When she took Adam, clean and dried, back into the bedroom, Kayla was lying flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“You know, I’m scared. That’s the whole problem. When Dad and I parted company last, he was pretty fed up with me, with my drinking problem. And it is a big problem. I don’t know what he’s going to think now.”
Beth glanced at her watch. Almost five. And Kayla showed no inclination of getting up to dress Adam. Maybe it would go more smoothly if she did it herself. Mentally gritting her teeth, and hoping the new guests would be late, Beth hurriedly picked out some clothes intended for Adam.
“Here, Adam. Would you like to wear these jeans?” She held up the pants. He stared at them, his wide eyes questioning. Then he reached out to touch them. “Adam’s new jeans,” she assured him. Then he lunged past her and grabbed a small pair of red sneakers. He looked at her desperately.
“Adam’s shoes?” he asked. “My shoes?” He gripped them to his narrow chest. “Mine!”
She had a sudden need to cry. “Yes, Adam. Your shoes.” And she was rewarded by his sudden, radiant smile.
“Mine!” he said exultantly. “Mine!”
She managed to dress him, although he kept trying to hold the red shoes, which made it awkward. As soon as she had Adam dressed, she got Kayla back to the dressing table for another combing session. She tried not to keep looking at her watch. How long was this going to last? She had a business to run. She made herself speak kindly.
“Don’t worry about your dad, Kayla. He was delighted when I told him you were here. He’s coming home as soon as he can.”
“He was? When did you talk to him?”
“Right after you came upstairs. I called to let him know you’d come. He was very pleased,” she said firmly. Well, he had been pleased. Fair was fair.
Kayla was looking at her reflection with satisfaction. “That sounds hopeful. The right clip is pulling a bit.”
Beth loosened the clip. “Is that better?”
“Fine. You see, Dad doesn’t know that I got married again.”
“But he knew you were divorced from Becky’s father, didn’t he?” Beth wanted to ask about Adam’s father. Maybe Kayla would tell her without being asked.
Kayla continued to gaze at her reflection. “Yeah, he knew that. You sure do have a way with hairstyling. I look great. Thank you, Beth. You’re an amazing woman.”
All right. She would ask. “Why didn’t Adam’s father come with you?” That was blunt enough. She put down the comb and got a glimpse of herself in the glass. She was positively disheveled! Bathing small children was something she hadn’t done in a long time.
“Mitch died,” Kayla said almost accusingly. “He was… Well, he got into some trouble about a DWI. And he was sent into rehab. Being sent is a lot different than going in on your own. He wasn’t ready, see. But he had to go. It was that or a jail sentence.” She was staring angrily into the mirror. “He was fighting it, see? And I guess he drank the wrong stuff. It’s hard to get anything decent to drink in rehab. They thought…afterward…that he’d drunk something like maybe rubbing alcohol. Anyhow he…died. And he left me with Adam to take care of. Just on my own. That’s why I’ve really got to get squared away. And the last time Dad and I were together he said if I ever really meant to get dry he would help me. But I really had to mean it. Well, I mean it now. I got to. No ifs, ands or buts. This is it.”
Beth’s heart sank. “Of course he will help you,” she made herself say. This was Doug’s daughter. She tried to sound sympathetic. Poor, desperate Kayla, fighting her demons and trying so ineptly to care for a small child at the same time. She was thankful her own daughters didn’t have such difficulties.
Kayla’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Thank you, Beth. You can’t know how much I appreciate this.”
Then Beth felt guilty. She really had no right to judge Doug’s daughter. Her own life had been so good.
Beth was about to say something comforting when the front door chimes rang out. The new guests! Without thinking, she hurried out into the hall and down the stairs as the chimes rang out again. Almost at the door she remembered that she hadn’t combed her own hair, and she noticed that her gray skirt as well as her blouse was liberally splashed with water. Well, so be it. She pasted on her perfect hostess smile and opened the door.
“Mr. and Mrs. Driscoll,” she said brightly. They were a stocky middle-aged couple. Mr. Driscoll smiled but Mrs. Driscoll didn’t.
“Yep. We got here and only got lost once, finding the place.” Mr. Driscoll dropped the big suitcase onto the porch.
“Come in,” Beth said, smiling. “Everybody gets lost at least once finding this place. Didn’t you get the little map I sent?”
“He lost it,” Mrs. Driscoll snapped. She was looking at Beth’s wet skirt intently as they went into the entry hall. Mr. Driscoll had picked up the big bag again and dropped it inside the hall. It sounded heavy.
“If you’ll just register here…” Beth said, indicating the registration cards on the small neat desk. “And feel free while you’re here to take postcards and things as you need them. We have some good views of Seattle.” She was going automatically into her welcome-the-new guests routine. But she wished fervently that Doug would walk through the door. She had to at least offer to carry the big bag upstairs.
As Mr. Driscoll registered, Mrs. Driscoll finally said what was on her mind.
“Do you know there’s water all over your clothes?”
“Yes, I know it,” Beth said, laughing. “I was bathing our little grandson. I forgot how small children splash about. I’m going to change in a minute.”
Mrs. Driscoll’s face went dark and forbidding. “Are there children here? The bed-and-breakfast directory said there were no children here.”
“Th-there aren’t, actually,” Beth stammered. “I mean, he doesn’t live here. He’s just visiting.” As soon as she said it she thought, But he does, at least for a while. Was this going to be a problem?
Mrs. Driscoll was still worried. “Does he cry at night? I have a sleep disorder. I’m a very light sleeper. Anything—even the drop of a pin—wakes me up. Oh, dear, I really must get my rest. Is our room near his at all?”
“No, it isn’t,” Beth said quickly, instantly rearranging the room assignments in her head. She would put the Driscolls in the very front bedroom. And when Mr. Bryant arrived later, she would put him in the room next to Kayla and Adam. Justin Bryant was a regular who came up every spring from San Francisco to look for “collectibles” for his antique shop. He was a pleasant, good-natured man. He wouldn’t care about not getting his regular room for once.
“Well, we’ll just hope for the best,” Mrs. Driscoll said wearily, as if the weight of the world rested on her thick shoulders.
Beth reached the top of the stairs, out of breath from carrying the Driscolls’ suitcase. What did they have in it—lead weights? There were guests and then there were guests. She huffed her way to the very front bedroom, wondering what Mrs. Driscoll would find wrong with it. Mrs. Driscoll let her know immediately.
“Oh, dear, this bed has a canopy,” she said with a worried glance around the lovely room. “Canopies are pretty