We chatted for twenty minutes that day, whispering, getting to know each other. He told me of Northshire Inn and how he had purchased the property some twenty years before, gaining a positive reputation that travelers described as “…quaint with a breath of fresh air,” or, “…the place where you want to spend the night and feel cozy.” And then he proposed with a sensual seriousness tucked into the edges of his soothing tone, “Would you consider working for me at the inn? I’m looking for a young man such as yourself to work with me. My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and I’ve come to understand that I cannot run the inn by myself. I need someone to do the books, carry out some light maintenance, some housekeeping at times, and please the guests, among other things.” He leaned across the co
