Changing tack, he said, “I still don’t see why you didn’t patch things up with your family eventually.”
“Sweetheart, I can’t tell you how many times I nearly picked up the phone. Especially those first years, and always on your birthday. Thank goodness I didn’t. I’m sure we both have guardian angels.”
“That’s a leap.” Given all they’d endured it seemed more likely a malevolent spirit had dogged their heels until they reached the sanctuary of Ohio.
“Believe what you will. I thank our guardian angels for stopping me from reaching out to my family. George hated them and probably would have tried to hurt them too. He definitely would have hurt me for contacting them. When we reconciled in Salt Lake, I promised him I’d never let my family meddle again.”
The comment nudged another memory buried deep inside Ryan. He recalled George camped out in front of the TV with a six-pack, and his mother shut inside her bedroom in the Salt Lake apartment, saying a tearful goodbye on the phone. Whether she’d been talking to her sister or her parents, he doubted he’d ever learn. For days afterward, she barely spoke at all.
“Why did you keep taking George back?”
The question hung between them for a painful moment. When Julia spoke again, her voice carried a dull resignation.
“I took our marital vows seriously. I loved your father even when I felt I had no choice but to leave him again. For five years after we left him behind in Salt Lake, I grieved. And I still loved him. Then, of course, he found us in Idaho. Do you remember that day in Twin Falls?” Her fingers skated across her brow. “What a stupid question. You were in high school by then. Of course you remember.”
Ryan shut his eyes tightly. Memories he’d done his best to never examine crowded in. Even now, there were giant holes in his recollections, moments from childhood he’d entirely blocked out.
A secret he continued to keep as his mother said, “After your father found us that last time, I knew it would never end. I had to change our identities and get as far away as possible.”
A sensation like suffocation bore down on Ryan. The final day in Idaho represented the blackest hours of his life. Trooping in from high school to find a man he barely recognized drunk on the couch, his unfocused gaze failing to track Julia staggering across the room, blood streaming down her face.
Within minutes, they were on the road.
Ryan pushed to his feet, then went to the sink to wash and dry his plate. He rattled the dishes in the cupboard while putting his away. He took his time filling the coffeepot and setting the timer, giving his mother room to compose herself. The conversation had taken a toll on her.
The squeak of a chair announced her imminent departure. Coming across the room, he clasped her wrist gently and turned her into his arms. For long minutes, he rocked her.
They each cherished a predictable routine, and went their separate ways to ready for bed. A long hallway divided their bedrooms, with two guest bedrooms in between. The house wasn’t lavish but it was orderly—another trait they shared, a gift from the chaotic past. Ryan checked his laptop for mail from the office. Finding none, he crawled into bed.
Before dawn, he woke with a dream of Cat lingering in his senses. He had hours before he needed to don a suit and make the drive out to Sweet Lake. Restless, he pulled on jeans and quietly slipped out of the house. He drove through the darkness with his thoughts turning to the sad details his mother had shared.
On Springdale Road, the bluish lights of the gas station fell across the street. Behind the counter, a kid with dreadlocks played games on his smartphone. Beside the cash register, the morning’s copies of USA Today sat in a stack.
He walked outside, leafing through the pages with urgency. Sure enough, the feature took up most of the front page of the Money section. The photographs, larger than he would’ve preferred, depicted an executive content in his success, a man who’d willingly traded anonymity for news coverage.
Ryan tossed the paper on the passenger seat. Across the parking lot, the first traces of sunlight bled into the shadows.
Chapter 7
Toweling her hair dry, Cat stepped from the bathroom and frowned at her unexpected visitor. On the side of her bed, Jada rustled through a newspaper.
A soft thumping carried across the ceiling. The men tasked with repairing the roof were already clambering across the opposite end of the south wing. In a nod to the two women still living inside, they avoided the portion closest to the Wayfair’s main structure until after 9:00 a.m.
Cat shook out her damp hair. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” At eight o’clock, Jada was usually baking.
