Innkeeper's Daughter

by Marie Ferrarella

  “They’re friends of my dad’s,” Wyatt responded. “Journalists, for the most part. I know for a fact that at least half of them are used to roughing it.”

  “Which means that half of them aren’t.” She wasn’t about to put anyone out or to inconvenience a single person who was coming to honor Uncle Dan. “Besides, I’m assuming that those who have one are bringing their spouses. Our rooms are bigger than old-fashioned phone booths, but we’re certainly not going to see how many people we can cram into them.”

  As she talked, Alex continued perusing the sites, scanning over guests’ comments and criticisms, as well as what they found praiseworthy. She meant to take care of all the people coming to the funeral. It was the least she could do for Uncle Dan.

  “You know, I don’t remember you being this conscientious when we were growing up,” Wyatt commented. The remark was meant to hide the fact that he thought she was going out of her way to do a very nice thing and he appreciated it. He knew it was rather juvenile, but he wasn’t comfortable praising her.

  Alex blew out a dismissive breath. “I’m surprised that you remember anything at all about the summers you spent here.”

  “On the contrary, I remember a lot,” he assured her. “Why would you think I wouldn’t remember anything?”

  Alex shrugged. “You live in Hollywood, land of the well-endowed and the implanted.”

  When she said nothing further, Wyatt could only stare at her. Was that some kind of code he was supposed to decipher? Well-endowed? “Still not an answer to my question.”

  “Well, that’s the only answer you’re going to get from me right now.” If she said something more about the well-endowed women she’d seen pictured with him, Wyatt might misunderstand and think she was being jealous, or something equally as absurd.

  She was overly tired and that made her careless, she realized. Too careless.

  Alex powered down her computer, knowing she wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight. Besides, she had enough information to make an intelligent recommendation to the mourners.

  The screen winked at her, then shut down, and she rose to her feet.

  About to say good-night, she saw by his expression that he was momentarily preoccupied, as if a thought had sneaked up on him.

  Debating just leaving him to that thought, she found she couldn’t. What if he was thinking about how lonely the inn seemed without his father around? The two had always been here together and while there were more than a few times when Uncle Dan would just visit them on his own, Wyatt had never been here before without his father.

  Except that now he was.

  It really had to feel strange.

  Her heart went out to him.

  “How are you holding up?” Alex asked him quietly.

  Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard her anyway. Looking up, his eyes met hers. The smile that came to his lips was enigmatic.

  “I’m doing okay,” he said, and she took that as her release from any further obligation, at least for tonight. He said he was fine, she told herself, so she was free to leave him alone.

  But as she started to go, Wyatt added, “As long as I don’t think about why I’m here or what I’m doing.” He sighed quietly. “Or about the fact that I can’t see him anymore, can’t pick up the phone and talk to him—well, actually, I couldn’t do that even when he was...even before,” he amended, unable to say “alive,” the word that no longer applied to his father and so permanently separated them. “I’d leave him a message that I wanted to talk to him and he’d call me back. Usually the same day.”

  Wyatt smiled to himself. “Half the time he’d call back in the middle of the night, because he’d forget about the time difference until I’d answer the phone, half asleep.” He looked out through the large bay window that faced the front of the inn. The darkness beyond effectively hid the grounds, intensifying a feeling of isolation, of being separated from the rest of the world. “I’m going to miss him,” he all but whispered.

  “We’re all going to miss him,” Alex assured him with feeling.

  It wasn’t the same thing. “Yeah, but you’re going to miss your father’s friend—I’m going to miss my father,” he emphasized. “Miss having the adult relationship I was looking forward to having with him.” And then he shrugged, remembering who he was talking to. “I guess that probably doesn’t make any sense to you.”

  She surprised him by saying, “On the contrary, that makes perfect sense to me.”

  Wyatt stared at her. He hadn’t expected Alex to be this intuitive, this sensitive to his feelings. He found himself waiting for a shoe to drop—or an ax to fall.

  “I lost my mother,” she reminded him. She didn’t expect him to remember any details about her. His life, since they were kids, had gotten very complicated—as well as filled with glamorous women. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  Their eyes met as he rose to his feet.

  Somehow they’d ended up standing just inches apart.

  “Maybe you do, at that,” he agreed, knowing how very close she was to her family.

  For a moment the air seemed to stand still between them. Alex suddenly felt this irresistible urge to comfort him, to brush her lips along his cheek and tell him it was all going to be all right, but it was going to take time. A great deal of time.

  The intimacy of her thoughts, of her feelings, took her aback.

  Alex deliberately looked at her watch. “How about that? We must have set some kind of a record.”

  Wyatt arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t following her. “A record?”

  Alex nodded. “We’ve been talking for fifteen minutes and haven’t gotten into an argument yet.”

  He laughed, then, realizing she was right. “I’d better leave then, before the moment is ruined,” he said, amusement playing along his lips.

  She nodded, doing her best to look as if she was serious. “Good idea.”

