by Irene Hannon
Her eyes widened, and he felt himself falling into their sapphire-blue depths.
She moistened her lips.
His mouth went dry.
Talk about a dumb move. He needed to get out of here.
Fast.
Tossing the napkin back on the counter, he fished in his pocket for his keys. “It should be an interesting trip back to the Orchid.” He’d hoped the words would sound relaxed. Instead, they came out ragged.
“Just drive slowly.” She waited while he circled the island to pluck his jacket off a bench against the wall, then took the lead to the front door as he shrugged into it. “Would you call after you get there? Otherwise, I’ll worry.”
“Sure. Thank you for dinner and the cookies.”
“Small repayment for all your hospitality to us.”
A tendril of fog swirled into the room, and Cindy shivered. His cue to leave.
“I’ll call in a few minutes. Thanks again.”
Tugging up the collar of his jacket, he dived into the fog. In seconds, the lights of the house behind him were reduced to a faint, ethereal glow. They disappeared completely by the time he reached his car and slid behind the wheel.
But thoughts of the appealing woman inside didn’t vanish so easily.
He sighed.
It was going to be a long, lonely night.
Chapter Nine
“Sorry, Devon. The well’s dry.” Scott adjusted the pillow behind his head and stared at the ceiling in his room at the Orchid. It might only be ten-thirty in Starfish Bay, but it was one-thirty in the morning in New York. Yet his sister sounded wide-awake—just as he’d been since dropping into bed at nine-thirty.
Thanks to a certain single mom who’d given him a serious case of insomnia.
“But I lost my job. I told you, I...”
“Devon.” He’d already listened to her sob story. He didn’t want an encore. Nevertheless, he tried to maintain a friendly, reasonable tone. “You’ll have to get another one.”
“Good-tipping waitress jobs aren’t that easy to come by in New York.”
“There are other jobs.”
“Like what?”
“You have a teaching certificate and a degree in theatre. Why not teach acting?”
“I don’t want to teach. I want to perform.”
“There’s no reason you couldn’t do that on the side.”
“You mean community theater stuff?” Her voice was stiff with disdain.
“It would give you a creative outlet and still allow you to make a living.”
“Teaching jobs are hard to get, too.”
“That may be true in New York, but there are other cities and towns.”
“I’m an actress, Scott.”
“You also have to eat.”
Silence.
He wiped his hand down his face and waited her out as the wind moaned through the spruce trees behind his room.
“How come you’re being so hard-nosed all of a sudden?”
“I’m not being hard-nosed. I’m being realistic. I don’t have any spare cash. Gram’s money ran out six months ago and I’ve been footing the bill for Seaside Gardens ever since. That’s why I moved back home—to save on rent money. I’ve already dipped deep into my emergency funds. I can’t support you, too. You’re smart and talented and capable of doing something great with your life—but professional theater doesn’t appear to be it. You’ve given it ten years, Dev. You’ve had some nice parts, but you aren’t making a living at it. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
Scott’s fingers clenched around the phone and he closed his eyes, waiting for the hang-up click that would communicate her miffed reaction.
But she surprised him.
“I didn’t know money was that tight. You never said anything before.” Her voice was subdued and touched with...shame?
Perhaps there was hope for her yet.
“I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. And I’m sorry the acting thing hasn’t worked out. You have the talent to be a star, but there are a lot of talented people who never get their name in lights. That’s life. Dreams are wonderful, but at some point you have to let them go if they don’t work out.”
“I still think I could make it. If I had the right break.” A hint of stubbornness resurfaced in her inflection.
They were back to square one.
“I’m not saying you couldn’t. I’m just saying you’ll need to find another source of funding from now on.”
Several more beats of silence ticked by.
“You’re not going to give in this time, are you?”
“No.”
A long, dramatic sigh came over the line. “Okay. I need to think through everything you dumped on me.”
“I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Yeah. I know. You’ve always been there whenever I’ve needed you. I’ll be in touch.”
She severed the connection, and Scott pressed the off button. She’d sounded so forlorn at the end. Should he send her a few bucks to tide her over while she sorted through...
No!
He didn’t want to be an enabler.
He needed to apply some tough love.
The two women in his life agreed on that. And they were right.
Setting the phone on the nightstand beside the silk orchid in a bud vase, he flipped off the light, flopped onto his back—and frowned.
The two women in his life?
When had Cindy begun to occupy such a key role?
The answer eluded him...but the implication didn’t.
Like it or not, she’d become part of his world. As had Jarrod.
But as long as he didn’t act on that fact, everyone would be safe.
Even if that also meant he’d be lonely.
* * *
What a gorgeous day.
As Cindy parked and slid out of her car in front of the Orchid, she inhaled a lungful of the spruce-scented air. The cloudless blue sky and sparkling sea off The Point gave no hint of the fog that had draped itself over the headland and coastal town last night. This afternoon, visibility was close to a hundred percent.
Jarrod stepped out from the passenger side, his disappointed gaze on the empty parking lot in front of the adjacent motel. “I guess Mr. Walsh left.”
She hoped so. That’s why she’d waited until late in the afternoon to run this errand. She didn’t want to risk another encounter that would leave her tossing into the wee hours two nights in a row.
