Lorelai’s Bed and Breakfast

Snow fell lightly across the windshield, stark against the dark country roads. Even though it was only 6:30 pm the sun had already set, making it seem more like midnight. Heather switched the old truck’s heater to defrost and leaned forward, her brights doing nothing to help her navigate her way. Lucky, Heather could make the track from town to Lorelai’s, her hidden Bed and Breakfast, with her eyes closed. The journey which normally would take her 25 minutes to complete was taking a bit longer due to her inexperience with driving in the snow.

She slowed as she approached the small sign announcing the turn for Lorelai’s and made a mental note of the missing light on the right hand corner. She drove down the half-mile drive to the light blue and white two story Victorian home. She grabbed her purse and the half paged funeral program from the console. She stared for just a minute at the picture of Rebecca, a picture from another time and place, before she bolted down the gravel drive, up the white wooden steps that lead to the circular porch and burst through the stained glass front door of the Inn.

“There’s a reason I moved to Texas, Trevor,” she grumbled as the old handy man helped her remove her coat, “and it wasn’t for the snow.” The old man with white hair half smiled before he looked down with sympathy as she sat on the solid hall tree to remove her black heels. Heather looked down once more at the picture of her friend, a young Rebecca, one Heather had never known, smiled up at the camera, her blonde hair twisted high on her head and a string of elegant pearls around her neck.

A strong knock at the door snapped them both to attention. “We have no guests booked for the night,” Heather whispered towards Trevor. The old man approached the door, Heather a few steps behind him. Trevor slowly opened the door and there stood a man in his mid forties, salt and pepper hair, dressed in a black suit and bright blue necktie. A driver stood behind him holding a suitcase, a silver luxury car parked in the drive. “May we help you?” Heather asked, giving Trevor a quick side glance before giving the man a once over. Heather noticed how his brown eyes all but laughed at her glare.

“I hope so,” the man answered. “Heather Lorelai? My name is Scott Stenson,” Heather and Trevor exchanged curious looks upon hearing his last name, “Rebecca’s brother.”

Heather’s face, a normally fair shade to begin with, paled, making her auburn hair seem as though it was on fire.

“Come in,” she said, leading Scott passed the front entryway into the light olive colored living area of the Inn and motioned to the antique couch that sat perpendicular to the oversized fireplace with a tv mounted on top. Trevor took the suitcase from the driver, closed the door and placed it by the long table by the entrance of the room. “Two coffees please, Trevor,” Heather asked in a voice that sounded more weary than she meant it to. As she sat down, Scott’s eyes moved to the wrinkled program she still held in her hand. “Oh,” Heather blushed as she smoothed out the program in her lap and extended it across the coffee table. Scott looked down at the simple program and shook his head with an amused smile.

Trevor returned with two cups of coffee, the matte black cups embellished with a rose gold Lorelai’s. Trevor stood by the long table until Heather gave him a small nod. The old man gave a glance over to the younger gentleman, then back over to Heather before leaving reluctantly.

“I didn’t see you at the service,” Heather stated in an accusatory tone. When Scott met her eyes with a challenging stare, she tilted her jaw upward but swallowed hard.

“At Rebecca’s request,” he stated as if to explain everything. “Rebecca always had a knack for making her plans fall into place.” Scott looked down at the photo of his sister and smiled. Heather felt a twinge of guilt as she recalled her own surprise at Rebecca’s well planned service. Rebecca’s passing had been so sudden, within a week of her diagnosis, yet when a lawyer arrived at Lorelai’s within hours of her passing, explaining the quick and quiet service to be held, Heather felt that maybe Rebecca had known all along. The service was to be a silent service, no guests allowed in without an invite and no speaking to other guests allowed, and so it had been.

“I have a proposition for you, Ms. Lorelai,” Scott began, crossing his legs and taking a sip of his coffee. “Heather,” was all she could manage to reply.

“Okay, Heather,” he answered back as he set his cup down on the coffee table. “$20,000 for twenty-four hours.” Heather's face flushed a shade of red almost matching her hair. She sat upright and glared at Scott. “Twenty-four hours at Lorelai’s, Heather. I would like to book the entire Bed and Breakfast. No other guests.” Scott gave her a crooked smile, causing her to pull awkwardly in embarrassment at the bottom of her skirt. She cleared her throat and gathered enough nerve to look up at him. “Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Well, it is my understanding that my sister has a small cottage somewhere on this property, a cottage I am told now belongs to you. I would like access to that cottage, with your supervision of course, in order to search for a ring.”

“A ring?” Heather questioned.

“Yes, Rebecca was given a ring by my grandmother some time ago and it would mean a great deal to my mother to have it. Well, what say you? Can Lorelai’s be booked in full for the next 24 hours?”

