Remember to Forget (32 page)

“Why don’t you go to your room and—”

She giggled. “Are you sending me to my room?”

It was good to see a little sunshine back in her smile. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He grinned. “Just take a little break. Take a nap or wash your face or whatever. I’ll get started painting later on, and you can help when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Trevor. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go to the
library before they close. I want to e-mail Jenn.”

He smiled. “Good for you.”

M
aggie hesitated, her finger hovering over the mouse, cursor pointed at the Send button. She was tempted for a split second to erase everything she’d written and crawl back into her cocoon of fear. But she made herself click the button and whispered the closest thing she knew to a prayer as she watched her e-mail disappear and the telling words pop up on the screen.
YOUR E-MAIL HAS BEEN SENT.

She sat in front of the computer at the study carrel for several minutes, wondering if she’d done the right thing. She kept hearing Trevor’s encouraging words.
Good for you. Good for you.
It seemed like a blessing.

She hoped so. She’d asked a lot of her sister. Not only did she tell her where she was staying, but she sent Jenn the information she would need to get a copy of her birth certificate and Social Security card. As soon as she had the details taken care of and the papers in her hands, she intended to come clean and start living an honest life. As flawed and confused as she was, it was too hard trying to be somebody else.

She logged off the e-mail program and pushed her chair back, vaguely aware of whispering behind her. She turned to see a tow-headed boy of about four pointing at her.

“See, I told you, Mommy.” He stuck out his chin in defiance.

The woman with him balanced a toddler on her hip and reached to put one hand on the little boy’s head, shushing him. Then her eyes widened. “Oh! It
is
you!” The woman had a little boy and two small girls close beside her. “You probably don’t remember, but we gave you a ride last week out east of town. I’m Kaye.”

“Of course.” Maggie recognized the woman Trevor had called Kaye
DeVore. “I’m Meg. Thank you again. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come by that night.”

“Oh, hey. There’s always room for one more. Glad we could help.” Kaye studied Meg for a minute. “You must have family in town. At least I can’t imagine any
other
reason to stay in Clayburn this long.”

“No . . . no family. Actually, I’m thinking of . . . moving here. I’m helping with the remodeling at the inn right now and looking for a permanent job. You don’t know of anybody who needs help, do you?”

Kaye laughed her bubbly laugh. “Honey, if I could afford it, I’d hire you myself in a flash.” Her gaze corralled her herd of children, and the slight bulge under her loose-fitting blouse confirmed what Trevor had said about another one on the way. Kaye shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know of anyone. I’ll keep my ears open though. Are you still staying at the inn?”

Maggie nodded.

“Oh, you lucky woman.” Kaye heaved a sigh. “That sounds like heaven. And don’t think I haven’t dreamed about checking myself in to Wren’s for a few days just to get a break.” She winked. “I might even let my husband come along for one night. We could get,
ahem
, reacquainted.”

Maggie felt her cheeks flush, but an unfamiliar joy rose inside her. Like she’d made a new friend. Except for her infrequent phone calls to Jenn, she hadn’t had a close woman friend since Kevin made her quit her job.

“Well, I wish I could help. Maybe after I get settled, I could baby-sit some night while you and your husband go out?”

Kaye brightened. “I just might take you up on that.”

B
efore Trevor came to paint again the following afternoon, Meg slipped away for a walk in the roadside park by the river. It was peaceful
there and a good place to think. As she walked under the shade of the cottonwood trees that grew along the uneven riverbank, Meg thought about her conversation with Kaye DeVore. An idea began to percolate. What if Wren had a special open house to celebrate the inn’s new look, and what if she invited people from right here in Clayburn to stay the night? Advertise it as a sweethearts’ getaway or whatever.

The idea wouldn’t let her go, and she was still brainstorming that afternoon while she and Trevor finished putting on the last coat of paint in Wren’s dining room. If they held an open house, they could lower the room prices enough to make it an affordable date for community couples. According to Trevor, the way gas prices were, a trip to Salina for dinner and a movie cost more than a night’s stay at the inn.

Her roller moved faster over the walls as the ideas came until, finally, she excused herself to run and get a notepad and pen off the front desk. She brought it back to the lone table in the dining room and started scribbling furiously.

Trevor leaned out over the top of the ladder. “You writing the great American novel over there?”

