“I won’t be using plastic,” Gracie said quietly. “I want my bed-and-breakfast to have an old-fashioned elegance.”
“Proper bed linens, ironed fresh?”
“Absolutely.”
“Flowers from the garden in every room?”
“Of course.”
“You collecting antique china or using whatever you can get from the department store?”
“I actually hadn’t considered that.”
“Go with antiques. Won’t matter if the sets match. It’ll still be a nice touch. Now, what about the breakfast part? You plan on dumping cereal and sliced bananas into a bowl and calling that breakfast?”
“That depends,” Gracie conceded ruefully.
“On?”
“Whether I can master cooking. It’s not my strong suit. All the hotels had very fine chefs. I never had to learn to cook. Now I’m starting from scratch, and I must admit, my attempts have been pretty disastrous.”
Mrs. Johnson looked appalled. “You can certainly read, can’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then all you need is a good cookbook and a little daring.”
“I have the cookbook, but you should see the results of my experiments. Most of them are inedible,” Gracie confessed. “Even the cats that wander by turn up their noses.”
“Then what you’re missing is the daring,” Mrs. Johnson declared. “You can’t be afraid. You come over here this afternoon at four o’clock, after my shows go off. I’ll teach you.”
Gracie regarded her with astonishment. “You will?”
“Why not? I don’t have anything exciting going on in my life. You’ll be a challenge.”
“Does that mean you approve of my plans?”
“Can’t say yet. All depends on how quick a learner you are.”
“I may not be quick, but I’m determined.”
Mrs. Johnson gave her a nod of approval. “That’ll do for a start. We’ll begin with blueberry muffins. I’ll pick up the ingredients. You can pay me later.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No thanks necessary.” She grinned. “I’ll get to keep one or two of the muffins.”
“You may change your mind, after I’m finished.”
“Now, what kind of self-confidence is that?” Mrs. Johnson chided. “Bring a notebook. You can write down the recipe.”
“I can’t just make a copy?”
“Not of this one. It’s all in my head.” She stood up and waved Gracie off. “Now, get along with you. I have to get to the store. You be back here at four and not a minute earlier. I don’t like missing a single second of my shows. Never can tell what Reva and Josh and them good-for-nothing Spauldings are going to be up to.”
“I’ll remember,” Gracie promised. She would be here on the dot of four, notebook in hand and filled with more questions than Mrs. Johnson had ever anticipated.
“She was here,” Bessie Johnson reported to Delia.
“Exactly as I expected,” Delia said with satisfaction. “What’s she like?”
“Pretty, smart, open to suggestions. I think she’ll do for Kevin just fine. Told you that the other day after I talked to her on the phone. I liked the way she didn’t waste time on a bunch of silly questions. She just came straight over when I called about that intruder we invented.”
Delia gave a little nod of approval. She’d thought as much. Gracie MacDougal had struck her as a no-nonsense kind of woman. Clever, too. She’d been smart enough to go down to the courthouse and dig around. Delia had heard that story from Kevin last night. It was too bad Kevin had been one step ahead of Gracie and even more unfortunate that Etta Mae had seen fit to conspire with him. That silly old woman didn’t have a romantic bone in her body.
Not that Gracie would have gotten the answers she was after, anyway. All the tax records were in Kevin’s name. So was the deed, for that matter, though he’d insisted that as long as Delia lived she would make any decisions when it came to selling or keeping her home.
“Was she asking a lot of questions this time?” she asked Bessie.
“Didn’t give her a chance to,” Bessie replied. “I was asking too many myself. Got her to talking about that bed-and-breakfast. She’s got a head on her shoulders, all right. One thing you ought to know, though. She claims she can’t cook a lick.”
“Oh, dear. Won’t that be a problem at a bed-and-breakfast?”
“I was thinking more of Kevin’s stomach. That boy always did have an appetite. Don’t you worry, though. I’m taking care of it. I offered to teach her. She’ll be back at four to learn how to bake blueberry muffins.”
Delia chuckled at her friend’s deviousness. “Kevin’s favorite.”
“You think I didn’t remember that? He used to beg enough of them off me.”
“You’re not to tell her I own the house just yet,” Delia reminded Bessie.
“You think I don’t know how to keep a secret, Delia? I’ve kept yours all these years, haven’t I?”
Delia sighed. “Yes, you have. You’ve been the best friend a person could ever ask for.”
“Well, then, you just leave Gracie MacDougal to me. Your job is to work on Kevin till he’s primed to marry the woman.”
“He’s a stubborn one, though. He’s lived his whole life around bad examples. Saying ‘I do’ won’t come easily to him.”
“Then you’ll just have to be a little sneakier, won’t you?” Bessie said. “It’s what you want for him, isn’t it?”
“More than anything,” Delia said wistfully. “More than anything in this world, I want to see him settled before I die.”
“Then we’ll make it happen,” Bessie said confidently. “Make no mistake about it, Delia. Kevin’s days as a bachelor are numbered.”
After she’d hung up, Delia sat back, closed her eyes and smiled. It was all going exactly the way she’d envisioned from the moment she’d spotted Gracie MacDougal with her nephew. She’d seen the way they’d argued, seen the way Gracie had peeked at Kevin’s body when she was sure no one was looking. Most important of all, she’d seen the too-rare sparkle of sheer delight in Kevin’s eyes when he’d talked about her.
Thanks to the mess
