“The same color as Flynn’s,” she murmured, and then she looked up to see Donna watching her. She handed the baby back saying, “I mustn’t tire you. It’s been lovely seeing you both.”
“Call anytime, Freya. I’ve enjoyed seeing you too.”
Freya drove home in a somber mood. Something had definitely stirred in her as she held that small warm bundle against her body, an indefinable feeling—longing perhaps? She turned the disc player on, needing to distract herself. Having never before experienced a wish for a child of her own, she now found the idea disturbingly appealing. She turned the music louder.
First of all, I need a man, preferably one I’m married to!
»»•««
While Lucy sewed yards of material into drapes, Freya worked on the dresser and cabinets in the kitchen. Years of paint took hours of aching arms to remove, until finally everything was back to the original pine. Undercoat and the chalk cream finish were applied to stunning effect, and the thick wooden countertops, sanded and varnished, gave the kitchen a timeless country-house look.
Freya had called the local Chamber of Commerce with regard to starting a bed-and-breakfast business, and a thick envelope had arrived. Together, she and Lucy went over the reams of rules and regulations in quiet amazement.
“Not as easy as I thought,” Freya commented. “The zoning isn’t a worry, and I’m sure I can pass the approved safety certification exam with no problem, but look at this lot! Two fridges kept at certain temperatures, two sinks, and all kitchen floor, walls, and work surfaces have to be non-porous.” They both looked at the tiled floor and varnished countertops. “They’d have to be replaced,” Freya said. “And the room will have to be repainted plus there are another nineteen requirements, Luce! Am I ready for this? Is it even possible?”
“This other info,” Lucy said, “suggests that boutique establishments should supply deluxe touches.”
“That spells dollars!”
Lucy nodded. “Right! Feather pillows, fine sheets, fluffy towels, Belgian chocolates, bath and beauty products, sumptuous breakfasts, wine and cheese in the evening, my God, the list is endless!”
“I can’t afford it,” Freya stated flatly. “The rooms aren’t even furnished. I’d need beds, chests…”
“On the other hand,” Lucy said, thoughtfully tapping her teeth with the pen, “think what you’d be offering and the price you could charge. The position is perfect. Close to San Jose, Morvenna within walking distance, beautiful beaches a short ride away, the Napa Valley on your doorstep.”
“And a golf course at the bottom of the garden,” Freya said with a grin. “Which means I’ll have to sell that land, and sooner rather than later.” She frowned. “I’ll need some finance to get started. I might try the bank on Monday.”
“Don’t forget to take your begging bowl,” Lucy said.
»»•««
The following morning, the moment she awoke, Freya was surprised by the silence. Nothing scurried across the loft floor. She frowned. Did squirrels hibernate?
She hadn’t a clue but presumed so as the noise had stopped. She liked to think of them curled up for the winter in some warm corner of the loft.
After breakfast she Skyped with Sammy.
“How goes it, hon. Is Flynn still on the scene?” Sammy asked straight away.
“He is. Honestly, Sis, I’ve never met anyone like him.”
“Ooh!”
Freya laughed. “Yeah, well, here I was thinking something was sparking between us, when all he’s interested in is building his darn golf course at the bottom of my garden!”
“Well,” Sammy protested, “like I keep saying, why not sell to him then? You don’t want it, do you? And at least once he has it, if he doesn’t bother you again, then you’ll know for sure where his interest lay.”
Freya sighed. “I’ve decided I’m going to. I can’t keep the house without money. I’ve been toying with the idea of opening a B&B, but reading through the blurb, it costs a small fortune to set up, and you need all-year occupancy to make a decent living from it.”
“Sounds to me, hon, as if you don’t really know what you want. Why not come back to Philly and forget it all?”
“Maybe you’re right.”
The call ended and Freya sat staring at the empty screen.
The thought of leaving, never seeing Flynn again… She rested her chin on her hands, wishing she could interpret her feelings for him with a clear head.
