“I was wondering if—” he started to say, then caught sight of the wedding cake. He stared at it a long moment before his incredulous gaze came back to her.
She held her breath. She herself thought it was beautiful, but beauty was very much in the eye of the beholder.
“Magnificent!” he decreed. “You actually— I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Robin wiped her hands on the short towel caught in the apron string at her waist. “You really like it?”
He stepped away from the door to examine the cakes more closely. His gaze went from one to the other. “What would something like this cost if it were ordered at a fancy bakery?”
Robin merely shrugged.
“Several hundred dollars, at least,” he decided.
More like eight or nine, Robin knew, because of the labor and artistry involved. “I’ve told you,” she said. “It’s my present to Barbara and Timothy.”
“They’re very lucky people.”
Once again Robin shrugged.
She glanced away for a moment, and in that moment Eric came to stand next to her. When she looked around, she caught an oddly whimsical look in his eyes.
Her body began a fine vibration, like a deftly struck tuning fork. Being near him always did that to her, from the very first time they’d met.
He licked a finger and touched it to her forehead.
Robin ducked automatically.
He tasted his finger and laughed. “Icing!” he exclaimed.
Robin went to the sink to dampen a fresh towel. “It’s all over me,” she complained.
He took the towel away from her but, instead of using it, dropped it on the counter. Then he brushed the loose hair away from her forehead and started to kiss the sensitive skin, his tongue making soft forays to remove the sugar.
Robin wanted to melt. She wanted to tell him, “Just a minute…let’s secure the door, and then we can kiss all night long.” But her personal code wouldn’t allow her to do that. She could lie to him in one way, but not in another. Not in the most basic, most intimate relationship that existed between a man and a woman. In another week she would be gone from Heron’s Inn. She couldn’t betray him that deeply, not if she wanted to live with herself later.
She eased away from him, offering a tremulous smile. “Behave yourself,” she admonished.
Reluctantly he let her go. Someone laughed on the other side of the door and he glanced around. “I suppose you’re right. We wouldn’t want to shock the relatives.”
“I was surprised you’re back so soon. What time is it?” she asked.
“After midnight.”
“It’s already Barbara’s wedding day!”
“She went straight to bed, but I doubt she’s going to sleep tonight. She was like that as a kid. Always too excited before a big event to get any rest.”
“I was like that, too. I—”
Robin busied herself cleaning a smear of dried icing off the counter. Right now it hurt to think of herself as a child. Nor did she want to speculate about what it would be like for her as she waited through a night for her own wedding day. It was a waste of time. The groom could never be Eric. Therefore, there would be no marriage.
“Are you almost finished in here?” he asked. “It’s late and you’ve been working hard.”
“Just another few minutes,” she said, continuing to scrub at the counter. “I won’t be long.”
She could hear people climbing the stairs and walking around in the rooms above the kitchen. The house seemed to be settling for the night.
He crossed slowly to the door. “Can I do anything?” he asked, pausing.
Robin shook her head. She refused to look at him. If she did, her code might be unable to withstand the onslaught.
THE CAKES RECEIVED ALL kinds of attention the next morning. Robin found a crowd of relatives in the kitchen, oohing and aahing.
“You must be a professional,” someone said.
“Beautiful enough for a poem,” Aunt Rachel murmured. Aunt Rachel was a much older woman than Robin expected. She was actually the aunt of the Marshalls’ late mother. In her early seventies, she got along famously with Donal Caldwell.
Robin accepted their compliments and started breakfast. Halfway through her preparations, Barbara came downstairs. Dark circles were visible beneath her eyes, showing her lack of sleep. Her movements were lethargic. But when she saw the cakes, she broke into a huge smile and ran to examine them more closely.
“Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful!” she repeated, swinging around to kiss Robin’s cheek. “I knew everything was going to be all right. The sun is shining…the weather forecaster said it’s going to be clear all day. My shoes arrived in time. We found another organist. After all the headaches, it truly is going to be all right. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Robin’s head pounded. She’d probably had as little sleep last night as Barbara, but she didn’t have Barbara’s reason for being in such a good mood. She forced a smile. “I can only claim credit for the cakes.”
“They’re perfect. Better than perfect. What Eileen wanted to order was nowhere near as nice as this.”
Robin allowed herself a small, pleased smile.
DAVID CAME INTO THE kitchen as Robin straightened up after breakfast. Still clinging to the garb he loved best—his torn jeans and faded T-shirt—he sat down at the narrow table. “I’m getting tired of being nice,” he grumbled.
“I know. It is a strain,” Robin teased him.
David sighed and threaded his fingers through his long blond curls. “The tux is going to be a strain, too.”
“You’ll look very handsome.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She took the chair across from him.
“I’m also tired of the house being full of all these people. I like the paying customers better.”
“Because they pay?”
“Because they don’t criticize. I leave them alone, they leave me alone.”
“And these people don’t?”
