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I was still pondering that which was hidden when my hot-cakes made an appearance. ” she asked politely, proffering the easy-pour container on the tray she was holding. “Flooded so bad last year – way up Front street, she gestured up towards Quarry Street and the Interstate.
Clean and bright, “The Landing” was quite obviously a family business to judge by the many framed photographs around the wall.
I was studying one that might well have been the building itself at the turn of the century, when a glass and jug of iced water were set down in front of me, by the most appealing of young ladies. ” she smiled sweetly, those finely shaped dark eyebrows suggesting that perhaps the shoulder-length, rather pretty blonde hair was not her natural birthright, not that this could ever have detracted from the overall package you understand.
The only thing I wanted her to get me right that second was a room we might share across the way at the small cottage that I noted was advertising itself as a bed and breakfast stop-over.
I noticed the name-tag just above the curve of her right breast. “Well Amy,” I said, “A plate of hotcakes and coffee might just about hit the spot.” She scribbled the order down on her pad and handed me another of those smiles that all but closed down my options for thinking straight.