Would I know if it was love? She didn’t know, had never been in love except when she was ten and had confused adoration for Billy Roberts, whom she’d lived next door to, with what she’d thought had been love. Then, when he moved away she promptly forgot about him.
But Flynn was another matter entirely. That he could be constantly at the forefront of her thoughts was a source of puzzlement, and a little concern, simply because she felt so out of her depth.
Sighing, she went upstairs to shower and dress for the lunch date with Tim.
There was little excitement in this, and Freya compared it to the almost wild anticipation with which she’d prepared for Flynn’s barbeque. Choosing a turquoise cashmere sweater, slim black skirt, and black pumps, she added her favorite jet beads and earrings and applied a touch of lip gloss.
Why, oh why, she silently asked, can’t you fall for Tim?
The sound of wheels on gravel and Tim’s quick toot on the horn brought her back to her senses. She had a lunch date to look forward to with a kind and generous man. What a fool she’d be to spoil it with thoughts of another. Grabbing her bag and keys, she ran downstairs and, taking care to lock the door, climbed into Tim’s car.
“Hi,” he said, clear appreciation in his eyes. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” Freya closed the door.
“I see,” Tim nodded toward the house as he swung the car around, “that you’re not going along with the key-under-the-pot thing everybody does here?”
Freya smiled. “Give me a break! I’m a Philly girl, remember? We don’t do those things. Where are we going?”
“A place I think you’ll like by the sea. Fantastic views and food. Ma and Pa will be meeting us there. They’ve hired a two-seater sports car.” Tim rolled his eyes. “Regressing to their teen years I think. So, how’ve you been? Keeping busy at the house?” He swung out onto the coast road.
“Yeah. I’m really enjoying it. I’m err, thinking of applying for a license to run a bed-and-breakfast. Lucy and I think the house has much to offer.”
Tim shot her a quick glance. “Wow! That could mean a lot of hard work.”
“Mm. But I have to do something if I want to keep Byron. Oh, this looks lovely!”
Tim jumped out to open the door for her, and Freya smiled her thanks.
“Ma and Pa are here,” he said, pointing to a low-slung red car.
Freya chuckled. “I’d need a hoist to get me out of that!”
Taking her arm, Tim led her through the restaurant out to the large terrace. His parents, seated at a table at the balustrade, waved them over.
Mary and Bill were charming and affable, and Freya relaxed instantly.
“We’ve heard so much about you,” Mary said. “Tim tells us you’re an accountant.”
“Temporarily retired. I want to enjoy a west coast winter.”
“Yes, you can’t beat them. I’m sure they take years off a person’s life… Oh, excuse me, Freya. Bill, look, Ron and Margaret O’Neill have just come in. The rest of the family too!”
Freya felt the tingle run through her, and the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to lift. She turned slowly and looked across, past the other members of the O’Neill family into the blue eyes of Flynn, and in the ensuing fuss over the meeting between Tim, his parents, and the rest of the O’Neill clan, it seemed their eyes held forever.
“Hello, me darlin’.” Mickey, coming across to Freya, bent to kiss her cheek, breaking the thread, bringing her back to reality. “When are you calling to see me?�
��
“Hi, Mickey. This past couple of weeks have been a little hectic, but I could call sometime this coming week. How about Tuesday?”
“Tuesday’s good. Come for lunch. I make a mean Irish Stew…proper it is!”
“I’ll look forward to it. Hello, Flynn.”
“Freya, long time no see. How are you?”
She smiled. “Good. You?”
“Yeah.” He looked at her. “Could be better.”
I could be too! “I must have another look at baby River.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Mickey muttered. “What’s the world coming to? A grandson called River!”
Freya caught Flynn’s eye. He smiled, slow and delicious, and her stomach lurched with longing. She went to speak briefly with Donna and the rest of the family before returning with Tim and his parents to their table.
“Such a lovely family,” Mary enthused. “I’ve never understood why that good-looking Flynn hasn’t been snapped up.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t want to be, Ma.” Tim picked up his menu.