“He only stayed overnight because of the fog, honey. I’m sure he headed out bright and early.” She closed her door and started for the door. “Let’s get those cinnamon rolls, okay?”
“Yeah. The Orchid has the bestest ones in the world. I’m glad you called, or they’d all be gone.”
“Genevieve promised to save me two. It wouldn’t seem like Easter tomorrow without Orchid cinnamon rolls after church, would it?”
“Nope.”
The dinner crowd was already beginning to gather, and Genevieve waved a menu at them from across the foyer as they entered. “Your rolls are behind the counter. I’ll get them for you in a jiffy. Just let me seat these nice people.” She smiled at the young couple beside her and ushered them into the dining room.
Cindy strolled over to the counter, but Jarrod beat her there. As her son helped himself to a few M&M’s from the always-brimming bowl beside an arrangement of silk orchids, the front door opened behind them.
“So how was your dinner?”
At Lindsey’s question, she turned.
“What dinner?” Genevieve was back already. She skirted the counter and retrieved a white bag from underneath.
“Scott missed your salmon last night, and Cindy took pity on him after she ran into him buying a deli sandwich at the Mercantile.” Lindsey plucked a candy from the bowl and popped it in her mouth.
“Is that right?” Genevieve rang up Cindy’s purchase on the old-fashioned cash register. “I didn’t think to ask him about dinner last night wh
en he checked in. It was crazy. Can’t recall the last time we had a full house in April. We would have rounded up some food for him—though I’m sure he enjoyed dinner at your place more, Cindy.”
Her cheeks warmed, but before she could respond, Jarrod spoke up.
“Yeah, we had a lot of fun. We ate spaghetti and Mom made chocolate chip cookies. It was even better than the pizza and cupcakes we had at his house last week.”
At Jarrod’s announcement, Genevieve and Lindsey exchanged a look.
Great. Now everyone in Starfish Bay would know about her impromptu dinner with Scott in Eureka, too.
“It was business, actually.” Cindy handed the money to Genevieve, striving for a casual tone. “Scott found some old trunks in the attic that belonged to his great-great-grandfather, and he thought they might give me some ideas for an exhibit I have to do at work.”
“Yeah. He was a sea captain. Mr. Walsh gave Mom a key to his house so she could go through the stuff in the trunks.”
Her son was a font of information today.
She picked up the bag and edged toward the door as she corrected Jarrod. “It’s his grandmother’s house, honey. And he’s at work when I’m there. I’m about to transport everything to the historical society anyway.”
“Such a nice man.” Genevieve beamed at her.
“Handsome, too.” Lindsey grinned.
She was out of here.
“I need to run.” She groped for the handle of the door.
“Not too fast, I hope.” Genevieve shook a finger at her. “A little bit of hard-to-get goes a long way.”
Cheeks flaming, she escaped through the door to the sound of the women’s chuckles, Jarrod close on her heels.
“What does hard-to-get mean, Mom?”
Leave it to her son to pick up on that phrase.
“It’s an old saying.” She slid into the driver’s seat, stalling as he hopped in on the other side. “It’s kind of a game. Like...teasing. Pretending you don’t want something when you really do, to confuse someone.”
Jarrod’s brow wrinkled. “Why would you do that? If you want something from someone, shouldn’t you just tell them?”
In a simple world, yes.
But her world wasn’t simple.
A new relationship would come with guilt and baggage and risks to Jarrod, as Scott had pointed out.
None of which she needed.
But she wasn’t about to go into any of that with her son.
She shoved the key in the ignition and started the engine. “You’re right, honey. It’s kind of a strange game.”
Nor was she playing it, no matter what Genevieve and Lindsey might think. She and Scott knew where they stood with each other. They’d been honest about their feelings.
Yet there had been a sin of omission on her part. There were certain truths she hadn’t shared—nor been willing to admit...until now.
As she put the car in gear and pulled onto Highway 101, she faced the first one: the attraction she and Scott had acknowledged was becoming bigger. Deeper. At least on her end. And it was bringing with it a boatload of guilt. How could she be so disloyal to her husband this soon after his death?
That led her to the second truth. One she’d been dancing around for weeks. Somewhere along the way, as Steve’s consulting business had grown and he’d travelled more and more, they’d drifted apart. There’d been no cataclysmic breakdown, no harsh words ever exchanged. She’d continued to love and respect him, and he’d been a fabulous father, but their relationship had grown stale. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt excited in his presence. Even in the beginning, the spark between them had never been as potent as the one between her and Scott.
Which increased her guilt exponentially.
If only...
“Mom! You missed our street!”
At Jarrod’s exclamation, she jammed on the brake, swung into the parking lot of Jaz’s biker bar on the other side of town, and made a U-turn.
“Whoa! That was cool!” Jarrod looked over at her, gripping the dashboard. “I guess you were daydreaming, huh, Mom?”
“I guess I was. And that’s not a smart thing to do while you’re driving.”
Or anytime else when it came to a certain attractive construction guy.
* * *
Where was Gram?