  “More agreement. This is some kind of record,” Wyatt mused. “Too bad my dad’s not around to see it.”

  Alex ached for his loss—and for her own. She pressed her lips together and then nodded. “Yes, too bad,” she echoed sadly.

  After the fact, Wyatt wasn’t sure just what came over him. A wave of gratitude, no doubt.

  Leaning forward, he placed his hand on her shoulder and lightly brushed his lips against hers before murmuring, “Thanks.”

  With that, he left.

  As he walked away, Wyatt was surprised by the lingering sweetness he could taste on his lips.

  Maybe the loss of his father so suddenly was devastating him, after all, he thought, quickening his pace just a little.

  He needed to get a grip.

  Alex remained where she was, watching him walk away, trying to make sense of and sort out just what had taken place here.

  He’d kissed her.

  Not on a dare, the way he said he had all those years ago when they were kids. Back then he’d caught her by surprise, too, making her pulse race and setting her imagination into high gear.

  To cover up her reaction, she’d demanded to know what he thought he was doing. That was when he’d told her he’d kissed her on a dare.

  She’d pushed him into the lake.

  And then she’d been angry, hurt and annoyed with herself for even entertaining any sort of adolescent romantic thoughts of him. She’d vowed to go to her grave hating him—and promising herself to exact revenge before that occurred.

  As an adult, she still thought of that kiss and her humiliation on occasion. And, as an adult, she often wondered if his confession that it had been a dare was the truth or...something that had never occurred to her as a child...was a lie he’d told to cover up his attraction to her and his momentary slip.

  She slowly slid her tongue along her lips and tasted him.

  They weren’t kids anymore.

  Maybe they were both just overly tired, overly devastated by the loss of someone who had been important to both of them in different ways
.

  Survivors of a natural disaster tended to band together for solace, she reminded herself. Seeking comfort in one another.

  Temporarily.

  Once a routine was struck again, and the loss assimilated and made part of the fabric of their everyday lives, things would get back to normal.

  And things would get back to normal for them, as well, she thought. Which meant that she and Wyatt would go back to being friendly adversaries, or frenemies, or whatever the popular term for what she and Wyatt were these days.

  Before she could think to stop herself, Alex realized that she was running the tip of her tongue along the outline of her lips again.

  Feeling the firm, fleeting imprint of his lips.

  Feeling her heart skip a beat as it searched for a path back to normal.

  She turned down the light in the reception area until there was just a soft, dim ambience cast over the area. A person who was exhausted tended to magnify everything. That was why she’d reacted to Wyatt the way she just had.

  Her feelings weren’t in that kiss, just her sympathies.

  Served her right for staying up so late.

  You’ve got to get an early start in the morning and you’ve gotta be fresh, not just for all those people you know are coming but there’re all those funeral arrangements to still take care of.

  Wyatt, she had already established, had taken care of the basics. If they were going to do right by Uncle Dan, though, there were a lot of details she still needed to handle, beginning with securing a minister to preside over the services and the actual burial.

  “You’re going to have company, Mom,” she murmured, as she made her way to her room. “Remember Uncle Dan? You married Dad at the same time that Uncle Dan married his wife. You and Dad did a whole lot better than Uncle Dan and Elizabeth did.” Reaching her room, she unlocked her door and went in.

  She refrained from turning on any lights. There was a full moon out and moonlight was streaming into her room with a vengeance.

  Alex stood there for a moment, just absorbing the peacefulness.

  “You won’t be so lonely anymore,” she promised with a small, sad smile. “Uncle Dan will make you laugh, Mom. He could always make anyone laugh, no matter how grim they were. Be sure to take good care of him, Mom. Show him the ropes. He’ll catch on quick.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, tears she struggled not to shed. It was a struggle she was destined to lose and she knew it.

  Alex unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of her skirt. Ordinarily she was exceedingly neat and would hang up her clothes, but tonight, she was far too exhausted to care about being neat.

  Too exhausted to even try to remember which drawer had her nightgown in it.

  Instead, she just slipped into bed still in her underwear. It had been one exhaustingly long day.

  Alex was asleep within two minutes.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALEX HAD EVERY intention of getting up at 6:00 a.m., if not before. So when she turned on her side and looked at her alarm clock, the blue digital numbers didn’t register at first.

  And then they did.

  Six thirty-two.

  Alex bolted upright. She’d overslept!

  Five seconds later she hit the ground running. Her inner alarm had failed her, most likely because she had too many different things going on in her head at the same time, but even so, the excuse was unacceptable to her. There was just too much for her to do to waste time sleeping.

  Her shower took all of three minutes. Washing and drying her hair took another nine. Her body was still damp when she hurried into her clothes, getting stuck in them in her haste, causing her temper to fray.

  She should have set the alarm, Alex upbraided herself. But the truth of it was, she hated hearing the alarm go off, vibrating into her consciousness—even if it wasn’t shrill. She hated the sound so much that she’d trained her brain to wake her moments before she was supposed to actually get up.

