Bill and Erik

Chapter 1-2

Around eleven, Bill went out to the foyer to see how his mother was doing. Not that he had any doubts about her handling the front desk. She’d done it for years when she and his father were running the B&B.

“Mr. and Mrs. Greene, I hope you enjoyed your stay,” he said to an older couple who were checking out.

“Of course we did. We always do,” Mrs. Greene replied, patting his arm. “We’ve already reserved the Molly Brown suite for our anniversary.” She sighed. “I hope it holds off snowing until afterward.”

“You and me, both,” Bill said with a smile. They were semi-regular guests, so he knew their anniversary was in early November, when there was a definite chance it would snow, but not heavily. The heavy snow usually didn’t start until around Thanksgiving. From then until well into March, Middleton would have more than its fair share of storms, although, thankfully, the state kept the highway plowed—a must because there was a large ski resort approximately twenty miles east of town. But real snow was still over a month away since it was only late September.

“Here, let me,” Bill said when Mr. Greene started to pick up their luggage. There were only two bags, but they were old-fashioned ones, without wheels. Bill followed the Greenes out to their car, then put the bags in the trunk. “We’ll be looking forward to seeing you in a November,” he said. “Drive carefully.”

Mr. Greene chuckled. “As if I have a choice, with her playing co-pilot.”

Bill watched as they drove away, turning left onto the bridge over the river which would take them to the highway.

He was about to head back inside when Mattie drove into the lot, so he waited for her. “How did it go at the doctor’s?” he asked.

Positively beaming, she replied, “It’s going to be a boy. Mike will be ecstatic.”

“Fantastic.”

Mike was her husband. He owned the Roman Candle, one of the gift shops in town. It, Polly’s, and China Berry Floral, which also has gifts, were on Main Street. Middleton Collective, a co-op made up of artists and makers of hand-crafted furniture, was next door to the Roman Candle. The Studio 25 Shops took up two buildings in the north-west corner of town, behind the school.

“Now I have to survive the next six months,” she grumbled, although from the look on her face, she didn’t have any problem with the idea at all.

As soon as they were in the foyer, Mattie hurried over to tell Carol the good news, and take over the front desk. Bill headed upstairs to make certain that Shelly and Teresa, the two young women who were the B&B’s maids, were doing their jobs. Not that he had any doubts, but it was part of his daily routine.

Teresa came out of the Zebulon Pike room, carrying an armful of dirty sheets. “You might want to get Pete to take a look at the sink in the bathroom,” she said. “It’s leaking.”

“Again?” Bill grumbled. “Time to replace it, I guess.” Thankfully, one of the shops in Studio 25 carried the kind of replica pedestal sinks from the nineteen-forties that were in all the B&B’s bathrooms. Since he ran a local business, he got them, and any other bathroom fixtures he needed, at only ten-percent above cost.

He went in search of Pete, finding him in the workshop off the laundry room. He told him what they needed, remembering just in time to tell him to stop by the office to pick up Norene’s shopping list.

By then, it was well after noon, so he headed home to fix lunch and take Warwick, his German shepherd, for a walk. When he strolled through the back gate into the yard, the dog greeted him as if Bill had been gone for years, not a few hours.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re starving.” Bill patted War’s head then opened the back door to let them into the house. War made a dash for his bowl, scarfing down the dry food as soon as Bill filled it. Then, the dog watched hopefully as Bill made a couple of sandwiches. “Not happening, dog,” Bill told him, holding the plate out of reach as he returned to the yard with it and a glass of milk. He settled on the patio to eat, savoring the warmth of the sun and the colors of the trees on the hills. The leaves were beginning to turn brilliant yellows and reds.

“Pretty soon we’ll be ass-deep in snow,” Frank, Bill’s next-door neighbor said, leaning his arms on their shared fence.

Bill nodded. “Then you’ll be clearing the roads, or towing stranded motorists out of snowdrifts.” Frank and his two sons owned the only gas station in Middleton, and were paid by the town to keep the roads as snow-free as possible during the winter months.

Frank chuckled. “My big season, while the rest of you pray the skiers will come into town on their way up the hill to the resort, to see what’s what.”

He had a point, as things definitely slowed down in the winter. Most of the shops stayed open, but only on the weekends. Business at the B&B, and the small guest house across the street from Studio 25, tapered off, but there were always a few guests—either regulars like the Greenes, who came up for special occasions, or motorists who wanted to get off the highway to avoid a pending storm.

They chatted for a few minutes, while Bill finished eating, then Frank said, “I’d better get back to work before my kids decide to give all the single ladies in town free oil changes in exchange for their favors.”

Bill laughed. Frank’s boys were both happily married, but Frank still enjoyed teasing them about their exploits with girls during their high school years.

After washing his dishes, Bill put War in the back yard for the afternoon, then headed back to the B&B.

The rest of the day passed as it normally did. Bill greeted arriving guests, took them on a tour of the B&B if they hadn’t been there before, then showed them to their rooms. By eight o’clock, he was ready to turn things over to Roger, the night clerk, and go home. He did one more walk-through, to make certain all the exterior doors were locked. If someone wanted to rent a room, there was a doorbell by the front door which would notify Roger they were there. Middleton might be a small town where everyone trusted each other, but he’d learned long ago that the same couldn’t be said for outsiders. Lang Walters, the police chief, and his two deputies had arrested one too many city punks for raising Cain on the weekend, or checking out homes where they thought there would be easy pickings.

“See you tomorrow, boss,” Roger said as he settled down at the front desk. Since nights were normally uneventful, other than letting the guests out and back in again later, he had a book to keep from getting bored. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Bill laughed. “That leaves the field wide open.”

Roger winked, replying, “Someday you’re going to find the perfect woman and shock everyone in town.”

Bill snorted, gave him a thumbs-up, then took off for home. If I found the perfect someone, it wouldn’t be a woman. That would really shock everyone. Not quite true. His parents knew he was gay, as did Mattie and Norene, but that was the extent of it. While he didn’t think most of the townspeople would care one way or the other, he still kept it a secret. When he wanted male companionship, which was rarely, he drove the fifty-plus miles to Denver—or had, when he was younger. Nowadays, he generally found that more bother than it was worth. He’d rather spend his time-off at home, or hiking the mountains with War. Twenty-eight, and I’m already getting stodgy. That idea didn’t bother him too much—most of the time. That morning had been the exception, as he’d stood on the hill looking down at the town, wondering if and when he’d get a life of his own, and someone to share it with. Probably when hell freezes over. At least I have War to keep me company. The old codger and his dog. How clichéd is that? He shook his head, and continued walking home.