windows. 'I take it you have come to discuss a settlement with us. I am prepared to listen to any reasonable offer.'
Quill sat in the chair opposite and took a deep breath. 'Where's that breakfast?' caroled Mavis. 'I swear, I could eat a hog whole.'
Quill took a second deep breath. A double knock on the door acted as a brief reprieve. She opened it, took the tray from Kathleen Kiddermeister, and set it on the tea table. Mrs. Hallenbeck examined the tray with disdain. Mavis hauled her- self out of bed with a whoop, parked the wad of chewing gum on the bedpost, and settled herself at the table. She and Mrs. Hallenbeck had a brief, sharp discussion over who had ordered the grapefruit. Mrs. Hallenbeck won and took the blueberries mounded with whipped cream.
'Would you care for coffee?' asked Mrs. Hallenbeck, after a moment's more-or-less silent chewing. 'It's quite decent. I discovered yesterday that one has to insist on the chef's private stock, or else you are served a brew that is quite ordinary.'
Quill pinched her own knee hard. She was awake. She was part-owner of this Inn. She was in charge. She had to talk to the widows with the direct yet tactful charm that had never failed her, and convince the widows that costs should be kept down for all their sakes.
'It looks as though sulfuric acid was poured on the mortar around the balcony,' she blurted. 'The sheriff has sent samples off for tests to confirm it.'
The widows stopped eating. Mavis looked at Mrs. Hallenbeck, her mouth open. Mrs. Hallenbeck looked out the window. Her mouth was firmly closed.
'Tests?' said Mrs. Hallenbeck. 'Who in the world would want to make that balcony unsafe?'
'I don't know,' said Quill carefully. 'But until we do, I thought you might want to... to... be as careful about your expenses as you have been in the past.'
'Vandals!' said Mavis. 'My God. Are we safe in our beds here, Amelia?'
'You seemed to think so when you talked me into coming here, Mavis,' said Mrs. Hallenbeck tartly.
'I thought you and your husband had been here before,' said Quill.
'Yes, of course. Mavis reminded me of it when we were planning our trip this summer. She did not, however, tell me that we would be fair game for malicious tricks.'
'I don't know how this happened,' said Quill. 'But until we know who will have to pay for the repairs to the balcony, we won't know who will be responsible for your hotel bill. We are delighted to have you as guests, of course, but you must understand that we're running a business.'
Mavis broke into shrill laughter that stopped as suddenly as it started. Mrs. Hallenbeck shot her a venomous glance, then nodded benignly at Quill. 'We will be happy to accommodate you, Sarah.' She picked up Mavis' plate of Eggs Benedict and the Smithfield ham. 'You may return these to the kitchen and remove them from our room service charge. Mavis does not require that much for breakfast.'
'I certainly do!' said Mavis. She snatched the plates back. 'I'm sure Miss Quill and the sheriff don't want us to starve while we are waitin' to hear what's what.' She picked up a slice of ham in her fingers and rapidly chewed it.
Quill murmured her goodbyes and left them to it.
Going downstairs to her office, Quill had a moment's feeling of control. She fervently hoped it was not illusory. It lasted through the staff meeting (all the waitresses showed up for work) and the business meeting with John (the Inn was booked solid for History Days). She even found time for a quick glance at Clarissa Martin's two big speeches, one before being ducked in the duck pond, the other as she was sentenced to being pressed to death. The feelings of competency even lasted through the lunch trade and Meg's excited report that Edward Lancashire had come to the kitchen to compliment her on the omelette. This was offset somewhat by Quill's receipt of a customer-satisfaction card, unsigned, that complained bitterly about the baking soda in the scrambled eggs. Quill, looking ahead to the month's receipts, decided to let it go.
She lost the glow at the Chamber meeting that afternoon. Since the Chamber budget allowed only for a once-a-month lunch in the conference room, supernumerary sessions were held in the Inn's Lounge. Quill donated coffee and soft drinks at these sessions, and she came into the lounge early to make sure of the preparations.
Esther bustled in behind her, clipboard in hand. 'Julie Offenbach is sicker than a dog,' reported Esther in glum satisfaction, 'so you'll just have to rehearse with us, Quill.'
'Has Andy Bishop seen her?' asked Quill, with slowly extinguishing hope. 'They've got all kinds of miracle drugs these days.'
'It's just flu!' said Esther. 'She'll be maybe better by Wednesday. First performance is day after tomorrow, so there you are. You'll do fine, Quill.'
'Oh, dear,' said Quill. 'Esther, I'm just not good at this kind of thing.'
'But you're so pretty!' Esther said unenviously. 'It's for the good of the Town, you know. You have been practicing, dear, haven't you?'
'You bet,' said Quill firmly, 'I'll just take a minute to... to look at it one more time.' She escaped into the hallway. only to be swept back into the Lounge by an ebullient Mayor Henry and Gil Gilmeister. Marge Schmidt and Mavis Collinwood were right on their heels, and Marge yelled, 'You got that part memorized, Mave?'
Quill turned around. Mavis, in a modest print dress much like the one from the day before, shrieked, 'It's just adorable. I'm going to love it!'
Quill studied her for a moment. The effect of the Valium had carried over into the afternoon. The big patent- leather belt was cinched two notches tighter. The top of the print dress was unbuttoned. Her hair was loose, and the makeup laid on with a trowel.
'Goings-on !' sniffed a dire voice at Quill's elbow. 'Dressed like the scarlet woman of big cities. Detroit, for instance.'
'Oh, hi, Doreen!' Quill gave the housekeeper a hug. 'So glad you're back from vacation. Did you have a good time?'
