Werewolf in Seattle

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Werewolf in Seattle Page 23

by Vicki Lewis Thompson


  Turning in the seat, she lifted her face to his and kissed him. “You’re the best.”

  “The best what?”

  She grinned. “You have too many talents to name, My Much Honoured Laird of Glenbarra.”

  “You could try.”

  “I will, I promise. While we’re sitting in that new hot tub late tonight, I’ll do my best to list every single one.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Knox seemed especially cheerful when they walked out on the roof of the Trevelyan Building, ready to climb into the helicopter. Luna wasn’t sure why he was being so nice considering how they’d messed with his schedule. She thanked him for being so incredibly patient with all their last-minute changes to their plans.

  “No worries.” Knox got them settled into the helicopter in the same order as before, with Colin in the back and Luna in the front passenger seat. He glanced over at her before putting on his headset. “My dad says you and I are practically kissing cousins. I didn’t know that!”

  Luna stared at him as anxiety twisted in her gut. George had been busy. “What did your father say, exactly?”

  Knox gave her his typical uncomplicated grin. “That you are the newly discovered granddaughter of my great-aunt Edwina and great-uncle Jacques. My dad’s really excited about this inn you’re opening. He wants to keep it all in the family.”

  “What family?”

  “The Trevelyan family, of course. You’re officially part of the pack, now, and that means you get the full support of my father and his cronies. He’s ready to back you a hundred percent. I think it’s exciting.”

  With the noise of the rotors, Luna doubted that Colin heard any of that, but her stomach churned right along with the rotors. George was slick, all right. He’d try to sweep her right into the Trevelyan net, and he wasn’t above using her grandparents as bait.

  But there was one major problem with that plan. She didn’t own the inn. Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra, owned it. And he had no intention of turning control over to George and the Trevelyan pack. But as she thought of that, her blood ran cold.

  George had so much power in the area that if he decided to boycott the inn because she and Colin wouldn’t let him have a controlling interest, he might be able to shut them down. Eventually she hoped to draw guests from all over the country, but initially she’d depend on local traffic to keep the inn profitable. In fact, she’d planned on making local traffic her mainstay.

  George could indeed ruin everything, and if he had the lust for control that Colin seemed to think he had, he might be ruthless in trying to get what he wanted. Driving Whittier House into bankruptcy would mean that he’d eventually get it, after all.

  Knox, bless his heart, saw only the lovely family connection now that Luna was going to manage Whittier House. He knew that she and Colin were involved, so he might even think that made Colin an honorary member of the pack. She hated to disillusion Knox, so she said nothing.

  But the flight back to Le Floret wasn’t quite as filled with wonder as the flight to Seattle had been. All the way back, she was in a mental wrestling match with all the complications that had popped up. When she’d first thought of opening Whittier House as an inn, it had seemed like such a simple plan.

  Now, whether she wanted to be or not, she was enmeshed in pack politics. She thought about something Colin had said not long ago. He told her that maybe she wasn’t meant to hide herself away on the island, that maybe she was meant for greater things. She hoped that didn’t include taking on George Trevelyan.

  The helicopter landed on the island only minutes ahead of the motor launch bringing the new hot tub and the prefabricated redwood decking that would surround it. The dealership had hired a boat big enough to accommodate a forklift, and Luna, Colin, and Hector all supervised the work crew as they brought the hot tub and the deck materials up from the dock and began installing everything on the bluff overlooking Happy Hour Beach.

  Luna realized that she still hadn’t told Hector about the plan for the inn, and either she or Colin needed to inform him. With a hot tub arriving, he might suspect that something was afoot. That could explain why he spent so much time grumbling during the installation.

  “Plain foolishness if you ask me,” he said to no one in particular. “Who needs to climb into hot water when they’re outdoors? You won’t catch me in this thing.”

  Colin stood back to admire the way the hot tub looked with the redwood deck added. “It’s supposed to be good for arthritis, Hector.”

