The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,53

point. There was no way Frannie could repay Beth for her friendship, and it would hurt them both to try.

“Instead of me thanking you nonstop, how about you finally fill me in on everything that’s been going on here instead?”

Once again, a shadow felt around Beth’s eyes. “Don’t you want to rest first?”

“I just woke up.”

Beth blinked, making Frannie realize that she’d been in such a state that she’d already forgotten her nap. “I know . . . but maybe you still need to take it easy?”

Now she was truly getting worried. “I’ve done nothing except sit on a small bed in a beige room. I definitely do not want to rest right now.”

“But the detective said you were supposed to rest.”

“And I will. But come now, Beth. Don’t be stingy. This inn is like my child. Give me some news. What food did you make?” She paused, remembering how much Beth was ill at ease in the kitchen. “Were you able to cook anything?”

“You don’t need to sound so skeptical. Yes, I cooked.” After a pause, she added, “Lydia came over to help, too.”

“That’s gut. Did everything turn out all right?”

A slow smile lit her lips. “I baked the best cinnamon rolls this side of the Mississippi.”

“Did you, now?”

“I found your cookbook and followed the directions exactly.”

“Cookbook?”

“Yes, the cookbook. You do have them, you know.”

“I know, I’m just trying to imagine where you found one.”

Beth’s eyebrows rose. “There were several on the back bookshelves. And one in particular that looked well used. It was black and red and had a torn cover.”

Frannie had almost forgotten about that. Now the memories flooded back . . . of her Aunt Penny pushing it her way with a sad smile when she’d been so sick with cancer. “The book was Aunt Penny’s.”

“You didn’t mind me using it, did you? It was full of recipes for foods you seem to make often.”

“You know, I’d forgotten about that book. It’s been years since I followed a recipe. Those family recipes are all in my head.”

“Since nothing was in my head—of the cooking nature—I was very glad for it. I made those rolls and some more quiches, and a fruit salad, too. Oh, and some apricot scones.”

“Scones?”

“They’re in the cookbook, Frannie. You really should read it.”

Rather than debate the cookbook some more, Frannie attempted once again to discover the source of Beth’s uneasiness.

And that’s when she realized that not once had Beth mentioned their newest guest. “Hey, Beth, is Chris Ellis still staying here?”

To her surprise, Beth’s expression stilled. “I think so.”

“Think?”

“Well, he left yesterday and I haven’t seen him since. But his things are still in his room, so I don’t think he’s gone for good.”

Beth’s report was very peculiar. Frannie didn’t understand how she could be so unaware of one of the guests’ comings and goings. Frustrated, her head was starting to pound. “I could have sworn that he booked a room for a whole week. Did he say what he was doing?” Maybe he’d decided to go explore another town for a day?

Beth shook her head with a quick jerk. “He . . . he didn’t have a chance. But I hope he’ll be coming back.”

Beth was speaking in so many riddles that Frannie was becoming annoyed. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Beth.”

“All right. Yesterday, some men came and he left with them.”

Some men? Beth made it sound like she didn’t trust them. Playing detective, Frannie sought more information. “All right. Did he give you any clues about what they were doing?” Sometimes guests asked for maps of the area.

“He wasn’t able to.” Tears began to fall down Beth’s cheeks. “It was so awful. And what’s worse, I don’t think he wanted to go with them.”

Her mouth went dry. “How do you know that?”

“He looked really worried when he got into the truck with them. He looked like he wanted to escape but couldn’t.” Her voice lowered. “Actually, I think he was protecting me.”

What was Beth talking about? Perhaps she was becoming way too involved in the goings on of the guests?

“Look, a lot of things happen between people that you may not agree with,” she said as patiently as she could, “but that doesn’t mean we spy on them. Everyone has the right to their privacy.”

“I didn’t spy on him. All I did was stand at the window and watch them leave.”

“People don’t like that. Maybe he got upset with you about that, and now he’s never coming back.”