Heather looked down at the coffee in her lap. Rebecca hardly spoke of her brother, she hardly spoke of any of her life. She always evaded the question and Heather never pushed it. It felt like an invasion of privacy to let this man into the cottage and she hadn’t visited since Rebecca’s first night in the hospital. Then she thought about his offer and what it would mean to the Bed and Breakfast she worked so hard to make a reality. It barely turned a profit but it had been her dream for as long as she could remember. With the money he was offering she could do more marketing and upgrade the kitchen, her mint colored inspiration already earmarked in a magazine on her desk. The fact that she had closed Lorelai’s down for a few days prior and the cancelation of her only guest’s for tomorrow night due to the snow pushed Heather into her decision.

“Under my supervision. Twenty four hours, no more no less,” she said as she stood. “Please follow me.” Heather led Scott back towards the entryway, then took a sharp left towards the front office. She stepped behind the tall bronzed counter and pulled out a black notebook with Lorelai’s written across the front in rose gold and a matching photo album. “Here you will find pictures and names of the rooms and this is our guest book. Please make a choice and sign our guestbook and I will take you to your room. How will you be paying today?” Heather tried to treat this transaction as she would any other guest.

“Cash,” He replied, without glancing up. He handed her the money which she took with sweaty palms and nodded politely. Scott smiled as he thumbed through the photo album then opened the black notebook to sign his name. “You have done an excellent job with all of the rooms.” Scott said softly. “It would be my pleasure to stay in any one of them.” Heather felt herself relax for the first time all night as she slipped her money into the safe below the register.

“Thank you,” Heather replied, filled with joy. She placed several notebooks, similar to the black guestbook on the counter. They were in a variety of colors, light green, reef blue, scarlet red, sapphire blue, pink and myrtle green all with Lorelai’s embellished across the front. “Please choose one as our gift to you for staying with us.”

“Nice touch,” Scott remarked as he picked up the myrtle green notebook.

“We have matching planners and writing sets down the hall in the gift shop,” Heather informed him with a proud smile.

**************

It was 4:30 pm, the winter sun had melted all the snow and had already embarked on it’s descent. Heather wiped the sweat from brow and pulled her wavy auburn hair into a top-knot. From the corner of her eye she saw Scott watching her as he lowered another painting into a large box. Heather gave him a sharp look to which he shrugged and continued packing boxes. Heather reflected on the day, and marveled at how what she stayed up half the night dreading, had turned into a cathartic enjoyable experience. Early that morning, after Trevor served them a full breakfast, all three of them walked down to the tiny one bedroom cottage set on the far end of Heather’s five acres. She recounted the story, almost as if a dream, of when Rebecca approached her with the idea. She had booked her usual room for two weeks and towards the end asked Heather if she could build a small cottage on the back end of the property. At first Heather gave an adamant no but eventually Rebecca promised to hand over the cottage no strings attached when she left. Heather couldn't resist the offer and though at first it was a business relationship the two grew to be friends, Heather falling in love with and purchasing a small portion of Rebecca's paintings, the rest selling in the gift shop. Trevor eventually became bored with the two and, satisfied that Heather was in no danger, left them to pack up the cottage while searching for the grandmother’s ring.

“Two more hours,” Scott said, jarring Heather out of her trance. Heather looked around the now empty cottage.

“We didn’t find the ring,” she stated quietly.

“That’s unfortunate,” Scott said as he made his way towards her. “That ring meant a great deal to my family. So much that I am willing to pay $100,000 to get it back. Much more than the ring is worth.”

Heather nodded softly.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could manage. The two made their way back up to the Inn, slowly and in silence.

“Well,” Scott started before they entered the back sunroom, “my 24 hours has about expired. I guess I’ll go pack. Thank you.” Scott held out his hand and Heather took it. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. Heather cleared her throat, gave a curt little nod and hurried up to her room. A short time later Trevor gave a knock at her door.

“Mr. Estenson is departing, ma’am,” he announced.

“Thank you, Trevor, please see him out,” was her only reply. Heather moved to the window that looked down at the driveway, the silver car waiting. Scott handed his case to the driver and opened the back door to get in. He briefly paused, looked up to the window and caught eyes with Heather, who almost retreated but stayed steady. He smiled, shook his head and then he was gone. Heather sat down on the chair by the window, looked over to the desk with the padded envelope already addressed, then down at the letter in her hand. She read it one more time:

My dear friend,

Please mail this ring to my sister in Greece. It is of utmost importance that she gets it. You are my trusted friend and I will miss you dearly.

Rebecca Stenson