by Geeta Kakade
None of those ideas held any appeal. Christy knew that deep down she had to unravel the mystery that surrounded Jake’s disappearance. Unless she reached some satisfactory conclusion, peace would elude her forever. She knew there had to be a reason, just as she was sure Jake, at one time, had loved the child she’d been.
Cupid Lodge was her only real link with Jake. A person could write anything but the life they’d lived told the truth about them. Something told her Cupid Lodge was the only place she would discover the truth.
Right now the idea of running it as a bed and breakfast appealed to her tremendously. It would give her something to do and would supplement her dwindling cash reserves.
Christy stopped by the gate to look at the house. Built on the lines of an English manor, the two-story structure looked as if it had three levels, because dormer windows had been installed in the attic. The dark tiled roof was obviously new but nothing had been done to alter the brown stone exterior. A creeper, of tiny yellow roses, softened the facade, as did the pale yellow trim around the door and the windows. She liked the white picket fence and the wooden gate under an arch that separated the beach from the front garden. The beautiful flowers everywhere in the garden made her wonder who took care of them.
The thought of Jake running Cupid Lodge as a boarding house was strange. Mother had always said Jake had been wrapped up in himself, that he was a loner. Why would a man like that surround himself with people? It didn’t make sense.
“Trying to figure out how to spend your fortune?”
Christy jumped. O’Keefe stood by the front door, arms folded across his chest, watching her.
“Mr. O’Keefe, we need to talk.”
Christy walked up the path, wishing she didn’t feel so nervous. She had to sort things out with this man who had set himself up as both judge and jury.
“The name’s O’Keefe as I told you last night. There’s no mister to it.”
His eyes, shot with silver, held their usual expression as he looked at her. Anger.
He didn’t move from the front door and she had to come to a stop in front of him. He’d shaved, but his clothes were just as disreputable as the day before. A pair of old cut off shorts emphasized the muscular strength of his long legs. Did they have to be that short? He had on a faded blue shirt unbuttoned to the waist. Christy’s gaze latched on to the gold chain on his brown chest. The fragile design drew attention to the strong column of his neck. This close to him, the scent of spice wafting from him had a drugging effect on her senses. Christy’s gaze flew up to his face.
“How did the appointment go? Amazed to realize how much the property’s worth?”
“I’m not selling Cupid Lodge,” she announced angrily.
“What?”
She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d punched him in the stomach. Christy felt glad she had the upper hand for once.
“I’m not selling. I’ve decided to reopen the place as a bed and breakfast.”
His brows went up then drew together in an enormous scowl.
“What do you know about hard work and running a bed and breakfast?” The rude snap in his voice was overlaid by a note of tension.
Christy opened her mouth and closed it again. Swallowing the angry words wasn’t easy, but she managed.
“I’ll learn on the job,” she said pseudo-sweetly. “You can get your kicks from watching me fall flat on my face.”
Taken aback he stepped aside. Instead of walking past him, Christy stepped closer to him and looked him in the eye. “We have to get something straight, O’Keefe. You have the right to live here till I can repay you. You do not have the right to take constant pot shots at me or tell me what to do with my life on my property.”
Christy marched into the cool interior. In the kitchen she realized O’Keefe was right behind her. She swung around to face him, aware she felt very hot. Having him around wasn’t good for her heart or her blood pressure.
“Why do you resent my being here so much?”
Her directness demanded O’Keefe respond in kind. He decided to give it to her straight.
“Jake was my friend. He helped me through a very bad patch, made me get my life back together. It was hard to stand by and see him suffer. It’s even harder to see the daughter who never had time to visit her father even when he was dying, rush down to grab the house he loved so much.”
Christy opened her mouth to explain. She would have come if she’d known Jake was alive; that he needed her. Wild horses wouldn’t have kept her away.
The next instant she pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. She didn’t owe O’Keefe anything more than his three thousand dollars. Certainly not an explanation of any kind. Only the guilty needed to justify things. She was innocent. Jake’s rejection was a burden she would carry alone.
“My personal life is my business.”
O’Keefe scanned her face. There was something going on here he couldn’t figure out. For a while Christy Hathaway had looked as if she were going to cry. Now, she’d made a quick comeback with her lady-of-the-manor look. The odd combination of pain and pride in her eyes puzzled him.
“I’m running an ad. In next Sunday’s Lake Herald,” Christy wished O’Keefe wouldn’t stare at her as if her mind was a blueprint he could read at a glance. “It will give me a week to clean the place up. I expect the first of the lodgers to be here soon after that, I want Cupid Lodge at its best. The plans Mr. Brigham gave me shows staff quarters behind the garage with a bathroom and a small kitchen. You can move in there. I will need the downstairs room for a paying guest.”
It was the best approach to take. Brisk, businesslike, cold. Something about O’Keefe undermined her self-confidence. No one had made her feel so on edge before. He reminded her of a stick of dynamite. With the fuse lit.
“I expect you to check everything in the house before the first guests arrive. The gate, if you haven’t noticed, creaks, and the front door sticks.” Keeping her mind on work might help her lose the sensation of uneasiness around the caretaker. Keeping O’Keefe’s on it, would be even better.
