Saving Home. Marie Ferrarella

in Wyatt that she’d been having occasional...flutters...I think she called them.”

      The term, as far as Andy knew, covered a wide variety of complaints for the former elementary school teacher. “She’s still sweet on Wyatt, huh?”

      Alex nodded, still searching. “Ever since he interviewed her for that book his father had been writing about the inn. Here it is,” she cried triumphantly, jabbing the number with her well-polished nail for emphasis. “I’ll call the doctor, ask him to please come here and see her.” She glanced up at Andy. “I just hope he’s up to it. He’s getting on in years, too.” Alex sighed. “Things aren’t supposed to keep changing like this,” she lamented.

      “If they didn’t,” Andy pointed out even though she didn’t care for change, either, “you and Wyatt would still be exchanging barbs instead of making babies.”

      “Go!” Alex ordered, pointing in the direction of their only live-in guest’s quarters. “You’re wasting time. She could be freaking out.”

      The stately Ms. Anne Josephine Carlyle spent a good deal of her time in the Queen Mary Suite, one of the inn’s original rooms. It was on the first floor within easy walking distance of the dining hall as well as the back veranda. The latter had an incredible view of the ocean and at night, during a full moon, it appeared as if the moon and the ocean were enjoying a secret relationship built on affection and gentle caresses.