long ago, I’d say that’s progress. Still, we’d better establish a neutral zone at the inn if we’re going to be running our businesses under the same roof.”
Pike raised an eyebrow in mock offense. “Sir, you underestimate me. I’m a lawyer, you know.”
“Exactly.” Cy jerked his head to the side. “You know that guy? His name’s Carson Spooley, but he’s undercover or something.”
Rosa looked closer. “That’s Carson Spooley? He’s shorter than I thought.”
Cy groaned. “Okay, I give. Who is Carson Spooley? Astronaut? Rock star? Pro golfer?”
Rosa laughed, her brown eyes twinkling. “You really don’t get out enough, Cy.”
“I guess I’m too busy on redecorating jobs with you.”
The reception room door was pushed open so hard it slammed into the wall. Irene beelined in, mouth in a tight smile that came nowhere near adding cheer to her face. Once again, she took hold of Cy’s arm. This time she hauled him out the door. “Right this way, Mr. Franco. There’s something we need to discuss.”
“Can’t it wait?” he asked. “We’re almost ready to cut the cake. It’s strawberry with a cream cheese filling.” And it had been a real pain to convince Irene to allow them to bring in the outside caterer they’d already spent a chunk of change on in the first place. He was going to enjoy every last morsel right down to the dessert.
“You don’t deserve cake. Now that I think about it, a dungeon with no refreshment at all might suit better, and I’m pretty sure we have a brig around here someplace.”
As Cy was dragged along, his father appeared in the corridor, clutching a pink shawl. “Hey, son. Party’s that way.”
“He’s got something to take care of,” Irene said grimly.
Cy should have been unhappy being escorted away from the wedding, but he couldn’t summon up too much angst about it. His father was clear-eyed and alert, to his great relief. It was the beginning of Rosa’s life with Pike and Manny’s second life with Bitsy, and aside from disastrous decor, it had been a smashing send-off for both couples. Whatever was upsetting Irene “The Dragon Lady” Hershey could be dealt with.
“Need me to help out with something?” Manny asked. “I’ll just give this to Bits and then I’ll find you.”
“Nah, we’re fine,” Cy called, though they were almost out of earshot thanks to Irene’s pace. “Just save me a piece of cake, one with lots of icing. And a rosette. I want a rosette, for sure.”
They pressed on.
“Oh, hey.” He peered down and realized the carpet running along the floor was soaked. “You’ve got a leak. That’s not my thing. I don’t know anything about plumbing, so if you wanted my two cents on this, you’re barking up the wrong pipe wrench.”
She didn’t answer until they reached the door of a familiar stateroom.
His stateroom.
Something tickled at his memory.
The lady in white. But before that, splashing water onto his face.
Dropping the washcloth into the sink.
One crystal tear on that perfect cheek.
His mad dash out the door.
And from far away, the sound of water running in the sink behind him.
Uh-oh.
After an examination of the bog-like conditions in his stateroom, he followed Irene to a conference room opposite the wedding reception. Rosa caught his eye through the window. He waved and gave her an “everything is perfect in the universe” smile.
He tried to ready a defense as he sat in the chair opposite Irene. After a moment, he gave up. “I got nothing. I’m a doofus and I left the faucet running. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you are a doofus. What kind of a grown-up leaves the tap on in his stateroom?”
“It’s like this,” he said. “I saw, I mean there was this reflection, a kind of a something that startled me, you see, and I ran out the door so fast I...” He broke off. “Let’s just go with doofus. I’ll pay for the damages.”
“You bet your sweet navel you will, but not in the way you think.”
He felt a tingle along his spine, the same kind of tingle he got when he encountered dry rot on a building project. “Come again?”
“Your stateroom carpet is ruined.”
“Er, yes.”
“Most likely the flooring underneath as well.”
“Okay...”
“And the hall carpet is completely saturated, so the six rooms along that length will have to remain unoccupied until it can be replaced.”
“I...”
“Let’s do a math lesson here. Couple thousand for the carpet and wood repair. Six rooms times two hundred dollars per night, times two weeks.”
Cy’s left temple began to throb as he calculated the cost of flooring alone.
“So we’re getting into the sixteen-thousand-dollar range. Maybe more. Very inconvenient, especially since we’ve got an unusually big group boarding at the end of the month.” She waved a hand. “You’ve racked up a nice bill of damages, Mr. Franco.”
“No problem. I can pay it.” If he sold his truck and depleted his savings account, it might be enough.
“The curtains are ruined, also. Did I mention that? They have to be custom-made, of course, as they’re an odd size.”
His other temple began to pulse.
“I think it’s safe to say that’s another couple hundred added on. I’m so glad we have that clause in the event contract that the contractee is responsible for any damages to the River King caused by event attendees. That’s smart, isn’t it?”
“Smart.” Cy wondered how much he could get for a kidney. He had a spare, after all. “Um, what happens if I can’t quite come up with the cash all at once?”
“I thought you might say that.” She gave him a smile that was scarier than Jack Nicholson’s in The Shining.
IT WAS NEARLY 11:00 p.m. when Cy Franco was finally able to take off his ridiculous shoes. He sat on a chair in the empty reception room considering the offer he could not refuse. The Godfather himself would have been impressed.
His brain tried to put things in order, but his body was afire with nervous energy. He finally dropped to the floor and started in on some push-ups to clear
