One Week in Maine Read online

“Hi. Can I get a coffee please?”

  “Sure thing.” The waitress moved to grab a clean mug and she filled it with hot, fresh coffee. The smell of it alone made my mouth water. The last few hours I’d been dreaming about a cup of fresh coffee. I needed it.

  “That’ll be a buck.”

  “Sure, here you go.” I fished a crisp dollar bill out of my wallet and passed it across the counter.

  “You want anything else, hon? Pie, sandwich, something? You wanna sit at the counter?”

  “No, just the coffee, thanks. I think I’ll go…” The words died on my lips as I looked over my shoulder to find a seat by the front window, but all the seats were taken. Dozens of wary eyes stared coldly back at me. Most of the other patrons were middle aged or older men dressed in jeans and flannels, and their looks spoke of hard work and hard lives. There wasn’t a hint of a smile on any of their faces at they studied me. Not the friendliest crowd I’ve ever seen.

  “I think I will sit here, thanks.” The waitress smiled kindly at me and I was glad for the kind gesture. Even though I was only passing through town and wasn’t looking to make any friends, the silent, hard stares from the other patrons made me uncomfortable. I didn’t care for being the center of attention.

  The waitress noticed. “Don’t you mind them, now,” she told me softly as she leaned across the counter. “We just don’t get many visitors here, is all. Whatsa matter?” she called to the room at large, “You boys never seen a pretty girl before? Now put your tongues back in your heads before I tell your wives, the lot of you!”

  I flushed crimson as I sipped my coffee.

  “Sorry about them, hon. If you saw some of their wives, you’d know why they’re staring so hard.”

  “They didn’t look too friendly,” I muttered quietly so the rest of the room wouldn’t hear me.

  “Naw, they’re not so bad, just forgetting their manners around a pretty new face is all. Like I said, not too many new faces stopping in here. Are you the one Will Holbrook went to pick up? The one that hit the deer?”

  Her questions didn’t do much to counter my opinion that small town folks were gossip mongers, but I didn’t see the harm in answering her honestly. “Uh-huh. I hit a deer and he gave me a lift into town to wait for my car to be towed to the garage.”

  “He’s a sweetheart, that Will. You call me if you need anything, okay? I gotta make my rounds with the coffee pot.” I nodded and the waitress grabbed the coffee pot again and went into the dining area to refill the cups that needed it. As she made her way from table to table, murmurs of conversation permeated the heavy silence that had overcome the little café when I walked in.

  “That must be hers,” I overheard someone say, so I turned around to look out the window. To my relief no one was looking at me this time as everyone was watching my battered SUV ride by the café with a little help from a tow truck.

  I swallowed the remainder of my coffee as quickly as I could, grabbed my bag and hustled out the door with a last minute wave to the kind waitress. A sigh of relief escaped me as I crossed the main road towards the garage. My vehicle had arrived, and I had escaped the prying eyes of the locals in the café.

  The air inside the garage was cool, and I waited with all the patience I could muster for someone to come to the front counter to help me. After a minute or two, my impatience got the best of me and I could wait no longer.

  “Hello?” I called loudly. My voice sounded startlingly loud in the small space. I heard a door close somewhere in the back area and footsteps coming towards me.

  “So how bad is it?” I asked the tubby, balding man as he approached the counter. His blue work overalls had the name ‘Bobby’ stenciled on the front.

  He shook his head solemnly at me and my heart sank. “Not good, I’m afraid. I just got it back, so I haven’t had time to really get in there and see what’s what, but I can tell you this–it’s an unholy mess in there. That deer really did a number on your engine. Do you know who took the meat? I couldn’t find the carcass, so I think someone grabbed it before I had a chance to.”

  My stomach lurched in horror. “Someone took the dead deer? For what?”

  “It’d be stupid to let all that venison go to waste,” he huffed defensively. “Even if some of it’s ruined, there’s still probably a lot of good meat on it, if you get to it quickly enough.”

  The idea that someone had found my piece of road kill appealing enough to take home to fill the freezer disgusted me, but I wasn’t interested in the gross activities of the locals.