The flash of surprise on O’Keefe’s face, was followed by a warning. “It’s a big house and it needs a lot done to it.”
“Then the sooner you start the better,” Christy said crisply.
One brow shot up at her tone. “Yes ma’am,” he said sarcastically. “Any more orders?”
The mockery edging the words made Christy want to slap him. She turned away. Letting him shred her self control wasn’t going to help the situation.
“Not right now.” If only her voice wouldn’t sound so squeaky. It spoiled the in-control effect she wanted to achieve. “I’m going to look around and then we’ll talk again.”
“I’ll look forward to that.”
The dry note in O’Keefe’s voice brought a flush to Christy’s cheeks. The first thing she had to do when the money started coming in was pay O’Keefe off, and get rid of him.
She was going to clean the place. If the idea weren’t so ludicrous he would have laughed, O’Keefe thought as he walked towards the garage to get the tool box. It wouldn’t be long before she admitted she couldn’t clean a shell from the beach.
As he sanded down the front door, the memory of Christy Hathaway the way she’d looked this morning in her silk pajamas returned. He’d bet anything, Jake’s socialite daughter didn’t know one end of a broom from another.
In any other situation, O’Keefe would have been tempted to get to know her better. It was a good thing he knew too much about her, to let that happen. It was also a good thing that Jennifer, his ex-wife, had taught him not to be taken in by appearances. Till the day she had left him, he’d taken Jennifer at face value. Believed what she’d written in her letters.
O’Keefe threw the sander down. Being taken in by a pretty face wasn’t a mistake he was going to make twice. His brow wrinkled in thought. What he had to watch out for were those big eyes. Christy Hathaway used them as a weapon. Whenever he looke
d into them, his carefully collected thoughts seemed hard to hold on to.
She had Jake’s eyes. In all the time he’d known Jake, O’Keefe had taken true blue eyes to stand for all that was good and honest. Now it was hard to accept eyes exactly like Jake’s could hide an endless supply of lies with a look of wide-eyed innocence.
Because of his personal integrity, Jake had suffered more than any man should in a lifetime. Watching Jake’s pain had only reinforced O’Keefe’s mistrust of women.
O’Keefe winced as his hand picked up a splinter from the door.
Why on earth did Christy Hathaway want to stay on in Cupid Lodge? Had that sharp brain of hers figured out she might get more if she sold the lodge as a running business, than as an empty property?
Jake had been so wrong about her. She didn’t need watching over. She needed watching, period.
A shutter banged sharply in the house, and O’Keefe frowned. He’d better fix that before Miss High-and-Mighty came down on him with more orders.
Christy fell in love with the house by the time she’d finished exploring it. Cupid Lodge was perfect for a bed and breakfast. There were five bedrooms upstairs, with attached bathrooms. There was an upstairs bonus room that was huge. It would make a great room for the guests to relax in the evenings, watch television in or even work out if she got a treadmill put in there. There was a downstairs bedroom with an attached bathroom across from the family room.
She could have five boarders; more, if they were couples.
She’d looked at the signs posted in town about bed and breakfasts in the area. The amount per night had surprised her and made her realize if she did this properly she could make a living here. Even if she charged a little less to begin with, she would do all right once all the rooms were full.
Going through the house a second time, Christy stopped by the bedroom she had chosen for herself. She told herself her choice had nothing do with the fact Jake had occupied the room. It was simply the most convenient to the stairs and set apart from the other rooms. Larger than the other rooms, it had two large windows facing the front that afforded wonderful views of Silver Lake and the timber covered hills surrounding it in the distance. Wondering if she could charge more for the room and the view, if she let it out instead of keeping it for herself, she decided against it. She wanted this room for herself.
Had Jake ever stood here, and thought about her?
Christy turned away from the window. There was no use letting her thoughts go down that road. A quick look in the closet showed his clothes still hung there. Christy shut the door quickly, her throat tight. She’d get around to sorting them out sometime. But not right now. Right now the pain was too strong.
The only other door next to her bedroom led to the attic. Christy decided to go upstairs and explore. The size of the attic surprised Christy. It was big, the roof high enough for her to stand up straight. The rays of sunshine slanting into the place through the three dormer windows, made it seem warm and welcoming. Cleaned up, it would make a wonderful retreat. Standing there she knew if she ever had enough paying guests this could be her bedroom for a few days. There was a bed here, an old table and chair, a rocking chair, a rolltop desk.
A window banged sharply and Christy turned to close it and stopped. The one hundred and eighty degree view was breathtaking. She could see for miles from up here.
Turning, Christy examined the attic again. The feeling she’d been here before returned stronger than ever. There were a row of old trunks against the far wall, an old sewing machine, an old crib and a rocking horse. Surprisingly nothing looked too dusty. The lawyer had mentioned Jake had a woman clean for him once a month… The woman had come in after his death one last time and put as much as she could under dustsheets.
When Christy was done with the house, she’d come up here and give the attic a thorough going over. It would make a wonderful retreat.