  “So is using a shovel and a pair of hedge trimmers. Keeps a body nimble. Don’t need a damned tub for that. And what about critters getting into it?”

  “We bought a cover, too,” Luna said. “In fact, it will be covered a good part of the winter. It’s more for summer use.”

  “Then I don’t see the point of it. There are plenty of other things to do in the summer besides sit in a giant bathtub staring at each other.”

  Before hearing the story of Hector’s lost mate, Luna might have been irritated by his rant. But now she was less so, although she thought it was a terrible shame that Hector’s life had ended when his lover died and he’d chosen to nurse his misery for so long.

  When the hot tub was almost installed, complete with the buried electric cable required to run power out to it, Luna decided the time had come to fill Hector in on what was about to happen at Whittier House. Yes, she could ask Colin to tell him, and Colin would do it, but she was the manager. She might as well get used to managing.

  She touched Hector on the shoulder. “Could I talk to y’all for a minute?”

  “Guess so.” He looked wary.

  “Let’s go over to that bench and sit down. It’s been a long day.”

  “Look, if you think I’m so old that I need a bench to hold me up, then—”

  “I need the bench. You’re free to stand.” She marched over there and hoped he’d follow. She chose a spot at one end of the backless stone bench so that he had plenty of room to sit and still avoid her.

  He ambled over and sat on the opposite end of the bench.

  She gazed at him and tried to imagine him as a young Were in love. Nope, couldn’t do it. Fifty years of unhappiness had stamped him with a face that didn’t inspire her to think of gentleness and compassion. And yet, he was a link to her father.

  “I realize y’all never warmed to me,” she said.

  “Don’t think about you one way or another. Just do my job.”

  “Colin said you thought I was hiding something.”

  His head whipped around toward her. “That was a private discussion. He shouldn’t have—”

  “I was hiding something, Hector.”

  Under his bushy white eyebrows, his eyes widened. “I knew it!”

  “But before I tell you my secrets, and I will tell you, I want to ask if you remember a teenager who worked for you named Byron. It would have been almost thirty years ago.”

  Hector rubbed a hand over his shock of white hair, displacing it even more. “Byron…Byron…do you know his last name?

  “Reynaud.”

  He stared at her as comprehension slowly dawned. “That’s why your name sounded so familiar! I knew I’d heard it somewhere before. Yeah, now it’s coming back to me. I remember Byron Reynaud. Tall, gangly, earnest. Nice kid…”

  Luna’s heart ached for the person she would never know. The next time she visited Edwina and Jacques, she’d ask to see baby pictures, sports trophies, school essays, anything they’d saved. She was suddenly hungry for any little detail.

  “So he was a good worker?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes, he was. Better than most. Certainly better than that stuffed shirt George Trevelyan. Can’t believe how well he’s done, all things considered.”

  “George worked for you?”

  “Only for a couple of weeks, when both George and Byron were around eighteen. George wanted to be in charge, which didn’t sit well with me, but that wasn’t the only problem. He was always
trying to outdo his cousin Byron, and when he couldn’t, he’d pick fights with him. I had to let George go.”

  “I don’t think George has changed. He’s still very competitive.”

  “Most don’t change, not really.” Hector shook his head. “George was a hothead, and Byron wore his heart on his sleeve. Got killed in a car wreck on his way to stop his sweetheart from leaving town. If I remember right, she was human, so he should’ve just let her go.”

  No matter how many times she heard it, the story always broke Luna’s heart all over again. “Hector, she was human. She was also my mother. Byron was my father.”

  He stared at her, dumbstruck. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry, Luna. I truly am. Is your mother still alive?”

  “She died when I was eight.”

  He shook his head. “That’s pitiful.” Then something seemed to occur to him. “Does that mean that you’re…you’re…

  “I’m half Were, half human.”

  He peered at her. “I’ve never met a mixed-breed, before.”