“I thought you should see this.” She handed over the Money section of USA Today.
The headline read “The Unsung Hero of Corporate Giving.” The article detailed Ryan’s efforts to bundle corporate ad campaigns with worthy charities. The piece took up most of the page, with three photos of him interspersed with the copy—leaning against the desk in his spacious office at Adworks, meeting with the manager of an organization that assisted battered women and their children in the tristate area, chatting with an executive in the boardroom of an Ohio aerospace company.
When Ryan had stated he was the best in his field, she’d written the comment off as false bravado. Obviously the wrong conclusion.
Overwhelmed, Cat sank onto the side of the bed. “I finally reached Miri last night. Why didn’t she mention this?”
“I’m sure she thought Ryan would bring it up.”
“He didn’t.” She hadn’t given him the opportunity. She’d spent most of yesterday avoiding him. “I had no idea Miri sent her top employee to make up for bowing out.”
“Have you seen the commercial on TV, the one with Buckeye Steel employees working on Habitat for Humanity projects? I love that commercial.”
“It plays on TV constantly.”
“Ryan’s behind it.”
“I’ve seen the ads by Freidman Investments for WomanCare,” Cat murmured, skimming the article. “The theme’s called Investing in the Safety of Families.”
“Ryan’s done some incredible work.”
Cat’s heart shifted. “He has.”
According to USA Today, his ability to integrate charities with the campaigns of regional corporations reaped millions in donations for good works—and a sharp rise in customer satisfaction for the companies involved. Thanks to his efforts, Annette Givens-Coyne, president of WomanCare, expected another four percent increase in giving this year. Farther down in the article, representatives from a Cleveland charity for children with autism and the president of the Make-a-Wish Foundation also sang Ryan’s praises.
Jada said, “Forget what I told you yesterday. Ryan’s not the type with only one thing on his mind. You can’t date him, but he’s obviously a good man.”
“Stop worrying. With all my new responsibilities, I don’t have time to date.” Rising, Cat went to the dresser and began applying makeup. “This is the first time I’ve felt like my actions make a real difference. With the right marketing mix, the Wayfair will become a jobs engine for Sweet Lake, just like when we were younger.”
“We’ll get there.”
She finished applying mascara, then hesitated. “Yesterday I ran into LaTasha Peale coming in to work second shift in the Sunshine Room,” she said, referring to the inn’s restaurant.
“Tough raising two kids on your own.”
“Not that you’d know it.”
“She has received help from the Sirens. I overheard Frances talking to Linnie.”
Cat knew about the clothing purchased for LaTasha’s girls and the trips to the grocery store, which her mother and Frances orchestrated. “Sure, but she’s been getting by on part-time work since losing her job at the Wayfair years ago. I’ve never seen LaTasha complain, and her daughters always look happy. When I ran into her, she thanked me for the job. Second time she’s done that.”
“Yeah, she’s thanked me too.” Jada smiled. “We did the righ
t thing.”
She meant the decision, made together with Linnie, to quietly draw up a list of past employees and decide whom to reinstate first. LaTasha’s name had topped the list. An obvious choice, given her work ethic. What Cat hadn’t expected was LaTasha’s gratitude—she’d earned the reinstatement, and the inn belonged to Linnie, after all.
Dating, even someone like Ryan, came in a poor second to the chance to make a difference in people’s lives.
Sheepishly she took in the large suite she’d called home since the Wayfair fell on hard times. Her own life needed improvement. The chairs by the window lay buried beneath clothes she’d forgotten to put away. Beefcake Bill leaned against the wall, his cartoonish face peering toward the dresser with its jumble of cosmetics, jewelry, and odd receipts. Her office looked no better. It was a wonder that Ryan hadn’t walked in, taken a quick look, and walked right back out.
Cat scooped up a handful of receipts and pitched them into the garbage can. “I’m an idiot. Next to the other work Ryan’s done, dealing with the Wayfair must feel like a demotion. Do I owe him an apology?”
