Robin nodded. Because she was deceiving him, she had a hard time looking straight at him. “I’ll clear the table,” she said, and started toward the door.
He stopped her. “The girls will do that. Let me show you to your room instead.”
AS THEY WALKED TO THE front of the house, Eric told her a little of the small town’s history. Shortly before the turn of the century, Dunnigan Bay had been a busy fishing village. Workers had come from the neighboring towns to man the boats that put out to sea. Then a scandal broke out, involving the owner of the fishing company. His devotion to profit eclipsed his concern for the well-being of his men. Several boats had been lost at sea due to poor maintenance and the pressure to stay out fishing, even in the face of intense storms. Numerous lives had been sacrificed. The remaining workers and the lost workers’ families rightfully blamed Micha Talbot, the owner. They gathered outside his home, angrily swearing revenge. This home. The house that was now called Heron’s Inn.
“What happened to him?” Robin asked.
“He slipped out a back window, made his way to the beach, stole a small boat and disappeared, never to be heard from again.”
“How many fishermen died because of him?”
“Close to thirty.”
“Does it bother you to live in a house with such an unsavory past?”
“All old houses have histories,” he said. “About five families have lived here since Micha Talbot. All perfectly happy. No ghosts haunt it that I’ve ever seen.”
Robin shivered lightly as she climbed the stairs in his wake. He glanced back at her and smiled. “You aren’t superstitious, are you?”
“Not normally, no.”
“Good. Bridget swears she’s seen a shadow or two, but I think it’s her Celtic imagination.”
“Is this part of your being upfront with me?”
“Full disclosure,” he teased. “No ghosts, just shadows.”
“I’ll remember that.”
They reached the top of the flight of stairs only to start up another narrower and steeper set, which led to a third floor.
“The family lives up here,” he said. “David, myself, Samantha and Barbara. That was Barbara you met last. She’s scheduled to get married in about a month, so that will be one less mouth you’ll have to feed. When he can, our brother Benjamin comes home for weekends. He’s going to law school in San Francisco. Then there’s Allison. She visits occasionally with her two children. That’s no extra work for you, though. If the house is full, we all pitch in.”
“You have a large family,” she remarked, sensing that if she made no comment, the oversight would be noticed.
“Yes, I do,” he agreed. “This way…to the end of the hall. When Allison and Benjamin aren’t here, you’ll have a bit of privacy. They have the closest bedrooms. When either of them are here, though…” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind being thrown in with the family. Bridget has been with us for almost fourteen years and she feels at home. But if you object, we could—”
“No, this is fine. I don’t mind,” Robin interrupted. She’d wanted to get to know the family. What better way than this?
His expression relaxed. “Well,” he said, opening the door, “here it is. The room’s pretty much as Bridget left it. If you’d like to box up any of her things and put out your own, feel free.”
The small room was filled with furniture—a double bed, two chests of drawers, a vanity table and chair, a wardrobe and a small writing desk.
“We don’t run to closets in the place. It would cost a fortune to install them and Allison thought it added to the charm to have wardrobes. She held out for keeping everything as close to the original as we could have it, except for plumbing, of course. We do have a shower in the family area. Downstairs, we have only tubs. The guests seem to prefer that.”
“Mmm,” Robin murmured.
“So when can you start?” he asked.
“When do you need me?”
“Yesterday?” he joked.
“How about Monday? That’s three days from now.”
“You have Mondays off,” he reminded her.
“I’ll forfeit this first Monday. It will give me a chance to learn my way around.”
“Deal,” he said, and thrust out his hand.
Robin looked at it. It was long-fingered and capable, just as his father’s had been. Even without the trigger of the video, she was propelled back into that terrible moment, when her rescuer had looked at her and told her that everything would be all right. Well, it hadn’t been all right. And she wasn’t sure that it would ever truly be all right again.
CHAPTER THREE
“DO YOU THINK SHE’LL be here soon?” Samantha asked as she carefully placed thick turkey sandwiches into small plastic bags. “I don’t want to make dinner again this evening. It’s Barbara’s turn, anyway, but she and Timothy have something they have to do. Honestly, I like the man, but if I hear his name too many more times… And if I hear too much more about the wedding… I think they should have a little consideration and elope. That’s what I’d do. Just up and do it. No muss, no fuss. If it wasn’t for Eileen, that’s what I think they’d do, too. But she’s so freaked. She needs to relax. Not be so intense about everything. She needs to be more like you.” She directed a quick look at Eric, who was packing the sandwiches, fruit, chips and a thermos of hot coffee into one of the medium-sized wicker picnic baskets they kept for the use of their guests.
Eric smiled. He enjoyed listening to Samantha’s chatter. She could cover more subjects in one minute than most people could in ten. “She’ll be here,” he assured her.
His youngest sister sighed. “I miss Bridget. I didn’t think I would so much, but I do. And not just because I miss her cooking. I miss her because…well…I’m glad she’s having a good time, though. She wrote that Ireland was so green from the air. I hope she finds that cousin she’s looking for. Are people really a cousin when they’re so many times removed? A great-great-great-great-aunt’s child? Will they look anything alike, do you think? Do we have anyone like that in our family? A rich cousin who’s rumored to live in a castle?”
