Read Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace for Free Online Page B

the tabletop and wondered what he could do to keep her away from Eric. Whatever her news was, it would likely bring trouble.

3
    T he Blue Bonnet Bed and Breakfast might not have been the most popular lodging spot in the Keweenaw Peninsula, but Naomi and her mother were beginning to get some repeat visitors. Naomi closed the register with a sense of satisfaction then stretched out the kinks in her back. The scent of lemon polish and the faint aroma of pine cleaner in the air were worth the soreness in her muscles. Six thousand square feet of house, and every inch of it polished and shining. The new crop of weekend visitors would arrive later in the morning.
    The registration desk stood at the end of the entry hall. They’d opened the wall between the office and the foyer, and now an antique marble counter separated the two. Naomi sneaked a book from under the counter. Maybe she could get in a few pages before her mother came down. She flexed the spine, and, as if on cue, her mother floated down the curved walnut staircase. She disappeared momentarily into the parlor before hurrying toward the office in the room behind the entry.
    Though fifty-eight, Martha Heinonen’s skin glowed a pink, healthy hue of fresh air and hard work. Strands of silver were just beginning to highlight her hair, and her consistent exuberance made her even more attractive. Dressed in a pink-flowered dress with a soft skirt that swirled around her still-shapely calves, she looked every inch the lady. Someone had once told her she looked like England’s reigning monarch, Queen Elizabeth, and since then she’d played up any resemblance to the hilt, a fact Naomi found amusing.
    Naomi guiltily tucked away the book before her mother could see it and level her usual litanies about ruining her eyes and how men weren’t interested in a bookworm. Maybe her mother had a point. The men weren’t exactly beating a path to the door.
    “There you are, darling. I peeked in the parlor on the way down. It looks lovely. I see you managed to get that stain out of the piano scarf. You are such a treasure!” She disappeared again, this time in the direction of the kitchen, and emerged a few moments later carrying a heavy tea-and-cookie-laden tray as though it weighed nothing.
    “Come along before the tea gets cold,” Martha said.
    Naomi followed her to the parlor. Martha set the tray on the coffee table and sank into the plush armchair upholstered in pink cabbage-rose chintz. “It’s nearly time for our guests to arrive. Are you going to greet them dressed like that?” She wrinkled her nose at Naomi’s faded jeans and oversized T-shirt.
    Naomi often wondered how she had been born to such a woman. She preferred denim while her mother craved silk. Her mother teetered daily on two-inch polished pumps, while the footwear on Naomi’s shoe rack looked like castoffs from the Salvation Army: scuffed boots, flats with eroded heels, and ragged tennis shoes. Still, Naomi and her mother got along well. Naomi did the heavy cleaning; her mother prepared the elegant teas and made small talk with the New York businessmen and the bored Connecticut housewives. Her mother’s pies were famous throughout the peninsula.
    Naomi had been gearing up to deal with the subtle guilt her mom would try to impose. “I’ll change my top to something nicer.” It was as great a compromise as she was willing to make today. Some days she wished she could let the real Naomi come out in full view, but it just took too much energy to confront her mother. Compromise had led her to a placid state of living with her mother at nearly thirty-two. She found small victories like this one hollow, knowing the battle had been lost long ago.
    The doorbell pealed. “I’ll get it.” Naomi made her escape and stepped into the long entry hall. She opened the door and found Bree standing on the front porch.
    Naomi grabbed Bree’s arm and drew her inside. “You’re just in time to save me from strangling my