Bitsy interjected.
“And consider the fact that it was christened in 1927. Can you get over it?”
“That’s amazing, but, Cy...”
“The old boat is fixed up like a modern hotel. It’s a travesty. Ignoring all that incredible history.”
“Honey, can you focus for a minute? I need to tell you something.”
Cy shook away the pull of history. “Sorry. Rosa usually just gives me a smack on the back of the head. What’s up?”
There was a tap on the kitchen door. On the other side of the screen, a compact older man, neatly groomed, holding a birdcage, smiled at them from under the brim of his fedora. “Good morning.”
Baggy looked up from his eggs and swiped his tongue over his crooked mouth.
Cy smiled back. “Hey, there. Can we help you with something?”
“I was just letting you know I’m here.”
“Lovely,” Bitsy said. “Would you care for some breakfast?”
“No, thanks. My niece is here to help me unload.” He tipped his hat. To his knowledge, Cy had never seen a man actually tip his hat. Neither had he seen someone strolling the gardens with a parakeet. He hadn’t realized parakeets needed walking.
“Welcome to the Pelican,” Bitsy said. “Please let us know if there’s any way we can help you.”
The man tipped his hat once more and sidled away.
Cy shot a glance at Bitsy. “I am getting the sense that you’ve been trying to tell me something.”
Manny grinned. “Finally sank in, did it? Bitsy rented out the carriage house to Boris the birdcage man.”
Cy frowned. “I thought we were out of the innkeeping business.”
Bitsy waved a hand. “It’s just the carriage house, and he is welcome to cook for himself in the kitchen. That’s all. We’re not providing meals or linen service or anything.”
“But you and Pops aren’t here all the time, and I’m going to be busy with the River King. Who’s going to keep an eye on things?”
She waved a hand. “Boris doesn’t need keeping an eye on, and to be blunt, you all need the money.”
“We don’t...”
“Pike spent every penny on this inn, and his law practice is struggling. Dollars and Sense was just beginning to fledge when you, well...” She blushed.
He sighed. “Landed us in a mess with the flood damage I’ve caused.”
Bitsy patted his hand. “Eight hundred dollars a month will help until things straighten out, don’t you think?”
“Did you check out his credentials, at least?”
“He’s a shuttle driver. He gave us a ride home from the airport after our honeymoon last month, and I told him about the Pelican. He called me up yesterday and asked if we had a room to rent. How could I resist?”
Manny finished the last of his eggs. “Quit worrying, son. Guy isn’t an ax murderer or anything.”
Bitsy nodded. “Mr. Brindle is charming.”
Cy choked on a mouthful of coffee. “Brindle? That’s not Boris Brindle, is it?”
“Yes.” Bitsy frowned. “Do you know him?”
“Oh, I know of him. And you’re right, he’s not an ax murderer.” Cy pushed out his chair so violently that Baggy leapt for cover. “He’s a thief.”
CY CHARGED OUT OF the kitchen, followed by an agitated Bitsy and Manny. Baggy managed to streak through before the door slammed shut.
Boris Brindle. The name rippled through Cy like an electric shock. What were the chances he’d run into Piper and her criminal uncle in the span of two days? He spied Boris as he stood surveying the lush garden and chicken coop, shaded by the twining clematis vines. Boris put the parakeet cage down on the carriage house porch step and breathed in a lungful of fresh air with the appearance of a completely satisfied man.
Cy was not swayed. He covered the distance in ten angry steps.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brindle, but my aunt was mistaken. We don’t have a room for you here.”
Boris did not lose his smile. “Oh? Did I misunderstand?”
Bisty shook her head. “No, you did not. Cy Franco, this is the rudest thing I’ve ever seen. What has gotten into you?”
“You don’t know this man, Aunt Bitsy.”
Boris cocked his head. “And I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, either, have we?”
Cy wasn’t about to say, “Three years ago I fell in love with your niece, and instead of accepting my marriage proposal she was driving a getaway car for you.”
“No, we’ve never met, but let’s just say I know about you, and you’re not welcome here.”
Boris reached for his parakeet cage. “No harm done. My mistake.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Bitsy snapped. “I offered him a room here, Cy.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. We aren’t an inn now, and you don’t—” He stopped short of saying the rest. You don’t own the Pelican anymore. She knew what he’d been about to say. He could see it in her expression. He felt like ripping out his own tongue.
Tears welled in her cornflower-blue eyes.
“Aw, Aunt Bitsy,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m a clod.”
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right.” She swallowed. “I’m not the owner, and I didn’t have the right to rent out a room without checking with you or Pike or Rosa. I’m sorry.”
Idiot, Cy. What a jerk to make your aunt feel worthless. “Of course you did. You’ll always be an important decision-maker here.” He drew her away from Boris. Manny followed.
“It’s just that Boris Brindle is a thief, a criminal,” he said, voice low.
Manny pursed his lips and gave Boris a once-over. “Doesn’t look like one. How do you know that?”
“Yes,” said a sharp voice as Piper appeared along the path, holding a full cardboard box with a pair of slippers peeking out of the top. “How do you know that?”
What parallel Brindle universe had he been sucked into? Cy checked again. Yes, he was standing in the gardens of