Feeling oddly reluctant to leave, Christy took the letter out of her pocket. She wiped the rocking chair down with a rag from the pile in the wicker basket and sat down. Suddenly she couldn’t wait a minute longer to read Jake’s last letter. Turning the envelope over, she considered the struggle going on inside her. Her pride told her to destroy the letter. She didn’t owe Jake anything, and she certainly didn’t need any more pain. But the thought of the photograph on the mantelpiece had told another story. He wouldn’t have displayed it if he hadn’t had some feelings for her. She had to know what Jake had written. Putting off reading it wasn’t doing her any good. With hands that shook, she opened the envelope.
Christy,
The fact you’re reading this, means you’re at Cupid Lodge. There is so much I want to explain, but I don’t think you will feel like listening at this moment. Time is running out. I have no right to ask this, but stay here for a while. Give the house a chance to set things right.
Jake.
She blinked in surprise. He hadn’t attempted any long explanations, made any excuses. His plea to stay on and let the house set things right was strange.
Suddenly Christy felt very tired. Could a house undo all the damage Jake had done? Take a child’s broken heart and fix it? Remove all the bitterness inside?
Wiping her tears away, Christy put the letter away in her pocket. Jake had forgotten something. Life was a one-way street. No one ever got a chance to go back.
She was in the kitchen fixing a tuna sandwich when O’Keefe walked in. He helped himself to a beer and turned to look at her. He’d expected her to be lunching on something better than a can of tuna.
The effect those long, muscular legs of his in the cut off shorts had on her was what put the bite into Christy’s voice as she said, “You eat here as well?”
She didn’t want him around. It was no good for her heart to keep racing as if it was a car in the Indy 500.
He stiffened at the question. “I bought the groceries. Jake never grudged me use of the kitchen.”
Embarrassment was like a stinging slap. She’d been rude. “I’m sorry. I thought the stuff in the cabinets was Jake’s. I’ll pay you for whatever I’ve used.”
Ignoring the offer of compensation, he pounced on what was important. “You call your father by his given name?”
Her eyes darkened. “Yes.”
The thought she had no affection for the man who had loved her so much, infuriated O’Keefe.
“What kind of a daughter are you? The least you can do is call him Dad.”
Christy felt her heart twist. She had called Jake, Daddy once. The pain recalling that title evoked, twisted the cap off her self control. “He was the one who left us, resigned from being a husband and a father.”
O’Keefe stared at her. If it weren’t for the fact her hands were shaking as she held the bowl of tuna salad, he wouldn’t have believed her. She really thought Jake had wanted to leave?
Taking the bowl from her, he set it on the table. “What do you mean...left you?”
“One night when I was six, there was this big fight.” She couldn’t tell him they had been fighting over her. “The next morning when I woke up, my mother was crying. She told me Jake had left us, that he didn’t want to live with us anymore.”
O’Keefe’s eyes narrowed as emotion grabbed him by the throat. This wasn’t an act. Christy had both arms wrapped around herself as if to keep out the pain. He could see the shudders sweeping through her.
“Jake regretted leaving you his whole life but he couldn’t stay there any longer.”
She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. When she lowered the tissue he could see the shutters were down again.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Christy said. “Excuse me.”
Picking up her plate with the tuna sandwiches on it and the glass of milk she’d poured herself, she left the room.
If the abrupt end to their conversation wasn’t just like a woman, O’Keefe thought later. Her point of view was the only one that mattered. She wasn’t prepared to listen to anyone else�
�s.
Tuna salad. He frowned, as he tasted a forkful. It was good but he’d expected her to be lunching on foie gras or caviar.
“I don’t know what made you bring these two together. The sparks between them are enough to set the house on fire.”
The gloom in Phillip’s voice made Agnes smile.
“That’s what makes it so interesting,” she said. “Yesterday they were two strangers in their own lonely worlds. Today they know each other. It’s a beginning.”
“O’Keefe’s not the man to fall for a pretty face and a nice figure.”
“Christy’s more than that,” Agnes defended. “Beside I thought you didn’t notice things like that anymore.”
Phillip ignored that. “He’s had very bad experiences with women. It won’t be easy for him to change.”
“For your information, you were just like him when you arrived in Sacramento, from the east.” The crisp note in Agnes’s voice held conviction. “You’d lost your wife and son. Someone had stolen your money. A grizzly bear could have taken lessons from you in grumpiness.”
“What do you mean?” Phillip’s bewilderment was plain in his voice.
“I mean the right woman can fix a great deal,” Agnes retorted smugly. “A great deal.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Christy woke up Tuesday and looked at the ceiling. The house was beautiful, but it would take a great deal of hard work to get it ready for her boarders. In the last phase of Jake’s illness everything had simply been placed under dust covers and left, which made perfect sense. She hadn’t gotten around to doing the kitchen yesterday. Just cleaning her room and the bathroom had taken all her time. She ought to have tackled the kitchen first but the thought of running into O’Keefe had made her choose to clean upstairs instead.
A glance out of the window showed her it was foggy today. A good day for staying in and cleaning.
As she dressed in designer jeans and a velour sweater, Christy wished she had sensible old clothes better suited for cleaning but she had no choice right now. Her clothes were in her apartment in Los Angeles and she would have to make do with these for now.