  “So what about my car?”

  “I need a few hours to go through it, and if I get a list of the parts I need in time, I’ll order them today. They probably won’t go out until Monday, so I’ll have them Tuesday or Wednesday, then I’ll need a few days to put Humpty back together again. I’d say it’ll be done by Friday, the earliest, maybe the middle of the following week, depending on what needs doing.”

  “Friday?” I echoed in disbelief. “That’s a whole week from now!”

  “Yup, sure is.” Bobby waited patiently for me to say something but all I could muster was a shocked stare. “Listen, lady, I didn’t hit that deer, you did. You hit it and now your car’s ruined and it’s gonna take time to get the parts and fix it. You want me to do it or what? If not, I can tow it wherever you like, but it’s gonna cost you a pretty penny. The next nearest garage is over 40 miles away, and they’re just gonna tell you the same thing.”

  A headache began creeping into the back of my brain, and it promised to be a big one. The stress of the day was finally catching up to me.

  “All right, so it takes as long as it takes,” I sighed. “Is there a cab company in town I could get a ride from, to get where I need to go in the meantime? I’m due at a wedding tomorrow.”

  “No company, per se, but Royce Miller’s been known to run people to and fro for a fee.”

  “Fantastic. You wouldn’t have his number, would you?” Maybe this could all work out after all.

  “Well, I sure do, but I don’t think it’ll do you much good.”

  “Why ever not?” My patience was wearing thin once again. Bobby seemed content to go the long way around the conversation, and I just wanted answers and results, not a riddle.

  “Well, seein’ as how his Caddy’s sittin’ out back with a blown transmission, I think he’s not runnin’ his cab service at the moment.”

  “Are you kidding me? So what the hell am I supposed to do now?” This was getting worse by the minute.

  “If I was you, I’d take a room in town, clear my calendar for the next week, and sit tight ‘til I can get your car up and runnin’ again.” Bobby spoke calmly and slowly as if placating a small child. My distress over it all apparently perplexed him, as if he couldn’t imagine why I was getting agitated.

  “No way! There’s no way I’m hanging around this God forsaken place until it’s fixed!”

  “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “but you can’t drive it out of here as it sits right now.”

  “Guess I’d better see if anyone can pick me up then.”

  I whipped out my cell phone and checked, but still no signal. Without another word to Bobby I hurried out onto the sidewalk out front and checked once more. Two blessed bars appeared, and I scarcely dared breathe as I called my friend Heather.

  “You will not believe what happened to me today,” I snapped as soon as Heather picked up. I explained the whole story to her as quickly as I could. “So I need someone to run down and pick me up.”

  “I don’t know,” Heather sounded doubtful. “Sarah’s really wound up about tomorrow. She’s a total Bridezilla right now and I’m not sure that she’ll want anyone to leave to come get you. You’re not exactly close, are you? Aren’t you two or three hours away, round trip? I mean, I just drove all the way up here yesterday and I’m not exactly eager to spend another few hours in the car.”

  “Seriously? Fine, if you won’t come get me, I’ll find someone else.” I hung up without anot
her word and began scrolling through my contacts to try other friends who were at the wedding. After half a dozen calls I was almost in tears with frustration. Every friend was sympathetic to my plight, but each declined to come get me. Either they had been drinking and were in no shape to get behind the wheel, or they offered various excuses as to why they couldn’t possibly come rescue me. These women I thought were my friends had no interest in helping me out. I convinced myself that I would have come to get them if the situation had been reversed.

  “I am so unfriending them all when I get home!” I threatened out loud to no one in particular. With a sigh of defeat I trudged back into the garage. Bobby was still waiting for me behind the counter.

  “No luck?”

  “No luck. So where can I find a hotel room for the night?”

  “It’s not a hotel, exactly, but while you were outside I called over to the local Inn to see if they have room, and they do. You can stay there if you want. It’s the only place in town with a vacancy, so it’s not like you have a lot of options here.”

