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Chapter 4

The Sunnydale Bed-and-Breakfast was a stately white colonial with black shutters nestled in the center of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by a number of beautifully mature trees. Gray admitted the next afternoon as he approached the dwelling that it looked as if it should be featured on a postcard boasting the simplicity of small-town living. The American flag flying high above the black double doors and brick walkway slammed home the patriotic angle, while chubby shrubs lined the perimeter with the precise planning of a Better Homes and Gardens portrait. Once inside, the historic charm continued with scuffed wood-planked floors, emerald-green-and-white textured wallpaper stretching throughout the front foyer and along the wall next to a winding glossed cherry-wood railing.

There was just enough of the new world interspersed with the old, as the front desk clerk had spoken to Gray after hanging up the telephone and was taking an inordinately long time to type a reservation into a computer.

“I’m here to see Kym Hutchins. I believe she has a room here,” Gray told the clerk, who was staring at him over gold wire-rimmed glasses.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the older gentleman began. “Millie wasn’t lying after all.”

“Pardon me?” Gray asked even though he had a hunch what was about to take place.

The man shook his head before coming around the desk to stand right in front of Gray. He wore tan pants that were at least three sizes too big, held up by black suspenders, which again, didn’t really fit him well, but were drawn so tight they looked almost painful on his shoulders. His short-sleeved dress shirt was a lighter shade of tan, and a wrinkled handkerchief poked out of his breast pocket. His skin was a very weathered almond color, while his hair—what was left of it—was short, gray and curled close to his scalp.

“You’re one of the Taylors, all right. Tall and broad just like your daddy was,” the man said as he continued to look Gray up and down. “Got some fancy clothes on, too. I know because no stores in Temptation even carry dress pants with studs at the bottom, or shirts with those fancy gold cuffs you’re wearing. Nowhere to go in town where you gotta be that sharp, unless it’s in your own casket.”

Gray frowned. People in this town said whatever came to their mind, whenever they saw fit. It was a good thing Temptation was still somewhat thriving because its people wouldn’t make it in the big city.

“Sir, if you’ll be so kind as to let Ms. Hutchins know that I’m here,” Gray said, again employing all his patience to deal with the older members of this town.

“Oh, she’s already waiting in the parlor. Came down in her fancy dress and par-r-r-fume,” he said, mispronouncing and dragging the word out until it sounded totally ridiculous.

Ridiculous and just a little bit funny, as the man’s face had contorted in a way that Gray presumed was his rendition of being upper class.

“Then I’ll just go on in and see her,” Gray said and turned to the right to go through a walkway.

“The parlor’s this way,” the man told Gray.

He’d turned and walked, his posture a little bent over, toward double pocket doors to the left.

“Guess you two got someplace to go all dressed up like you are,” he continued. “I don’t reckon any man around here wears suits and ties on a daily basis. And the women, they don’t wear skirts with matching jackets unless they’re going to church. Me, I don’t go anywhere I need to put on shiny suit jacket and shave. Used to tell my Ethel that all the time. If I go to church I put on pants and a shirt. I brush my teeth and my hair and I’m done. She never understood, but she never left me, either.”

He was chuckling so hard, Gray thought he might actually tip over from the effort. He stood close just in case that did happen. Instead, the man began to wheeze just as they stepped into the parlor, which had a plush burgundy carpet.

“Ma’am, you got a beau come to see you,” he told Kym.

“Thank you, Otis,” Kym said when she stood from the spot where she’d been sitting.

“You’re quite welcome, ma’am,” Otis replied and turned to leave.

Gray glanced at the man once more, trying to figure out if he was really blushing or if there was some other health condition going on.

“She’s a looker,” Otis whispered, his bushy eyebrows dancing up and down as he grinned.

Gray couldn’t help but smile—the man might be old in years, but he hadn’t lost a step when it came to women.

Kym Hutchins was indeed a good-looking woman. She was tall at five foot nine and a half inches, with a slim figure, a light golden complexion and long black hair that was always perfectly styled. Her makeup was flawless, as usual, her legs long in the knee-length navy blue skirt with the matching jacket, which perfectly accented her sophisticated and professional demeanor. She was a very intelligent woman and she was his executive assistant. None of which explained why she was here in Temptation.

“Hello, Grayson,” Kym said when Otis had meandered away, leaving them alone in the cozy parlor.

There were heavy-looking drapes hanging almost from floor to ceiling in a strange mustard color and four round mahogany tables with matching chairs around them. In the center of each table was a bouquet of roses, in the exact shade that was on Kym’s lips as she gave him a brilliant smile.

“Hello,” he replied. “I’m not sure how you knew I was here. I didn’t put anything on my calendar.”

With a flick of her hand, the large curls that had been draped over her shoulders were pushed back as her chin tilted slightly.

“I came by your place to drop off the Miago contracts but you weren’t there. When I spoke to your doorman he indicated that you’d taken the Porsche and said you would return in a week. I know you’ve been handling your father’s estate so I took an educated guess,” she told him.

“And you showed up without me inviting you? Without letting me know your intentions?” Gray wasn’t certain how he should feel about that.

“Why don’t we have a seat, Grayson. Otis is going to bring us a beverage. I asked for wine spritzers but he politely informed me that this establishment does not sell or serve alcoholic beverages. Can you imagine?” she asked with a shake of her head.

Kym was already taking a seat, crossing her long, bare legs as she did. Gray figured it made sense to sit and talk to her, even though he was still trying to figure out why she’d come all this way in the first place.

“Did you know they don’t have any hotels in this town?” With that said, Kym let out a short sigh. “I don’t know what they do with the tourists, whenever they get them.”

“They have two B and Bs and a resort,” he told her, keeping it to himself that the resort was actually a farm.

“No four-star hotels, no wine. It’s a wonder they’re still functioning at all,” she replied.