The Search by Shelley Shepard Gray Page A

didn’t see how it could be. “Well, I run a bed-and-breakfast, you see. It’s called The Yellow Bird Inn. It was once my aunt’s.” Though she knew her mouth was running, she couldn’t seem to stop. “The Yellow Bird is not too big of a place. There’s only six bedrooms. But it keeps me plenty busy, with cooking and cleaning, and organizing things.”
    He shifted. “Cooking and cleaning and organizing?”
    Though she could have sworn she heard a note of dismay in his voice she got so excited about getting back to the inn, that her mouth just kept moving. “Oh, jah. I have become a pretty good innkeeper. And I even have guests, now.” The good Lord knew that wasn’t always the case.
    â€œHow many guests?”
    â€œThree rooms are full up.”
    He gazed at her once again, then scanned her chart. “Your inn sounds very nice.”
    â€œOh, it is! You should come one day and stay for the night. Each bedroom has its own bathroom. All the furniture is Amish made, and Amish sewn quilts are on every bed. Outside, we have a nice garden and some walking paths. I just painted the outside yellow.”
    â€œYou did?”
    â€œWell, me and a pair of painters. The men did the high spots, but I painted much of the trim a shiny bright white.”
    â€œWhen did you have time to paint?”
    â€œOh, I made time. I’m not much for sitting around.”
    A line formed between his brows. “It doesn’t sound like it.”
    â€œIt’s impossible, you see, because there really is a lot to do. I’m a gut cook too. Every morning, I make eggs and bacon for the guests. Along with granola and fresh muffins and little quiches.”
    â€œMy mouth is watering. I’ll have to tell my wife about it.”
    â€œI hope you do.”
    â€œAnd who runs it with you?”
    She paused. “No one.”
    â€œAh.”
    Ah? Suddenly, he wasn’t sounding all that excited. “I’m a mighty good innkeeper, Doctah. I work hard to keep the place looking nice and clean.”
    â€œI’m sure you do a very good job. I bet your inn is exceptional.” He wrote something down. “When you get home, will you, by chance, still have guests?”
    â€œI hope so.” She bit her lip. “If they haven’t left by now. My friend Beth was going to try to stay and help out a bit. But you never know . . . It takes a lot of work to keep things running right. And she doesn’t cook all that well.”
    â€œSo she’s not much help?”
    â€œShe is, but Beth has her own job, you see. She’s a babysitter for some women in the area.”
    â€œSo you won’t have Beth’s help.”
    â€œNo.” As soon as she said the word, she wished she could take it back. Saying she intended to do a lot of work might not have been the best way to assure him she was ready to leave . . .
    He crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re saying that as soon as I release you, you’re going to go right back to work.” He took a breath. “Then, when you do go to work, it’s going to strenuous and you have no help.”
    She couldn’t lie. Though she wanted to. “Yes.”
    He looked at her steadily. “I see.”
    She smiled. “I’m glad we discussed this.”
    â€œYou’re staying another night.”
    All happiness vanished like a blink of her one eye. “What? But I’m better!”
    â€œYou’re better, but you’re far from being healed. I think another twenty-four hours of rest and relaxation will help you.”
    Frannie closed her eyes in frustration. She was just about to argue, to do anything she could do get herself out of her half of that beige prison . . . when she realized he’d already gone through the curtains.
    â€œDoktah?” she murmured.
    â€œOh, he’s long gone, honey,” said the lady from the other side.