“A bed and breakfast would certainly be different, and you could bake all sorts of goodies for the guests. Do you really think we can do it?”
Brooke stood and gave her a hug. “I know we can. You’ll be the brains, and I’ll be the brawn.” She flexed her bicep, and was relieved to see a smile replace the worry in her grandmother’s eyes. “If we get cracking on the repairs, we’ll be ready to open for business by spring.”
“What an adventure! I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I am, too. I need to find my own niche far away from Gavin and our life in San Francisco. I want this venture to succeed for me, too, Grandma.”
“You know you’re always welcome here, darling girl.” June squared her narrow shoulders. “We’ll help each other.”
“Right now I’m going to help myself to another cup of coffee and then take a look around outside. The fog seems to have lifted.”
“It’ll burn off completely in another hour or so. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
Brooke hoped her grandmother was right. She could use a dose of sunshine. After she poured her coffee, she left the house by the kitchen door. Otis raced up to greet her, a goofy grin on his canine face. His feet were suspiciously muddy.
“You’re never going to break that habit, are you, boy? Where’s the hole this time?”
Otis ran off, and Brooke followed more slowly, sipping her coffee and peering up at the house. It definitely needed a paint job, and the roof looked like it was missing a few shingles. Otherwise, the place seemed to be in relatively good shape for a dwelling that had been built at the turn of the century, and not the current one. The lawn was overgrown, and a few of the paving stones leading to the garden at the rear of the house needed to be replaced, but the garden itself was well tended. Even under winter’s gloom, she saw evidence of her grandmother’s loving touch in the perennial beds. In spring, they would be a mass of blooms.
“How’re you feeling this morning?”
Brooke jumped, sloshing hot coffee onto her hand. She swore and turned, her gaze meeting Dillon’s. His golden eyes twinkled down at her as a slow grin spread across his freshly shaved face. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his low slung jeans and rocked back on his heels.
She swallowed as her blood heated at his slow perusal. “I can’t complain. My ribs are a little sore, but the headache is better.”
“Good. Sorry I startled you.”
She wiped her wet hand down the seat of her jeans. “Don’t worry about it.” A blur of movement caught her eye, and she turned. A young boy chased Otis across the yard, legs pumping, a wide grin on his face. “My goodness, is that Zack?”
Dillon glanced over as the two flew across the lawn. “The one and only. He’s fascinated by your dog.”
“I could swear he wasn’t more than a toddler the last time I saw him. I guess it’s been a few years.”
“Zack is six.” He studied his son, his eyes glowing with pride.
“If he’s six, why isn’t he in school today?”
“Teachers’ meetings or something like that. I took the day off work to stay home with him.”
The brown-haired dynamo took down her dog in a flying tackle. The two rolled in the grass, obviously thrilled with their game.
“Grandma talks about him all the time. She really enjoys the time they spend together.”
“I’m happy he has a surrogate grandmother in his life. Gail’s parents live in Seattle, so he doesn’t see them all that often.”
“I’m sorry about your wife, Dillon. I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. It must be a struggle raising Zack on your own.”
He bent to pick up a rock and sent it flying toward the huge redwoods that grew down nearly to the edge of the garden. “I’ve encountered a few challenges, but we’re managing.” He smiled and changed the subject. “You should check out the excavation project your dog started in my back yard.”
She closed her eyes and groaned. “How bad is it?”
“Let’s just say it’ll take a shovel to fill in the hole.”
“I’m sorry, Dillon.”
He patted her shoulder. “Lucky for you I’m in a good mood this morning.”
“I can’t break his digging habit, and God knows I’ve tried. My brother said I should have called him Digger.”
“How is James?”
She followed him through the break in the low hedge that separated her grandmother’s yard from his. “Busy. He just received another research grant, and his wife, Stacy, is expecting. I’ll be an aunt in a few months.”
“Good for them.”
“My parents are thrilled, especially since I won’t be making them grandparents anytime soon.”
He stopped next to a shed and touched her arm. “June told me you broke off your engagement. I’m sorry.”
Her stomach clenched just thinking about the fiasco that ended her relationship with Gavin. “I’ll survive. I suppose there are worse things than finding out the man you plan to marry is gay.”
He stared at her, and his lips twitched. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding. Go ahead and laugh. I know you’re dying to.”
“It’s not that funny. I’m sorry, Brooke.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.
She felt the embrace clear to her toes. “Yeah, I am, too. Gavin is a great guy. I’m just sorry he didn’t own up to his sexual preferences a little sooner.”
Dillon studied her from the top of her blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail to the toes of her dirty running shoes. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes. You’d temp any man. Did the two of you—” He stopped and held up his hands. “Not my business. Forget I asked.”
She let out a sigh. “Yeah, we did, but not very often. That should have been my first clue. Instead, I assumed he loved me more for my brains and charming personality than my looks.”
He opened the shed and took out a shovel. “No disrespect intended, but if you ever date a guy who can keep his hands to himself, you can be pretty certain he’s playing for the other team.”
She laughed. “You’re good for my self-esteem, and right now it could use a boost. Let’s go see how big Otis’s hole is this time.”
