A/N: THIS IS THE FIRST OF TWO CHAPTERS POSTED TODAY.

He unlocked the front door of the cabin, making a mental note to spray it with WD-40 when it squeaked. He dropped the large duffel bag in his bedroom before going out onto the back porch and sitting down.

Solomon Creek splashed below him. Through the trees, he caught a glint of the morning sun on the lake.

He sighed.

Now I can look forward to the rest of my life.

He wanted to call Elsie, but knew she would be in Lexington most of the day.

He prayed Becky and Adam would not be too angry with her. Or with him.

00000000000

Three years before

The Waikiki beach was crowded. Elsie smiled, enjoying the sunset, before going up to her suite.

Hawaii was beautiful. But she was tired of sand and of living out of her suitcase.

As if you've ever done anything else. Perhaps it is time for a change.

She sank down on the bed, thinking. Beryl's offer was very tempting. Becky's sister-in-law had called her earlier that day and offered her the job of manager at The Red Fox. Ruby Patmore had passed away a week before. Elsie felt a lump in her throat. Despite only meeting her a few times at family gatherings, she felt the loss of a dear woman.

The restaurant had become very popular, especially in the last five years. Beryl was capable of managing, but as head chef, it would be impossible for her to do both. It was almost a full-time job to handle bookings and other events. Not to mention coordinating frequently with the staff at the Downton Hotel.

Elsie had managed several luxurious historic establishments before becoming a consultant. To her peers, Beryl's restaurant would appear to be a major downgrade.

But she was ready to put roots down somewhere. And managing The Red Fox would mean being only a couple of hours drive away from her closest family.

That made the difference.

She accepted the offer.

0000000000

"I'm very impressed," Elsie said as she and Beryl finished the tour. "The staff is professional, and I see very little that needs to be improved."

"Thank you," Beryl blushed. "Most of the staff are local kids, with a couple of exceptions. They'll be pleased to meet with your approval."

"Really," Elsie laughed. "If we're going to work together, there's no need to be so formal. I may have worked at some fancy places, but I'm not that fancy myself."

"That's good to know, since I'm not either," Beryl smiled. Elsie went to her office to organize her desk and to look over the accounts.

It was better than she had hoped. The Red Fox had a cozy atmosphere, with a touch of sophistication that made it perfect both for the locals' breakfasts as well as hosting a fundraising dinner for the Governor. She hadn't yet seen much of the Downton, but so far it too seemed to fit.

She was sitting in a booth eating her lunch when Beryl approached, followed by a tall man.

Her heart skipped several beats.

Charles Carson.

Seventeen years had not changed him much. He had more lines on his face, but his bearing was as distinguished as ever.

I completely forgot he owned the hotel.

"I don't know if you remember, but this is Mr. Charles Carson, the owner of the Downton," Beryl said. "Charlie, Elsie Hughes, my new manager."

"I remember you," Elsie said, standing up and swallowing a bite of salad too fast. She turned her head and coughed for several seconds into her elbow before shaking his hand. "Sorry," she whispered, her eyes tearing up. "I just-" she grabbed her napkin and coughed some more into it.

"I should apologize," he said, looking concerned. "I've interrupted your lunch." His deep voice made her stomach flutter. She wiped her eyes and mouth, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Not at all. I was nearly finished."

"Charlie, what time would work best for you to meet about the conference next month?" Beryl turned to Elsie. "You said around half past three?" She nodded.

"That would be fine," Charles gave Elsie a small smile. "I'll see you both then. I do remember you," he said softly. "At Adam and Becky's wedding. You were an excellent maid of honor. I was the not-quite best man."

"You were, not to worry," Elsie said without thinking. He gave her a quick nod before leaving with Beryl.

Elsie sat down and put her head on the table.

Why is it every time I'm around him I'm embarrassed?

00000000000

Life settled into a smooth pattern. She worked six days a week, switching between days depending on if there was an event to run. Her apartment was small. It sat on the second floor of a building which housed a clothing store on the edge of town. She could walk almost anywhere.

The river was across the road from her building, and she loved to go sit on one of the benches next to it and read. She met Phyllis Molesley, the local florist, and her husband Joe. She had heard about Phyllis from Thomas Barrow, and his description, for once, fit. She liked the quiet woman immediately. Bill Mason, the local grocer, became another fast friend, as did Anna Smith, who was engaged to Charles's cousin. She was much younger than Elsie, but both women understood what it meant to survive rough childhoods.

She felt as though she had known Beryl forever. Other than some friction over who should be in charge of the supply orders, they got along like a house on fire. For the first time, Elsie felt she was home.

Then there was Charles Carson.

She saw him occasionally in meetings, or while he ate breakfast. About a month after she arrived, there was a staff shortage in both the restaurant and the hotel for several days due to a flu outbreak. Those that were lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to dodge the bullet worked double shifts and did everything possible to keep things running.

He was shocked to find her in the hotel laundry one morning, washing towels and bedding.

"What are you doing? You don't have to do that," he said, opening a dryer and emptying it. "You've got enough to do, helping Beryl."

"We all do what we can, Mr. Carson," she said, too tired to explain that she'd done virtually every job in the hospitality industry. "We can't have guests sleep on dirty sheets. Then they won't stay for breakfast." She looked up from the washer in time to see him standing blankly in front of the dryer, almost nodding off. "You'll make yourself ill, you've not had three hours of sleep in the last two days."

He started, waking from his doze, and put a hand on her arm lightly as she left to go back to the restaurant.

"Thank you, Elsie. I really appreciate your help. More than you know," he said before gathering the linens to fold and take upstairs. "You should try to go home this morning. You're tired as well. I'm used to it," he said with a wry grin. She nodded in response.

As she hurried across the lobby, she knew if she went home she'd never sleep. He couldn't possibly know what his touch did to her.

Nor would he ever know.