Remember to Forget (38 page)

He entered the lobby and stood in awe of the transformation. The sofa had been moved in close to the fireplace, and four small table-and-chair sets were placed strategically around the room. Through the arched doorway, he could see half a dozen more tables for two, each layered with white linens and set with the fancy red and white dishes that had been Wren’s mother’s. Unlit candles and vases of bright flowers decorated the center of each table.

Meg’s dozens of candles glowed in the fireplace, and he chuckled to see white Christmas lights twinkling in the windows throughout the lobby and the dining area. He’d have to give her a hard time about that.

She chose that instant to scurry around the corner. When she saw him, she stopped short, perfectly framed beneath the archway.

Trevor could only stare. All thoughts of razzing the woman evaporated, and the only word filling his mind at the moment was . . .
stunning.

Careful, Ashlock. She’s not yours.

Meg smiled, obviously unaware of his emotions. “Oh. Trevor. It’s you. Hey, can you come help Wren and me move this table?” She whirled and disappeared back into the dining room.

He stood, transfixed, until she appeared in the doorway again. “Hey, you coming or not?”

He stared. Meg, in a dress that hugged her form in all the right places. She moved, and the hem swished against shapely calves that led
to dainty ankles and sandal-clad feet. Her hair was swept off her neck with tendrils brushing her cheeks in a style that was most becoming.

“Wow. You look . . . stunning.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, making her look prettier than ever. He half expected her to run back to the kitchen, but she surprised him by taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen.

“Good grief.” She muttered under her breath. “You’d think the man had never seen a woman in a dress before.”

He laughed. “I’ve never seen
this
woman in a dress before.” He gave a low whistle.

She rewarded him by twirling around and dipping in a little curtsy. “Wren made it for me. Isn’t it great?”

He could only nod and grin like the village idiot. “Wren did an extremely nice job,” he finally stammered.

Wren and Meg laughed at him.

“You look pretty spiffy yourself.” Meg nudged him toward the table where Wren was standing. “We want to move this table about a foot this way.” She pointed to the window at the back of the room. “But we’d like to do it without taking everything off. Doable?”

He studied the table with its pressed linens, vase of flowers and candlestick, assessing the situation. “If we each take a corner and go slow, we can do it. Ready?”

Wren and Meg each claimed a corner and he took the side opposite. “One . . . two . . . three.” They lifted and headed toward the window. For one breath-holding moment the water glasses swayed and the dishes rattled, but everything righted itself and Wren stepped back to survey the room.

She nodded her approval and brushed off her hands. “Okay, I’m headed to my room to change and get Bart on the ball. Can you two handle any early arrivals and make sure nothing burns down here?”

“Got it.” Trevor gave a sharp salute. “What else needs doing?”

Wren bit her lip, obviously clicking off her mental list. She checked the clock. “It’s probably not too early to light the candles on the tables. If you guys would do that. Oh, and Trevor, put some nice music on, would you? Some of that elevator music you’re always listening to.”

He chuckled. “Wren, those are the great masters of music you’re talking about . . . the classics. C’mon . . . elevator music?” He shook his head and harrumphed.

Wren waved him off. “Whatever. And in ten minutes or so you can ice and fill the water glasses. I started the coffee, but you might keep an eye on it.”

Meg laughed and put her hands on Wren’s shoulders, steering her toward the door. “Go, Wren. You obviously have everything under control here. I don’t think we can goof anything up in the next twenty minutes. Go.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” She started out of the room, then pivoted to face them. “Thanks for everything, you two. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Trevor winked at Meg, then told Wren, “I have a feeling you would have done just fine.”

Wren waved him off again with a “pshaw” for good measure, then hustled up the stairs to the apartment.

“The place looks nice,” he said, once he and Meg were alone.

She followed his gaze around the room and out to the lobby. “It does, doesn’t it? I’m just glad we filled the rooms. I have a feeling Wren spent all her profit putting this together.”

“Yes, but maybe it will get some word of mouth going. Maybe even start some traditions for some couples. Let people know they don’t have to leave town to get a little vacation.”

“Exactly.”

He went to put on some music in the CD player in the lobby. When he came back, Meg was rummaging through kitchen drawers. She came up with a couple of propane lighters and handed one to Trevor. “Here,
I’ll do the lobby if you’ll light the ones in here. And don’t forget the candles on the window sills.”

“Got it.”

He watched her sail out to the lobby and bend to light the candle centerpiece on a table there. He shook himself a little and forced his mind to the task Meg had assigned him. He was falling for her. And hard.

“Hello, Maggie. Or is it Meg?” She fought for enough air to breathe his name.

Chapter Forty-One

T
hrough the front lobby windows, Maggie watched two sets of headlights pull up to park in front of the inn. She thought she heard car doors slam out on Elm Street too. Her heart beat a little faster. It seemed everyone was arriving at once.

