The Proposal at Siesta Key Part 7

"It would be. The bus just came," Beverly said.

Her girlfriends needed no more of an explanation. Yoder's was one of the most popular restaurants in all of Sarasota and a destination for tourists visiting Pinecraft. Part of the restaurant's charm was its small size as well as the fact that the long lines often became social events-a chance to meet people from all parts of the country.

All four of them had made Pinecraft their home-in Marta's and Wilma's case, for over a dozen years. Sadie had moved to Florida after her husband had pa.s.sed away seven years ago. Beverly was the newest member of the group, having moved there three years ago.

Still looking hopeful, Sadie tapped her foot. "It is a long line, but we all have two good feet. What does everyone want to do?"

"I'm out," Marta said. "I hate standing in line, especially one that is moving so slowly. Besides, I have food at home. I think I'll eat that and save my time and money."

Sadie harrumphed. "Spoilsport."

Marta just rolled her eyes. "See you all at quilting. Well, except for you, Bev."

Beverly raised a hand. "Yep. See ya."

After a minute, Wilma shrugged. "I have food at home, too, but I have a mind to have a slice of coconut cream pie."

Sadie beamed. "Perfect. So, that's now three of us?"

"I'm going to head on back, too," Beverly said reluctantly.

"Sure? You didn't pick up any guests today."

"I know. But as much as I like Yoder's pie, I'm afraid I have some baking of my own to do. Not to mention I've got my new girl."

"And your celebrity!" Sadie fanned herself. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to ever leave the inn."

"Sadie, he's young enough to be your grandson," Wilma chided.

"I'm not that old and he's not that young. He could be my son." When they all laughed, she blushed. "And I wasn't even thinking about him that way. It's just that he is so . . ."

"Dreamy," Wilma finished with a smile. "You're right, dear. We're old but we're not dead. That Michael Knoxx is quite the man."

Beverly shook her head in dismay. "You two are ridiculous. As far as I'm concerned, he's simply a guest."

"Uh-huh," Wilma said with a wink. "Well, off you go then. I'm sure you have a lot to do at the inn. See you at tea."

"See you then." Turning in the opposite direction, Beverly headed on her way, feeling better about her decision the farther she walked from Yoder's. She had things to do. Cakes to bake, rooms to clean.

And the new owner, Eric-who was supposed to arrive any day now-to appease.

And since Wilma and Sadie weren't there to tease her, she admitted to herself that they were right. She did, indeed, have her very own celebrity to take care of. Beverly made a mental note to check on him herself when she got back. That sweet Penny had spent quite a bit of time with him the previous afternoon, but Beverly felt responsible for his well-being. Penny had said that Michael hadn't eaten much and didn't seem to have much of an appet.i.te. Since he was going to be staying at her inn for at least a month, Beverly wanted to get things off to a good start.

Even famous men like him needed to feel taken care of.

She'd just begun a mental grocery list when she saw a pretty young lady in a violet dress lugging a broken suitcase with one arm and supporting a very heavy-looking tote bag with the other. Her steps were halting and slow, and when Beverly got a glimpse of her expression, she felt her heart clench.

The poor thing was near tears.

"Excuse me, miss, do you need some help?"

The girl turned to her in relief. "I do. I really do. I need to find the Orange Blossom- Oh, Aunt Beverly!"

Beverly couldn't have been more surprised if the young lady had started tap dancing on the sidewalk. "Jah?"

"It's me. Patricia. Tricia! You know, Edward's youngest?"

It had been the question in her statement that had done it. Sweet Tricia, always so hesitant about herself. Immediately, tears sprang to Beverly's eyes. "Tricia? Oh, my goodness, look at you," she exclaimed just before she enfolded the girl into her arms. "The last time I saw you, you were a good five inches shorter. And had chubby cheeks."

Tricia giggled. "I was kind of a late bloomer, but I've made up for it since."

