All in all, it hadn’t taken any length of time. Foster kids didn’t tend to accumulate a lot of stuff, what with being moved so often. Not that she’d been in care very long, having been adopted by the Fergusons in her formative years. Perhaps she still carried the early lessons, the old luggage a tangible reminder. But at least she wasn’t reduced to using trash bags.
Yanking her thoughts out of the past, before they set off another bout of self-pity, she evicted Oscar so she could close up the large case. He rubbed against her legs, and then slipped out the door while she placed her luggage against the wall. She then went to the small storage room.
The pet carrier was right where she’d left it and she struggled with the boxy shape until she had it out of the corner and hauled back to her room. Oscar weighed a ton, so she changed her mind and, after cautiously surveying the yard for any sign of Maddox, took the carrier out back to her car, popping the hatchback and setting it inside. No way could she carry it and the big cat out in the morning.
The Maine Coon liked car rides, even those to the vet, but she needed a carrier for hotels. Desk clerks would be unlikely to rent a room to a cat the size of a bobcat. She’d also need a litter box, so she slipped back to forage for the oblong plastic container, lucking out with an ancient bag of litter. Oscar took his business outside, but better safe than sorry. Even on a leash he might be too freaked to use a spot outside on their upcoming road trip. Tucking them into the vehicle, she thought she’d covered off the cat.
She massaged the bridge of her nose. Oscar freaked at nothing, unlike her. She was close to screaming the great outdoors down but was going to focus and not think about anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. If her cat could maintain aplomb, so could she.
A car door slammed out front and drew her from her reverie. She sprinted to The Inn and hurried inside. There was no way she could face Maddox. Not right now. Not ever. Bastard. She didn’t trust herself and losing it would only be additional humiliation. That was fast becoming her watchword, but oh, how it fit.
Her chest ached again, squeezing and constricting her throat as she stumbled back to her room. Locking the door, she carefully placed her boots beside it, and then stripped out of her clothes, throwing them in the trash can. They were little better than rags, but then she’d been working and was proud of that fact. Except they’d had their day. Like her. She giggled at her incoherent thoughts before the sound abruptly turned into another sob.
Climbing into the shower, she turned it to as hot as she could stand and huddled beneath the spray, willing it to thaw her bones. A few errant tears mingled with the water as she cast her thoughts into the future. One without Maddox. And her ridiculous hope for family. She counted herself fortunate to have options. Well, one. And she could make more if she had to.
Her lavender-infused body wash soothed some of her pain and she shampooed and conditioned with similarly scented products. Her equilibrium slowly returned and she convinced herself that her crush had passed and her outrage was solely because of his betrayal. She was entitled to a crush, an infatuation, and there was no point in berating herself because of it.
Wrapped in a towel and squeezing the dampness out of her hair, she became aware of knocking on her bedroom door.
Quietly treading across the room, she said, “Yes?”
“Can I come in?”
At any other time, the sound of Maddox’s voice would have layered a shivery pleasure across her senses. Now, all she could feel was a sick roiling in her belly. “I just took a shower. Having an early night.”
Her voice came out calm and even, as though it belonged to someone else, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s not even six, Regan. What about dinner?”
What about it? Her appetite had vanished right along with her ridiculous infatuation. “I’m good.”
She could feel him out there, in the hall. A big, handsome example of male virility. A puzzled one.
“What’s wrong?”
He’d argue with her until hell froze over—she knew him well. Exasperated, she yanked a ratty old robe over her towel, one of the items she planned to leave behind, and opened the door. He shoved up from his sprawl against the wall and loomed over her, dark eyes scanning from head to toe.
She wondered what he saw, hoping his betrayal wasn’t written large across her face or simmering in her eyes. She shook her wet hair back and put on her innkeeper’s look on, the one she once wore with entitled guests, polished to perfection over the years.
“Nothing’s wrong, Maddox. I’m tired, is all.”