“If we do, I don’t know them,” Eric said.
“Maybe I should investigate our family history to see if we have any royal blood.”
Eric laughed. “We’re a family of brigands, most likely.”
“Brigands!”
“We live on the seacoast and take people’s money.”
“They give us their money, willingly. And we give them a good time. Sometimes I wonder, though…” Her words drifted away.
“What do you wonder?” he prompted, still teasing, still enjoying her youthful exuberance.
“What our lives would have been like if Dad hadn’t—”
Eric shut the wicker lid and fastened the clasp with a decided snap. “It doesn’t do any good to wonder,” he said brusquely. “Here. You’d better get this to the Petersons. After hiking to the Overlook, they might find they need a little more than love to get back on.”
Samantha accepted the basket, but the wistful look didn’t leave her eyes. “Don’t you ever wonder, Eric?” she persisted.
“No,” he answered firmly. “I’m too busy.”
“What about love?” she asked. “Are you too busy for that, too? You always sound so…cynical, when you say the word.”
Eric drew a deep breath. For sixteen years he’d done his best to be both mother and father to his siblings. He’d made mistakes, but he’d always tried. Patience was the virtue he’d had the hardest time learning. He took his sister by the shoulders, pointed her in the direction of the hall and gave her a little push. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to worry.”
“But you’ll be all alone soon,” she protested, pausing at the door. “Barbara’s getting married, I’ll probably be leaving in the next year, and David—” Nothing more needed to be said about David. David could easily disappear in a few weeks when he turned eighteen.
“Ah, blessed peace!
” Eric exclaimed.
“I just want you to be happy,” Samantha murmured.
Eric relented. He walked over to her and wrapped her in a big bear hug. “I know you do. That’s what I want for you, too. For all of you.”
Samantha managed to save the basket from being crushed. “Hey! Watch out!” she cried, giggling as she broke free.
Eric shook his head in amusement as he turned back into the kitchen, only to find that while Samantha had taken her leave, David had slunk into the room by way of the back stairs. The boy was dressed in his usual manner, the rips in his jeans a little more frayed than the day before. He acknowledged Eric’s presence with a grunt.
“You’re a little late getting started, aren’t you?” Eric commented, his good humor suddenly evaporating. “Eleven o’clock isn’t exactly the crack of dawn. Did Mrs. Wilson give you the morning off, or have you decided to play hooky?”
David threw him a hostile stare from beneath a mass of tangled blond hair. There was every possibility that his hair had been combed…yesterday, the day before? He dug into the open plastic bread wrapper, withdrew a slice of bread and tore off a large chunk with his teeth—an action that he knew would send Eric around the bend.
Eric strove to maintain control. He understood exactly what his brother was doing. “I asked you a question,” he said tightly.
“It’s all a waste of time anyway,” David groused. “I’m not about to go to college, so I don’t see why I should have to spend time trying to—”
“You’re in this situation now because you wasted so much time in school last semester. A little judicious studying then, and—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So you’ve said before.”
Eric’s ire finally rose. “Whether you like it or not, David, you’re going to make up that credit! And if Mandy Wilson is willing to work with you—”
“The woman’s got something seriously wrong with her brain. She thinks in French, and she’s not even French!”
“It’s called knowing a language well.”
“She expects me to think in French.”
“Good!”
David’s top lip curled, showing his disdain. “It’ll never happen,” he said softly, before tearing off another piece of bread.
Eric concentrated on clearing away the crumbs that had accumulated on the counter. “Another thing,” he said after a moment had passed. “Our substitute cook is arriving today. I suppose you picked that up over the weekend?”
“Yeah, I heard,” the boy said sourly.
“I don’t want you to give her any trouble.”
David laughed shortly and shook his head, as if completely incredulous that his brother could think such a thing.
“I mean what I’m saying, Davey,” Eric warned.
“Don’t call me that!”
“It’s better than what I’d like to call you!”
David tossed what remained of his breakfast across the room, the crust of bread hitting the far wall before settling on the floor. Both brothers looked at it.
“Pick it up,” Eric said quietly.
“You pick it up,” David defied him.
Tension crackled tautly in the air between them when a hesitant tap sounded on the door frame at the hall. Reluctantly, Eric’s gaze was drawn to the direction of the noise.
Robin McGrath stood just outside the kitchen, a look of uncertainty written on her face. Eric groaned. She’d had second thoughts before…what was she going to think now? She’d been the best by far of the three candidates he’d interviewed, and he couldn’t afford to lose her.
“I knocked on the front door,” she said, “but…”
She looked from one to the other. Any minute now and she would bolt. Eric forced himself into action. “It’s perfectly all right,” he said. “Come in. We were just—”
Eric stopped in midsentence as he saw his brother reach into the wrapper for another slice of bread, then start to saunter away from the disruption he’d caused. When he paused to smirk before he stepped into the hall, Eric’s restraint snapped.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, pushing past his newest employee to catch up with his recalcitrant brother.
