The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel (7 page)

“Are you trying to ask me whether or not I believe in God?”

“Do you?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never really given it much thought.”

Chas leaned forward. “How does a man reach your age and not even wonder if God really exists?”

Jackson shrugged. “If you put it that way, I suppose I have to admit that I believe there is some kind of Supreme Being. I think I’ve just probably taken that one point for granted, and my life has been too busy for me to really think about it or care.”

“Religion has never been a part of your life then, obviously.”

“Obviously. But it’s a part of yours?”

“It wasn’t early on, but it is now.”

“Then . . . your grandmother didn’t raise you with religion; you found it later.”

“That’s right. Granny firmly believes in God . . . and angels and miracles. But she never figured that she actually had to go to church to believe those things. And that’s fine. God knows her heart, and so do I.”

Granny’s bell tinkled, and Chas came to her feet. “Speak of the angel,” she said, and Jackson chuckled at the play on words—and the timing of the comment. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Mr. Leeds,” she added on her way out of the room, and he felt disappointed to realize she was closing their conversation. “Nine o’clock again?”

“I’ll be there,” he said, then sat where he was for several minutes before going upstairs to his room, where he gave more than a moment’s thought to the concept of angels and miracles. Then he picked up
Dombey and Son
from the bedside table and read until he got sleepy.

* * * * *

The following morning Jackson went out again for a run and took a shower before he went down to breakfast. Chas was there to serve the meal, but he’d only been there a few minutes when a couple came into the dining room, and he had to adjust to not being the only guest at the inn. Observing Chas’s friendly interaction with these people as she served them breakfast, he felt a little deflated to realize that she was just that way with everyone. He wanted to believe that their conversations had been more than just something to pass the time. But he wondered if he was deluding himself. Long after he’d finished eating, he sat where he was, sipping a cup of coffee and reading
USA Yesterday
. The couple left, both of them saying good morning to him as they passed by. He returned the greeting and turned the page of the paper. Then he heard something and tipped the top of the paper down to see Chas sitting across from him, holding a cup in her hands. Cocoa, he suspected. Apparently she wasn’t a coffee drinker.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “How’s my favorite guest?”

Her question assuaged his ego a bit, but he pointed out, “There’s not a lot of competition.”

“Ah,” she shrugged, “they’re nice, but boring. You, on the other hand, are not always nice, but definitely not boring.”

“I feel exactly the same about you, my favorite innkeeper.” He folded the newspaper and set it aside.

“How are your accommodations?”

“Everything is dandy,” he said.

“You have definitely been spending too much time with my grandmother.”

“Or not enough.”

They each took a long sip from their cups, and he waited, knowing there was something she wanted to say. “I have something to ask you,” she finally said.

“How convenient that I’m sitting right here, waiting for you to ask me something. You need the walks shoveled? Help in the kitchen? Is one of the maids sick? I could fill in.”

“Thank you, but no. It’s all covered.”

“Then what? I’m on the edge of my seat.”

She looked at his chair and said, “No, you’re not. You look pretty relaxed to me.”

He chuckled. “Just get on with it.”

“So,” Chas said, “Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Jackson responded, bored.

“And you’re staying all week.”

“At least one week; that’s what I said, wasn’t it? Or do you have some limit on the amount of nights a paying customer can stay?”

“No limit as long as he behaves himself,” Chas said with a smile. “I’m just wondering what you’re going to do for Thanksgiving. It
is
a holiday, you know. Technically we’re closed tonight and tomorrow night, but of course there’s no problem with your being here, or I would have told you so when you called. I’m just wondering if—”

“Okay, let’s just get to the point. I have no intention of infringing on your holiday celebration. I brought some great reading material, and I’m very good at remaining invisible. I’m also sure there is some eating establishment in town where I can get a turkey dinner. Enough said.”

As much as he enjoyed being with her, Jackson stood up to leave the room if only to emphasize the conclusion of the conversation. He had really hoped that it wouldn’t even come up and he could have just discreetly avoided showing his face on the day in question. But Chas stopped him. “Wait a minute. I haven’t said what I wanted to say yet.”

“And what’s that?” He stood looking down at her while she remained sitting.

“First of all, for as long as you’re here I’m just going to plan on your eating supper here every evening unless you let me know otherwise. And I’ll put it on your bill.”

“Fair enough.”