“I wouldn’t dump him in the lobby again. He can’t help us if you’re constantly ditching him.” Jada stalked to the closet. “Wear this today.” She pulled out a knit dress with a high collar and three-quarter sleeves.
“My funeral dress? Get real.” She hadn’t worn it since her grandmother’s service. “Pick something else.”
“Nope, this is the one. You’ll put the kibosh on Ryan’s libido if you give off a funereal air.”
“But I don’t want to look like death!”
“And no jewelry. I’m not blaming you for leading on our hot new ad exec, but you can send the right signals.”
The inference wounded her pride. “You act like I sent the wrong signals yesterday.”
“Cat, your femininity’s been on steroids since you were twelve. Stop drawing attention to your attributes, and he’ll lay on fewer compliments.”
Her pulse jumped. “What if he doesn’t?” She’d spent the better part of a sleepless night coming to grips with the facts. She’d felt the same instant attraction.
Jada pushed her toward the bathroom. “Like you said, you’re too busy to date. If he throws steamy glances, ignore them. If he makes another comment about your looks, pretend you’ve lost hearing in both ears.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Another hour of baking, then I’m doing the walk-through with the heating and cooling guys.”
“Ask them to work on the heating first.” The unit in the south wing was shot.
“Already done.” She brushed a damp strand of hair from Cat’s eyes. “You’ll be all right? If there’s a problem, drum up an excuse to drag me into the meeting.”
“I’m sure he’ll behave.” Cat picked up the newspaper they’d left on the bed. “Look at the work he’s done. I should’ve treated him better yesterday. I thought he was bragging. Who knew he was understating his accomplishments?”
“He’s not the only one I’m worried about.” Jada paused in the doorway. “Stay on your best behavior.”
The door clicked shut.
Heeding the advice, Cat shimmied the dress over her head then grabbed the blow dryer. The butterflies returned to her stomach, as if she were readying for an important date. Quashing the thought, she bundled her hair into a loose ponytail and slipped on her ugly beige flats. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d left her suite without earrings, or at least a few bracelets. Resisting the urge to add a touch of glam, she went downstairs.
She breezed into her office and immediately skidded to a halt. Ryan had beaten her to work. Only he’d done more than show up early.
He’d literally rolled up his shirtsleeves to get started. Not on the marketing campaign—he was riffling through the boxes surrounding her filing cabinet.
With a nervous smile, he straightened. “Good morning.” His attention leapt from the clump of papers in his fist to the clock on the wall. “I got in early. Mr. Uchida told me to wait in your office. Thought I’d pitch in.”
A fan of hanging files sat atop the cabinet. She spotted his neat penmanship. “You’re unpacking my stuff?”
“Do you mind?”
“I’m not sure.” There were few tasks she despised more than organizing paperwork. “I guess not.”
He opened the next box, studied the contents. “You’ll have room to walk around in here once the filing cabinet’s filled.”
“Where should I begin?”
He slid a box toward her feet. “Guest receipts dating back to 1974.”
She stifled a groan. “Must we keep them all?”
The desperation lacing the query seemed to ease his nervousness. Which proved startling—she wasn’t the only one suffering from anxiety.
“Keep the last ten years, and ask Linnie to put the rest in storage. After we nail down the fall ad buys, I’ll help you input the names and addresses in a spreadsheet. I have some ideas on simple mailers to reach out to past customers.”
“Ryan, I can’t ask you to help with secretarial work. Your time is too valuable.”
“Think of it as my gift to the inn’s new marketing manager.”
Evidently the remark didn’t come across as matter-of-fact as intended, and embarrassment flickered across his features. Turning away, he opened the last box. The arrogance he’d displayed yesterday was nowhere in evidence as he began filling the cabinet.
Unspoken tension clung to the air, but Cat saw the wisdom of following his lead. Feigning immunity to the crackling awareness bounding between them, she got to work. She wanted to mention the USA Today feature, but his single-minded focus warded off potential compliments.