“Aw, no! They look at me like I’m some kind of freak, then they give me these little digs, you know. ‘Your hair is a little long, isn’t it? Where did you get those jeans, the Salvation Army? Doesn’t your brother give you money for clothes?’ Really funny.”
“Maybe they’re not sure what to say to you,” she suggested.
“I’d rather they say nothing than judge me. They don’t even know me. They don’t know who I am. Maybe I don’t think so much of the way they dress, either.”
Eric strode into the room. He didn’t look as if his night had gone any better than Robin’s. “Any chance of another cup of coffee?” he asked. He noticed David and in a mistaken moment complained, “Weren’t you supposed to at least get a trim?”
David swelled up like a toad. He jumped to his feet to face his brother. “It wasn’t my idea to be involved in this thing! If my hair’s not good enough the way it is, neither am I! I’m not going to cut it! Ever!”
“You’re going to look funny with it dragging on the floor,” Eric shot back.
“It’s nowhere near the floor!”
“Give it a few years and it will be.”
Robin stood in between them. “Come on, guys,” she cajoled, a hand on each male chest. “This isn’t the time or place. Everyone’s nerves are a little ragged. David, your hair is fine. Eric, let me get you the cup of coffee you asked for. Barbara is already under enough pressure without hearing the two of you argue.”
“I’m tired of people making comments about the way I look,” David snarled, but with less force than before.
“By people, don’t you mean me?” Eric demanded.
“Everyone.”
Eric seemed ready to make another sharp reply, but instead he rubbed the back of his neck and after a moment said, “You’re right. My comment was out of line. Forget I said anything.”
David’s thin face lost more of its hostile expression. He stuffed his hands into his pockets an
d gave a jerky nod.
Samantha entered the room by way of the back stairs. “Oh, here you are!” she chirped happily. “Eric, Barbara wants to know if you have the key to her suitcase. She thought she had it, but it seems to have disappeared.”
Eric frowned. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Well, she asked me to ask you.”
“I’d better talk to her.”
“Good idea.” She grinned at David. “Are you ready for this?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“I won’t ever put you through it, I can promise you that.”
“You say that now…” David grumbled.
“I’ll say it then, too. This is too much like torture!”
Eric started for the back stairs.
“Don’t you want your coffee?” Robin asked, interrupting him.
“No, not now. I’d better go see Barbara.”
The doorbell had rung moments before. Someone must have answered it, because a small woman with a halo of white hair, a round face and a determined expression marched into the kitchen to demand, “What’s this I hear about someone holding a wedding today?” Then her face broke into a beaming smile, she dropped her suitcase and opened her arms wide, encouraging an enthusiastic greeting.
“Bridget!” Samantha yelped in joy and surprise before rushing over to her.
“Bridget?” Eric and David said in unison.
The cook extracted herself from Samantha’s embrace, patting the young woman’s cheek to show her continued love. “’Tis me. All the way back from the Emerald Isle!”
“But how—I thought—” Samantha stammered.
Bridget beamed again. “My cousin the earl. I told him how badly it was breaking my heart not to be here today, and he surprised me by putting me on his private jet. Can you believe that? The man owns his own jet! So here I am. But tomorrow the jet has to go back, and he made me promise to be on it. With so much time left of Maureen’s and my vacation, he’s offered us a place to stay in London, if we want to come…after we get our fill of seeing Ireland, of course. He’s such a nice person, we’re going to take him up on it.” She looked around. “Where’s Barbara? And Benjamin…and Allison? And who is this?” She looked at Robin with intense curiosity.
“Barbara’s upstairs,” Eric said, answering in the same order as her questions. “Benjamin should be here any minute—he couldn’t make it any earlier. I have no idea where Allison is. And this is Robin…I told you about her in my letter.”
“My replacement,” Bridget murmured. “Your temporary replacement,” Robin corrected. She smiled and held out her hand.
The older woman’s grip was strong. She didn’t immediately let go. Robin felt as if everything about her were being weighed.
A small frown crinkled Bridget’s brow. She had sensed something. “Very nice to meet you,” she said formally.
The twins burst into the room, quickly followed by Allison.
“Bridget!” they all cried, demanding the cook’s attention.
Robin eased away from the family scene. Now three people were suspicious of her. She slipped into the garden before making her way to the street.
The breeze off the ocean was bracing, exactly what she needed. She strolled to the pier, sat down for a while, then, after checking her watch, made her way back to the inn. The cakes were to be transferred to the reception hall and Barbara had asked her to accompany them, to be sure that they arrived intact.
Just as she passed through the gate in the picket fence, Benjamin rode up on his motorcycle. The loud roar before he cut the engine caused several birds to take flight.
He secured the stand, doffed his helmet and balanced it on the elongated seat. He made a striking figure in his leathers.
He grinned at her. “Caught in the act! Playing off!” he teased.
“I notice you didn’t put in an early appearance.”
“I know how to avoid last-minute panics—stay away for as long as you can.”
He stood outside the gate, making no effort to enter.
“Bridget’s here,” Robin said.
“From Ireland?” he questioned blankly.
