Scott launched into a brief work story for which the words made sense individually but refused to cooperate as a group. His rapid pace of speech compounded the problem as his words flowed out faster and faster, reflecting his excitement. I remembered when that habit would emerge when he spoke about dinosaurs. Then video games as he got older. His mother would always listen patiently, enjoying Scott’s excitement while clearly not following his gaming adventures. Although I wasn’t interested in that fetish then, I found myself wanting to know more about his work, his life. Whatever it was, he must have been good at it. Scott kept earning promotions, and he always sounded positive about his job.
When his story wound down, he hesitated. “Do you know you’ve become a bit of a minor celebrity?”
“What?” I felt a flush of excitement. “I didn’t see any stories about how I solved that crime last month. What did they say about me? Wait, did they interview Joann? She was in the story too, right?”
“Dad,” interrupted Scott. “It wasn’t about your sleuthing.” His voice trailed off.
“What?” Now I was perplexed. I hadn’t done anything else noteworthy, certainly not of late.
“What was it about?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, your rules and procedures manual for the inn has gone viral.”
My back stiffened in indignation, making me wince as the pain returned. “What’s the matter with my rules?” Well-documented rules were an important aspect of running an inn smoothly. They informed guests what was permitted and what wasn’t. Guests couldn’t argue when I could quickly refer them to the specific rule and subsequent consequences for violations. No muss, no fuss. At least that was how it was supposed to go, even if not everyone understood.
Scott sounded amused, but compared to Charlie, his teasing was gentle. “Someone posted a picture of them and claimed you had more rules and procedures than one of those entitled Airbnb owners who wants guests to clean the house before they leave.”
Not such a bad idea, but it wouldn’t fly here. With her high standards, Nadia would never permit it. Not for the first time, I worried about the prospect of losing her. I hated to admit it, but she—and her breakfasts—kept this inn afloat.
I realized Scott seemed to be waiting for my reaction. “Well, I think it was PT Barnum who once said that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
Scott scoffed. “Isn’t he the guy who started that circus until it went out of business because of all the bad PR over how they treated their elephants?”
“Well, that clearly doesn’t apply here. The only animal on the premises is Fifi.” Then I quickly moved on. “So will I see you Friday in time for dinner?”
“Depends on traffic,” answered Scott.
“So it could be Saturday.” I did crack a grin at that.
Scott must have noticed my change in tone as he teased, “Why? Do you have a date?”
I bristled. “No, I don’t do that.”
“Don’t you have dinner and the trivia night every Thursday with that police chief?”
“That’s not a date.”
“Didn’t you mention going on some hike this week with another woman? Sally was it?”
“Sandra. Also not a date.”
He laughed. “For a guy who’s not going on any dates, you sure are going out with a lot of women.”
Flustered, I fumbled my phone and accidentally hung up on him.
Scott rang me right back. “Dad, are you okay?”
I took a deep breath. “I would never be disloyal to your mother.”
In a gentle tone, he said, “It’s not being disloyal, Dad. I’m sure she’d understand.”
“I wouldn’t.” I left it at that.
Scott waited but when I didn’t expand upon my response, he switched topics. “Do you have any plans for today?”
I didn’t want to say anything about my investigation as he’d been concerned about my safety when I told him the last time about a person getting murdered up here. So I told him what I planned to do after Charlie and I left the community center. “I’ve got to go to the bank.”
“In person? Why?”
“I forgot my password.”
“Don’t you use a password manager? You really should. Better security and all that.”
“No.” I didn’t admit I wasn’t sure what one was. “All my passwords are protected by amnesia.”