She lit the last candle and tucked the lighter out of sight on the front desk. She made one last survey of the room, and her heart swelled. It looked utterly delightful. With candles everywhere, minilights twinkling in the windows, and Mozart filling the air, the effect was every bit as romantic as they’d promised in the ad campaign. Not to mention the mouthwatering aromas coming from the kitchen. It was promising to be a night to remember.

She smoothed the front of her dress and prepared to greet their guests.

Kaye DeVore and her husband were the first of the new group to come in.
Before they were even all the way inside, they gawked and started
oohing
and
aahing
over the inn’s transformation. Kaye was looking proudly expectant in a maternity version of the little black dress. Her hair was curled becomingly about her round face, and she wore a little lipstick, but her glow came from within.

Kaye’s gaze landed on Maggie. “Meg! This place looks fabulous! I can’t tell you how excited I am about this weekend.” She nudged her husband. “Douglas, this is Meg Anders.”

He set two small travel cases on the floor beside him, wiped his palm on his trousers, and shook Maggie’s hand. “This was a pretty good idea you had.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Well, if it wasn’t for your wife, I never would have come up with the idea, so send your praise her way.” She turned to Kaye. “You look beautiful!”

Douglas DeVore squeezed his wife’s shoulders and looked down on her with an expression that told Maggie this weekend getaway had been a long time coming for the harried couple. She was glad Wren had assigned the best room in the inn to them. “Come on over to the desk, and I’ll get you checked in, then Trevor can show you to your room.” She stepped into the kitchen and called Trevor before going to the desk to fill out a registration form for the DeVores.

She scarcely had them signed in before two more couples came through the front door. It was starting to feel a mite crowded and overly warm in the lobby.

Trevor ducked through the archway. Maggie gave him the DeVores’ keys and told him which room was theirs. “Dinner will be in about twenty minutes, but there’s coffee and appetizers on the buffet, so come back to the lobby as soon as you’re settled in.”

A short line had formed at the front desk. Maggie greeted the next guests in line and distributed the registration forms Bart had filled out as each reservation came in. Thank goodness for his foresight, or she’d be panicking about now.

She heard Bart and Wren in the kitchen setting up the buffet.

Trevor came back and showed the next couple to their room. She’d checked in four couples, not counting the two who’d arrived earlier that afternoon. There was a brief lull, though Maggie saw another car slow down in the street outside the front windows.

She grabbed Trevor as he came back from taking the last group’s luggage to their rooms. “Could you man the desk for a minute? I’m going to go see if Wren needs anything in the kitchen.”

“Sure. But hurry back.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you stranded.”

Wren was bustling as only Wren could bustle. She had on a fresh cotton dress and a new quilted apron that contained scraps of Maggie’s dress fabric.

“Oh, don’t you look nice.”

“What about me?” Bart popped out from behind the refrigerator. He was wearing a white apron, and his Santa Claus beard was groomed to perfection.

Maggie stifled a chuckle. “You too, Bart. You look lovely.”

He struck a comical pose, and she let her laughter escape.

“Everything going okay out there?” Bart pointed toward the lobby.

Maggie nodded. “Just about everyone is here. Are you ready for us to escort everyone into the dining room?” Wren surveyed the colorful spread. “I think we’re ready anytime.”

Trevor was checking in more people at the lobby desk, and there was a small group waiting in the seating area near the fireplace. Trevor seemed to be holding his own, so Maggie went to welcome those who were waiting.

Kaye DeVore grabbed her as she slipped by the desk. “You look gorgeous tonight, Meg! It’s no wonder Trevor can’t keep his eyes off you!”

Maggie flushed and glanced over to be sure Trevor hadn’t heard Kaye’s remark.

“It’s true. He’s been watching you all night.”

“You’re sweet to say that,” she whispered to Kaye. But oh, how she
longed for it to be true. Blushing, and desperate to change the subject, she motioned toward the people sitting near the fireplace. “I’d better go play hostess.”

“Oh, don’t let me keep you.” Kaye looked around the room, and Maggie followed her gaze to a cluster of rowdy men talking sports by the front door.

Kaye sighed. “I’d better go see if I can extricate my date from the little men’s club over there.”

She waved over her shoulder and Maggie went to speak to the guests. She licked her lips and tried to dry her clammy hands. As excited as she was that this evening had finally arrived, she was out of her element playing hostess.

She cleared her throat. “Good evening, folks. We’re so glad you could come tonight.” She waited for them to quiet further. “Wren has been working all week, and as you can tell from the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen”—she waved an arm toward the dining room—“dinner is served.”

A little cheer went up from the guests, and Maggie relaxed. The weekend was going to be a smashing success.

A
n hour and a half later, the meal—and the scrumptious dessert tray that had followed—were mere memories. However, a dozen or so guests had turned the evening into a party, lingering in the lobby in small groups to visit and enjoy second cups of coffee.