In less than an hour, the filing cabinet groaned with paperwork. Together they deposited the last boxes in the corridor.
“Mind if we wait until this afternoon for the grand tour of the inn?” Sorting through the paperwork had subdued her nervousness over working with a man she liked far too much. “We should walk down to the lake while it’s still early.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go over the ad budget first?” Ryan adjusted his tie, a beautiful green silk that matched his eyes. “I’ve put together the proposal.”
“Let’s go over the numbers when we get back. There aren’t many guests booked this week, but the sunbathers will be out in force once the Sunshine Room finishes serving breakfast.”
Relenting, he followed her out to the veranda. When they started down the steps, she caught the odd tightening of his lips.
“You have something against the great outdoors?” Out of habit, she stretched out her arms to capture the September warmth. A flawless day, without a cloud in the sky. “Loosen up, Ryan. A brisk walk is better than coffee to start the day.”
“For some.” A bee zipped past, and he swatted it away. “I’m not crazy about the great outdoors.”
“Allergies?”
“No.”
Who preferred four walls to fresh air and sunshine? If dragging her desk to the front lawn wouldn’t inconvenience the guests, she’d work outside in all but the winter months.
“I can take small parks in cities. Baseball fields, backyard cookouts in suburbia with the neighbors leering over the fence and police cruisers squealing in the distance.” He surveyed the untamed vista, the dense emerald band of the forest, and the leaping waves of the lake glittering in the distance. “I’m not really an outdoor guy.”
An odd revelation, and she wondered if he suffered from some sort of phobia. “Jada hates enclosed spaces. If the Wayfair had an elevator, she’d still take the stairs.”
He cast a quick glance. “You’ve always lived in Sweet Lake?” Apparently a discussion regarding his aversion to nature was off the table.
“Born and bred. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” She led him down the stone path toward the lake. “What about you? Always been in Cincinnati?”
He appeared to weigh the question with a strange misgiving. “I was born in San Francisco.”
He paused to look behind. Three blue vans were disgorging construction workers in the parking lot. “Linnie’s hired a big crew. When did the renovations begin?”
“In August.” Evidently his background was another topic he’d prefer off the table, but she found his evasions annoying. There was no harm in getting better acquainted. “You grew up in San Francisco?”
“No.”
She’d had enough. “Don’t take this wrong way, but has anyone mentioned you’re weirdly unpredictable? Hot and cold. First you do this nice thing, and help organize my office. Now you’re acting like someone in the witness protection program.” She made a half-hearted attempt to stanch the impatience in her voice. “I’m asking about your childhood, Ryan. It’s called an ice breaker.”
The direct approach nearly put amusement on his lips. It seemed a great loss when the crow’s feet framing his eyes deepened.
“I didn’t grow up in one place like you did. My mother took us to Utah, then Idaho.” A long pause, his strides quickening as he added, “We left Idaho when I was sixteen.”
She hurried to catch up. No mention of a father, and she sensed the conversation gave him no pleasure. “I’m sorry.”
He stopped abruptly, and they nearly collided. “Why are you sorry?”
The intensity returned to his features, but she detected the sorrow underneath. “I’m getting the impression they weren’t happy moves.” He looked uncomfortable, the muscles in his jaw growing taut. “What came after Idaho?”
“Cincinnati. Been there ever since.”
“Why Ohio?”
Another sharp glance, but this one carried amusement. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“The habits of Curious Cat. That was my nickname growing up. Feel free to mock me if the prying goes overboard.”
“I’d never mock you, and I’m not sure why we chose Ohio. I guess my mother needed the Continental Divide between herself and the past. I know I did.” They reached the last, steepest hill, where the lawn met the golden sands of the beach. Helping her down, he added, “We have a house in the burbs. I bought it exactly one year after landing the job with Miri. We lived in a condo before then.”
The Comfort of Secrets (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 2) Page 7