“You left a full wheelbarrow of plants to be rehomed, at the base of the garden.” His stare lowered to her throat where the robe gaped, before quickly rising back to her face, and she pulled the lapels tighter.
She’d forgotten, having set them out early in the morning before she finished up the drywall. “It can wait until tomorrow.” Or never.
His eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly. Probably not her usual response, but then she’d been driving herself morning and night to make a good impression, to convince him The Inn could be viable again. A regular one-woman team. Had he been amused by her frantic efforts? Knowing all along she’d fail? She wanted to rip his throat out at the very thought, yet was puzzled by memories of his kindness. His concern just an hour ago… Why would he throw money away? She was in no shape to solve that particular mystery.
“I suppose it can. You’ve been driving yourself into the ground, as I said.”
“Has Karen left?” She wanted to kick herself for asking, but upon reflection, it was the perfect distraction. She didn’t want him appreciating her efforts, not when he’d known they were all for naught. It worked, because he no longer looked suspicious.
“Karen Winters? I saw her pull up. She said she was scouting for a place to hold a wedding.”
If that woman was getting married, it was the first Regan had heard about it. But then it seemed she was the last to know about other things…
“Hers?”
“Her cousin. Juliet? I knew you were busy so I showed her around.”
Regan knew about Juliet Mercer’s upcoming nuptials but no way was Karen seriously inquiring about The Inn. Maybe for pictures, on the grounds—she cut that line of thought right the fuck off. There would be no Inn. Maddox was either being willfully blind to the machinations of that blonde or stringing her along. Karen had no doubt heard about the wealthy businessman or spied him in town, and came to check him out.
Two could play at this game. “Will she let you know? I mean, we should get a date.” She had the bitter satisfaction of seeing Maddox look a tad uncomfortable.
“I asked her to give you a call in a few days,” he replied. “I thought you and I should talk first. Take a look at the big picture.”
“Oh, good.” Her sarcasm leaked through and she was treated to another suspicious stare. How had she ever thought he was invested? That he believed in her—if only as family?
Something in her chest flinched and she ruthlessly ignored it, pasting on a smile. “If that’s all, I’m going to turn in.”
“Do you have a problem with Karen?” He was too close in that moment, his eyes flaring.
Her grip tightened on the edge of the door and she willed him back. “Excuse me?”
“You headed inside rather than come and talk to her. It seemed strange.”
She wanted to vomit from mortification. He’d seen her on the path. Which meant there was a good chance Karen had seen her as well when she’d turned tail and run. The queen bee in high school who made other girls’ lives—like hers—miserable. What did a lovesick, jealous fool look like? Maybe they could take her picture and post it as a fine example of one.
“Nope. No problem. I simply needed a break and you looked like you had it under control. Besides, I am strange.” As a rebuttal, it was plenty weak, and the humor fell short, but for whatever reason, it worked. Maddox withdrew, his intense stare fading, his featur
es blanking.
“I’m heading out. I’ll lock up, you get some rest. You do look as though you need it.”
She bit back the question that sprang to her lips. Was he going to Karen’s? The woman brought her own car so it stood to reason he’d be following in his. And why would he care how she looked? Other than it grated—worn out, miserable, handyman Regan. “Have a good evening.”
She sounded as stilted as a robot and he shook his head, his hand coming up to touch her arm. “I’ll make you something to eat before I go.”
Yanking it away as though burned, she said, “I’m not hungry.” She gave him her back, making her feet carry her back to the attached bath, the heat of his gaze weighing heavily on her shoulders.
“Can we sit down tomorrow and talk, Regan?”
“Sure,” she called back. “After lunch.” Nothing like another lecture she’d be happy to avoid. Maybe he’d reward her for listening like a good little girl. With a kiss. Stupid fairy tales. Not that a fairy tale encompassed what she’d wanted from him—before.
