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“Sure, thank you, and my friend will probably like a cup, too. If I’m not mistaken, I smell buttermilk biscuits—
“Yes.” She pours my mug, then turns Savannah’s over and does the same for her. “Breakfast today is biscuits with whipped butter, a homemade berry compote, orange curd, bacon, and eggs to order made by Geoffrey. Would you like any of that?”
“I’d like all of it, if that’s okay.”
She smiles wider. “A woman after my own heart. How would you like your eggs?”
“Over easy, please.”
“Of course.” As she walks away, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Savannah practically bounces into the dining room. It never fails to amaze me how she can go from sound asleep to sunshine personified in a matter of moments.
“Good morning. Did you sleep?”
“Eventually. You?”
“Like a log. It’s a good thing we didn’t share a room, because I think I might have kept you up all night with my snoring.”
I chuckle, and Ellen returns for Savannah’s order. Once the food comes, I cannot help myself. I devour biscuits until I am stuffed, and so does Savannah. “Ellen, these are the best biscuits I have had since I left Virginia. What’s your secret?”
“No secret at all. My recipe calls for both buttermilk powderandliquid buttermilk. And no skimping on the butter, either. A proper biscuit will put weight on you.”
“No argument here. And please let Geoffrey know the eggs were perfect.”
“I will.”
The other guests get up and leave, and it feels strange not to pay for breakfast. I suppose they imply it in the name, but I didn’t think we would actually get a free breakfast out of staying at a Bed and Breakfast.
Savannah moans, “We should walk to the beach for our digestion.”
“Sounds like a plan. It’s not far, and I could use the exercise after all that.”
We pack up for the beach and head out. It’s a bright, sunny day. A warm breeze catches my hair. Blue water languidly laps at the shore, while seabirds call out above us. Sand and sea in either direction and not too many tourists. Since the B&B is far from the MacMillan job site, I doubt the resort will spoil their end of the beach and I can enjoy it without the possibility of guilt ruining the morning.
Towels down, we lay out. Savannah yawns. “I am totally buying a vacation home out here. Or moving out here. I love it.”
“There are worse places in the world.”
She laughs. “Gee, that’s a ringing endorsement.”
“What do you want me to say? I haven’t seen much of the town, so it seems a little premature to talk about moving here. Though, admittedly, Somerset Harbor has its charms.”
“Oh? Are you coming around to not hating it?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
After an hour of morning sun and gulls stopping by in hopes of food, we pack it in and decide to see the downtown boutiques. Pretty sure Savannah is trying to convince me Somerset Harbor is exactly where we should both live, because she takes me around with the enthusiasm of a child. “...and see? Isn’t it just as cute as I said?”
I hadn’t realized she wanted to walk into literally every single shop on Main Street, so my mood is less than favorable. “Itiscute.”
“Can’t you just picture yourself here, on a Saturday morning walking with your two-point-five kids and a husband—"
“Okay, I’m gonna stop you there. That’s your fantasy, Savannah, not mine.”
She bounces her shoulders in a shrug. “Well, I can see myself doing that. They have a lot of great clothes, that shop does custom furniture. There’s an ice cream place just down the road. I think we should go there. After the three shops between here and there.”
“You’re determined to burn off those biscuits, aren’t you?”
“Oh my gosh, they were so good. But now, I think a little more shopping is in order.” She beams and drags me into another boutique.
