"Darling, it's Edgar. Mr. North is my father in Cleveland. And I'm glad you like it. I'm rather pleased myself."

"You could store a small northern country in that refrigerator. But this is a bed and breakfast. Surely-"

"Surely I don't need this to throw together a bit of eggs and toast?" Edgar finished for her. "No, but I'm

a chef by profession. I've worked all over the country. And this is the kitchen I've always wanted for myself when it came time to settle down. We're going to do dinners, as well, you see. Not like a restaurant, just for planned parties. Maybe some catering when we're better established. Now sit down, my dears, and let me give you some coffee."

"Coffee" turned out to be a divine concoction that — tasted so nutty and rich that Jane didn't see how she'd ever go back to the ordinary kind. Along — with it Edgar served the tiniest, most delicate cream puffs on earth. Jane and Shelley complimented him effusively between bites. "Aren't you having any of your own marvelous treats?" Jane asked, wondering if Shelley would slap her hand if she took a fourth cream puff. She decided to risk it.:

"No, have to watch my tummy," Edgar said, patting his tidy little potbelly.

"BRBRBROEWW!" someone said from the next room. A second later an enormous, sleek Siamese cat sauntered into the room

"What a handsome cat!" Jane exclaimed.

Shelley looked at her as if she'd lost a considerable number of brain cells.

"His name is Hector. The noun and the verb," Edgar said. "He's supposed to be outside mousing to earn his keep, but he hates the rain."

Hector came over and rammed his head into Jane's leg, then flopped down and rolled over as if indicating that this luscious furry expanse of stomach he was exposing just might be available for petting. Jane obliged.

"Are you ready to take a look around? I'm sorry Gordon isn't here to help me show off. He's responsible for all the decorating. I'm just the cook."