The hole was nearly three feet deep, but thankfully it was under a fir tree on the edge of the property and not in the middle of the lawn. Dillon made short work of filling it in. He stomped down the dirt and smiled at her over his shoulder. “Should I keep my shovel handy?”
Brooke frowned. I’ll tie him up if I have to.”
“Don’t do that. I gave your dog a stern lecture when I caught him in the act. Maybe it will have an effect.”
“I hope so. I can’t have him digging up Grandma’s yard once we’re open for business.”
His eyebrows rose. “What sort of business?”
“We’re going to open a bed and breakfast after I fix up the house.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“I need a project to keep me occupied, and Grandma needs the income. We both do. My savings certainly aren’t going to last forever.”
He put the shovel back in the shed and turned to face her. “I don’t understand why June is strapped for cash. I paid a fair price for Eli’s half of Big Timber. I insisted we have a third party assess the value before we finalized the deal.”
She touched his arm and felt the muscle flex beneath his shirt sleeve. “I don’t think you took advantage of them. Gramps made some bad investments.”
“I’m sorry, Brooke. Is there anything I can do?”
“You can recommend a good contractor. I’m perfectly capable of painting, but I want someone to check the house for structural damage and give me an estimate on the front porch repairs.”
“Gabe Wilson is your man. I’ll call him and see what his schedule is like.”
“Thanks.”
They walked toward the front of the house where the boy and dog were still romping on the lawn.
Brooke admired Dillon’s easy athletic stride. He had long legs and slim hips topped by a pair of wide shoulders that made her think twice about her vow to avoid men. As a teenager she’d had a huge crush on him. She’d spent hours every summer staring at his house from her bedroom window, hoping for a glimpse of his tousled head and lanky frame and daydreaming about the day he’d finally notice her.
A giggle slipped past her lips, and he turned to look at her. “What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking about the way I used to moon over you when we were kids. James teased me something awful.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why didn’t I know anything about it?”
“Because you barely knew I existed. I was three years younger than you and shy. Anyway, you were dating Cybil McCoy at the time.”
Dillon smiled. “I had it bad for Cybil.”
“I saw her last movie. It was terrific.”
“Yeah, it was.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I heard something on one of the celebrity gossip shows about her disappearing from the Hollywood social scene in January. Maybe she’s off somewhere making another movie.”
“Dad! Dad!” Zack shouted, interrupting their conversation. He raced across the lawn with the dog at his heels. “Otis rolled over when I told him to.”
Brooke studied Dillon’s son. He had his father’s odd golden eyes and an engaging, gap toothed smile. “Otis knows all sorts of useless tricks.”
“Really! What else can he do?”
“He can shake hands, play dead, and balance a treat on his nose.”
“Cool!”
“Zack, this is Brooke Wakefield. She’s Miss June’s granddaughter.”
She smiled at the boy. “Thanks for playing with Otis. He’s going to enjoy having you around for company.”
Zack dug his toe into the grass and lowered his gaze. “Can I play with him whenever I want?”
“As long as it’s okay with your dad.”
Dillon rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Right now I want you to go get cleaned up. Since you don’t have school today, we’re taking Grandpa Jesse out for lunch.”
“Last night he promised he’d teach me to whittle. I can’t wait!”
Zack ran toward the house, and Dillon shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I like the idea of a six-year-old playing with a knife.”
Brooke grinned. “Especially one as full of energy as Zack. Does he ever slow down?”
“Only when he’s sleeping. I’d better go supervise the washing up process. I’ll talk to you later.”
As he walked away, she wondered why he hadn’t remarried. It had been nearly five years since the plane crash that killed his parents and wife. Surely he’d had plenty of women interested.
She followed Otis across the lawn to the back porch. Using an old towel, she cleaned the dog’s filthy paws before letting him into the kitchen. Maybe Dillon was still in love with his dead wife. Not that I care. After having her heart torn apart by Gavin, the last thing she needed was another man to abuse it further. She was better off putting all her energy into fixing up her grandmother’s house.
June turned from the sink and placed the teakettle on the stove. “There you are. Rod Gates called from the garage in town. He towed your car and wants to know what you’d like him to do with it. Also, a man from your insurance company left a message.”
“I’ll phone him back and go see Rod later this afternoon. Dillon said he would talk to a contractor about the front porch.”
“Dillon is a gem. I saw the two of you outside together.” Her eyes twinkled. “Since you’re staying in Woodvale, maybe you and Dillon—”
She held up her hand. “Stop right there! I don’t want you getting any matchmaking ideas into your head. I’m taking a break from men.”
Her grandmother turned on the burner under the teakettle. “It was just a thought,” she said in a mild tone. “No reason to get uppity about it.”
Brooke grinned and headed for the phone.
****
According to both Rod Gates and the grim sounding man at the insurance company, her Subaru was totaled.
“I’m sorry, Brooke, but the repairs would cost more than the car is worth,” Rod said. He rubbed the bald spot at the back of his head and hitched up his jeans. “I wish I had better news.”
