Quickly, she introduced herself and Mr. McKinnon, and informed him why she was there. It didn't take long to realize that he was normally crotchety and crabby, and didn't like strangers. But she poured on the charm, praised the efforts he had made in repairing the missing boards on the barn, and admired his antique tractor. When he realized she knew what she was talking about, he began to unbend and walked with her as she made her inspection.
While her eyes took in details of electrical wiring, general housekeeping, the presence of fire extinguishers, and she made quick notes on her clipboard, he told her he'd been in the hospital for a hernia operation, and that his hired man hadn't bothered with maintenance. She told him about her Dad's farm and about a pet pig she'd had once, and all the while she was aware of Mr. McKinnon just behind them, watching and listening.
Out in the sunshine again, she looked around the machine shed and workshop, but could find nothing to criticize.
"Would you mind if I take some pictures for our files? The ones we have are outdated and should be renewed."
"You go ahead and take your pictures, Miss Benson. I'll put the kettle on and we'll have a cup of coffee when you're finished." He turned and walked into the house.
Charly ignored McKinnon as she took her photos, some of the house, the barn, and the outbuildings. She was aware that he was again leaning on the car and watching her, but then, that was his assignment.
When she had finished, she approached the car to put the camera in it, but he was leaning against her door.
"Excuse me, please. I'd like to get rid of this before I go inside. Coming for a coffee?"
"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Miss Benson." He straightened and pulled the door open for her.
"Keeping you amused, am I?" She realized her question was a bit flippant as soon as she uttered it, but his silent watchfulness was beginning to irritate her.
"Immensely amused. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in years."
Small things amuse small minds, she thought, and missed the sharp look he threw her. It was difficult to tell if he was being sarcastic, because his comments were all delivered in the same conversational tone. She decided it was best to say nothing further, and turned to the house instead.
Mr. Baker had set the table with coffee mugs, cream, sugar, serviettes, and a plate of fresh muffins. Not wanting to offend him, Charly ate one. She was very surprised when he admitted he had baked them.