Inn Keeping With Love & Marriage

Summer and weddings go hand in hand. When I think of summer weddings, I am reminded of the lovely Bed & Breakfast Inn where I sought refuge following a serious car accident. Decorated with costly antiques, and landscaped with hedges of blooming jasmine, it was a popular wedding venue. I arrived wounded, but I left happy and healed. Why? The answer is easy. After several weeks of enjoying myself as a guest, I transitioned from guest to Innkeeper.

Occasionally there were two wedding events happening at the same time. One reception would be in the lavish reception hall and the other in the Victorian house which had a dramatic staircase for the bride’s entrance. It was not unusual to have a horse drawn carriage waiting at the end of the long arch of jasmine to whisk the married couple away …away to…this part was not clear. The carriage probably took them around the block where they were transferred to a car but, it was impressive. Soon after my transition to Innkeeper my motto became ‘expect the unexpected.’ Unexpected?

Late one Saturday night, instead of going to her room; a guest stumbled into the library and for some reason couldn’t find her way out. Did I mention that she was naked? Bare to the bone. Thoughtfully she had wrapped herself in a tablecloth. Could I help her find her way? But of course.

Sunday morning brunch was a big event. Set in the dining room; it was often the departure meal for a weekend wedding. One morning, five minutes before breakfast guests were due to arrive, I heard a weird noise. I rushed into the dining room and a bird’s nest with newly hatched and squealing birds had fallen down the chimney and into the fireplace.

Occasionally we opened the front porch for breakfast. One morning a woman came to me very concerned that there might be ants if she ate on the porch.  I assured her that I had never seen any ants on the porch; and that we frequently served breakfast there. Ants were never a problem. At the buffet table she again told me that she was worried about ants. Once more, I assured her that there were no ants on the porch. Less than five minutes after leaving with a plate piled high with food, the woman came back, held up her plate and pointed to an ant. How could that happen? How did she know? Did ants follow her through life?  How did one ant find its way to her table and onto her plate?

One Sunday morning after a late-night reception, I was scrambling eggs, when a young man came into the kitchen and stood sleepily at my side. “Yes, yes. How can I help you?” Whispering, he beckoned me aside and then slowly, ever so slowly told me that the cottage where he and the bride were staying was on fire. What! Wake up buddy! I ran to the cottage, it was not ablaze, but it was filled with smoke. The bride was carried into the yard, windows were opened, and it all had a happy ending. Back in the kitchen, my eggs were waiting. When I told the guests that it was a three-hour egg and would be ready soon; everyone smiled.

Occasionally the fire alarm would go off at critical dramatic moments, but usually everything flowed. Well, sort of flowed. Twenty minutes before one big wedding, “What’s that terrible smell?”  A dead opossum was under the house and stinking like a skunk. No problem, not for this Innkeeper. Dead opossum? Bring it on. It's June and nothing will stop a June wedding.