The Seduction of His Wife

by Janet Chapman

  They were all standing over their own traps with dumbstruck expressions on their faces. Alex laughed and walked over to congratulate Sarah…and maybe eat a little crow.

  The five men reached Sarah and Delaney at the same time, and they all stood silently as Sarah expertly took the beautiful landlocked salmon off the hook and bopped it on the head. She turned a proud, stunning smile on them without saying a word, then bent down to rebait her hook.

  Alex watched in amazement as she dipped into the bucket of minnows, netted one out, then held it between her fingers while she carefully attached the tiny fish and placed the baited hook, line, and sinker back down the hole. She watched the fish to make sure it was lively enough, then fed out the thick line until she came to a button threaded through it. She wound the remaining line around the rickety reel, reset the flag, and carefully set the trap down over the hole on its rickety legs.

  Alex glanced over at his five traps. Then he looked at Paul, Ethan, Tucker, and Grady’s traps. All of them had been in for more than an hour, and not one flag had gone up.

  Just then, Delaney’s flag shot up about ten yards away. Four grown men groaned, and Tucker tried out his first curse.

  “Excuse us,” a very smug Sarah said as the two women rushed to the waving flag, where Delaney landed a lively—and large—lake trout. This time, both girls beamed at them, and Tucker’s second curse was downright appropriate. All five men scrambled to their traps, their kite flying suddenly forgotten.

  The Knights sat down that evening, red-faced from both sunburn and total humiliation, to a platter of perfectly cooked fish. The women tried to be humble and gracious in victory but were unable to keep their pleased smiles from escaping. If it hadn’t been for them, they’d all be eating hot dogs, since there wasn’t even one active flag for the men all day. Twenty-five traps had sat for nearly five hours, their stubborn flags refusing to budge. It was a silent meal that night, the beautiful fish indeed tasting like crow.

  And Alex realized he’d have to watch Delaney more closely now, because she was getting a smile on her adorable face that would have him beating the boys off with a stick.

  “Sarah, we’re going to have our yearly NorthWoods Timber meeting this evening after the kids go to bed,” Alex said as he pushed his empty plate away. “We can have our dessert then.”

  “I’ll have the coffee ready,” she assured him, getting up and walking into the great room with Delaney. “Just make sure not to dent any pots when you clean up,” she added sweetly, pushing a giggling Delaney ahead of her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  T he meeting began at eight-thirty. Tucker and Delaney were already sound asleep after a full day of fresh air and sun, fish battling, snowmobiling, and kite chasing. Sarah had the table set, and the aroma of fresh coffee and apple crisp filled the kitchen. She poured the coffee, dished out the crisp, and headed for the great room to watch TV.

  “Sit down, Sarah,” Alex said, pushing out the chair beside him. “You’re involved in what’s been going on around here as much as we are, so you might as well give us your input.”

  “About what?” Sarah returned and sat down beside Alex. “I really don’t have anything to say.”

  “Oh, I think you have something to say to Grady.”

  “I do?” she asked, glancing at Grady, who was giving his oldest son a questioning look.

  Alex pulled a large red binder from his lap and set it in front of his father. “I imagine you want to remind Grady that he has yet to tell us about your plans to reopen the sporting camps.”

  The silence lasted exactly two seconds before Paul shot to his feet. “What?” His glare moved from Sarah to Grady. “We agreed those camps would stay closed. We don’t want tourists running around our woods.”

  Grady reached out and slowly opened the binder in front of him, silently studied each of the pages, then looked across the table at Sarah and grinned. “This is quite a business plan you’ve put together. I knew I made the right decision last August.”

  Fully aware of the three sets of eyes locked on her, Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Thank you.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ethan said, his voice deadly soft. “Are you saying you made this deal with Sarah last summer? That she didn’t come here to keep house for us but to reopen the sporting camps?”

  Grady nodded.

  “But we agreed the camps would stay closed,” Paul repeated, softer this time but no less angry as he pulled his chair back to the table and sat down.

