by Judith Yates
“Depends on what you think you should know,” Amy answered with a wry smile before returning her attention to the CDs.
“You and Paul have clicked—that much is obvious.” She shook her head and chuckled. “That mother of mine is one smart cookie—I never give her enough credit.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t mind me,” Maura said, dismissing herself with a wave of a hand. “Are you looking for music for anyone in particular?”
“For my business partner’s husband. Julie and I always get together to exchange gifts on Christmas morning. But heaven help me if I show up without something for Max,” explained Amy. “He takes gifts very seriously.”
Maura’s mouth dropped open. “You mean you’re not going to be here on Christmas Day?”
“I told you—I promised my mother I’d come home.”
“Yes, but I’d hoped you’d change your mind. I mean, once you go back, will we really ever get to see you again?” Maura fretted. “What about Paul? And the inn? Have you made up your mind what to do about it?”
“Relax, Maura, I’ll be visiting Tremont on a regular basis.”
“Really? Does that mean what I think it means?”
Amy nodded. “I haven’t said a word to anyone else, but I’m going to keep my half interest in the inn.”
Amy realized she had probably decided the morning Paul brought her back to the inn after the storm. But the past two days had solidified the choice in her heart and mind. She didn’t want to break her tie to her father’s memory and the Blue Sky, or to the Ryans. And she especially didn’t want to lose her link to Paul—not if he was the love she’d been hoping for all her life, not if he was the one man she could trust with her love.
Now she would have time to find out.
Maura practically screamed with delight. “I can’t believe it!” She ran around the checkout counter to hug Amy. “This is the best news ever. But why haven’t you told anyone?”
“Haven’t had the chance. I just called my lawyers this morning to get the ball rolling. They’re looking into how much I’ll need to invest to keep the Blue Sky afloat and to pay off some of its debts.”
“You’re willing to do all that?” Maura hugged her again. “You don’t know how much this will mean to my mother.”
Amy smiled. “Oh, I have some idea.”
“How she prayed for this.” Maura’s eyes widened suddenly. “Paul, too! He’ll be so relieved. Now Mama can pay him back all that money he loaned her. And not a moment too soon, either.”
“Paul lent Bernadette some money?”
“Not some money. A lot of money. Right after Greg died,” Maura revealed. “Mama would have lost it all if he hadn’t.”
“It’s lucky he could afford to help her.”
“Yeah, but now the Valley News Group has hit a real tough patch, and Paul needs that cash—badly.”
Amy felt uneasiness creeping up on her. “How badly?”
“We’re talking job layoffs, which will kill Paul to do. And it could really damage his reputation in this town. A lot of people didn’t like the way he came back and bought out the Tullys.”
Amy nodded, remembering various remarks she’d heard over the weeks. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to them?
“And you know what Dirk told me the other night?” Maura lowered her voice, although there was no one else in the store to hear. “Paul had to take a second mortgage on his house to raise some fast money for the business. Trouble is there’s a huge balloon payment due early on. Dirk is real worried about that.”
“Oh, God, you mean Paul could lose the house.”
“Well, he could have. Except you’re saving the day,” Maura reminded. “But please don’t say anything to Mama about Paul’s second mortgage. She’s not supposed to know about it—none of us are.”
Amy stiffened. “You’re right. Paul wouldn’t want any of us to know.”
“That’s my cousin,” Maura said with affection. “He’d do just about anything for Mama.”
Of course Amy knew that. She’d known that since her first night in Tremont. Yet somehow she’d lost sight of the fact over the past several days.
Her mind was in a daze as Maura suggested CDs for Max Bauman. Amy bought two and quickly left the store. She was dumbfounded, stunned. Paul had never said a word to her about his financial stake in the Blue Sky.
She told herself to stay calm, to think through what Maura had said, before jumping to conclusions. But as she drove out of Winchester, she couldn’t help wracking her brain over the past weeks. Amy had no illusions about Bernadette’s motivation for getting her down to Tremont in the first place and drawing her into the family. It was all to save the inn. She’d known that from the beginning.
Until now, however, she hadn’t recognized that Bernadette had contrived situations to throw her and Paul together. Like the night Amy had volunteered to tend bar in the Pub Room because of Bud’s family emergency. Bernadette couldn’t get Paul over there fast enough to help her. But, as Amy had discovered later, Bud had had no family emergency—Bernadette had made it up.
Had Bernadette detected a spark of attraction in her eyes and decided to put it to use? Was Paul added insurance, in case the inn and memories of Greg Riordan weren’t enough to hold her? Amy had to hand it to her— Bernadette was one smart cookie.
Exasperating as she found Bernadette’s manipulations, Amy wasn’t shocked or even that angered by them. The older woman’s agenda wasn’t exactly hidden—Amy knew what Bernadette wanted from her.
But Paul? Did he have an agenda of his own? It was almost too painful to contemplate. She ran everything he’d said or done through her head with the calculating scrutiny years of necessity had sharpened to a fine point.