Shutting the bathroom door, she found leaning against the heavy old wood gave her a modicum of support, and she listened for his faint footsteps as he retreated. If Maddox Ferguson ever retreated. However, perhaps he was in a standoff, given the fact she had information he wasn’t aware she possessed.
When she was satisfied he’d left and secured the place, she exited to make her way to the kitchen and cobble together a light meal. It seemed that even a life-changing betrayal couldn’t interfere with her appetite and she briefly considered the pint of cookies ’n cream in the freezer.
Brewing a pot of tea, she spread cheese on toast and sat down to eat, pulling a pad over to make a list of things to cover off before she left. If she thought about it all at once, she would crumble, so she concentrated on the minutia. Cancel the guests, hopefully offering them space at a couple of other B and B’s in the area. Pack a care package for Oscar. Compile a list of creditors who remained to be paid. Note the utility contacts. She’d leave everything else in Maddox’s large, capable, and oh-so-nefarious hands.
As though summoned by her thoughts, the big cat squeezed his bulk through the kitty door—okay, the dog door—and sashayed to his food dish.
“Didn’t you fill up on rodents and unsuspecting birds, animal?”
His lazy, yellow stare rolled her way, reminding her once again such things were beneath his notice before he contemplated his kibble. A quiet yowl suggested that canned food should be forthcoming and she chuckled, surprised she could do so, and then clambered to her feet. One pull tab later, a can of disgusting wet slop filled a bowl, and Oscar applied himself.
She ran a hand over his plush coat. “We’re going away in the morning, boy. Just you and me. Road trip. A long one, to big, wide, empty spaces.” Kind of how her insides felt.
Her words rang in the tiled space and instead of the guilt that should have crushed her to the floor, a curious sense of peace flowed over her. Leaving The Inn, leaving behind the small town where everyone knew everyone else’s business didn’t feel so bad, although surely she’d be lonely. But she’d meet new people. Make new friends, not that she’d seen much of her old ones with the burden of The Inn over the past several years.
And she’d have Oscar and a new life. One that didn’t include the man who had insinuated himself into her world only a few short weeks ago, turning it upside down before spiking it into the hard pavement. It was hard to differentiate the cacophony of emotions, but she was determined not to blame him for her crush. Only for his lack of faith in her.
“I should have seen it coming, Oscar. I was infatuated. In lust.” Because Maddox wasn’t worthy of her love, not after what she’d learned today. Their brief time together, his kindnesses, that thing between them… She turned her thoughts away from the past.
The cat arched into her hand as if to offer comfort while continuing to gorge himself. As if he understood. Oscar had been neutered at six months, so what would he know of lust? But he’d liked Maddox too, right from the beginning, even sleeping on his bed, and her cat was usually a good judge of character. Until he wasn’t.
“Eat hearty, kitty. No breakfast for you. No puking in the car.” She wouldn’t confine him in the crate until they stopped for the night. And he’d be fine in the vehicle while she stopped at the bank and the real estate office. Already her mind was leaping ahead by leaps and bounds.
She made all the necessary calls, her competition pleased to offer the alternate accommodations and the guests reluctantly accepting the change in plans, a couple gratifyingly dismayed that the historic inn was destined for the wrecking ball.
Putting it so baldly forced Regan to burn her final bridge, abandon any hope, and she punched off the last call with a trembling finger. She took a walk through the old building, sliding her hand over the worn-smooth-by-age, but now solid, banister, hearing the creaking of the stair treads with heightened senses.
The dust from earlier sanding was everywhere and she supposed she should be grateful it wasn’t her worry to clean up. She poked her head into her favorite rooms, noting the furniture and décor, saying goodbye. Her parents’ room, now the honeymoon suite, was the most difficult to view, and she clenched her fists.
The place had dignity and huge appeal if one liked dual-century-old dwellings, but many of the walls boasted little to no insulation, despite the smooth surface and updated electrical, a problem in the Vermont winters. The carpets were worn and the bathrooms ancient, despite the more recent corrected plumbing issues. She had to face it, everything was tired, as tired as she was feeling. It was a money pit and Maddox’s spending limit made it impossible to attain all the necessary changes, at least past addressing the actual safety issues. She again wondered at his motivation for throwing good money away as she peered out a window.
