Demarien looked over his shoulder, smiling immediately. “Mostly the mushrooms.”
Haley appeared in the doorway, dressed nicely in black slacks and a white button-down shirt, her long brown hair neatly arranged in a braid. She leaned against the frame, blinking slowly.
Demarien danced to the corner and poured her a cup of coffee, dressing it just how she liked it. He twirled across the room and handed it to her.
“Why are you so adorable?” she asked quietly, sipping her coffee. “Oh, don’t answer that. I know you were born that way.”
“Today is our first brunch,” he said excitedly. “Did you see all the cars outside? Half the town came.”
A half smile pulled at her lips. “What do you need me to do?”
“There’s still time for catastrophe, but I think I have it handled. Are the tables set?”
Haley stopped behind Demarien and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Both dining rooms are ready to go.”
Demarien grinned and wiggled in place. “Our first meal, Haley.”
“That’s a lot of eggs. Did you get competitive with eggs again?”
He laughed under his breath. “The eggs started it.”
She watched him fold the soft scrambled eggs slowly through the pan, careful and patient. Demarien cooked with total concentration and an odd amount of affection.
On the counter sat halved strawberries, fresh biscuits wrapped in a towel, and a bowl of batter waiting for the griddle.
“You made homemade biscuits, too?” Haley asked.
“Of course.” He gave her a sharp look. “What kind of cook do you take me for?”
“Apparently, a southern grandmother.” She laughed and went back to the door. “We open in five minutes. Do you want to greet your customers?”
Demarien squealed. “Yes! Will you watch the eggs?”
“Sure.”
“Coffee’s made. Orange juice is fresh-squeezed. Can’t serve liquor yet, so no cocktails to make.”
Haley snapped a towel at him. “Go.”
Demarien pouted, then hurried out the door, peeking in at the two dining areas first. Cozy tables with mismatched padded chairs were evenly spaced throughout each room, with fresh flowers in the middle of each. The fireplaces in each room were roaring, warming the space while the rain pelted against the windows.
Milo stood at the front door, grinning. “Are you ready?”
Demarien nodded and took a big breath before opening the door.
Boone and Joe were the first to walk in, both men wearing proud smiles. Wilma-Jean and Sammie were next, then the women of the mystery book club that had been around longer than Demarien had been alive.
“Welcome to Myrtlewood Inn. I hope you brought your appetites.” He couldn’t stop his grin, even if he had wanted to.
“We certainly did.” Sammie wiped her eyes. “I’m so proud of you boys. This place has never looked better.”
“Can we get a tour after brunch?” One of the book club ladies asked. “We’d like to see the study.”
Milo’s smile flickered. “Of course, you do. I can guide you around.”
Joe hugged Demarien as more people gathered at the door. “Show us our seats, son. Gosh, this place looks good.”
Milo held out elegantly designed menus. “How many in your party?”