“And also, I was trying to invite you to have Thanksgiving dinner with us.”

Jackson was so taken off guard he didn’t know how to respond. “Um . . .” he said to give him another few seconds to think. “That is . . . kind and thoughtful, but . . . I will really be fine. I’m certain my being at dinner would be more awkward for all of us than my just remaining invisible. I’m not going to intrude on your celebration because you . . . feel sorry for me, or something.”

“I
do
feel sorry for you, if you must know. It’s pathetic for a man to be alone someplace like this on a holiday. But that’s not why I’m inviting you. If you were annoying and got on my nerves, it would probably take more charity than I’m normally capable of to endure your company through Thanksgiving dinner. As it is, Granny and I would really like to have you join us. And there will be a few other people, too. But they’re always around, so you will make it more festive.”

“Me? Festive?” He snorted a laugh.

“I’m sure you have it in you. Consider it a favor to us. It will feel more like a holiday if we have company. And my guilt would kill me if I thought of you pining away alone on Thanksgiving.”

“How guilty would you feel if I were annoying and got on your nerves?”

“That’s between me and God. Dinner will be at two. We’ll see you there.” She stood and left the room before
he
could.

“You talked me into it,” he said only to himself, since he was the only one there.

That evening Chas apologized for not sitting down to eat with him because she had a lot to do. He offered to help, but she adamantly refused, which was probably good since he had no idea what he might do that would have any value. After taking two bites, he took his food with him to Granny’s room where he found her watching some stupid crime drama on TV. He hated TV, but he hated eating alone even more when there was too much to think about.

“Oh, hello,” she said. “I’m just waiting to see if that horrible terrorist is going to get caught.”

“You go right ahead. I just didn’t want to eat alone. Have you had your supper?”

“I have, thank you. Chas makes a great chicken stew.”

“So she does,” he said and took another bite.

After he’d eaten, he took his dishes to the kitchen, where he found Chas doing something with a raw turkey. “Thank you. It was delicious,” he said. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

“You’re starting to annoy me with such questions. Go read a book or something.”

“Since I’m annoying you, I could just skip out on dinner tomorrow.”

“Sorry. If you’re not there, I’ll raise the price of your room.”

“Ooh,” he said, feigning fear. “Who else is going to be there?”

“Does it matter?”

“Just curious.”

“Charlotte and the kids always share Thanksgiving with us. They don’t have any family around, and the kids for all their noise do make holidays more entertaining. And Polly. It’s the same for her. No family around. We’re all like family. It’ll be great. You’ll see.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said and meant it. Setting aside his pride, he couldn’t deny a deep relief in not having to spend the holiday alone. He’d always had multiple invitations to choose from for Thanksgiving and Christmas, from coworkers who had families and didn’t want him to be alone. He’d become accustomed to such celebrations, where he could be a part of it, but in a passive, spectator kind of way. But with everything that had happened, the thought of trying to celebrate anything with the people he worked with would have been torturous. Still, he hadn’t wanted to be alone. “Thanks for taking such good care of me,” he added to Chas.

“A pleasure, Mr. Leeds,” she said, like the innkeeper of the year.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said and went upstairs and poured himself a drink, then he walked back downstairs to enjoy it while he visited with Granny. He found her still awake and alert and thrilled to see him. And the TV was now off. She asked questions about the FBI that made him chuckle, things that no one but she would have ever thought to ask, such as, “Are all the agents as handsome as you are?” or “How many bullets are in your gun at one time?” He really laughed when she asked if FBI agents wore any special kind of shoes, and she asked if he had met any of the local police officers of her small town while he’d been in training. His personal favorite, however, was when she asked if any of the female agents he knew were as sassy as Chas.

“Not quite,” he said, which made them both laugh.

“I gave her that name, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I thought she was going to be a boy. I don’t know why I thought that, but I did. I’d told her mother she should certainly name him Charles, but she wanted to name him Daniel. I never liked that name. I knew a boy named Daniel back in school; set my hair on fire once, he did. Why would I want to name my grandson after him? Of course, my Agnes died giving birth to Chas. It was wretched.” She shook her head. “Truly wretched.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you,” Jackson said and took a sip of his drink.

“I can’t imagine myself, but she did leave me that beautiful baby girl. Being a girl though, I didn’t know what to name her. Of course, Charles would have been ideal, because you know how fond I’ve always been of Mr. Dickens. And it just seemed like using the abbreviation for Charles was the right thing.”