The grounds were the best of the entire place, where she’d spent most of her time when her father was alive, running The Inn, even as a child when her mother helped him. She didn’t dwell on the circumstances of their deaths and was determined to forgive her father for leaving her so precipitously and saddling her with debt. And Maddox.
The numbers tomorrow would speak for themselves, but at least she had some kind of inheritance, and hopefully enough to keep her going while she obtained her Master Gardener diploma.
When she could wait no longer, she placed another call, having taken the time difference into consideration.
“Regan? Is that you?” Gloria’s voice boomed through the phone.
“Hey.”
“I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’ve been … busy. Trying to make a go of The Inn.”
“Honey, that’s such a big job. Did that estranged cousin of yours hang around?”
He wasn’t really her cousin. He’d been born into the Ferguson family, possessed of the family name—while she’d merely fallen into it. Regan reminded herself he hadn’t known she existed until her father’s will was read and that it must have been a shock to him and his mother and sister. She supposed she should consider herself lucky she had a leg to stand on, being female and of unknown ancestry. “He’s still here.”
“Is he helping you?”
“He paid for the immediate things, Gloria, and helped me with the heavy stuff. But he sees The Inn as a bottomless pit and I can’t blame him.” In truth, she couldn’t. She’d been on borrowed time—and money. She made a mental note to have Margo write in the papers that Maddox should receive reimbursement for all the monies he’d put into it, no matter how much it cut into her half.
“It’s an old place, for sure,” Gloria said. “The historical society should take it over.”
“We have enough buildings for them to deal with. Developers want it.”
“Of course they do. A prime piece of real estate like that. Chop it up and ruin it.”
Regan couldn’t let herself think about it. The old trees… “Gloria, you told me I could come and stay with you…”
“And I meant it. I can always use another pair of hands around here.”
“I want to get my diploma. I don’t know how much money I’ll have when the dust settles, but I’m signing the papers tomorrow and I’d like to come your way.”
“Bozeman U does have that course, doesn’t it? I expect you could teach them a thing or two, though.”
Appreciating the vote of confidence, Regan said, “I might be able to, but I need the credentials to work as a Master Gardener.”
“And you think Montana has a call for Master Gardeners?” The idea clearly amused her mother’s old friend.
“I’m sure it does, but regardless, I would have a place to stay—with someone I know, and I can help out, too. And when I graduate I’ll look for jobs anywhere.”
The other woman was silent for several heartbeats. “Regan, did something happen? With that cousin?”
She wanted to confide in Gloria but hadn’t yet sorted it all out in her own head, so she evaded. Maddox hadn’t done anything to her, not really, at least not what her mom’s friend probably thought. If only he had, she might have some memories to keep her warm at night—and probably a broken heart. “It hit me today that I was losing an uphill battle, have been for years, I guess. And that things weren’t how they seemed. I … I’ve lost my attachment to this place. It really feels time to let go before I dig in any deeper.”
She didn’t tell the older woman about Maddox’s actual perfidy, not having the energy to hear what would be a considerable outburst. Again she wondered why he had let her try so freaking hard when he had no intention of seeing it through. And she most definitely wasn’t telling Gloria about her infatuation, especially now it was over. Maddox had never fed it—she’d second-guessed those heated looks and misread his charm. As for that one kiss, nobody in their right mind would attach any significance to it. And repetition didn’t make her denial any more helpful.
“If that man has as much money as I suspect he has, he could have paid for all the updates,” Gloria grumbled. “I know how much The Inn meant to you, honey. But maybe it’s for the best you’re drawing back. Young people need a change, an adventure, and you aren’t really cut out for the actual innkeeping side. Nature’s more your style, the great outdoors.”
A Far Cry from Home Page 5
