The Green Thorne Bed and Breakfast sat large and white in a sea of Green. The rose gardens were in full bloom, pumping sweet fragrance into the air. The trees were old, giant things that cast stately dark shadows over the soft lush grass. There was no noise from cars just the lazy drone of the insects and the faint noises of the inhabitants of the house. The roof rose sharp and gabled, dark against the clear blue sky. The Thorne House was gorgeous, a stately traditional home that had been saved from the ravages of time by the last Thorne around. It had at least six bedrooms and four bathrooms, not including the attic that had been turned into two bedrooms for the owner, Noah Thorne and the new Cook. It sat on a large wooded lot of at least fifteen acres, not that there was anything else around. The B&B was at least a twenty minute drive from the closest town. A windy narrow drive next to a river that had always been popular with guests. The 'front' of the acreage was neatly manicured with gardens of both ornamental plants and of the eating variety. A picture perfect early summer in a picture perfect B&B. Unless you counted all the legends surrounding the House itself. Not to mention the grounds. Legends and Folklores of death, by murder or suicide or unnatural causes. Campfire stories, of course. Noah Thorne was a handsome dark haired man of around thirty-five. He had an affinity for plaid and for the color red and most importantly he'd been operating the Green Thorne B&B for almost five years. The B&B was his baby, his project. He still shuddered to think of what would have happened to the house had he not realized it still belonged to his family. He could still see his Grandmother at the sink laughing, in his minds eye. This year was different though, this year he'd have more time to get to see his guests, more time to laugh and have fun because this year he had a Cook. Joshua was a good cook and Noah liked his company. The last touches were ready, flowers in every vase with sprigs from the trees and clump of this or that. In his former life, Noah had been a jack-of-all-trades. He was settled now, no more traveling, no more constant searching for the perfect apartment. He'd found a place he loved and if it made him a little bit of money all the better. He peeked out the window looking at his other pride and joy, a red Ford 1948 truck in near perfect vintage and what hadn't been perfect; like the house he had fixed by himself with sweat and joy. Here it was, the first guests of the lazy balmy summer. The fans were all on and the windows were open with the curtains all a flutter. Noah checked himself in the mirror once more, he had to make a proper impression after all. Everything was just perfect. Noah waiting on guests, Joshua in the kitchen cooking lunch and making lemonade... Bliss.