  Ordinarily, that worked.

  But then, these were not exactly ordinary circumstances. Alex slipped her feet into her favorite pair of high heels. For one thing, between today and tomorrow, the inn was going to be inundated with people, coming and going. For another, this was the first funeral to be held on the premises in a long time.

  The first, she thought, since her mother had been laid to rest.

  Alex paused to check herself in the mirror and then hurried out of her room.

  The inn was better suited to weddings, she thought. She’d witnessed several here in the past few years—couples found the Victorian veranda hopelessly romantic as a backdrop as they exchanged their vows. They also loved the way the inn looked in the background in their wedding photographs.

  But a funeral, well, that was something entirely different.

  Granted, there had been funerals here, but for the life of her, she couldn’t even remember the service for her mother’s. She had somehow completely blocked it out of her memory.

  Consequently, she was flying blind, making all the different arrangements on her own. She could have asked her father for help, but she was determined to take care of this for him, to allow him to do whatever he needed to, to begin his own healing process.

  So, Alex did what she always did when she attacked something new—or when there were just too many varying components at play for her to keep track of. She made lists. Lists of everything to be addressed before the actual service and subsequent burial took place. Lists of what to do after the burial.

  Lists that begat lists.

  She’d started making the first list last night. And now, as she began to go through her paces—fortified with a large mug of coffee Dorothy had thought to bring her—it seemed to her that for every task she checked off, two more things that needed doing occurred to her. Alex dutifully added them at the end of the list.

  In her mind, she’d already dubbed it the List Without End and was doing her level best not to let it overwhelm her.

  She’d been at it for an hour when her father came to the reception desk.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” he said. He noted the near-empty mug. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

  “Later,” she told him. “I’ve got to catch up. I got a late start,” she confessed.

  “How late?” he asked.

  “I woke up at six-thirty,” she answered ruefully as she double-checked something near the bottom of her list.

  “Six-thirty,” her father repeated, shaking his head. “Only you.” Richard placed his hand over hers, stilling her for a moment. “Nobody expects you to juggle this by yourself, Alex. I appreciate you taking charge of the arrangements, but this is still my inn and I should really be the one taking care of my best friend’s funeral, not you.”

  She wasn’t about to argue with him—but she wasn’t about to listen, either. Like her sisters, she was very protective of her father. Unlike them, she’d had a great deal of practice at it.

  “You just take care of yourself, Dad,” she told him, moving her hand from beneath his and giving his hand a squeeze, then returned to typing on the keyboard. “And if you really want to do something for me—”

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Run interference with Wyatt for me. He’s bound to have some questions or suggestions and I’d appreciate it if you handled that for me.”

  After last night, she wasn’t sure if she was all that comfortable dealing with Wyatt just yet. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the kiss—that included understanding why he had done it or admitting to herself how she felt about being on the receiving end.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard for you since the two of you have such a special relationship, anyway,” she added.

  Her father looked closely at her, appearing more than a little perplexed. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Alex.”

  He was trying to spare her feelings, she supposed. But there was no point in that. She’d long since come to terms with the situation.

  “Dad,
it’s okay,” she told him with a sincere smile. “I get it, I understand.”

  “Well, that makes one of us,” he said, appearing more confused, not less. “I think I might need subtitles to know what you’re getting at. Just what do you mean by ‘special relationship’ and just what is it that you ‘understand’?”

  Why was her father putting her through this? She was telling him she understood his need for a son and that it was okay with her that he’d fulfilled that need with Wyatt, even though, at bottom, it really wasn’t. The little girl she had once been was still very hurt, but she was doing her best not to let him see that. Just what more did he want from her?

  “Well, Wyatt’s a guy.”

  “I think we can all agree on that,” Richard said slowly.

  Did he think she was that thick? The clues had always been there. A mentally challenged raccoon could have figured it out. “Dad, you call all four of us by guys’ nicknames.”

  “Yes?” The single word urged her to continue.

  Alex sighed. She didn’t have time for this. But her father gave no indication of budging until this was laid out in the open for him. So be it. “Dad, it’s obvious.”

  “Possibly,” he granted, then added, “but it’s not obvious to me.”

  Okay, she would spell it all out, every single letter. “Wyatt’s the son you never had but always wanted. Whenever Uncle Dan arrived with him, you lit up like a Christmas tree. And I heard you that time.”

  “Heard me?” he asked.

  She let out a sigh. She did not want to sound as if she was accusing him of anything, but she was at a loss as to how to say this without sounding as if she was. “I heard you tell Uncle Dan that he didn’t know how very lucky he was to have a son to do things with.”

  For a moment he just continued to look at her—and then enlightenment struck. “I said that to him when he was lamenting that he wasn’t equipped to be a father, that he thought he’d wind up failing Wyatt. I pointed out the plusses to him to make him see that he was equal to the job.”