“I expected as much. I’ll get the rest of my personal items out of the car, and you can tow it to the junk yard.”
“Your insurance will pay for the towing, and you should get some sort of check from them.”
Her lips tightened. “It won’t be much. Thanks for your help, Rod.”
He nodded and went back to work under the hood of a Buick. Brooke pulled a handful of papers out of the glove box and dropped them into her backpack. Then she retrieved a laptop computer, a box full of Otis’s bowls and toys, and an oversized suitcase from the rear of the car, wincing as she dropped it on the garage floor. She frowned at the pile, wondering how she’d carry it home.
“Brooke, is that you?”
She glanced up at the pretty, strawberry blonde standing in the open garage bay. The woman smiled, revealing dimples in both cheeks.
“Stephanie, my goodness, you look terrific.”
“I still have a few pounds to lose from the last baby.” Rounding a stack of used tires, she stopped beside the crushed front end of the Subaru. “I heard you were in town.”
Brooke nodded. “This time I’m staying. Grandma and I are opening a bed and breakfast.”
“That’s great. We’ll have to get together real soon.”
“I’d like that.”
Rod dropped the Buick’s hood and ambled over. “Hi, honey. What’s up?”
“Dale’s tooth is still bothering him, so the dentist squeezed us in. Dinner will be late tonight.”
“That’s fine. I have to haul Brooke’s car to the junkyard after closing.” His eyebrows rose as he glanced at the king-sized suitcase near a large grease spot on the pitted concrete floor. “I can bring your things by June’s place later this evening if you’d like.”
“That would be a big help. Thank you, Rod.”
Brooke said her goodbyes to Stephanie and walked out to the street. A stiff breeze blew a scrap of newspaper past the toes of her running shoes and whirled it into a shrub. She waved to Harley as he cruised by in his sheriff’s car. He braked to a stop and rolled down the window.
“I was going to give you a call. I checked out the accident scene, and there wasn’t any sign of your mystery woman. I asked around town, and no one’s admitting to being in the vicinity last night.”
She frowned. “I know you think I imagined her, but I saw a woman on the road. Maybe she wasn’t local, though I swear she looked familiar. It could have been a tourist lost in the fog who freaked out and took off after I nearly hit her.”
He removed his sunglasses and polished them on his shirt front. “Makes as much sense as anything. I hear your car is totaled.”
She sighed. “It was past its prime, anyway. Looks like I’ll be driving Grandma’s old Volkswagen bus until I can afford a new one.”
“That bus is a relic.” Harley grinned. “I especially like the peace sign decals and the Impeach Nixon bumper sticker.”
“It is colorful. Thanks for looking into the accident.”
“No problem. See you around.”
He drove away, and she headed toward the center of town, which consisted of a diner, a market, a couple of souvenir shops, an antique store, the post office, and the Woodvale Inn. A non-denominational church and the elementary school were located up a side street along with a cluster of homes. The sign at the edge of town read population 1098. Woodvale wasn’t exactly a thriving metropolis, but the towering old growth redwoods surrounding the town drew tourists. Most of the locals were loggers whose families had worked for Big Timber for generations.
Brooke stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and picked up her pace. The sun was shining, but it was chilly in the lengthening af
ternoon shadows. She passed Doctor Shaw’s house just as he exited it. He waved and hurried across the front yard.
“How’s the head today?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“Much better. My ribs are still a little sore.”
“They will be for a while. Don’t do anything too strenuous until the bruising heals.” He moved in closer and laid his hand on her arm. “Can I drive you somewhere? I have a little time before I have to leave for evening rounds at the hospital.”
She edged back a step. She liked Carter, but his proximity sent a dart of disquiet down her spine. Nothing she could put a finger on, just a feeling that his interest in her was more than professional. “I was enjoying the walk home. Woodvale hasn’t changed much over the years.”
“It never does. That’s why it’s such a pleasure to see a new face, especially one as pretty as yours.”
Brooke laughed. “That’s a stretch. With the bandage and bruises, I look like something from a horror film.”
He waved his hand. “Those are just temporary.”
“I hope so.” She took another step back. “I won’t keep you, Doctor Shaw.”
“Good Lord, call me Carter, please. Woodvale isn’t big enough to stand on formality. Take care of yourself.”
The sidewalk ended. Focusing on the rutted surface of the street, she turned onto the road leading to her Grandmother’s house and nearly plowed into a man hurrying in the opposite direction.
“Oopsy Daisy,” he said, reaching out to steady her. “I guess we should both look where we’re going.”
The man was of medium height with a rangy build. Brown eyes sparkled behind wire framed glasses. Brooke frowned, trying to place him.
“It’s Elliot, Elliot Locke.”
“Oh my goodness! I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you moved away years ago.”
“I lived in Eureka for quite a while, but I came back when a teaching position opened up at the school here. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. You were always so nice to me when I visited my grandparents. Most of the other kids had little time for a summer visitor.”
He smiled ruefully. “I guess neither of us was part of the cool crowd in those days.”
“No, I don’t suppose we were.” She rolled her eyes. “As a summer kid, I was merely tolerated.”
A Deadly Love Page 3