“Have you known the O’Neill’s long, Mary?” Freya asked.
“Oh, yes. I went to school with Margaret. And of course Flynn and Tim spent a lot of time together when they were young.”
“Have you had a look at the menus, Ma, Pa? What about you, Freya?”
“It all sounds so delicious,” she said.
Freya had ordered crab salad, which, when it arrived, looked like a classy French painting so beautifully was it dressed, but she could barely appreciate the care taken in its preparation. Her mouth felt dry, her body thrummed. She sat only a few feet away from him, and with every barely perceptible glance she cast his way, his eyes were waiting.
“Is the crab good?” Tim asked.
“It’s lovely, Tim.”
He smiled, but Freya thought she’d sensed a shift in his demeanor. He didn’t appear to be in the same high spirits. This saddened her—made her feel mean, for it didn’t take a rocket scientist, she reasoned, to know he’d picked up on something between her and Flynn.
I should not be here with this good man. He deserves better.
Mary and Bill chatted easily with her long after the meal was finished, and Freya could see in the older woman’s eyes a glimmer of what looked like hope—that maybe her son had finally found the woman he wanted.
If only, Freya thought, it was that easy.
When Freya heard little baby River revving up from a grizzle to a fully-fledged, see-to-me-right-now roar, she felt a sense of relief on seeing the O’Neill’s start to leave.
Good-byes were hurried, the screaming infant carried out by Mike, with Margaret and Donna both fussing anxiously over him. Flynn passed Freya’s table with his grandfather.
“Don’t forget now,” Mickey said.
Freya smiled. “I won’t.” Disappointment coursed through her. Flynn’s smiling good-bye had merely glanced over her.
“Shall we have coffee?” Tim asked.
“If you don’t mind, hon, Dad and I want to catch that cute antique shop down the road before it closes. You and Freya have some time on your own.” Mary and Bill rose together.
“I doubt we’ll see you again before we leave, Freya,” Mary said, “but it’s been most enjoyable meeting you.”
When they’d gone, Tim turned to her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”
“What? They were absolutely charming!”
Tim grinned. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see the glint in Ma’s eyes.”
“Well,” Freya laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with hoping.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
Freya felt the heat rush to her face. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. What I meant was from your mother’s point of—”
Tim laid a hand over hers. “I know what you meant. Don’t say anything else, Freya. Simply because I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
Freya bit her lip. She’d missed the opportunity to tell him how she felt. That she wished their friendship could remain just that.
On the drive home, conversation was at first a little strained.
“What made you want to be a vet?” Freya asked.
“I can’t actually recall when the idea took hold, though Ma says I was forever collecting stuff as a kid. Caterpillars, worms, frogs, and toads. In the end, she bought me a hamster in the hope I’d stop bringing critters inside.”
Freya smiled. “Did it work?”
“It did. I loved Miss Ellie.”
“Oh, cute!”
“Yeah. Then one day I came home from school and she’d died…well, I thought she had. Flynn was with me and he said we should try giving her brandy. We poured some on cotton wool and squeezed it in her mouth and within seconds, a tiny paw moved and she wiped it over her mouth.”
“Oh, goodness!”
“That shook us both. When Pa came home he rang the vet who said they can sometimes go into a coma, but people don’t realize.”
“You mean…?”
“Yeah.” Tim turned into her driveway. “Pretty gruesome end for the little thing if we hadn’t tried the brandy.”
“So Flynn saved the day?”
Tim turned the engine off. “Flynn saved the day,” he said wryly, “and I decided I wanted to be a vet.”
“How interesting. Tell me, what do you know about squirrels?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Since I moved into Byron House I’ve heard them in the roof space. They don’t bother me one little bit. I quite like the idea of them snuggled up in there, but the last couple of days I haven’t heard them.”
“They might have found more desirable quarters. Or perhaps they can’t get in any longer. Have you done any work that could stop them?”
