The inn bulged to its capacity, swelling. All twenty-four rooms were booked through the patriotic holiday. Breakfasters filled the main dining area. Guests chattered around the four tables. David stood near the coffee bar.
I moved up to him and he provided me with a pleasant, “Good morning, friend,” and a cup of coffee with matching saucer. “Shall we sit?” he asked.
“Somewhere private. It’s quite noisy in here.”
“Agreed. Let’s go to my office.”
I followed him to his office with my cup of coffee.
The room sat behind the lobby and Maddy’s post: tiny, oblong, no windows, stuffy. He kept the area tidy. Everything had a home. Neat filing system. Neat desk. Neat all around. He sat behind his desk and I sat opposite him. Hanging over his head was an oil painting of the inn; a rare original b