The boy’s walk was dripping with attitude. No doubt he thought he’d gotten away with something. To show him that he hadn’t, Eric grabbed his arm and jerked him around.
“Look, you!” Eric said tightly, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “You go straight to Mrs. Wilson’s house, apologize for being late and ask her if you can make up the lesson this afternoon. Then you get right back here and start pulling weeds out of the front flower beds. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m going to come find you, wherever you are, and drag you back here. Understood? Life isn’t a free ride, David. You don’t have a ticket that entitles you to special treatment.”
There was a time, years back, when David had looked upon him with love and respect. But even then there had been instances when the younger boy had turned in on himself and not let anyone close. Over the years those instances had intensified and lengthened, until they’d reached the point where David had come to hold him, Eric, responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life. That was the message in his eyes now—aggrieved accusation.
Eric’s jaw tightened at David’s continued silence, but he didn’t let go of his brother’s arm. He couldn’t. It was their only contact. “Did you hear what I said?” he demanded.
“Of course I did. I’m not deaf.”
Eric wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. He wanted to force some form of sense into him. He wanted to build a bridge so that the two of them could talk again. Instead, he let go of the boy’s arm.
After brushing off his sleeve, David walked stiffly out of the house.
Mr. and Mrs. Brinkman appeared at the top of the second landing and started down the stairs. The retired couple were dressed for an afternoon of bird-watching. When they saw Eric, they smiled and greeted him warmly. Eric returned their greeting with automatic good cheer, then remembered the new cook and hurried back to the kitchen.
She hadn’t wasted the time she’d spent waiting for him. The loaf of bread had been replaced in the bread box, the remaining crumbs on the counter had been removed, and the counter wiped clean. She also had washed the coffee beaker and the soiled flatware.
When she turned to look at him, Eric didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected such efficiency. Nor had he registered, until this moment, the full impact of her attractiveness. He had noticed that she was pretty, but not that pretty. Her eyes were the color of rich dark chocolate, at odds with the golden highlights in her hair. Her face was a perfect oval, her skin a creamy peach, her nose short and straight, her lips… She was wearing a simple cotton print dress and loose-fitting sweater that could easily have hidden her figure, yet somehow didn’t.
Eric motioned to the counter. “You’re off to a fast start.”
“Yes.” She seemed ill at ease, and who could blame her? The timing of her arrival had not been auspicious.
“David and I—we were just…”
She shrugged and looked away. “It’s none of my business.”
He released a short breath. She was right. He was searching for something else to say when Samantha burst into the room.
“Oh! Hello again!” the girl cried upon seeing Robin. “I didn’t know you’d arrived! Eric was just asking when you’d get here.” She winked at her brother, including him in her joke. “I told him not to worry, you’d be here soon, but I’m not sure he believed me.”
Eric reproached his sister with a look. “That’s not quite the truth,” he defended himself. “I wasn’t worried. I—”
Samantha laughed. “It doesn’t matter now. She’s here! Oh! I gave the lunch basket to the Petersons and made sure the Brinkmans had the proper directions to Russian Cove. I asked them if they wanted a lunch basket, too, but they said they planned to try out that little spot you told them about. The one that serves such great calamari and has all the bi
rd paintings.” She frowned. “I haven’t seen Mr. Caldwell yet this morning. Have you?”
“He went off on his own about an hour ago,” Eric answered.
“So we have the house to ourselves for a while. Wonderful! We can take Robin around and show her the place without having to worry about anyone needing something. You don’t mind if I call you Robin, do you? You can call me Sam, if you want. Eric doesn’t like it when people shorten my name, but I don’t mind.”
A slightly bewildered smile flickered over Robin’s lips. Eric knew that Samantha could be an overwhelming force, if a person wasn’t prepared. “No,” he put in, “I’m going to take Robin around and show her the place. You have something else to do, don’t you?”
Samantha groaned. “But I hate to clean that mirror. Ever since Benjamin played that trick on me and—”
“It’s either that or the bathrooms.”
“I’ll clean the mirror!”
“Good for you.”
Eric took his new employee by the arm and gave a gentle tug. Her skin was warm, the flesh firm. She responded immediately to his prompting, which created a sensation deep inside him that he did his best to ignore as she preceded him out of the kitchen.
WHAT A BEGINNING, ROBIN thought as she walked stiffly down the hall. This wasn’t going to work. She must have been mad to put herself in such a position. These people had lives they were happy in, or at least accustomed to. They had established a certain order, and her presence was potentially disruptive to that order. Maybe she should admit everything, turn to Eric Marshall right this minute and confess.
She turned around and he almost crashed into her.
“Be careful,” he warned. “These halls can be dangerous. They’re not quite as wide as in other houses.”
She looked up into his laughing blue eyes and swallowed. “I need to tell you something,” she confided solemnly.
Room at Heron's Inn Page 3