For a man described as being private, Paul had revealed some extremely personal things about himself to her—from the death of his parents to the loss of his wife and son. She had believed—or wanted to believe—an intrinsic bond existed between them, a bond that had led Paul to share himself with her. Had that been a silly romantic notion on her part, and a clever manipulation on his? After all, Paul knew her vulnerable spots, especially where losing her father was concerned. All he had needed to win her heart was a few suitable and well-timed conversations.
Amy gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white. She hated thinking this way about Paul. The soul in his eyes, the tenderness in his voice, the passion in his touch—they had to have been genuine. They couldn’t have been all lies. Paul was not grasping and selfish like Jeff Martin. He was not irresponsible and unreliable like her father. Although he’d never actually said the words, Paul cared for her as no other man had before.
She wanted so much for that to be true, yet she couldn’t trust herself to believe it. She’d engaged in such magical thinking before. A familiar black frustration shrouded her heart as she had to face the inevitable question. Did Paul want and need her for herself? Or was he after her for the power and money she possessed to save not only his beloved aunt’s inn but his business and home, as well?
Amy didn’t know the answer. But the fact that the question had to be asked was tearing her apart. She thought she had, finally, found a man who didn’t want a blessed thing from her except her love. She had thought Paul was a man she could trust.
Apparently she was wrong.
Arriving at the inn, Amy grabbed the shopping bag containing the Ryan gifts and went in search of Bernadette. She found her in the office.
“I see your expedition to the mall was a success, Bernadette said, her sparkly gray eyes roaming over the store-wrapped packages.
Amy felt a twinge of sadness as she asked Bernadette to put the presents for the family under the cottage tree.
“If you’d like,” Bernadette agreed. “But you can bring them tomorrow night and do the honors yourself.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be spending Christmas Eve with your family after all. I’ve decided to return to Washington today—as s
oon as I pack my things.”
The color drained from Bernadette’s face. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s just time for me to go home,” she said, hanging on to her composure with all her strength. She didn’t want to upset Bernadette with anger or tears. “You should know I’ve decided to maintain half ownership of the inn as a silent partner. All outstanding debts will be covered, and you’ll remain completely in charge. My lawyers will be contacting you after the holidays.”
“Your lawyers? But when are you coming back?”
Amy looked away. “I don’t know.”
“What about Paul?” She sounded stunned.
“Tell him—” To keep her voice from breaking, she took a deep breath. “Tell him I’ll have funds transferred to you as soon as possible.”
“He doesn’t know you’re leaving?”
Amy didn’t answer. She walked out of the office and ran up the stairs to her room.
Fighting tears, she grabbed her suitcase and emptied out the drawers and closet as quickly as she could. Only the green elf suit remained hanging in the closet. The memories it aroused paralyzed her for countless moments until she finally yanked it off the hanger and dropped it into the wastebasket.
After clearing her toiletries from the bathroom, Amy called Julie Bauman and told her she’d be in the office the next morning. The call was interrupted by a hard rapping on her room door. Her heart clutched when Paul called her name.
She steeled herself against the sad dread threatening her composure. Amy took a deep breath and calmly opened the door. “Bernadette didn’t waste any time,” she noted as Paul whisked past her.
He stood in the middle of the room, his gaze roaming from her to the packed suitcases on the bed to the elf suit drooping over the sides of the wicker wastebasket. Casting a cool glance her way, he seized the green costume from the basket. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m going home for Christmas, just as I’d always planned.”
“But we’d planned to spend Christmas Eve together,” he said, twisting the green unitard in his hands. “And Bernadette has the notion that you’re not coming back.”
“She’s right. I’m not.” She went over to the bed to close the suitcases. “I’ve found the answers I came for, and I’ve made the necessary decisions. Now it’s high time I get back to my life.”
Grasping her arm, Paul swung her around to face him. “What about us?”
The burning bewilderment in his eyes floored her. She didn’t know which she wanted to do more, slap his face or hold him close. She swallowed hard, instead, and fought to keep her emotions in check.
“Paul, you don’t have to play the game anymore— Bernadette’s getting exactly what she wanted. And your money troubles are over.”
“Money troubles?” His grip on her wrist tightened. “What are you talking about?”
She twisted away from him and turned back to her luggage. She couldn’t bear looking at his fake confusion. “I know all about your loan to Bernadette, and your cash flow problems at the papers and the risky second mortgage on your house. It’s a shame such a generous act backfired on you. But everything will smooth itself out now.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“Does it matter? I mean everybody in town seems to know one thing or another about your financial situation. Only I’ve been too dense to pay attention.” Amy snapped the locks on her suitcases and pulled them onto the floor. “You should have just told me what you and Bernadette needed. Certainly you shouldn’t have let my tales of woe about being used scare you off. Being honest would have saved you a lot of emotional effort and me a heck of a lot of time.”
“You can’t believe that I&h;” Paul threw the costume on the bed. His gaze darkened with disbelief as his expression hardened. “You really think I’d make love to you for the sake of the inn? Or that I’d tell you about the most painful time in my life in hope of solvency? My God, Amy.”
“I think you’d do anything in your power to protect Bernadette’s happiness.” She stared him straight in the eye. “And the same applies to keeping your business from going down the drain.”
