Standing in the shadow of the doorway, Sara got Jack’s attention. She hated to take him away but she had to. She pointed to her watch, made a motion of driving, then zipped her mouth and jerked her head toward the back of the house.
He gave a nod of understanding and kept singing. He knew that quitting midsong would raise questions.
Sara went out the back. As she knew she would be, her dear, organized, up-for-any-adventure niece was waiting beside one of the hotel’s cars, keys in hand.
“Is he going to drag himself away or do you and I go alone?”
“Don’t know if he can tear himself away since he has an audience. Half the staff has spent the last hour dusting the balcony,” Sara said.
“Puck’s spy bridge? They’re watching the Byon-Jack show?”
“Good name, and yes. But I think—”
Jack came out the door, took the keys out of Kate’s hand and got into the right-hand-drive car. He put down the window. “Are you two going to stand there?”
Kate got into the front, Sara in the back.
“We waited for you for twenty minutes,” Kate lied. “So who are you choosing? The magnificent Byon or the very old lady Nadine?”
“I’m waiting for her daughter.” Jack looked at Sara in the mirror. “Where to?”
“The Red Bull Inn.” Sara was tapping on her phone. “It’s not in the nearest village to Oxley Manor. GPS says it’s a whopping twelve miles away, and considering the corkscrew nature of English roads, it’ll take about an hour. Turn left at the gate.”
“I’ll do it in thirty minutes,” Jack said.
“Just don’t forget that driving is on the left side of the road,” Kate said.
Jack gave her a look to cut it out.
Sara read aloud about the inn from her phone. Built in the sixteenth century as a coaching inn. Fourteen rooms, a well-respected restaurant/bar serving three meals and drinks.
Twenty minutes later, Jack reache
d the village and parked in front of the inn. “Who are we meeting?”
“Guess,” Sara said as she got out of the car.
Jack looked at Kate. “Poorwilla,” they said in unison.
The inn had blackened beams and red carpet everywhere. There was a check-in area near the entrance, with a man standing there.
“We’re here to see—” Sara began.
“I know,” the man said. “But then, she’s our only guest. I’ll show you up.”
The trio looked at each other as they followed him up the narrow stairs.
At the top, he stepped back. There were about ten doors standing open and half a dozen young women were going in and out of them, their hands full of papers and cell phones.
What was startling was that all the women were exceptionally pretty, and their clothes showed their well-toned bodies.
“I feel like I’ve walked into a 007 movie,” Kate said.
“Me too.” Jack’s voice was in awe.
“I love coming up here,” the manager said. “I use any excuse.”
“So where is she?” Sara asked.