The Welcoming

step out and breathe in the air, but he turned his back on it and went out the way he had come in.
    The scent of her bedroom stayed with him for hours.

Chapter 3
    “I told you that girl was no good.”
    “I know, Mae.”
    “I told you you were making a mistake taking her on like you did.”
    “Yes, Mae.” Charity bit back a sigh. “You told me.”
    “You keep taking in strays, you’re bound to get bit.”
    Charity resisted—just barely—the urge to scream. “So you’ve told me.”
    With a satisfied grunt, Mae finished wiping off her pride and joy, the eight-burner gas range. Charity might run the inn, but Mae had her own ideas about who was in charge. “You’re too softhearted, Charity.”
    “I thought you said it was hardheaded.”
    “That too.” Because she had a warm spot for her young employer, Mae poured a glass of milk and cut a generous slab from the remains of her double chocolate cake. Keeping her voice brisk, she set both on the table. “You eat this now. My baking always made you feel better as a girl.”
    Charity took a seat and poked a finger into the icing. “I would have given her some time off.”
    “I know.” Mae rubbed her wide-palmed hand on Charity’s shoulder. “That’s the trouble with you. You take your name too seriously.”
    “I hate being made a fool of.” Scowling, Charity took a huge bite of cake. Chocolate, she was sure, would be a better cure for her headache than an entire bottle of aspirin. Her guilt was a different matter. “Do you think she’ll get another job? I know she’s got rent to pay.”
    “Types like Mary Alice always land on their feet. Wouldn’t surprise me if she moved in lock, stock and barrel with that Perkin boy, so don’t you be worrying about the likes of her. Didn’t I tell you she wouldn’t last six months?”
    Charity pushed more cake into her mouth. “You told me,” she mumbled around it.
    “Now then, what about this man you brought home?”
    Charity took a gulp of her milk. “Roman DeWinter.”
    “Screwy name.” Mae glanced around the kitchen, surprised and a little disappointed that there was nothing left to do. “What do you know about him?”
    “He needed a job.”
    Mae wiped her reddened hands on the skirt of her apron. “I expect there’s a whole slew of pickpockets, cat burglars and mass murderers who need jobs.”
    “He’s not a mass murderer,” Charity stated. She thought she had better reserve judgment on the other occupations.
    “Maybe, maybe not.”
    “He’s a drifter.” She shrugged and took another bite of the cake. “But I wouldn’t say aimless. He knows where he’s going. In any case, with George off doing the hula, I needed someone. He does good work, Mae.”
    Mae had determined that for herself with a quick trip into the west wing. But she had other things on her mind. “He looks at you.”
    Stalling, Charity ran a fingertip up and down the side of her glass. “Everyone looks at me. I’m always here.”
    “Don’t play stupid with me, young lady. I powdered your bottom.”
    “Whatever that has to do with anything,” Charity answered with a grin. “So he looks?” She moved her shoulders again. “I look back.” When Mae arched her brows, Charity just smiled. “Aren’t you always telling me I need a man in my life?”
    “There’s men and there’s men,” Mae said sagely. “This one’s not bad on the eyes, and he ain’t afraid of working. But he’s got a hard streak in him. That one’s been around, my girl, and no mistake.”
    “I guess you’d rather I spent time with Jimmy Loggerman.”
    “Spineless worm.”
    After a burst of laughter, Charity cupped her chin in her hands. “You were right, Mae. I do feel better.”
    Pleased, Mae untied the apron from around her ample girth. She didn’t doubt that Charity was a sensible girl, but she intended to keep an eye on Roman herself. “Good. Don’t cut any more of that cake or you’ll be up all night with a bellyache.”
    “Yes’m.”
    “And don’t leave a mess in my kitchen,” she added as she tugged on a practical brown coat.
    “No, ma’am. Good night, Mae.”
    Charity sighed as the door rattled shut. Mae’s leaving usually signaled the end of the day. The guests would be tucked into their beds or finishing up a late card game. Barring an emergency, there was nothing left for Charity to do until sunrise.
    Nothing to do but think.
    Lately she’d been toying with the idea of putting in a whirlpool. That might lure a