She’d known Jayne since she was a very young girl, and over the years they’d developed the kind of friendship whereby months would lapse before they spoke, but the second they got together it was as if no time had passed at all. Jayne had probably heard from Amy, or somewhere on the grapevine, about Emily’s new life and was calling to probe her about the sudden and abrupt change she had made.

      Emily answered the call.

      “Em?” Jayne said, her voice bumpy and her breath ragged. “I just bumped into Amy during my jog. She said you’d left New York!”

      Emily blinked, her mind now unaccustomed to the fast-paced style of talking all her New York friends shared. The idea of jogging while having a phone conversation was alien to Emily now.

      “Yeah, it was a little while ago now actually,” she said.

      “How long ago are we talking?” Jayne asked, the sound of her pummeling footsteps audible over the line.

      Emily’s voice was small and apologetic. “Um, well, about six months.”

      “Yikes, I need to call you more often!” Jayne

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