“Oh, Stephen, you don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to,” he insisted, then leaned closer. “I really want to get out of my father’s house.”
Jane laughed softly. “In that case, the room is available and it looks like it’s yours.”
That was convenient, I thought, as Stephen ushered Jane back to the registration area. First he wined and dined Jane and now he was renting a room in her B-and-B? Was he so enthralled with Jane or was there something more sinister going on? I had already decided to keep an eye on Stephen, so what else could I do but traipse along behind them?
“Here we go,” Jane said, settling herself behind the check-in desk. “If you’ll fill out this information card and let me know which credit card you’ll be using, I’ll get things started.” She looked a bit flustered. “Oh, but I guess you don’t have any luggage.”
“No, I’ll go back to Dad’s later and pack a few things. Here’s my credit card.”
“Perfect,” Jane murmured, taking the card and sliding it through the mini credit card processor.
“Oh, there you are, Jane,” Althea said.
“Althea,” Jane cried, glancing up from the card reader. “I’m so happy you made it.”
“I’m happy, too. But you look busy, so I’ll find you later.”
“No, wait.” Jane skipped around the desk and gave the older woman a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you. Are you finding your way around?”
She giggled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just gave myself a little tour through your beautiful garden and lost track of time. This place is magnificent. I’m so proud of you and I know Jesse would’ve been bursting with pride tonight.”
“That means a lot. Thank you.” She hugged her again. “Just give me a few minutes to take care of some business, and we can sit down and have a little talk.”
“I would love that,” Althea said. She waved her hand in the general direction of the living room. “I’ll be around, mingling.”
“Good.” Jane returned to her seat and stared at the readout. “Oh. Oh dear.” Her shoulders tensed slightly as she gazed up at Stephen. “I’m sorry. Your card was rejected. Let me run it one more time.”
“No, no,” he said, his face turning pink. “I’ll just give you another card.”
“Of course.” Jane stood waiting patiently, her face a mask of professional discretion.
“This is awkward,” he muttered.
“It happens all the time,” Jane said. “Don’t give it another thought.”
He fumbled through his wallet, yanked another card out of its slot, and stared at it for a few seconds before handing it to her. “I see the problem. I gave you my old business credit card, but I’m no longer working there, so it’s not active. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”
“No apologies necessary.” Jane handed him the rejected card and took the new one. “Let me run this through for you.”
She sat down and swept the card through the machine. We all held our collective breaths for the fifteen seconds it took for the card to be accepted.
“There we go,” Jane said, peppy and perky again. “All checked in. Whenever you bring your luggage back, please ring the bell and I’ll have someone carry it upstairs for you.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll just have a small bag with me.”
“Well, then, welcome to Hennessey House.” Jane stood and handed him a room key. “Sandra will show you to your room. You’ll find a notebook on the dresser filled with every bit of information you could possibly want to know about our bed-and-breakfast and about Lighthouse Cove and the surrounding area. We have free Wi-Fi in every room and bicycles available anytime you’d like to take a spin around town or ride down to the beach. We begin serving breakfast at seven, but coffee is available starting at five in the morning.”
I beamed at her and she smiled back. I knew she’d worked extra hard to memorize that speech.
“Good to know,” Stephen said. “Thank you. I won’t go up to my room just yet. I’d rather enjoy the party for a while longer.”
“Please do.” Jane handed off the desk to Sandra, who nodded and slipped back into professional greeter mode.
Stephen’s embarrassment seemed to dissipate as he chatted with Jane while Sandra stacked his information card and initial hotel bill printout and slipped both into a drawer. Having a credit card refused was a fairly common problem, but I had to wonder how a financial adviser could make that mistake.
I knew I wasn’t being fair to him. Maybe he’d been so blown away by Jane’s beauty that he handed her the wrong card. No offense against Jane’s beauty, but that sounded like a load of baloney.