the village from atop a hill. Matt stopped the van in the circular driveway.
“This looks nice,” Kristin said as they climbed the steps.
“I hope so.” Matt rang the bell. “A guy in the unit recommended it. He used to live in the area.”
She touched the petal of a bright red flower in the window box, but didn’t reply.
The door opened and a tall woman peered through the screen door. “’Afternoon, folks. What can I do for you?”
“I’m Matt Brennan and this is my wife, Kristin. We made a reservation.”
“Sure you did! Come right on in!” She pushed the door wide open. “I was wonderin’ if you’d get here afore suppertime.”
The hall of the house was dim and cool and smelled like roses. Kristin appreciated the gleam of dark woodwork and polished floors. “Your inn is lovely, Mrs….”
“Chisholm. Sadie Chisholm.” She put out a hand to Kristin, and then Matt. “M’husband’s George. He’s asleep right now, but he’ll be up in a little while. I was flxin’ him a snack. You folks hungry?”
Before they could say yes or no, Sadie swept them down the hallway into a bright white kitchen. “Sit down at the table. I got some iced tea, here, and just a few sandwiches.” She put a platter piled high with crustless triangles of bread and cheese in the center of the table. “And some cookies, when you’re finished.”
Kristin sipped from the tall glass of tea. A cold, sweet trickle soothed her throat and eased the headache behind her eyes. “This is wonderful, Mrs. Chisholm.”
“Sadie, honey. Everybody calls me Sadie. You folks come up from Washington today, is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Matt had already finished two sandwiches. He took another. “We’re going to Antietam tomorrow, then Gettysburg.”
Arms crossed over her ample bosom, Sadie nodded. “We get lots of folks wantin’ to see the battlefields. And when there’s one of them reenactments, you won’t find an empty bed this side of Philadelphia.”
“Sadie?” A man’s voice, lighter and thinner than hers, came from the hall. “Who in the world are you talkin’ to?”
“It’s the Brennans, George, come to stay.”
The man stepped into the kitchen and looked them over. He was as thin as his wife was plump, with iron-gray hair and bright blue eyes. “Pleased to meet you.” He shook hands with Matt and nodded at Kristin as he sat down across the table. “See you’ve got ’em fed already, Sadie.”
“Well, the poor things looked half-starved, standin’ out on the porch. Here’s your tea, George.” She rested a hand on his shoulder as she set the glass down. Observing the tenderness of a long-standing marriage, Kristin blinked against the sting of tears.
“Thanks, Mother.” He helped himself to four sandwiches and began to eat. In between bites he asked the same question about where they’d come from and where they were going. “Country gets real crowded when they have them reenactments around here. Hardly room to walk.”
Kristin couldn’t resist a glance at Matt, and found him hiding a smile, his blue eyes dancing.
George finished the tea and three more sandwiches, wiped his chin and stood up. “Let me get you folks’s bags to your room. I’ll move your car round to the back while I’m at it.”
Matt got to his feet. “That’s okay, Mr. Chisholm—just show me where to park. I’ll get the bags.”
“That’s George, young man. You just sit here with your pretty wife a while.” He started down the hallway. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
But Matt followed. “George, you really don’t have to—” The screen door slapped shut. “George!” The door opened and closed again.
Chuckling, Sadie wiped her hands on a towel. “Since that man of yours is well occupied, I’ll show you to your room and give you a chance to put your feet up while I make us some dinner.”
Kristin wasn’t sure she could eat anything else. “Can’t I help with dinner?”
“Nope.” Sadie led the way up the staircase. “All I got to do is set the chicken to frying and take out the biscuits.” Opening a door, she ushered Kristin inside. “You got time for a little nap while I do that.”
The room evoked another century, with lace curtains at the windows, rose-colored velvet on the armchairs and a crocheted canopy draped over the four-poster bed. Kristin stroked a finger over the mahogany dressing table. “This is beautiful, Sadie.”
“Glad you like it.” She turned back the blue-flowered quilt, fluffed the pillows and tucked the sheet more tightly. “This was my mother’s room, and her mother’s afore her.”
Sadie obviously did not plan to leave the room until Kristin laid down. Feeling suddenly sleepy, she decided to cooperate. The sheets were cool, and the light dimmed as Sadie pulled down the shades.
“There now. We’ll call you in plenty of time for supper. You rest easy—gotta take care of that baby you’re carrying.” She closed the door softly.
Kristin barely registered Sadie’s exit. A baby? What is she talking about? I’m not pregnant….
She sat bolt upright on the bed. “Am I?”
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