  Sarah was painfully aware of Alex’s silence, more damning than Ethan’s and Paul’s strongly voiced objections.

  “Where did you find this?” Sarah asked, pulling the binder toward her and softly closing it.

  “In the attic, in a box near the window.”

  “A box that had my name written on it?”

  He nodded. “I was looking for a case of fishing lures and wasn’t paying attention to what was written on anything. It wasn’t until after I found the binder that I looked more closely at the box it was in.”

  “We’ve only had two minor accidents in all the years we shared our roads with the sporting camps’ previous owners,” Grady said, drawing everyone’s attention back to the subject. “And it pains me to see that business just sitting there, rotting into the ground, when it could be bringing us revenue.”

  “How?” Paul asked. “If Sarah’s running the camps, she’s the one who will be making the money.”

  “She’ll pay us rent based on a percentage of her profits.”

  Ethan shook his head. “That won’t amount to squat. Those cabins are too old and need too much work. Sarah will lose money the first five years she’s open.”

  “Actually,” Alex interjected, “I think she could make them pay.” He glanced briefly at Grady, then looked at his brothers. “I studied her plan, and if Sarah stays on budget, does most of the work herself, and pulls in the client base she intends to target, she’ll show a profit within two years.”

  Sarah nearly fell out of her chair. “You’re in favor of my opening the camps?”

  Alex shook his head. “No, I agree with Ethan and Paul. I don’t want a bunch of tourists on our roads. I’m just saying that you’ve planned everything out quite well, and with your innkeeping experience, you can make a go of it.”

  “I’ve thought about the problem of the camps being in a working forest,” she told him. “I plan to educate my guests about what you do, and I’ll make sure they don’t interfere.”

  “Opening those camps will also bring money to Oak Grove,” Grady added. “The whole town will benefit.”

  “Especially our insurance company,” Ethan said. “Our rates are going to skyrocket the first time one of our trucks flattens a car of tourists.”

  “Your trucks travel the state roads without any problem,” Sarah pointed out. “Why wouldn’t your drivers be as careful on your logging roads as they are on the state’s?”

  “The state roads are designed for heavy traffic,” Ethan countered. “They’re wider than ours, and they’re paved. Do you have any idea how long it takes a loaded 22-wheeler to come to a stop on gravel?”

  “It’s already a done deal,” Grady said, leaning forward to set his clasped hands on the table. “Sarah and I shook on it last August.” He let his gaze roam to each of his sons, ending with Alex. “Sarah doesn’t own the inn on Crag Island. Her brother-in-law inherited Martha Banks’s half of it, so Sarah needs a new place to call home and a new business to run. Are you saying that we should kick her out and send her back to a home she doesn’t even own, just because we can’t share our roads with a few automobiles?”

  Silence descended, and Sarah held her breath until she realized it was making her head throb. She stared at the closed binder in front of her while she waited for the three men who held her dream in their hands to decide.

  “Where’s your brother-in-law?” Ethan asked.

  “Nobody knows. Martha’s lawyers are trying to find him. When they d
o, I hope to sell him my half of the inn. That’s what I planned to use for capital to update the cabins and to buy new boats and motors.”

  “You’re willing to sink all your money into those camps?”

  Sarah nodded. “Because I know I can make them work.”

  A sigh heavy enough that she actually felt the air move came from Alex. “I say we table this decision until we’ve had time to think about it and Ethan and Paul have had a chance to read Sarah’s business plan.”

  Well, spit. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How long will it take for you to make a decision?” she asked, looking toward Ethan and Paul. “Because I need to move to the camps now, to start getting them ready if I want to be open by April first.”

  Alex shook his head. “You’re not moving to those camps right now.”

  “I’ll come back here three days a week to clean and cook for you until April. But it’ll be easier for me to work on the cabins and the main lodge if I’m living there.”

  “You can’t move now,” Ethan said, silently communicating with Alex before looking at her. “Until we know what’s really going on around here with those strangers and this vandalism, you shouldn’t be living there all alone.”