“It certainly suits her.”

“Yes, it does. She’s as stubborn as any man.”

“Are you calling me stubborn?”

“Yes, I am. And don’t try to deny it.”

He chuckled. “Never!”

“Of course the same thing happened in
David Copperfield;
the same but in reverse, I suppose.”

“What
happened in
David Copperfield?”
he asked.

“The aunt wanted the baby to be a girl, and she was going to name it after herself. When a boy was born, she stormed away and didn’t come back. She hadn’t wanted a boy. I don’t know why I thought Chas would be a boy, but now I’m sure glad she wasn’t. No boy would ever take care of me the way my sweet Chas does.”

“She does have a gift with that, doesn’t she.”

“Yes, she does. What are you drinking there, young man?”

“Scotch whiskey. You want some?”

“No, I’ll stick to my brandy. Thanks just the same. You want some brandy?”

“Perhaps another time. Thank you.”

When Granny started getting sleepy, Jackson went upstairs and
did
read a book until he got sleepy himself. After having another drink he slept fairly well and woke up to pleasant aromas. With the thought that this could actually be a really nice day, he had to admit that maybe he
did
believe in miracles.

CHAPTER 6

Jackson went for his usual morning run before showering, then he found Chas busy in the kitchen, with Polly helping her.

“Good morning,” they both said at the same time when they saw him.

“Good morning,” he replied.

“Did you sleep well?” Chas asked.

“I did, thank you.”

“Comfy bed? All that?”

“I bet you say that to all the guys around here.”

“I do, actually. Your breakfast is on the sideboard. Simple and boring this morning, I’m afraid.” Then she added with the facetiousness that he’d grown to like about her, “I don’t have time to be a short-order cook for you when I’ve got Thanksgiving dinner to fix.”

“I
like
simple and boring.” He chuckled and corrected, “Or let’s say, I’m used to simple and boring. I’ll be more than all right. Thank you.”

“Dinner’s at two,” Chas said as if he might have forgotten.

“I’ll be there,” he said as if he were a child being nagged, and the women both laughed.

After breakfast Jackson visited with Granny for a while. When she asked him to help her with something, he was glad to comply, as long as it didn’t cause a problem for Chas. He slipped out to the kitchen first to ask. “Hey, Granny wants to be here in the kitchen with you for a while. She’s in a rather nostalgic mood, apparently. Do you have a problem with my bringing her in here?”

“No, of course not,” Chas said, “but I can—”

“I’ve got it covered,” Jackson said and hurried back to Granny’s room. According to her directions, he found a wheelchair folded and tucked in a large closet and got it ready for her to use, including a blanket that would prevent the chair from feeling cold to her. He liked the way she didn’t have any problem telling him
exactly
how she wanted things, nor asking for help with details like helping her into her sweater and putting her slippers on her feet. He figured a woman who had reached her age ought to know what she wanted and not have any qualms about expecting it. But of course, she did it kindly. He told her—not for the first time, “I want to be like you when I grow up.”

After lifting her carefully into the wheelchair, she said, “Oh, it’s nice to have a strong man to help. Chas and I manage, but we’re a bit awkward. We only use the chair for special occasions, because quite frankly I like my room.”

“And what constitutes a special occasion besides Thanksgiving and Christmas?”

“A doctor appointment, usually.”

“How exciting,” he said with sarcasm and tucked a blanket over her lap. “All set?”

“All set!” she said with enthusiasm.

“We could see how fast this thing’ll go up and down the hall, if you like.”

The old woman let out a delighted laugh. “That sounds very exciting, young man, but probably a little too exciting for me. It would likely stop my heart, and you’d have Chas crying over her dead Granny instead of fixing the turkey.”

“Perhaps another day, then,” he said and wheeled her into the kitchen.

“Perhaps for Christmas,” she said just as they entered.

