'I'm sorry about the confusion, Mrs. Hallenbeck.' Quill drew her inside the suite. 'I'll see that your luggage is brought up here. Would you like some tea? I can have it brought to you, or you can have it in the dining room.'
'An English tea? I believe your brochure described an English tea.'
'Yes. A traditional high tea, with scones, Devonshire cream, and watercress sandwiches.'
'Perhaps there will be no charge for that, since I have been seriously inconvenienced.'
Quill, slightly taken aback, swallowed a laugh. 'I'll be sure that there isn't.'
'Then we shall be down after Mavis unpacks us.' She nodded dismissal. Quill meekly took the hint, and went back to the Chamber meeting. She took the stairs slowly, not, she told herself, because she wasn't anxious to get back to the meeting, but because it was a beautiful July day, the Inn was booked solid for the week of History Days, and a relaxed country environment was one of the many reasons she'd left her career as an artist to move to Central New York.
'There you are,' said Esther West, as Quill stepped into the lobby. 'We're taking a bit of a break before we go back and vote.'
'Somebody else volunteered to take Julie Offenbach's place?' Quill said with hope. 'I've got a couple of ideas for you, Esther. What about Miriam Doncaster? You know, the librarian. She's a heck of a swimmer. I couldn't swim to the side of the pond as gracefully as she could after being dunked in the ducking stool.'
'No. Everyone agrees you'd be the best Clarissa. Marge wants us to vote on whether or not the monthly Chamber meetings should be held at the Hemlock Home Diner instead of here.'
'Oh,' said Quill. 'But we all decided to take a bio break before we voted, and anyhow, Myles and Howie both thought that you'd probably want to be there for the discussion part.'
'You bet I would,' said Quill. 'That monthly Chamber lunch is a good piece of business. John'll have my guts for garters if I lose it. Maybe I'd better have him sit in.' An increasingly noisy argument from the lobby succeeded in drawing her attention. 'Excuse me a second, Esther. Dina seems to need help.'
Dina, one of the Cornell Hotel School graduate students on whom the Inn depended for much of its staff, was scowling ferociously at a middle-aged man at the counter. An elegantly dressed man in his thirties stood behind him, watching with interest.
'Can I give you a hand here, Dina?'
'I've been trying to tell this guy that we're booked for the week. He said the Marriott called and made reservations for him this morning.' She scowled even harder. 'Then he said well maybe the Marriott forgot to call, but that places 'like this' always hold back a room in case of emergencies, and he wants it.'
'Keith Baumer,' said the middle-aged man. He extended his hand. Quill took it. He grinned and wiggled his fingers suggestively in her palm. 'You the manager, or what?'
Quill freed herself. 'I'm really sorry, Mr. Baumer, but Dina's right, of course. We're booked for the week.'
'Come on, kiddo, I need some help here. I've got a sales convention at the Marriott, and the bastards overbooked. I hear this is the only decent place to get a room. I know you guys; you're always holding something in reserve. Whyn't you check the reservations book yourself? I'm here for the week. I don't mind paying top dollar.' He grinned and edged closer to her.
Quill took two steps back, hit the counter, and repeated, 'I'm sorry, Mr. Baumer. We simply don't have a room available.' The phone shrilled twice, and Dina picked it up as Quill. continued, 'We'll be happy to call a few nearby places for you - '
'Quill?' said Dina.
' - but I'm afraid you're going to have a rough time if you want to stay close to your sales meeting. This is the height of the tourist season...'
'Quill!' Dina tugged at her sleeve. 'We just got a cancellation. Couple that was booked for the week for their honeymoon, Mr. and Mrs. Sands. Only it's Mrs. Sands that just called, and she said they had a fight at the wedding and the whole thing's off! Isn't that sad?'
'There,' said Baumer. 'Not that I believe that phony phone call for one little minute. What? Ya got a button down there?'
Quill counted to ten. 'Would you check him in please, Dina? Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Baumer.'
He cocked his head, swept a look from her ankles to her chin, gave her a thumbs-up sign of approval, then leered at Dina. 'Okay, dolly. You take American Express Traveller's Cheques?'
Quill looked longingly at the Japanese urn nearest Baumer's thick neck.
'Too heavy,' said the man who'd been waiting behind Baumer. 'Now, that replica of the Han funeral horse on the coffee table? Just the right size for a good whack.'
Quill choked back a laugh. 'Are you here to check in? Let me help you over here.' He was, thought Quill, one of , the best-looking men she'd ever seen, with thick black hair attractively sprinkled with gray. He wore a beautifully tailored sports coat.
'Quill,' Esther called, 'we're going back to vote now.'
'I don't mind waiting for young Dina, there,' he said. 'I'm I Edward Lancashire, by the way.'
'We're looking forward to having you at the Inn, Mr. Lancashire.'
'You go ahead to your vote. I'll be just fine.' Quill went back to the conference room and sat down, a little breathless.
'Who was that?' hissed Esther. 'The second one, I mean. The first one sounded horrible.'
'The first one was horrible. Speaking of horrible, where's Marge?'
'In the kitchen.' Quill froze. Esther looked at her watch. 'This darn meeting's got to get over soon; I've got