  “You have your own truck now,” Alex pointed out. “You can drive to the camps and work there several hours a day, as long as you’re back here by dark.”

  Well, at least they were talking as if they intended to let her open the camps. And having her own transportation did make staying here workable—except for putting some distance between her and Alex.

  “It’s settled, then,” Grady said, giving her a confident wink. “Now, on to new business. I want NorthWoods Timber to own a lumber mill.”

  All three sons blinked in disbelief.

  “A lumber mill!” Ethan said. “Are you crazy? Do you know the start-up costs for opening a lumber mill?”

  Grady smiled. “It’s already built. Loon Cove Lumber is for sale.” He sat forward in his chair. “And Clay Porter is trying to buy it.”

  That little bit of information got a heated reaction from Alex. “What in hell does Porter want with Loon Cove Lumber? He’s in the logging business, like us.”

  “Exactly,” Grady said. “And like us, he’s dependent on Loon Cove to buy his timber. Without that mill, we have no place to send our sawlogs.” He pointed a finger at Alex. “And if Porter buys Loon Cove, you can be damn sure he won’t be milling our trees.” He looked at Ethan and Paul. “So if we don’t snatch it out from under him, our only market will be the paper mills. And pulpwood doesn’t earn us nearly what timber does.”

  “Are there other sawmills around here, other than Loon Cove Lumber?” Sarah asked. “If Mr. Porter buys it, can’t you just sell your trees to someone else?”

  All four men shook their heads. “The next closest mill is ninety miles away,” Alex said. “Cheaper Canadian lumber has caused most of the small mills around here to close. Loon Cove is one of the last holdouts.”

  “Then won’t Loon Cove eventually close, too, if Canada’s lumber is cheaper?” she asked.

  “We can compete with Canada,” Grady told her, “if we own both the timber and the mill. That’s why Porter is going after Loon Cove.”

  “He’ll have to mortgage himself up to his eyeballs,” Alex said.

  “So will we,” Grady warned. “But I say it’s worth the gamble.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Or do you want to be dependent on Clay to put food on our table?”

  “Loon Cove is bigger than we need,” Paul said.

  “We’ll buy the trees we need from Porter,” Grady explained, mischief dancing in his eyes.

  “How much time do we have?” Alex asked.

  “None. Old man Bishop wants to sell quickly, which is in our favor. There aren’t too many people out shopping for mills right now, and the price is good. I say we vote.”

  “Vote?” Ethan said. “You just spring this on us and ask us to vote?”

  “Vote,” Grady said again.

  “I vote yes,” Paul said, grinning at his scowling brother. “You’re just afraid you’ll have to turn in your chain saw for a band saw.”

  “I vote yes,” Grady said.

  “Yes,” Alex echoed.

  “Oh, all right,” Ethan conceded. “But I’m not becoming a millwright, and that’s final.”

  “I’m glad it’s unanimous,” Grady said with a smug smile. “Because I’ve already signed the purchase agreement and put down a hefty deposit.”

  As Ethan and Paul swore, Sarah gaped at Grady. What was it with this man, always scheming behind his sons’ backs?

  “Loon Cove is thirty miles by road, but it’s only fifteen miles if we follow the shoreline and head up the river,” Grady reminded his sons. “And it comes with a few thousand acres of timberland that borders our land, so we can build a road that will let us haul larger loads than the state roads allow us to. This is a wise move,” he assured them.

  “And just who’s going to run the mill?” Ethan asked, still sounding angry. “You said Bishop was anxious to sell. Why?”

  “His health is failing.” Grady grinned at Ethan, rubbing his chin. “And I’ve been wondering, myself, who might run the place for us.”

  “Dammit to hell,” Ethan growled.

  “You’ll go?” Paul asked with surprise. “But you hate mills.”

  “I’ll go,” Ethan said, looking at Alex.

  Alex nodded agreement.