"Indeed you have." Standing back, Beverly eyed her brother's youngest with a happy smile. Edward was her favorite brother, and each one of his five girls had Beverly's heart wrapped around their fingers. But Tricia had always been special to her. From the time she was a tiny thing, she'd had a mischievous way about her. It had often driven Edward to distraction, but Beverly had found her niece's knack for impetuousness to be highly amusing. They'd shared a couple of letters over the years, but nothing recently. Ever since she'd left Ohio she'd found it difficult to remain connected with her friends and family. Even though they'd been nothing but kind when Beverly had been humiliated when her best friend and fiance fell in love, Beverly couldn't help but be embarra.s.sed about what had happened.

Then another memory filtered through the shock. Beverly recalled a small character flaw-if it could really be called that. Tricia was impulsive-always had been-which spurred a new worry. Edward was nothing if not conscientious. Never would he have allowed Tricia to visit without exchanging four or five phone calls and a half dozen letters with Beverly first.

"What is going on, Tricia?"

"Well, my brand-new suitcase broke. I can't believe it."

"Those things happen." Instead of asking her again what she was up to, Beverly stared at her hard and held on to her patience.

"Aunt Bev, I had to sit at the very back of the bus the whole entire time! And that meant I couldn't get off the bus until everyone else did. So, when I finally did, the crowd around the bus was so thick I couldn't find you. Then I had to get this bag and then the wheel popped off."

"Goodness."

"And I had no idea how to find you," Tricia continued, barreling through her explanation, yet telling her nothing of consequence. "And Tony the bus driver didn't look all that excited to help me, neither. I sure wish he would have."

"Tony is usually ready to get on his way home," Beverly explained.

"So I had to ask everyone I could find where the Orange Blossom Inn was. And the first four people didn't know." She glared at Beverly, as if it were her fault she'd been lost.

"You were heading in the right direction." Hopefully Tricia's explanation was heading there as well. "So, did someone finally give you some help?"

"Jah. I ended up asking a pair of boys. They knew right where your inn was." After sighing rather dramatically, she said, "I kind of thought one of them would have offered to help me with my suitcase, seeing how it is broken and all, but they didn't."

"I can help you now, dear," Beverly said soothingly, hoping her dear niece would finally understand that they had so much more to talk about besides luggage and Tony's grumpiness.

Tricia launched herself into Beverly's arms again. "Oh, thank you, Aunt Bev. I knew everything would be okay as soon as I found you. I knew it."

Grasping the handle of the broken suitcase, Beverly positioned it so she could wheel it on just two of the three remaining wheels, and started walking. She realized she was going to have to push a little bit harder for information. "Tricia, dear, I must admit to being mighty surprised to see you. Did you, ah, write me a letter to tell me you were coming?"

"Oh, nee! I decided to surprise you."

"You certainly did." Beverly swallowed a retort. There was a time and place for everything and here on the sidewalk wasn't it. "Well, um, you have a fairly big suitcase. How long do you plan to visit?"

"For a while."

Beverly prodded some more. "How long is awhile, dear? One week? Two?"

"To tell you the truth, I was thinking of staying quite a bit longer than that."

Beverly stopped. "Dear, I'm always happy to see you, but now you're starting to confuse me. Why are you being so evasive? I mean, of course you purchased a return ticket?"

Tricia tilted her head down and nudged a pebble with her toes. "Um, actually I didn't do that."

Beverly was at sea. "You didn't do what?"

"Buy a return ticket." After taking a deep breath, Tricia said, "Aunt Bev, I've decided to live in Pinecraft."

"Forever?"

"I had to get out of Sugarcreek and I knew you would take me in," she said in a rush. "After all, if there was anyone who would understand, it would be you." She smiled then. An angelic, lovely, beautiful smile. It was so sweet, so dear, that Beverly felt every retort, question, and comment in her head drift away. Tricia needed her. Tricia had left everything in the hopes that her aunt Beverly would help her.

What was she supposed to do about that?

It was a big question.

A half an hour ago she would have protested that she had no time. Her inn was as busy as ever. She had Eric Wagler, her new landlord, to deal with. She had the famous, attractive, and injured Michael Knoxx to look after. And one very shy, very needy Penny Troyer as her newest employee.

However, it seemed that the Lord had other thoughts about all that.

Beverly was starting to wish she'd said yes to Sadie's invitation to dine at Yoder's. Sometimes the only thing that made something bearable was a slice of coconut cream pie.

