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“My luggage!” At the sight of the grey and pink oversized, overstuffed duffel bag slung over Maria’s slender frame, she felt her heart lighten for the first time since she left home. She didn’t realize how little she had until something that was hers before was right in front of her, back in her possession. Tess only just resisted the urge to reach out and snatch it off of Maria’s arm. “Oh my god, thank you. I never thought to ask for it.”
Maria placed her tray down on the nightstand beside the bed. “Don’t thank me. Deputy Walsh dropped it by. He wanted to make sure you were doing fine.”
“Oh.” Some of her happiness died away at Maria’s admission. She vaguely remembered that the deputy said he’d bring her her luggage. Checking up on her so soon, though? Tess wasn’t sure what to make of that. “How… nice of him.”
Nice nothing, Maria bet. She had known Mason her whole life. That man might seem like the perfect deputy. She never fully bought into his act. From the time he was a ten-year-old brat who insisted on claiming the best-looking cupcake in the lunchroom as his due, she watched as Mason did whatever he had to to get whatever he wanted.
She recognized the gleam in his dark eyes when he asked about the outsider. He wanted her. Unfortunately for him, she also knew her brother very well. She didn’t understand it, wouldn’t question it, but Maria knew who she was pulling for. No matter what, she would always stand in Lucas’s corner.
“Sure. He also wanted to remind you to have something to eat. I managed to shoo him out when I showed him I was on my up with your supper.” She gestured to the plate on the tray. “I make homemade chicken pot pies on Sundays. It’s my favorite stick-to-your-ribs, comfort food. I thought you might like one. Anyone needs some comfort, sweetie, it’s you.”
“You're bringing me dinner?”
“I know Ophelia’s supposed to be a bed and breakfast but, hey, I like to cook. Eat what you can and I’ll come back to pick up the dishes in a bit. Anything else I can get for you?”
Tessa glanced at the tray. Maria had provided utensils, napkins and a glass of ice water along with the crispy, golden-brown pot pie. It looked amazing and, though her stomach was queasy, she had to admit it smelled delicious.
She shook her head. “I think I have everything already. That was really nice of you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just doing my job. Eat up. I’ll knock when I come back.” With a wave, Maria started to head back through the open door. Just as she stepped over the threshold, though, she paused, then turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Locks automatically engage at nine. The doors open again at seven. If you need to get in or out during those hours, please let me know in advance so that I can take care of it.”
“Locks?” Tess repeated. She knew her head was heavy, and she’d had a terrible shock, but she didn’t know what the other woman meant. “What kind of locks? I don’t understand.”
Maria looked uneasy. She tucked her hair behind her ears, staring at a point on the wall about two feet to the left of Tessa as she entered the room again. “Ophelia’s doors have a dual lock system. You can lock the door on the inside yourself if you want privacy. But, for the safety of me and my guests, there’s an outer lock. Once it goes on, it’s like the whole house is on lockdown. I can’t change it once it’s set.”
“Don't you— I mean, isn't that a little much?”
“It was Luc’s idea. He insisted. It was the only way he’d let me even think about letting guests stay again.”
“And you're sure that’s...”
Tess didn’t want to accuse Maria of anything, but she couldn’t think of a nice way of saying legal without implying that what she was doing was illegal. Which, she was pretty sure, locking the whole house down without giving her guests a choice had to be. This was supposed to be a bed and breakfast, not a jail.
She let her words hang in the air.
“I know what you’re saying,” Maria replied, “but I gave up fighting with Lucas years ago. Let’s just say, when your brother has an in with the sheriff and an overprotective streak a mile wide, little things like ‘should he do it’ don’t really matter as much as you'd think.”
From what Tess knew of the doctor, he was level-headed, the type of man to keep cool during a crisis. To go so far as to install a lockdown system in a rural bed and breakfast that would rival one in an institution seemed at odds with the image Lucas tried to project. It didn’t make any sense to her.
“Why would he insist on locks? It seems so—” Again, Tess had to choose her words carefully. Her first instinct was to use dangerous. Instead, she settled on: “—so extreme.”
“Well, it might’ve been because of Mack Turner.” Maria thought about it for a second before nodding. “No, that’s not right. It’s definitely because of Turner.”
Tess wasn’t sure if she was supposed to know anything about a Mack Turner. A lot of the last day and a half was a blur for her. Some parts remained crystal clear, while others had a cottony haze surrounding them. Perhaps she met this Turner guy, or someone told her about someone with that name. It sort of sounded familiar. Maybe. She wasn’t ready to swear that she knew who Maria was talking about.
Her confusion was obvious. “Nobody told you about Turner?” Maria guessed.
“I don’t think so. Were they supposed to?”
“Maybe not. I mean, it was a bit of a secret when it happened, but there’s no such thing as a secret in Hamlet. You’ll see. You can’t take a crap here without at least three people knowing when you flush.”
Tess couldn’t stop the snort of laughter. She would've thought it was too soon to find anything funny. That was before she met Lucas’s sister. Maria was the first person in Hamlet that didn’t look at her as a conquest, a victim or a suspect.
It was obvious that the doctor had filled her in on Tessa’s story the second they met in the kitchen but Maria wasn’t treating her any different; the comment about comfort food was the closest she’d come to even touching on the effects of Jack’s murder.
She got the feeling that Maria was the sort of woman who often ran with what life gave her, no questions asked. Her brother dumped the prime lead in a man’s murder into her care and she served her a handmade chicken pot pie while talking about bathroom habits in a small town.
“Don’t mind me. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain. What was I saying before?” She reached up, fingering the beautiful silver cross she wore on a delicate chain around her neck. “Sorry, I was talking about Turner. No wonder my mind wanders.”