“No.” Freya frowned. “Painting, decorating. Though I had a man in to fix the roof tiles at the other end of the house, but that wouldn’t disturb them, would it?”
“It shouldn’t. I imagine they’re off foraging somewhere. They’ll be back.”
“Pleased to hear it.” Freya opened the door before Tim had time to unfasten his seat belt. “Thank you for a lovely meal,” she said.
“Freya?” He leaned across. “Next time, come to my place.”
“Tim, you’re very kind and I like you a lot, but I’ve been thinking perhaps we should…”
Tim smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t think. I promise I won’t expect anything of you, but I would like us to remain friends. I enjoy your company.”
“You deserve more than friendship.”
“Let me be the judge of that. See you later, Freya.”
And without giving her time to reply, he reached over, pulled the door shut, and drove away. Freya waved and he tooted the horn. She went inside and slid the bolt across. Lucy called from the kitchen.
“Hi, had a good time?” She held up a glass and a bottle of wine.
“Please, hon. Yes, I enjoyed it.” Freya threw her purse onto the table and pulled out a chair.
Lucy sat opposite her. “You don’t actually look as though you did.”
Freya shrugged. “I have a long-standing date next Sunday with Tim, which I’ll keep, but after that I won’t be seeing him again, Luce. It’s a shame because he’s a really nice guy, but I won’t be pressured into a relationship I don’t want.”
“He didn’t strike me as that type of person.”
“Oh.” Freya studied her friend’s pink face.
“What I mean is, he appears thoughtful, laid back, and caring, nothing like Bernard who I suppose I let overwhelm me. No, Tim doesn’t come over like that at all!”
Freya’s phone started trilling, and she pulled it from her bag, her gaze still on Lucy.
“Hello.”
“Hi. It’s me.”
Freya’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Flynn!”
Lucy glanced at her, put her glass in the sink, and left the kitchen.
“Just thought I’d give you a quick call. Good mea
l?”
“Very. Yes, I enjoyed it.”
“Great place.”
Freya sank onto a chair, a small smile curving her mouth. What does he want?
“It is. Lovely setting.”
“And you’re having lunch with Gramps on Tuesday?”
“Yes, Flynn, I am.”
“Okay, then.”
And suddenly, as ridiculous as the conversation was, Freya did not want it to stop.
“What do you know about squirrels and their habits?” she blurted.
»»•««
Freya walked into the hallway and called up the stairs, “Flynn’s on his way over.”
Lucy leaned over the bannister, a huge grin on her face. “Great. I’ll stay up here and listen to my music.”
The percolator hissed and bubbled as Freya tried to stem her excitement. He had laughed at her question about the squirrels. “Want me to check the loft?” he’d asked casually.
And her heart had fluttered alarmingly. “Would you, Flynn? It’s not too much trouble?”
“Nope. Where do you keep the ladders?”
She was busy checking her face in the mirror when she heard his car—her cheeks were too flushed, her eyes too bright, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it, other than a quick splash of cold water. A glance out the window saw him striding across the driveway to the shed and returning with the ladders, and she ran down the stairs to open the door.
Flynn grinned, a wide, open friendly grin, clearly amused, and much easier for her to deal with than the slow, sexy smiles of the recent past.
“Never heard of anyone actually wanting the varmints in the house,” he said.
Freya shrugged, nonchalantly, she hoped. “They’re cute…don’t do any harm.”
“Sure.” Flynn shouldered the ladders and walked upstairs, Freya behind him. Each time she saw him, she realized just how very good he was to look at.
With the ladders in place and Freya standing on the bottom rung, Flynn disappeared into the roof space with a flashlight, reappearing shortly afterward.
“The chicken wire’s keeping them out. The entrance under the eaves is blocked with it,” he said as he descended the ladders.
“Chicken wire? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, a ball of it. I managed to pull it through. Someone’s put it there. I thought you’d want it gone.” Flynn handed her the ball of wire and folded the ladders away.
The Way Love Goes Page 9