She gave a smug smile. “No. But I think I just came up with a pretty good idea.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing you’d get excited over, but—” She snapped her fingers. “But you
could
help. Would you have time to print some posters?”

“What kind of posters?”

She glanced up at him but waved a hand, dismissing him. “Never mind. I need to talk to Wren first, but I’ll get back to you.”

“Ohhhkay.”

She ignored his feigned scowl and returned to her list. For all she knew, Wren had already tried something like this to boost business at the inn. But she couldn’t help feeling more than a little excited. It just might work, and then she wouldn’t feel like such a moocher staying here.

She jotted down a few more notes, folded the paper, and tucked it into her pocket. She pushed back her chair. “You want me to take over there?”

Trevor looked down at her from his perch on the ladder. “I’m fine, unless you want to trade.” He surveyed the room. “We’re almost finished, you know it? Another day like this and you could start on your border while I put up the trim and get the baseboards back on.”

She trailed his gaze. “It’s looking good, isn’t it?”

“It really is. I know Wren’s happy as a cat in a barn full of mice. She said you offered to help her with the decorating too.”

Maggie nodded. But part of her felt a rising anxiety. The painting was nearly finished. She would probably finish the border in a couple of days. Then what?

She looked up at Maggie. “A lot of people got hurt because of my foolishness.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

I
got the idea when I ran into Kaye DeVore in the library yesterday.” Maggie stood across the desk where Wren was paying bills.

Wren looked up from the adding machine, her frown of concentration softening when her eyes met Maggie’s. “Ah, Kaye. She’s a merry one, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but she was telling me how frazzled she is and that she’s been tempted to check into the inn herself. And how she and her husband hardly have any time for each other with the kids and all. I got to thinking,
why not?
” Maggie heard her own excitement rising as she spun her idea to Wren. “We could do a special promotion. Reserve the inn for couples right here in Clayburn and the nearby small towns. Pick a weekend when you don’t have any guests scheduled, of course—”

“Ha!” Wren’s wry laugh intruded.
“That would be just about any weekend from here to eternity.”

That egged Maggie on. “It would be a romantic getaway—a way for husbands to treat their wives, or wives to surprise their husbands. And they wouldn’t even have to leave town or spend a fortune on gasoline.” She forced herself to shut up long enough to study Wren’s face across the front desk. What she saw in the dear, crinkled eyes encouraged her.

“Hmmm.” Wren scooted back her chair and retied her apron around her ample waist. “You, know, with the price of gas right now, people just might consider that.”

“Oh, I think they would, Wren! I really do. Maybe you could even come up with a special price for the weekend and include a candlelight dinner on Friday night. We could bill it as a romantic retreat—sort of an open house to show off the new dining room.”

Wren’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh, Meg, I like your enthusiasm. Listen to you! You’d think you had part interest in the inn.”

Maggie colored, realizing that she’d been using “we” as if she ran the place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, honey, no!” Wren patted her arm. “It tickles me to pieces that you feel that way about the inn. This place could use an infusion of creative energy.”

Relieved, Maggie launched into some of the other ideas she’d been daydreaming about since yesterday. “And maybe we could get Trevor to print up some fliers, put them up around town?”

Wren slid the desk calendar closer and took a pen from the holder. “Well, let’s look at some dates and see what we can come up with. Bart may fuss a little about putting on such a big to-do, but he’ll warm to the idea eventually.” She looked up at Maggie. “How long did Trevor think it would take to get the dining room completely finished? The last thing I want to do is plan this thing and have him still fiddling around with the trim the night before the guests arrive.”

Maggie laughed, imagining what a kick Trevor would get out of Wren’s comment when she told him tonight. “I think he’s planning to
be done with his part in the next couple of days. And if you’re sure you don’t mind letting me stay here while I’m working on the border, I can probably have it done in two or three days.”

Wren snapped her fingers and started paging through the calendar. “I’ve got it! We’ll make it an after-harvest celebration. If we get a few more of these warm days in a row, the wheat harvest will be finished in a couple of weeks. The farmers will be ready for a break, their wives will be beyond ready, and everybody will have a little money in their pockets to play with.”

“That’s perfect.” Maggie gave a sharp clap.

Wren glanced toward the dining room. “Oh, but I’ve got curtains to hang and that drywall dust is all over everything—”