Chapter Six: Morning Coffee
"Everyone says they come to the Vanderwyk Inn for the history," Marty said, lounging in her chair after dinner. The secluded bed and breakfast had a patio that caught all the cool evening breezes. "But the real draw is the fresh air, and the relaxing atmosphere, and the spectacular mountain views!"
"And avoiding the summer heat," Abigail added, hiding a yawn. Marty's gentle, soft-spoken partner was clearly ready for bed.
"But there's no avoiding mosquitoes!" Andy slapped sleepily at the exposed flesh of her bare upper arms. She'd been driving all day, sweltering in a cheap rental car. The air conditioner wasn't working. Now it was dark, and she was relaxing on the patio with her two companions. Tomorrow the Revolutionary War Commemoration would begin, with all sorts or pomp and pageantry. Andy was a little overwhelmed by the daunting schedule her two friends had put together for her. And she had some business to look after for Miranda on the side.
"My word, just look at all those stars!" Plump, white-haired Abigail let her head fall back on the cushions, gazing up at the sky. She and Martha had been sweethearts long before Andy was even born. The dark-haired girl copied her movements unconsciously, crossing her long legs and moodily examining the night sky. There was no reason to feel let down. It was just fatigue from the long drive. The stars were all out and the cool night air felt marvelous. But the truth was that Andy barely noticed the beautiful night sky.
She missed Miranda.
"Busy day tomorrow," Marty announced, in her decisive manner, after a long, sleepy silence. She waved a hand at plump little Abigail, already fast asleep in her chair. "I'll get her to bed, dear. You'd better get some rest as well."
Despite the long drive, Andy couldn't manage to get much sleep. Dreams about Miranda kept her tossing and turning all night. When morning came, she couldn't quite rouse herself in time to answer the brisk, light tap on her door. Marty and Abigail were planning a walk in the woods before breakfast, but after a brief, whispered conversation in the hall they both decided to let Miranda's young friend catch up on her sleep.
"The girl is tired," Marty remarked. "Miranda is very demanding."
"And her job is demanding too," Abigail added innocently.
After the two lovebirds took flight, Andy had breakfast in bed, sipping her coffee and watching the local news on television. Miranda had given her a job to do. She needed to seek out a very rare old book on the birth of fashion at a local used book store. But the store didn't open till afternoon, so she had plenty of time. Andy was just pouring herself another cup of the inn-keeper's addictive freshly-brewed coffee when a local story caught her eye.
"Real Estate queen Evelyn Hunter has her eye on the mountains," gushed a bright-eyed girl reporter who looked about Andy's age. The girl was pretty, in a perky small-town cheerleader sort of way, but she couldn't compare with the sophisticated woman in furs who emerged from a stretch limousine in front of a Fifth Avenue mansion. She looked like the all-powerful queen in a fairy tale.
Evelyn Hunter was utterly gorgeous, a refined blonde with aristocratic features and a knockout body, equally at home in couture or jeans or in the black velvet riding clothes she wore on horseback at her Virginia estate. The perky reporter was gushing about her smarts, her money, and her ambitious plans, but Andy was too busy drinking in the brief, almost tantalizing glimpses of rich and classy Evelyn at work, at her estate, or out on the town.
"And now Evelyn is here in the mountains, getting ready to preside over our annual Colonial Heritage Event! But with traditional tourism in the dumps, does the real estate queen have a secret plan to wake up our sleepy mountain economy?"
Suddenly the news clicked off and it was back to commercials for laundry detergent. Andy finished up her coffee in a hurry, really needing something to get her going after a restless night without much sleep. It seemed like this Evelyn Hunter woman would be at the big colonial dinner Marty and Abigail were so excited about. How amazing would it be to see her or even get to speak to her?
Andy shrugged her shoulders, stepping into a hot shower. No use getting so excited about hobnobbing with the rich and famous. She was here on business, after all. Miranda was counting on her.
But as she closed her eyes and began briskly soaping her breasts, Andy pictured Evelyn Hunter. And she had the strangest feeling that she had heard the woman's name somewhere before.