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Dean laughed and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. He took mine by the handle and started wheeling it toward the front door of the Ashford Inn.
Inside, we found a cozy little lobby that looked old and as perfectly maintained as the exterior. There was a section off to our left that looked more new. From what I could tell, it was a restaurant that might’ve been added recently. There was a clatter of plates and happy voices coming from the dining room and some absolutely incredible smells drifting our way, too.
A boy who might have only been twelve or thirteen was standing behind the counter with his nose in a book. He looked up when he saw me and smiled. “Welcome to the Ashford Inn, where all your dreams come true. For a small donation of–”
“Billy!” A little girl whacked him on the head as she came out from a room behind the counter. “Sorry about him,” she said, smiling sweetly. She looked a few years younger, but I judged her to be the responsible one of the two. “If you asked Billy what he wants to be when he grows up, he’d tell you it’s a turd.”
Billy gave her a little shove. “And you wouldn’t have to wait till you grow up, Molly. Because you’re already a turd!”
Responsible or not, the girl took his bait and began whacking him with her palm. Billy laughed, dodging and returning her swats with little shoves. Before it turned into a full out brawl, an elderly man with a rounded belly and a beard emerged from the back room. “Alright, alright. We get it. You’re both right. Now go in the back and fight to the death. Turds,” he added with a grin.
The two of them glowered on their way into the back room. The old man dusted his hands and favored us with blue eyes and a kind smile. “I apologize for the runts. Around here, people usually just call me Old Man Ashford or Old Mr. Ashford. Geezer works, too.”
“Not a problem,” Dean said. “Cute kids. They yours?”
“Hah!” Old Mr. Ashford grinned. “Great grandkids, actually. My son doesn’t live in town, but his kids do. So, am I right to assume you two are part of the wedding party? You folks have been rolling in here all day long.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Pearl Moreno and Dean Slater.”
“A doting couple, if you were wondering.” Dean pulled me into his side and kissed my temple.
The “no touching” rule was apparently impossible for him. It was like telling a dog not to nibble on a bone.
Old Mr. Ashford smiled, then pulled a set of keys off a rack of hooks lining the wall. He placed them in my palm, giving me a wink. “You look like the one I can trust with the keys. Not sure about that big one, yet.”
“Definitely don’t trust him,” I agreed. “He’s trouble.”
“Your room is on the second floor, all the way at the back. You’ll have a nice view of the river, but that bed creaks. Sorry. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but I usually just don’t book that room. Your party filled us up and now I’m wishing I’d gotten around to it.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll be careful with the bed.”
I could practically feel Dean’s dirty thoughts twisting my words around in his head. I shot him a glare, which he returned with an innocent shrug.
“My granddaughter-in-law, Harper, runs that restaurant over there. The groom paid ahead, so if you want to eat there, your meals are already covered. Just try to give us notice if you’re planning to stop in, because they fill up almost every day for lunch and dinner. Hmm, what else…” Old Mr. Ashford pulled on his white beard like a thoughtful wizard, eyes searching the room. “Well, if you like animals, my grandson, Zack, runs a rescue operation. He loves when people come by to give those animals attention. Or if you’re looking for a romantic night, we’ve got the old theater. It only seats about twelve, and sometimes the projector goes on the fritz, but the place is a real charmer. Like something right out of my days. We’ve also got a drive-in theater we set up most weekends. Oh, and we’re having a town bonfire tonight. It’s a bit of a weekend tradition for us Fairhopers, but you’re all invited. We’d love the company.”
I smiled. “Thank you. That all sounds really lovely.”
The kids in the back room started shouting and we heard something heavy fall to the ground. Old Mr. Ashford gave the door a tired look. “Looks like I’ve got to be the big bad grandpa again. Sorry folks, duty calls. But please, get comfortable. Treat this place like your home, now, understand?”
I nodded.
Dean put his arm around my shoulder and nodded as well. “Sounds good. Thanks for the info,” Dean said.
