The Welcoming

head. “We’ll all be mighty glad when the doc gives you his okay. Let that bacon crisp, Dolores.”
    “It is crisp.”
    “Not enough.”
    “Want me to burn it?”
    Charity smiled and sipped her tea. It was good to be back.
    It was midafternoon before she saw Roman again. She had a pencil behind her ear, a pad in one pocket and a dustcloth in another, and she was dashing down the hallway toward her rooms.
    “In a hurry?”
    “Oh.” She stopped long enough to smile at him. “Yes. I have some papers up in my room that should be in the office.”
    “What’s this?” He tugged at the dustcloth.
    “One of the housekeepers came down with a virus. I sent her home.” She looked at her watch and frowned. She thought she could spare about two minutes for conversation. “I really hope that’s not what’s wrong with Bob.”
    “What’s wrong with Bob?”
    “I don’t know. He just doesn’t look well.” She tossed her hair back, causing the slender gold spirals in her ears to dance. “Anyway, we’re short a housekeeper, and we’ve got guests checking into units 3 and 5 today. The Garsons checked out of 5 this morning. They won’t win any awards for neatness.”
    “The doctor said you were supposed to rest an hour this afternoon.”
    “Yes, but— How did you know?”
    “I asked him.” Roman pulled the dustcloth out of her pocket. “I’ll clean 5.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your job.”
    “My job’s to fix things. I’ll fix 5.” He took her chin in his hand before she could protest. “When I’m finished I’m going to go upstairs. If you aren’t in bed I’m coming after you.”
    “Sounds like a threat.”
    He bent down and kissed her, hard. “It is.”
    “I’m terrified,” she said, and dashed up the stairs.
    ***
    It wasn’t that she meant to ignore the doctor’s orders. Not really. It was only that a nap came far down on her list of things to be done. Every phone call she made had to include a five-minute explanation of her injuries.
    No, she was really quite well. Yes, it was terrible that someone had stolen poor Mrs. Norton’s car and driven it so recklessly. Yes, she was sure the sheriff would get to the bottom of it. No, she had not broken her legs . . . her arm . . . her shoulder. . . . Yes, she intended to take good care of herself, thank you very much.
    The goodwill and concern would have warmed her if she hadn’t been so far behind in her work. To make it. worse, Bob was distracted and disorganized. Worried that he was ill or dealing with a personal problem, Charity took on the brunt of his work.
    Twice she’d fully intended to take a break and go up to her rooms, and twice she’d been delayed by guests checking in. Taking it on faith that Roman had spruced up unit 5, she showed a young pair of newlyweds inside.
    “You have a lovely view of the garden from here,” Charity said as a cover while she made sure there were fresh towels. Roman had hung them on the rack, exactly where they belonged. The bed, with its heart-shaped white wicker headboard, was made up with a military precision she couldn’t have faulted. It cost her, but she resisted the temptation to turn up the coverlet and check sheets.
    “We serve complimentary wine in the gathering room every evening at five. We recommend that you make a reservation for dinner if you plan to join us, particularly since it’s Saturday night. Breakfast is served between seven-thirty and ten. If you’d like to—” She broke off when Roman stepped into the room. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she told him, and started to turn back to the newlyweds.
    “Excuse me.” Roman gave them both a friendly nod before he scooped Charity up in his arms. “Miss Ford is needed elsewhere. Enjoy your stay.”
    As the first shock wore off she began to struggle. “Are you out of your mind? Put me down.”
    “I intend to—when I get you to bed.”
    “You can’t just . . .” The words trailed off into a groan as he carried her through the gathering room.
    Two men sitting on the sofa stopped telling fish stories. A family coming in from a hike gawked from the doorway. Miss Millie and Miss Lucy halted their daily game of Scrabble by the window.
    “Isn’t that the most romantic thing?” Miss Millie said when they disappeared into the west wing.
    “You have totally embarrassed me.”
    Roman shifted her weight in his arms and carried her upstairs. “You’re lucky that’s all I did.”
    “You had no