The bottom fell out of Scott’s stomach as he surveyed her empty room. Had she fallen again? Was she back in the E.R.? Why hadn’t anyone called him? He’d seen her yesterday for the facility’s Easter services and brunch, and she’d been fine.
He swung around, strode into the hall and hailed a passing aide he didn’t recognize. No surprise there. The staff turnover at this place was astronomical. It was a huge challenge to keep up with all the newcomers.
Planting his fists on his hips, he blocked her path as she glanced up from the clipboard in her hand. “I’m looking for my grandmother, Barbara Walsh. She’s not in her room.”
The young woman’s eyes widened at his clipped delivery, and she took a step back. “I—I’ll check with the desk.”
“Never mind. I can do that.”
She scurried away, clearly intimidated by his stance and irritation. A twinge of guilt tugged at his conscience, and he hesitated. He hadn’t meant to frighten her—but neither was he going to take the time to apologize. Not until he found out where Gram was.
He continued toward the nurses’ station, only to be intercepted at a T in the hallway by an aide he did recognize—accompanying Gram as she pushed her walker toward him.
“Well, look who’s here!” Vivian smiled at him as they drew closer. “And don’t we have some good news today.”
“I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss just because I decided to start physical therapy again.” Gram avoided his eyes and kept moving.
“You went back to physical therapy?” Scott stared at her. On top of that news, she’d ditched her nightclothes for a pair of capris and a sweater that had been gathering dust in her closet for months.
“Move aside or I’ll run you over.” Gram shooed him away with a flap of her hand. “And I’m in no mood for a discussion. I hurt.”
“You’re supposed to hurt. It’s not working if you’re not hurting.” Vivian patted her shoulder. “But a couple of pain relievers will take care of those aches. Pretty soon, you’ll be strolling along without this thing.” She tapped the walker.
“That’s my goal.” Gram looked over her shoulder after she passed Scott. “Why are you here so early anyway?”
“The rain shut us down for the day.” He fell in behind the duo.
Vivian motioned him forward. “Why don’t you take over spotting duty while I run and get those painkillers?”
He took the aide’s place and studied Gram, not liking the pinch of pain around her mouth. “Did you check with the doctor about this?”
“Of course I checked with the doctor. He was all for it. An hour later, they’d assigned me to Brett, and let me tell you, he’s a looker. If I’d known they’d put me with someone like him, I’d have gone back to therapy a lot sooner.”
Scott’s lips twitched. “How old is this guy?”
“Old enough to be my great-grandson. But I can enjoy the view, can’t I? Makes me feel young again. And does that boy know how to flirt! You could take a lesson or two from him.”
As they entered her room, he stopped again. He’d been so distraught by her absence he hadn’t noticed the easel and canvas by the window or the paints on a small table beside it. An impressionistic seascape was already beginning to emerge.
“You’ve been busy.”
She crossed to the bed, slowly lowered herself to the mattress and expelled a long breath. “Ah. Better.” She waved at the walker. “Take that thing and put it over in the corner. I hate the sight of it. Always have. Brett and Vivian think I may not need it if I buckle down with the therapy.”
Exactly what he and the doctor had been telling her for months—to no avail.
But the aide and physical therapist weren’t responsible for Gram’s change of heart. Cindy got full credit for that—along with his undying thanks.
“Maybe I better not put the house on the market after all.”
“Let’s not get carried away. But I suppose we might want to delay that step a bit. Why don’t you pull up a... Ah, Cindy! You made it!”
Scott swung around and found Cindy hovering on the threshold. He’d attribute her presence to another matchmaking attempt, except Gram hadn’t known he was going to show up early.
No matter, she’d surely find a way to take full advantage of the opportunity.
“I don’t want to intrude while Scott’s here.” Cindy remained at the door, her expression uncertain.
“Nonsense. You come right in. Isn’t this a cozy coincidence?” Gram gave them a delighted smile.
Scott could think of other words for it.
Skirting around to the other side of Gram’s bed, Cindy addressed him. “How come you’re not in Starfish Bay?”
“Rain delay.”
She cast a glance out the window at the overcast sky, and twin grooves appeared on her brow. “I better not linger if it’s raining up north. The fog might roll in again.”
“I could always offer you a spaghetti dinner.” Scott smiled, captivated by the intense blue of her irises—the same color as the sea off The Point on a sunny day. “Though it wouldn’t be as tasty as yours.”
“You’ve had Cindy’s spaghetti?” Gram’s eyes lit up.
Uh-oh.
He hadn’t told her about his impromptu dinner at Cindy’s the night he’d been stuck in Starfish Bay.
“I took pity on him when I saw him buying a deli sandwich in the general store the night the fog stranded him.” Cindy shot him a sympathetic look, set the overstuffed satchel in her hand on a chair and changed the subject. “I brought you copies of a few of Emma’s letters, but be warned—her old-fashioned handwriting is as difficult to decipher as Elijah’s. Transcribing his logbook has been slow going. I’m going to focus on that, plus his journal and Emma’s letters, this week—starting tonight. I made copies of everything for myself, too.” She pulled a folder out of the satchel and passed it to Gram.
Defenses up, Scott prepared to run interference if Gram returned to the subject of their spaghetti dinner.
