Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“Where is that?” he’d asked breathlessly.
Apparently, it had been the place Dante Cerreto had run to, away from the world, after leaving the agency. He didn’t have his job, or his love, so he bought an inn in the middle of nowhere and retreated from life. It was originally called Chalk and Key, which sounded like a murder scene. I suspected that was why he didn’t do much business in the beginning.
He went ahead and hired an amazing staff to be ready for good fortune, and then, suddenly, the universe smiled on him. Dante was reunited with the love of his life, Noah Wheeler, and their daughter, Grace, whom he didn’t even know existed, and amazingly, he got a second chance at his happily ever after with the family he’d always wanted.
The three of them ended up living in Bangor, with Dante driving back and forth to the B&B. They couldn’t raise their daughter here; it was too secluded. She needed friends and a good school, and Noah had to work. But years later, when Grace left for college, Dante and Noah made the transition to living full-time in the sleepy little town of Venice. Noah had agreed on the condition that he could make changes. It was a no-brainer for Dante.
The name of the B&B became the Fox’s Glove, for foxglove, the flower, and mostly for Dante, being the hunted fox, having outwitted all his enemies, all those trying to kill him, and ending up safe and prosperous. I liked the logo, a fox wearing gloves with a walking stick. It bordered on kitschy but didn’t trip over into silliness, because really, foxglove was poisonous, so there was a slight hint of danger there.
On the first floor was a small tavern, the Fox’s Den, and as far as I could tell, everyone traveling by or going to the preserve, as well as the townspeople, all drank there. The restaurant, which was always busy, was called the Wren’s Nest, and Dante had visiting chefs, who were all insanely gifted and on the cutting edge of the culinary world, just stopping by. It worked out wonderfully for me and Kurt, as Nevena Conti, who specialized in elevated comfort food, would be the one making our wedding feast.
The rooms, twenty-five in total, were all nature themed with individual names like the Rabbit’s Warren, the Crow’s Bauble, and the Owl’s Nest, done in a warm, inviting rustic colonial style—and, I was glad to see, not one scary, stuffed animal carcass in sight. Everything was vintage but artful, and once the cottage core crowd discovered this jewel in the middle of nature, the B&B was booked for more weddings than Noah could keep up with, sometimes two years in advance. Even though only a select number of people could stay here at once, it could go from being an intimate venue to a very large one with what could be done with all the outdoor space in every season. Dante and Noah owned twenty acres of what everyone called magical woods.
Staying at the B&B for vacations offered canoeing on the small lake, horseback riding, guides to take people out on the many hiking trails, and nature walks to see all kinds of flora and fauna.
Looking at it that day on the computer, I could tell Kurt was enchanted. I saw his eyes glaze over. We had been looking and finding nothing he liked in the city, and as the wedding date kept changing, whenever he found something he did like, it was already reserved for the foreseeable future. But now, somehow, Chris had called in a favor with Dante, who had purposely blocked out the time for me.
“I love this so much,” Kurt had whispered, looking at the outdoor arbor with the flakes falling like a giant snow globe.
“Ours would be in the fall, though. I refuse for our nuptials to bump up against the big holidays when no one can come, or worse, go into the next year.”
“Oh no, fall is the cutoff even if we say screw it and go see the justice of the peace.”
“We’re not doing that,” I promised, knowing how much a wedding in front of all our friends meant to him.
“So you’ll check with your friend about this lovely B and B?”
I didn’t correct him, because what was the point? Dante Cerreto was not my friend, Chris Mancuso was, but that meant nothing to Kurt.
“He is, isn’t he?”
Only Kurt could read the hesitancy on my face.
“George?”
Was Dante my friend? Could I call him that? What was funny was that thinking about it, the answer was yes. In life-and-death situations, people bonded fast.
“I’ll do it now,” I told him.
“Okay, good,” he said with a deep sigh.
And just like that, everything fell into place.
Kurt’s sister had told him in the summer that whatever she had to do to get her family to his wedding in the fall, she would make it happen. When I told her it would be the week before Thanksgiving, in Maine, she was beyond thrilled. When she saw the venue, she was even more excited, and so were the kids. I wanted to hug her so tight for keeping her word, even though I wasn’t surprised. She loved her brother dearly, but she was a bit fond of me as well.