“You don’t mean that. You can’t.” He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her taut against his chest. “Don’t you know I love you?”
“Paul, don’t-”
He shook her gently. “I love you.”
She wished he hadn’t said it. It was the one thing she didn’t need to hear from him. “What good are the words if I can’t trust them? You. told me you loved Andrew more than anything. Still, you’ve turned your back on him. How can I believe in your love?”
“Because it’s real—all of it. Every second, every day,” he insisted. “After the beautiful nights together, the way we’ve held each other—how can you doubt me?”
Pulling away from him, Amy squinted back tears of regret. No matter how much she wanted to believe Paul, it was too late. The seed of doubt had already been planted, the mistrust expressed. Nothing would be the same between them. She felt such loss, such sadness. But falling apart now would mean certain disaster. She wouldn’t be able to resist his comforting arms.
“I’ve been fooled before, Paul,” she said, sounding as callous as she could and meaning every word. “You’re no different from the others.”
His pained expression made her heart sink. But the fury in his voice ripped right through her. “I thought you were different, Amy. I’d convinced myself you were the one woman who could love me for the man I am. Right or wrong, good times or bad, you’d be there for me, just as I would be for you. The trouble is, you don’t trust me. Never did, never will.”
“I tried. I really tried.”
“Possibly.” He gave her a skeptical look, although his anger remained clear. “But in the end your mistrust won out. I never stood a chance.”
She lowered her gaze to the floor, unable to take his intense, blue stare any longer, unwilling to deal with his accusation. “I’m sorry things turned out this way,” she murmured, knowing she’d never see him again.
“Not half as sorry as I am.”
Without so much as a goodbye, Paul walked out on her.
Chapter Fourteen
“I hate to leave you alone this afternoon, Amy,” Thomas Windom said, wrapping a black, wool scarf around his neck. “Sure you won’t change your mind about coming to Angier’s open house?”
Amy gave her stepfather a peck on the cheek. “I’d rather stay and help Mrs. Jenkins get Christmas dinner ready. Besides, Angier’s never forgiven me for accidentally breaking his creche angel all those years ago.”
“Darling, you were only ten. He doesn’t even remember it.”
“Oh, no? Then why does he cringe every year when he sees me walk in?”
Thomas acknowledged this with a smile. “He’s nothing but an old fussbudget’ anyway. Maybe your mother and I should just skip it, too.”
“And disappoint all your old Duddies.’ Not on my account, Dad,” Amy insisted. “Besides, I could use an hour or two to myself to regroup.”
“If that’s what you need. You seem very distracted today,” Thomas commented, his tone hinting—again— that he wanted her to reveal more about her stay in Tremont. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“For the tenth time, yes.” She straightened his coat collar and nudged him toward the library door. “I just need time to get back in the swing of things around here. The pace is a lot slower in Tremont.”
“I hope you’ll tell me about Greg’s inn. You must have been impressed with it to retain your half interest. I was certain you would give it up.”
“We’ll talk in a few days, Dad, I promise.”
Right now, her emotions were too raw to speak of the beautiful, old mansion on the hill and the family that had swept her up into their lives. Although she was glad to finally be back in Washington, where she belonged, Amy thought about the Ryans constantly—and Dirk Campbell, Janie Lee Pratt, Bud and all the others in that gentle little Virginia t
own.
Nor could Amy tell her stepfather about the man who had stolen her love. She couldn’t bear to even think about Paul Hanley. Because when she did, she found herself either raging against his denied subterfuge or missing him terribly.
Her solution was to keep busy, to ride the holidays out on a wave of work, family and friends. And to refuse Paul’s phone calls.
Yesterday she had gone into the office to catch up on a month’s worth of lost time. Only, she had felt out of sync with the agency’s flow, as if she didn’t belong there anymore. The few kids dropping by the office had grown tremendously and had acted shy around her. Yet this didn’t bother her as much as it should have. It didn’t seem to matter.
This morning, as the three of them exchanged gifts, Julie and Max had assured Amy that her enthusiasm for the agency would return with the new year.
She hoped they were right.
Thomas went to round up her mother, leaving Amy in the library with the family Christmas tree. As always, Joan Windom’s tree was the perfect height, shape and density. The expensive silver bells and crystal balls were distributed evenly among the branches. Amy held one of the delicate balls in her hand. It probably cost more than all the Ryans’ homemade ornaments and old family treasures combined. Still, all these exquisite decorations couldn’t match the magical beauty of Bernadette’s cottage tree. Perhaps the magic had been in the hands and hearts of the people who had decorated it that night.
Amy sat on the floor at the foot of the tree, disheartened to think that wonderful night had happened only last week. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
“Amy! Why on earth are you sitting on the floor like that?”
Looking over her shoulder at her mother, Amy shrugged her reply. “Didn’t you go with Dad?”
“I decided that if you didn’t have to go to the open house, neither did I.” Joan sat on the leather wing chair directly behind Amy. “Angier is such a bore.”
This remark startled Amy—almost as much as her mother’s decision to sit out a traditional holiday social gathering. That was not like her at all.
