Good Deed Bad Deed by Marcia Morgan (best motivational books txt) 📗

as well. She decided to leave the subject of his deception for another time. It was, after all, for her benefit. But he could have told her how he felt, what he feared. She wouldn’t have argued. It seems he had somehow become used to women who were contrary and unreasonable. That certainly did not describe Paris. There were so many questions.

A light knock on one of the open sitting room doors drew Ana away from her musings. The woman who stood in the doorway was wiping her hands on a printed apron whose strap hung askew from one shoulder. Her hair was streaked with gray, and assuming she was the cook, Ana thought that she appeared to have enjoyed many of her own creations. The woman smiled and said that the meal was ready to serve. After a short pause she added that timing was important because she had prepared a chocolate soufflé for dessert, and would everyone please not linger before coming to the dining room.

Paris laughed and said, “Edith does her best to run things around here, and we’re all better off if we do it her way, especially at mealtimes.”

Hugh shrugged his shoulders and reached for his wife’s hand, pulling her up from the chair. She put her arm through his and they headed toward the dining room. He motioned to Ben and Ana to follow, and they fell in behind. Leaves had been removed from the table in order to make the meal more intimate and less formal. Ana observed that Ben’s parents were not the countrified class-conscious English types she had read about. They seemed very down to earth, and although they revealed that Edith was housekeeper as well as cook, it was obvious they were not taskmasters and considered her a friend, not a servant.

Ben and Ana had made no stops on the trip from London, so the hearty meal was welcome, as was the perfect chocolate soufflé that followed. Coffee was served in the comfort of the sitting room, and soon both Ben and Ana became distracted by fatigue. Paris noticed the tiredness in Ben’s eyes and how he unconsciously began to rub his shoulder. As a guest in their home, Ana was making every effort to take part in the conversation, although being a mother, Paris knew that the young woman needed sleep as well.

“I think it’s time you young people were in bed.” She stood and walked over to Ana, holding out her hand to urge Ana up from the sofa. “Come dear, let me show you your room,” she said gently. Ana stood and held her hand out to Paris, who took it in hers and led Ana toward the doorway. “I had planned to put you in Olivia’s room, since it’s more feminine, but then I remembered the cluttered way she left it last time she visited. The guest room will be much better.” She paused and looked over at Ben. “We don’t clean up after our children, we just close the door—always have.”

Ben chimed in, “That’s the truth. Squalor is the only word I can use for the state of my room from the time we came back to England until I went off to university. I guess at some point Mum set Edith loose on it. I came home for the holidays that first year and found it actually habitable.”

Ben’s mother was quick to add, “It was Edith who insisted. I was against it.”

“No more stories tonight,” Hugh said. “We’ve all had a long day, and tomorrow you’re to stay put and wait until we come back from London. Then we attack this problem by whatever means necessary—and hopefully with more information.”

Ben smiled at his Dad and said, “It seems strange after all these years to have you telling me what I can and can’t do again—a bit of déjà vu.”

Chin in the air, his expression serious, Hugh cautioned his son. “It was for your own good then, and it’s for your own good now.”

“I know, Dad. Thanks. I was just teasing. But I do realize the whole thing is no joke.” He walked over and put his good arm around his father’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze and said good night.

The two tired travelers were herded out of the room and up the stairs. They reached Ben’s room first, and he gave Ana one of those captivating smiles as he bid her goodnight and then closed his door. She thought back to the night they had spent on the same bed and how she had watched him sleep, how she had tuned herself in to every nuance of expression on his face. She nurtured him, cared about him, almost felt his pain, and the feelings were all new, unfamiliar. She wondered in an instant if she would ever again watch him sleep.

Paris accompanied Ana to the guest room, turned on two lamps then showed her where she could find fresh linens and sundries. She thanked Paris, who closed the door leaving Ana alone. The room was pleasant, with its chintz curtains and Victorian armoire. The four-poster bed looked like an antique and was covered with a velvet comforter in a muted shade of viridian green. Hand embroidered pillows were strewn across the top, and the bedside table held a small vase of fragrant flowers Ana could not identify. Her suitcase stood beside the door, and she reasoned that at some point Edith must have brought it upstairs. She freshened up as quickly as possible and pulled on a satin slip, kept for the times when her preference for sleeping au naturel would be inappropriate. After turning off the bedside lamp she slid contentedly under the soft comforter, and with no more than two thoughts about the day, she was asleep.

Ben had not been as fortunate, finally admitting to himself that the drive had been too much for his shoulder. He wondered if that was his penance for having deceived Ana. He lay awake in the