  I tried to look on the bright side, I really did. My car was wrecked, I was stuck in some stupid little town and my so-called friends refused to come get me, but if I had to be stuck at least I could enjoy a little New England Inn like all the travel blogs raved about.

  “Thanks. I appreciate you calling.” Now that I was accepting my situation it was easier to remember my manners. “How do I get there?”

  “Easy, really. It’s a ten minute walk, if even.” He gave me directions to reach the Inn on foot and took down my insurance information as well as my cell phone number so he could reach me when he had any news about my SUV.

  “I’ll be in touch. Try not to worry–we’ll get your car right again, and Dottie’ll take care of you in the meantime.”

  “Guess that’ll have to do, huh?” I was trying to adjust my attitude about everything as it looked like I was stuck in town until my SUV was fixed, but I secretly hoped that one of my friends would have a change of heart and come rescue me from this small town hell.

  -2-

  Bobby’s directions were accurate, and it was a brief walk away from the center of town down one of the side roads to the Inn. On the way there I tried to imagine the amenities I could enjoy there, like a long soak in the hot tub or taking my morning coffee out in a glorious, rose covered gazebo overlooking the fall foliage. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all, kind of like a mini-vacation. Then again, I’d have to take the cheapest room they had to offer. I didn’t have the money for a luxury stay, or any, for that matter, but I’d just do the best I could.

  A weathered wooden sign at the end of a dirt driveway up the road a ways caught my eye.

  The Brixby Inn. A massive hedgerow of ancient lilac bushes blocked the view of it from the road, but it came into view as I walked down the long driveway.

  “Of course. Why am I not surprised?” The images in my head of a charming, quaint little New England Inn disappeared as reality set in. Even at a distance, The Brixby Inn looked worn and ancient with a sagging front porch and peeling paint. Things only looked worse the closer I got to it.

  The front grounds were an overgrown mess with long, scraggly weeds instead of a front lawn, and overgrown, untended gardens. A few of the grand colonial’s shutters were sagging, and some were missing all together. Weeds sprouted up between the stones of the front walk way. The condition of the exterior made me fearful for what lay ahead inside.

  I hesitated a moment at the front door, unsure of how to proceed. This place looked like a nightmare, but it was the only available lodging in town and maybe it’d be cheap, given the state of it. Timidly I thumped the brass knocker on the front door. I heard the knocking boom reverberate throughout the old house, but no one came to the door. What the hell–someone should have been expecting me. Bobby said he’d called ahead. Well, at least now I knew why they had a room for rent even during the foliage season. The place was a disaster, though it was clear to see it could be lovely with some TLC.

  Tired of waiting for what felt like the thousandth time that day, I opened the front door and poked my head inside.

  “Hello?” No one answered, and the house was still, but I spied a small desk to the right of the door with a guest book and a bell to ring for service. It was worth a try.

  I closed the solid wooden front door behind me and rang the bell on the desk. It made a loud, high pitched ping that made me want to cover my ears to escape it.

  “Coming!” a shrill voice called from a faraway room.

  I resisted the urge to drum my fingers on the desktop while I waited, but the delay for service gave me a moment to look around. The front entryway was worn but clean. Faded floral wallpaper peeled at the edges, and the rich, dark wood floor was scuffed and worn, but clean. Whoever cared for the place took enough pride in it to keep it clean, even if they couldn’t keep up with the repairs.

  I heard a faint shuffling sound and I wondered who, exactly, was coming to greet me. A moment later I had to wonder no more.

  An elderly woman came out of the adjoining dining room. She was grey-haired and hunched over, and moved with a slow, painful looking gate. Her eyes were faded and rheumy, set back in her weathered, wrinkled face, but her smile was genuine and warm.

  “Welcome, welcome! You must be Calista! Bobby told me he’d send you over.”

  “Yes, um, that’s me.”

  “I’m Dottie Brixby, but please, just call me Dottie. It’s a real pleasure to have you here!” She offered her hand and I reluctantly shook it. The paper thin skin was fragile and warm, and I was careful not to shake it too hard. Dottie looked like a strong breeze might do her in. It was impossible to guess her exact age, but I would have easily believed her to be anything north of 75.

