Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
He got his bags and showered and got into bed, restless, wondering what the hell his next move was. Was he just going to mosey around the town hoping to bump into her? Even if she was in Stars Landing... was that likely? He could seek out her parents. It seemed like the place she was most likely to stay.
He fell to sleep, uneasy though the bed was comfortable and the world outside was shockingly quiet.
–
He woke up and dressed, wishing suddenly that he packed something other than a suit. He was sure to stick out like a sore thumb in a small town wearing a three-piece designer suit. But it was all he had so he dressed as usual and made his way down the staircase, the inn abuzz with noise in complete contrast to the quiet from the night before.
Elliott walked toward the dining room, hoping he could grab a cup of coffee to-go and be on his way. He hadn't expected such a crowd. The inn couldn't possibly have held more than eight rooms, but there was at least thirty people in the dining room. A few of the tables, tourists certainly, gabbed excitedly. The other tables, locals he assumed, fell quiet seeing him standing in the doorway.
Like a sore thumb, he thought wryly.
From the corner of the room, he spotted Emily, her hair in another neat ponytail and dressed in black slacks and a tight black wrap shirt which highlighted her slightness all the more. "Take a seat, Mr. Michaels," she yelled across the dining room, "someone will be right with you."
Elliott struggled with the urge to just turn and leave. He didn't want to sit down. He wanted a to-go coffee. But the interested gaze of all the diners kept him from bolting and he took a seat at a small table meant for two with a floral tablecloth.
A moment later, a young male waiter, everything about him pressed and pristine put down a coffee cup for him and poured it without him having asked. He pulled a menu out of nowhere and placed it in front of him. "Just let me know whenever you are ready," he said, efficient, not chatty or overly friendly. He belonged in a prissy hotel in Paris, not a small town inn. But Elliott appreciated the lack of familiarity. He didn't need to make friends with all the locals.
He ended up ordering a big breakfast of eggs scrambled hard, bacon, and hash browns, finding he was actually quite famished. He had four cups of coffee and left an obnoxiously large tip to the young waiter who took it with a "thank you" that he assumed he used whether he was left fifty cents or the fifty dollars
Elliott left him. But before he left, he noticed the young man had given him a to-go cup of coffee without having been asked. It always paid to be generous with anyone in the service industry.
Stars Landing was a flurry of activity as he walked down the main street. People walked in and out of stores with bags, groups stood on the sidewalks or even in the streets talking, all laughs and smiles. Happy, small town people.
He had expected a lot of stares and while he did get a lot of curious looks, he also got dozens of pleasant "hellos" like he belonged there, like he wasn't some suit-wearing outsider on their turf for unknown reasons.
He had just passed the diner, the big windows full of families having breakfast, despite it being a week day. He saw a gas station with a mechanic shop he had missed the night before, thankful because he was low on fuel.
"Excuse me, handsome," a voice called out excitedly. He kept walking, not registering it was being directed at him. "Take it easy on a lady, I ain't no spring chicken anymore," she called, closer this time and Elliott stopped, realizing she was speaking to him. He turned to find a middle aged woman with a slightly heavy build and a long black braid down her back. Her face was unusually wrinkle free, the skin naturally tight and a rich, deep brown. "There ya go. Good."
"Can I help you?" Elliott asked, his voice a sight more friendly than he had been the night before to pretty Emily.
The woman laughed, causing at least five strings of beads to beat against her chest. "Oh you don't have to pull that 'I better be nice to the old broad' thing with me. I know you're one sour man usually."
"Do I know you?" he asked, his voice his usual clipped tone.
"Oh, heavens no. No. How could you think that? I ain't never seen you before nor you me. No. I am Maude. Maude Mays. I knew you were here last night but that was an unnatural hour to come calling. So, I just waited. Anywho. The Clary's house is the other way. Back toward the inn. Take a right down the next street. It says Pine Berry Lane. They live at fourteen." she said, turning as if to walk away.