“I’m afraid I won’t be here for Christmas,” he said, but the statement became lost as Chas and Polly expressed their excitement at seeing Granny out and about, so that she could make certain they did everything right. Jackson was tempted to hover in the kitchen with them, but he already felt like he was intruding on family time, and he didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself. He went to the parlor to check his email and found simple Thanksgiving greetings from a number of people, mixed with evidence of concern for his absence and his well-being. He responded with holiday greetings in return, and assurances that he was fine and that he’d been invited to have dinner with a lovely family. He received two invitations for Christmas and just wrote that he’d get back to them. He knew he’d be back home long before then, but he wasn’t certain yet what he wanted to do. So much had changed among the dynamics of his friends and coworkers—or rather, his friends who were his coworkers, because other FBI agents were the only people who could tolerate him. After he returned to Norfolk and was able to gauge the temperature and mood a little better, he would be better able to decide what was best. He couldn’t help thinking that it would be nice to just keep hiding here through the holidays, but the idea was ridiculous. If he felt like an intrusion for Thanksgiving dinner, being here for Christmas would feel like a travesty.

Jackson hid in his room with
Dombey and Son,
finding some odd form of comfort from the memories that reading it stirred for him. He put on a nice button-up shirt that he’d hung in the bathroom when he’d showered, in order to steam out the wrinkles. He added a tie, glad that he was in the habit of never traveling without one. At exactly two o’clock he went down the stairs, inhaling the sweet aromas of a holiday meal into his soul as well as his senses. He was surprised to come to the bottom of the stairs and find a wide doorway open, when he hadn’t realized a room was there. A closer examination made it evident it was an envelope door, and draperies that had covered it had been pulled back on each side. He entered to find no one there, but a long dining table was set elegantly, including candlesticks lit in the center. A fire was burning in a fireplace across the large room, and he noticed a couple of comfortable chairs placed strategically near the fire. What a great room! He almost felt as if he were in some kind of dream. The dreamlike sensation was enhanced by Chas coming through a different door that swung in from the kitchen.

“Oh, hi,” she said, setting pretty little dishes of cranberry sauce on the table. She was wearing a festive apron over a black dress, and he was glad he’d put on a tie. “We’re just a
little
behind schedule. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Stop asking that. It’s all under control. We’re mostly waiting on Charlotte. She’s bringing the pies and the rolls. She likes the rolls to be hot so she’s probably pulling them out of her oven at this very moment. Oh,” she said, “I take it back. I forgot. You
can
help. Granny’s back in her room, but she made it clear that
you
would be escorting her to the dining room for dinner.”

“A pleasure,” he said and found Granny wearing a nice dress, which was an entirely different experience than seeing her in her usual loungewear. Her hair had also been given more than the usual attention, and she was wearing a string of pearls around her neck. In the midst of preparing the meal, Chas had obviously spent some time helping her grandmother get dressed up. He told her how lovely she looked, and she told him that he looked snazzy, which made him chuckle.

He pushed the wheelchair to the head of the table where a place was set without a chair. Charlotte and her children had arrived, and the food was being set out on the table. He noticed Charlotte putting a bottle of wine out, and Chas brought in a glass pitcher with some kind of juice that was a similar color. She told him to sit down at the end of the table, across the corner from Granny. Charlotte got her children seated, then she and Polly took their chairs. Chas brought in the turkey, and they all cheered as she set it in the center of the table.

The children were obviously impressed with the way Chas carved beautiful slices off the side of the turkey, but Jackson was more impressed with Chas. He wondered if what he was feeling was mostly due to the ethereal surroundings and storybook circumstances of the moment—or if it was because of her. He tended to believe that he would have been drawn to her under any circumstances. All he knew for certain was that he’d never felt this way before, and he didn’t know what to do about it. There was only one woman he’d ever claimed to love, but when she’d broken his heart, he’d closed it off. He’d never had trouble admitting that his heart was more frozen than warm, and he’d learned to invest any emotion he might feel into his job and the people with whom he worked. But Chas was cracking the ice without even trying. He couldn’t come up with one practical reason to think that she would ever see in him what he saw in her, or that they could share anything that wasn’t temporary. But right now he could only see them wrapped in this magical cocoon with scenes that had been grossly absent in his childhood.

When there was enough turkey cut to get the meal started, Chas sat down next to Granny, across the table from Jackson. She smiled at him before saying, “It’s tradition for Granny to say the blessing.” He nodded, but was surprised when Granny took hold of his hand on the table. Everyone joined hands, and this sweet elderly woman offered a sincere prayer, offering thanks for all the good things in their lives. She asked for blessings upon those in the world who were suffering, and for those serving in the military, as well as their families. She thanked God for the beautiful meal and for the effort that had gone into its preparation, and she specifically thanked Him for Chas and all that she did for her and for everyone else who knew her. Jackson added his firm amen along with the others, and the feast began.