“She’ll tell you all about it. By the way, you’ll be happy to know, she doesn’t like me, either.”
“I never said I didn’t like you,” he claimed.
“Did you stop by Umberto’s?” She had to know.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I decided to trust you.”
He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d thrust a knife into a vital organ. She caught hold of her bottom lip and looked away.
“I thought that would make you happy,” he said, frowning.
“I’m ecstatic,” Robin murmured.
The front door opened and Samantha leaned out. “Benjamin! Come see who’s here! You’ll never guess!”
“In a minute.” He continued to gaze at Robin while Samantha waited. “If you are in some kind of trouble, I do know several lawyers I can recommend.”
She shook her head, fighting to keep tears from forming. “It’s not that,” she said tightly.
“Benjamin!” Samantha repeated, growing impatient.
“Go on,” Robin urged him. “Everyone’s waiting. I’m just…tired. It’s been rather hectic here this last week.”
Concern still dominated his expression, but he agreed to do as she suggested. “We’ll talk later,” he said. As he moved past her, Robin reached out to stop him momentarily. “Benjamin? Thanks.”
“What for?” he asked, puzzled.
“Just…thanks. Now, go on.”
She stayed at the gate until the van to transport the cakes pulled up.
By directing her thoughts to her supervisory duties and after a change of scene to Vista Point, Robin was able to pull herself back together in the hour and a half that followed. From this point, she would take her continued stay in Dunnigan Bay one day at a time. The day her instinct told her it was best to leave, she would leave.
THE WEDDING WAS SOMETHING of a blur for Eric. Barbara was a radiant bride, Timothy the typical nervous groom. Eileen cried quietly throughout the ceremony and he steeled himself for the even more copious tears he knew she would cry on his shoulder later. David behaved civilly and, he had to admit, cleaned up to look quite handsome in his tux. He wore his hair slicked back in a ponytail and had even accepted a boutonniere to wear in his lapel.
Several times during the ceremony, Eric’s gaze had been drawn to Robin, seated a few benches behind the family. Seeing her sad look, he felt fiercely protective. Who was responsible for her hurt? For making her react the way she did? She looked so small, so despondent, so helpless to change whatever it was that was haunting her. He was sure now that it was a man. And if he ever gained a hint as to who the man was…
Unreasoning jealousy washed over him. He wanted to strike out, to gain some kind of physical release. But he was at his sister’s wedding. With an effort of will, he brought himself back to the happiness of the day.
He lost track of Robin at the reception. There were an inordinate number of hands to shake and cheeks to kiss. Friends and neighbors enjoyed the champagne and devoured Robin’s cakes. Eileen had to be consoled. There were photographs to be staged and miles of video to be shot.
When it was all over—after Barbara and Timothy had run out of the reception hall under a barrage of rice to catch a plane for their one-week honeymoon in Hawaii—he sank into a chair, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was tired.
“Eric?” He heard Samantha’s voice. She sat down in the chair beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Quite a day, hmm?” he murmured, lifting his head slightly.
“Barbara was happy.”
“Which makes it worthwhile.”
“I’m still glad it’s over.”
Eric chuckled tiredly in agreement. He didn’t need to put his relief into words.
Samantha sat up and smoothed the skirt of her blue gown. “I wonder if
I’ll ever wear this dress again.”
“Not many places to wear it up here,” he said.
She was quiet. “I hadn’t planned to mention this now. Maybe I still shouldn’t.”
“What?” He sensed what was coming.
“In the fall, I think I’d like to move back to San Francisco.”
“On your own?”
“With a couple of friends. We’d share an apartment.”
“What will you do for a job?”
“I’ll find one.”
“That might not be easy.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”
Samantha stared down at her hands. “I should have waited until later to tell you.” She looked as miserable as Robin had earlier.
“If it’s what you want,” Eric said after several seconds had passed, “then do it.”
Her face brightened, then fell. “But what about you? Who will help you with the inn? Barbara’s gone, I’ll be gone. What will you do? You can’t manage it all on your own, can you?”
“I’ll do what I’ve always planned to do someday—hire help.”
“I won’t go!” she cried, changing her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Forever?” he teased.
She pulled a face. “I know,” she said brightly. “You could always marry Robin.”
“I’d still have to hire extra help. Do you think she’d want to start cleaning floors and bathrooms? ‘Marry me, my dear, and I’ll shower you with bottles of cleaning fluid.’ That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
Samantha giggled. “Yes, but you’d be happy. And I wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore.”
“I’ve told you before, stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t you want to ask Robin to marry you?”
Samantha was so completely different from Allison. She took people as they were. She wasn’t afraid of them, or suspicious. On the other hand, once Allison had figured out what she wanted from life, she had gone after it with a single-minded ferocity and not looked back to question herself. Would the girls’ lives have been different if their father had lived? Was it something that he, Eric, had done or not done as he raised them that caused Allison to be so hard-edged and Samantha so willing to trust? And Barbara… He hoped with everything that was in him that she would be happy in her marriage.
Room at Heron's Inn Page 15