And she could surely use one right about now.

CHAPTER 10.

There was a crow outside Michael's window. Or maybe a seagull. Maybe even a pelican. Some kind of large, noisy bird that was enjoying the Florida morning and making it its business to let the world know.

Or, maybe it was in love.

Whatever it was doing, it was doing it noisily. Right outside Michael's window. And it had been doing it since daybreak.

The bird squawked again.

"You . . . You bird." He was somewhat proud of himself for not calling it something else. Or adding a few choice adjectives. But if that creature didn't move along soon, Michael knew his restraint was going to fly out the window, no pun intended. If Michael had been able to easily get out of bed, he would have thrown open the window and shooed it away. Yelled at it. Shoot, he would have happily thrown a rock at it if it would have saved him from the continual squawking.

With a sigh, he s.h.i.+fted and tried to concentrate on how comfortable his bed was instead. If the Lord intended for him to be bound to a bed for the next month, at least He'd given Michael an exceptionally comfortable place to be.

Beverly Overholt's Orange Blossom Inn held everything any weary traveler could want. Fine, soft cotton sheets wrapping a pillow-topped queen-sized bed. Blankets that smelled fresh and clean. Quilts that were soft and pliable, their patches of fabric made of faded colors, evidence of frequent was.h.i.+ngs and hours spent fluttering in the warm Florida sun.

Beyond the bed was a desk, dresser, and bedside table stained in a pale, white-washed mushroom brown. There was also a comfortable-looking chair and ottoman upholstered in blue, tan, and ivory stripes. The walls were painted the palest blue, the ceiling a bright white. The floor was whitewashed wood. Thick, cream-colored area rugs were soft underfoot.

Since Michael traveled over two hundred days a year and had spent many a night in old guest rooms, dirty hotels, and once, a cabin infested with fleas, he could certainly appreciate his luxurious surroundings.

However, he couldn't recall being plagued by such an incessantly squawking bird.

Picking up his book, he attempted to get lost in the story of a man trying to discover himself in the darkest corners of Alaska, but the descriptions of the snow and ice didn't mean much to him. It all seemed too far removed from where he currently was.

Or maybe it was that bird pecking at his window.

So, he watched the clock's minute hand slowly inch around. And then he watched as it did it again.

The two timid raps at the door just then sounded like choir bells, they were so welcome. "Yes?"

"Michael? It's Penny," she called through the door.

He couldn't resist smiling. "Yes, Penny?"

"Um, may I come in?"

"Jah."

He sat up as the door slowly opened, and Penny stepped in. "Gut matin," she said with a sweet smile.

"Gut matin to you, too." He couldn't help but smile back. Today she had on a pale blue dress. It highlighted her blue eyes and the golden hair under her perfectly pressed white kapp. She looked pretty. Pretty as a picture, as his daed would say.

And as she quietly stepped closer, he found himself thinking that she walked with a rolling gait. Going forward but ready to backtrack at a second's notice. The closer she got to him, the brighter pink her cheeks became, finally allowing him to concentrate on something besides one annoying, tapping bird.

"Michael, how are you feeling today?" she asked as she approached. A new, almost clinical look of concern was in her eyes.

At this moment, he felt great. "I am gut, danke."

"Are you sure? Your, ah, knee, isn't paining you too much?"

"No worse than usual." He was about to describe his troubles with the squawking bird outside, just to see her grin, when he noticed that her serious expression wasn't actually for him. She seemed to be attempting to cover up her own pain.

And, he thought, doing a fairly poor job of it.

"Penny, I may be doing all right, but I don't think you are."

She blinked those blue eyes, looked tempted to argue, then with a half smile, shook her head. "I'm afraid that is true."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I do not." Looking decidedly determined, she straightened her shoulders. "Miss Beverly sent me up to see what you would like to eat. Would you care for an early lunch?" Still studying him, she frowned. "Or would you prefer a late breakfast?"

Just as he opened his mouth to mention that he didn't care, she continued. "Downstairs, there are banana pancakes, fruit, and coffee cake. Or Miss Beverly could make you eggs. Or grits," she added eagerly. "Would you like some grits?"

"Definitely no grits."