  His response was so openly curious that she couldn’t be offended. “Neither have I, except for me. I felt like some kind of freak, and I’d planned to keep it a secret forever.”

  “But you’re telling me?” He scooted closer. “Listen, I won’t say anything, but I think keeping it quiet is a good idea.” He tilted his head toward where Colin supervised the cleanup of the hot tub installation. “Don’t tell him I said so, but Colin is a bit prejudiced.”

  “I know.” She glanced over at Colin, who stood with his broad back to her and his feet braced apart as he watched to make sure the job was finished correctly. His air of command was obvious even from this distance. He was the most gorgeous prejudiced Were she could imagine.

  But her heart warmed toward Hector for the first time since she’d arrived at Whittier House. She’d told him her big secret, and instead of trying to use it against her, he was willing to help her keep it. “It’s kind of y’all to warn me.”

  “I wouldn’t want him to give you the sack.”

  “I appreciate that. But Colin knows, and he’s letting me stay on. In fact, he’s agreed to let me manage Whittier House and run it as an inn for Weres.”

  Hector’s mouth dropped open. “An inn? You mean like a hotel?”

  “An exclusive hotel, but yes, that’s the plan.”

  “Colin’s not going to sell it?”

  “Not unless the inn turns out to be a bad idea for some reason.”

  “I’ll be damned.” Hector dangled his work-roughened hands between his knees and stared at them. “Well, I knew something had to change around here, but I never figured on this.” He shrugged and glanced up at her. “Guess it doesn’t matter. Either way, I’m outta here.”

  She’d expected that reaction, but she wasn’t going to quietly accept his resignation. “I wish you’d consider staying on, Hector. It’s your home, and we need you here. I need you here.”

  “Nah, you don’t. Get a younger man in. In fact, get a younger crew. You’ll need a more organized deal than an old guy and his ragtag bunch of teenage Weres that come over every summer from Seattle.”

  “Speaking of that, why haven’t any shown up yet? It’s June. They’re out of school by now.”

  “After Geraldine died, I put out the call that we wouldn’t need them this year.”

  “But it’s a tradition, Hector! You’ve been doing that for years, now.”

  “More than forty,” he said with a touch of pride. “Taught those kids the meaning of putting in a good day’s work. Taught them about respecting the earth and the creatures that live on it.” He sighed. “But that wouldn’t work for a fancy hotel.”

  “Oh, yes, it would. It’s a community service.” Luna had come up with yet another marketing hook. “I’ll bet the kids you hired grew up and sent their kids over.”

  “Many did. Last summer I even had a couple of grandkids from my first batch. Three generations coming over here to earn a little spending money doing something healthy, something that works those young muscles.”

  “Hector.” She almost reached for his hands, but decided he wouldn’t welcome that kind of familiarity. “You’re an institution around here. A celebrity.”

  A red flush rose from beneath his collar. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would. Guests will come just to reminisce about the summers they spent working here. They’ll want to see how the tree’s grown that they planted, or whether the flower beds still curve the way they remembered, or whether y’all still have trouble with weeds in the croquet lawn. We have history here, living history. Don’t leave! I don’t want to lose all that!”

  He looked dazed. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “I might not have, either, except that I visited my grandparents today.”

  “You did? How did that go?”

  “It was…interesting, but the minute I mentioned Whittier House, they started talking about how much Byron loved coming here to work. They wanted to know if you still worked here and they want to visit and talk about him a little bit. It would help them, I think.”

  Hector nodded, which Luna took as a good sign. Then he glanced at her. “You haven’t had much tradition in your life, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. None, really. That’s probably why I recognize how important it is. And why I want to preserve it whenever I can. Please stay, Hector.”

  “I promise to think about it.”

  “Good.” She was in a lot better position with Hector than she’d been before. She’d keep her fingers crossed that he’d make the decision that would, she believed, make everyone happy. She wanted to say something about Althea, but hesitated, not sure how he’d take it.