  “When?” Ethan asked.

  “We own it as of March first.”

  “Looks like we’re in for one hell of an interesting spring,” Alex said, sliding his chair back and standing up.

  Sarah also stood up, and, ignoring the table full of dirty dishes, she headed straight for the back door.

  Alex beat her there. “And just where are you going?” he asked, grabbing her jacket before she could. “It’s ten degrees outside, and it’s dark.”

  “Just out for a walk,” she said, lifting her chin.

  Alex moved so that his back was to the others heading into the great room. “Ethan’s not running away,” he quietly assured her. “Have you considered that maybe he’s running toward something?”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  He held up her jacket, nodding for her to turn around and slip it on. Sarah slid her arms into the sleeves, and Alex reached for his own jacket. “I think I’ll join you,” he said, opening the door and waving her ahead of him.

  “Ah, on second thought,” Sarah said, making a production of peering outside and then unzipping her jacket. “It’s colder than I thought. I think I’ll go read in my room instead.”

  Alex quickly ushered her out onto the porch, closing the door behind them and looping his arm through hers. “Nonsense,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s a wonderful night for a walk.” He led Sarah across the yard and over to her SUV, then leaned against its fender. “I noticed this truck hasn’t moved from where Paul parked it when he plowed the driveway. How come? Don’t you like it?”

  “I like it.” She grinned. “I’m just waiting for the kids to go back to school.”

  “Why?” he asked, his gaze lowering to her mouth.

  “So there won’t be any witnesses.”

  He laughed and brought his gaze back to hers. “Along with your binder of business plans, I also found a small quilt that looked a lot like the bouquet of roses I bought you. Did you sew it?”

  She lowered her gaze. “Yes.”

  “It’s quite intricate and must have taken you hours. How come you put it in that box, after all that work? Why aren’t you displaying it?”

  “I planned to hang it at the sporting lodge,” she told him, her gaze locked on his jacket zipper.

  He lifted her chin for her to look at him. “You’re quite an artist.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How come you aren’t wearing your wedding band?” he asked, tucking his hands behind his back.

  “Because I haven’t gone into to
wn.”

  “I saw Daniel Reed checking out your hand. He noticed you weren’t wearing a ring.”

  “Daniel Reed?”

  “The game warden who couldn’t bring himself to ticket you for not having a fishing license.” He shook his head. “Do you do it on purpose or just by instinct?”

  “Do what?”

  “Bring men to their knees with that thousand-watt smile of yours. Don’t raise your hackles at me,” he said with a laugh. “I’m merely pointing out an obvious fact. I want you to wear my ring, Sarah. It’ll look better for all of us whenever one of our crew or someone from town comes to the house.”

  The thought of slipping that ring on her finger was more than Sarah could bear. She had pulled off Roland’s ring the day he’d been declared drowned at sea and had finally taken her first real breath in eight years. Sarah decided it was time to change the subject—well, sort of. “It’s the first of the year. When are you going to file for divorce? Or should I be the one to file?”

  Alex straightened from the fender. “If anyone files, it’ll be me,” he said. “But not yet.”

  “You have to do it soon, if only for the kids. Tucker keeps calling me Mom, because Grady told him to call me that when we got married so people would believe the wedding was real. And Tucker still thinks it’s real and keeps asking me when I’m going to move into your bedroom like a real mom. You need to talk to him and Delaney.”

  “No.”

  “Parents divorce all the time,” she continued, ignoring Alex’s black look, illuminated by the porch light. “I’ll be living just up the lake, so they can visit me regularly. And I’ll make sure they know I still love them. It’s not fair to give them false hope by keeping up this pretense.”

  “I’ll deal with my kids.”

  “And so will I,” she shot back. “I love them, and I don’t want them hurt.”

  “Then don’t get a divorce.”

  “Are you nuts? You don’t want to be married any more than I do.”

  Alex leaned against the fender again, crossing his feet at the ankles and folding his arms over his chest. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”