The food was as delicious as it was beautiful, and Jackson mentioned it more than once. He couldn’t deny that Charlotte’s rolls were heavenly, and he told her that as well. He was relieved at how relaxed he felt with these people, and to find that he was really enjoying himself. Charlotte’s children, Karlee and Logan, were just childish enough to be entertaining, and well-behaved enough to not be annoying. He noticed that Chas and the children drank the juice that was in the pitcher, while the rest of them enjoyed the wine Charlotte had brought. But they all used the beautiful goblets.

When they were finished eating, Chas actually let Jackson help carry things back into the kitchen, but when the table was cleared, she insisted that he needed to let the women hurry and do the dishes, and then they were going to play some games. Noting that the children were impatient for the games and in the way, he offered to entertain them. His only experience with children had been in the homes of coworkers, and in dealing with those who had been affected in one way or another by a federal crime. Unfortunately, he’d had way too much experience calming down and communicating with traumatized children. In comparison, this was easy.

It was Logan’s idea to build a snowman on the front lawn so that people coming to the inn would see it, but Karlee was equally enthused, and Jackson helped bundle them up. While they constructed Mr. Frosty beneath sunny skies, Jackson learned that Karlee and Logan had different fathers and different last names. He was amazed at how much they knew about the divorces, the child support, and the truth about their parents that only children could see. He told them conclusively, “You guys should work for the FBI.”

At this Logan said, “Hey, I asked Mom, and she said it doesn’t stand for funny big idiots.”

“She’s absolutely right. I was just making fun of myself. Do you know what it stands for?”

“Federal something,” Karlee said. “What does federal mean?”

“It has to do with the country. I’m like a policeman that looks for criminals who are a threat to the United States or its people.” The children looked confused, but he was used to this conversation. It came up all the time. “City police are responsible for protecting people in a city. There’s county police, and state police, and federal police.”

“Oh, I get it,” Logan said. “You’re like Superman, ’cause he can fly anywhere to get the bad guys.”

Karlee rolled her eyes. Jackson chuckled. “Not exactly. Besides,
I
can’t be Superman. I thought
you
were Superman.”

Chas came out for just a minute to check on their progress, then a few minutes later Charlotte came out with a carrot, raisins, buttons, a scarf, and a hat. She stayed outside while Mr. Frosty—as Logan had dubbed him even before they’d begun—was completed. While the children started throwing snow at each other, Charlotte got chatty with Jackson about the kids. Then Chas hollered out the door that it was time for cocoa and Bingo. She held the door open for everyone, and he came in last. She smiled at him and said, “Try to contain your excitement, Agent Leeds. Cocoa and Bingo at the Dickensian Inn are pretty exciting stuff.”

“Yes, they are,” he said, pulling off his gloves.

“We have prizes,” she added with feigned enthusiasm.

“Woo hoo,” he said in the same tone.

He found everyone in the dining room where the table was now covered with Bingo paraphernalia, and Granny was there, looking as excited as a child. He found the game more enjoyable than he’d expected when the kids were as funny as Granny. He won a bottle of bubbles and a cinnamon-scented candle.

“It will make your room smell nice,” Chas said.

“My room already smells nice,” he replied.

After Bingo they all had pie, which was truly the best he’d ever tasted. Then they played another game, which Jackson was also enjoying until he realized that something didn’t feel right. When it connected in his mind with little pieces of evidence that had been accumulating through the day, he felt so angry he nearly bolted out of his chair and left the house. He reminded himself to stay calm, but then Chas made another comment about how wonderful Charlotte was, while at the same time giving him a sly smile. He remained disciplined enough to not appear angry as he excused himself and left the room. In the hall he had the choice of going upstairs or outside. Right now, cold air seemed like a good idea. He needed cooling down. He was neither surprised nor disappointed when Chas came out to the porch only a minute behind him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

As he turned, Chas watched his face closely when it came into view under the porch light. She’d tried to tell herself that it was only her imagination that he was angry. But he really
was
angry.

“You bet something’s wrong,” he insisted and took a step toward her. “What are you trying to do in there?”

“Nothing,” she said, pretending she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ You’re as transparent as that window. You’re trying to set me up with her, aren’t you.” She didn’t answer. “Aren’t you!” he shouted in a whisper, not wanting to be overheard.