  But if she didn’t say something now, she might never get another chance. “Edwina, my grandmother, said she knew Althea, your mate.”

  His head came up quickly, and his tone was almost harsh. “What did she say?”

  “Only that it was very sad.”

  Hector blew out a breath and looked toward a point where sky and sea blended together, obscuring the horizon. “It was sad. And unnecessary. A simple fall, in our kitchen. Her head hit the counter just right. Massive concussion.”

  Luna gasped.

  “She was gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. It happened nearly fifty years ago, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. Nobody talks about it anymore, though, especially me.” He looked at her. “That’s probably a mistake, not to talk about it.”

  “I think it might be. Especially if you loved her very much.”

  “She was my true mate. I could never love anyone the way I loved Althea. Here, I’ll show you something.” Standing, he dug in the pocket of his work pants and pulled out a small, shiny object. “She wore this around her neck all the time. Only took it off when she shifted into Were form, but otherwise, always wore it.”

  Luna gazed at the tiny gold trinket made up of two entwined hearts with a small diamond in the middle. She doubted it was worth much money, but to Hector, it was priceless. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s always with me. That way, Althea’s always with me.” He tucked it carefully back in his pocket and sat down again.

  Luna’s throat tightened. She wanted to be loved like that. Even more specifically, she wanted to be loved like that by Colin MacDowell, Laird of Glenbarra, the Were who had stolen her heart. But it was a foolish wish that had almost no chance of coming true.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Colin hoped the discussion between Luna and Hector was going well. They were still talking when the installation crew left, and before Colin could walk over to the bench, the household staff trooped out to view the new addition. Colin suspected somebody had been sneaking out periodically to report on the progress.

  Dulcie came over doing a little cha-cha step on the croquet lawn. “Party time! Oh, yeah. Time to par-tay!”

  “Is it filled yet?” Sybil followed close behind Dulcie, her eyes bright but her enth
usiasm held carefully in check. “I know these things take a lot of time to fill.”

  “It’s filled,” Colin said. “The chemicals are in, and the hot tub is officially open for business. They promised us a functioning hot tub by the cocktail hour, and through the wonders of prefabricated construction, they’ve accomplished it.” He glanced at Dulcie and Sybil and smiled. “How come you aren’t in your suits already?”

  “Because,” Dulcie said, “we happen to have manners, and we’re waiting to be invited.”

  “Then consider yourselves invited.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Dulcie pumped both fists in the air. “Come on, Sybil, let’s get Janet. Oh, wait. Are we allowed to bring appetizers and a bottle of wine?”

  “We shouldn’t do that,” Sybil said. “Hot water and alcohol don’t mix.”

  “They do in my world,” Dulcie said. “What’s the verdict, your lairdness?”

  “The water’s not very hot yet. I’ll turn the thermostat down if you want wine. So which will it be? Hot water or wine?”

  Dulcie stuck her hand in the air. “I vote for wine. Sybil?”

  “Wine, I guess. It’s still warm out. We don’t need the water too hot. Let’s get Janet.”

  “Is this a private party?” Colin asked. “Or can anybody join in?”

  Sybil blinked. “You want to go hot-tubbing with us?”

  “Why not? Let’s christen the thing. I have a couple of chores to take care of, but then I’ll put on my suit and be down.”

  “You have a suit?”

  “I always pack one when I come to Whittier House. I usually go down to Happy Hour Beach for a swim, but I think we need to try out this hot tub. I’ll ask Hector and Luna on my way back to the house.”

  “Hector won’t go for it,” Dulcie said. “He doesn’t do anything fun. But ask Luna. She’ll want to. We’ll be back in a flash.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Colin couldn’t picture this kind of informal celebration ever taking place at MacDowell House in Glenbarra. The atmosphere there was serious, deadly serious. As he walked over to the temperature control and turned it down several notches, he thought about whether Luna would like MacDowell House at all.

 

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