  “I do hope you’ll pardon the place! We’ve actually been closed for a few years now, but Bobby explained you were in a bind, so I didn’t feel right turning you away.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to impose.” I actually felt a little bit better knowing the place had been shut down for the past few years. At least Dottie had the sense to recognize that her Inn was in no condition to attract the regular tourists.

  “It’s no imposition at all, really. I’ll be glad for the company. Now, I’m afraid I have only a few rooms that are suitable for a guest right now, but come, we’ll go pick one out for you.”

  “About that–what are your rates?” I hated to ask, but I needed to know.

  “Well now. I used to charge $125 for the suites on the third floor, but I’m afraid I haven’t kept up with those since we closed, so all I can offer you is the dormitory style lodging on the second floor.”

  “What does that mean, exactly?” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.

  “The rooms on that floor share a bathroom at the end of the hall.”

  “But I’m the only guest, right?”

  “Yes, you’re it, so it’s not like you’ll have to wait in line,” Dottie explained with a small smile. “I used to charge $60 a night for those rooms, but seeing as how this is all rather unexpected and we’re not in tip-top shape for guests right now, I’d be happy to take $20 a night.”

  “That would be just fine.” At only $20 a night, the accommodations were looking better by the minute. It would still be a hit to my bank account to stay in town while waiting for my SUV to be repaired, but the less I had to spend, the better.

  “I’d offer to take your bag, but I’m afraid I’m not as young as I used to be!”

  “Oh, of course, please, don’t worry about it!” I grabbed my bag and followed Dottie up the wide staircase, one slow step at a time. I had to temper my pace to that of the old woman and it felt like it took forever. I reminded myself that I was in no hurry anyway since I had no ride and nowhere else to go. I was stuck in this time place indefinitely.

  The worn, dirty, country style wallpaper that covered the staircase wall must have been pretty some time ago, but now it just looked ancient and neglected.
In stark contrast to the wallpaper was the dark wooden banister, clean and polished to a lustrous shine. I longed to skim my hand along its soft curves but I didn’t dare sully it with my fingerprints.

  Once we finally reached the top of the stairs, Dottie flipped on the hall light. The hallway was dark and dim as all the room doors were closed.

  “That’s the bathroom, there at the end,” Dottie gestured. “The hot water is very hot, so be sure to use caution. Now, let’s see…which room would suit you?” She opened the nearest door and poked her head in before stepping aside to let me see it as well.

  The room faced the front of the house and offered a view tangled front grounds and the road. A double bed was pushed against the far wall, covered in a worn floral patterned comforter.

  “I think–” I was just about to accept the room as I suspected none would outshine another when Dottie interrupted me.

  “Not this one, of course not. Now why didn’t I show you the best one first, instead of saving it for last?” She shook her head. “Come on now, I know just the one.”

  Again I followed slowly behind her through the dim hallway, clutching my bag. Every part of the house I had seen so far was worn and neglected but clean. I expected my room would be just the same and so as long as it was clean, I didn’t care which room I took. Sight unseen I decided I would accept the next room, if for no other reason than to settle in and stop running Dottie around. I felt slightly guilty for causing her all this trouble; it didn’t look like she had much stamina given her old age.

  “See how this one suits you.” She opened the last door on the left at the end of the hallway, nearest the bathroom, and I gasped in surprise.

  This room was far larger than the first and occupied one front corner of the house. Huge windows on two sides allowed the afternoon’s fading light to filter into the room. An old stone fireplace filled up most of one wall, and a large wooden canopy bed sat directly across from it against the far wall. The tiny paisley print wallpaper was done in pastel hues and looked newer than the rest I had seen in the rest of the house, though ‘newer’ was a relative term. It was clearly at least a decade old. The light colors matched the faded handmade quilt covering the bed. An antique wool rug in hues of blues and pinks covered a large portion of the floor, but I could see old finished wooden planks where it failed to cover the original flooring. It was clean, and less shabby than the rest of the house, and it was probably the best I’d get.