Do Not Disturb

by Christie Ridgway

  Forty years! Angel’s nerves were calming already. That many memories should keep both of them occupied for quite a while. “Tell me about it.”

  But as the old woman began to reminisce, Angel’s mind refused to follow the conversation. She was aware of hmming and umming at sufficient intervals, but the busiest of her brain cells remained preoccupied with Cooper.

  She couldn’t be anywhere close to falling in love with him!

  She couldn’t be in love with anyone. Giving over her heart was something she’d been inoculated against a lifetime ago. When envisioning her future, she’d seen her life running along the lines of her editor’s at the magazine. Jane had friends, work, a good, full life without a commitment from a man. That sounded fine to Angel, because nobody knew better than she how falling in love could only lead to disappointment—at the low end of the scale—or actual danger.

  In between those extremes was heartache, unfaithfulness, abandonment. Suppressing a little shudder, she tore her attention back to Mrs. Withers.

  “And they were such a lovely couple,” the woman was saying. “They married in September, you know, right on the cliffs. I was there.”

  Angel blinked. “I’m sorry, who was the lovely couple?”

  “Edie and John.”

  The names rang a bell, thanks to Cara’s piles of research. “Oh,” Angel said, nodding. “His parents.” She felt herself flushing. “I mean the parents of Cooper, Beth, and Lainey.”

  “That’s right.” The old woman nodded. “They doted on those children.”

  Lucky for them.

  “But they doted on each other even more. Edie fell apart when John died. I thought that would be the end of Tranquility House.”

  “Really?” Angel’s mind spun back to Cooper and the beach, of how he’d told her of his father’s death in that hard, cool voice. Of how he’d accused her of not wanting to get that personal with him.

  Bull’s-eye.

  No, no! He just didn’t understand that she was being realistic. What they had was chemistry. Incredible sex. A mutual interest in bad food choices. But nothing more! “Their” song was that ridiculous “Hakuna Matata,” remember?

  “…that boy was tireless, though. Nineteen years old, going to college, working a job in town, working on the weekends at Tranquility to keep it running.”

  “Mmm.” Angel nodded. So Cooper was hardworking. Smart. She’d known that from the start. There was absolutely no reason for him to be anything more to her than a fond memory of some pleasant sex.

  “Edie, though…well…”

  Angel snatched at the name to refocus the conversation. “Yes, Edie.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me more about Edie.”

  Mrs. Withers sighed. “There are some women who can’t make it without a man.”

  Angel nodded. “I know just the kind you mean.” And remember you don’t want to be one of them!

  “I was married for thirty years myself, and I still miss Charlie, but I was always an independent sort.” There was a lively gleam in her eye. “After he passed on, I enjoyed myself. Still enjoy myself.”

  “Good for you,” Angel said, nodding.

  But then the old lady clasped both hands on her staff and sighed again. “Not that I haven’t been lonely. Very lonely at times.”

  Angel’s stomach squeezed. She thought about her too-quiet apartment that she filled with the noise of the news channels. She thought of Tom Jones, the neighbor’s fickle cat that was often the only living creature she touched in the course of a day. “Well, I’m, uh…”

  Mrs. Withers shook herself. “We were talking about Edie, though. She wasn’t the same after John was gone. Pined for him, I think. Not many years later, she caught a cold that turned into pneumonia. I heard she hardly tried to fight it off.”

  Angel tsked. “The perils of love.”

  “The children were devastated, of course. But again, it was Cooper who stepped in and handled all the details.”

  “He’s good at those.”

  Mrs. Withers nodded. “And more, he gave those girls the support they needed. He was there whenever they wanted a shoulder to cry on or to lean on. Lainey was already married and mother to darling Katie, but that artist husband of hers was usually locked in his tower with his canvases and his paints. Cooper is the one who has always been there for the women in his family.”

  That artist. Angel picked out those two words and tried forgetting the rest. She should ask Mrs. Withers more about “that artist.” That’s why she was at Tranquility, remember? To learn more about Stephen Whitney. To find out the truth.

  The truth.

  Cooper is the one who has always been there for the women in his family.

  Image after image shuffled through her mind. Cooper coming for Katie at the memorial. Walking with his arm around his sister at the cliffside service. Rushing to Beth’s aid when she’d been crying later that day. Sunset dates with his niece. Tending Lainey’s garden. Back flips into the pool.

  Why would Angel be in danger of falling in love with a man like that?

  Hah. Hah hah hah.

  The joke was on her. She wasn’t in danger of falling in love with Cooper after all.

  She already was in love with him.

  As it neared sunset, Cooper’s arms and shoulders ached from the unfamiliar lifting and holding required to erect the two huge tents. Though the crew had welcomed his help, he could have left them to the job hours before.

  Instead, he’d used the work as an excuse to avoid Angel and as an opportunity to kick his own ass to hell and back.

  When he’d woken that morning and found her gone again, he had flashed on her floating toward the bottom of the pool. The idea ripping at him, he’d run from the cottage with a panicked need to make sure she was safe.

  Judd had told him he’d seen her head toward the cove, but even in the short time it took to locate her, Cooper had worked himself into a state. A stupid, stupid state that was a potent combination of anxiety and anger.

  So he’d attacked Angel for finding it so easy to walk away from him, when walking away from him was the very thing he wanted her to be able to do.

  Damn it! Damn him.

  Checking his watch, he decided he had another good excuse to stall before facing her again. It was almost time for his usual evening meet with Katie. Maybe the sunset would provide the solution to how he could cool things off with Angel.

  But when he arrived at his and Katie’s special spot, there was a blond head beside the dark one of his niece. They sat side by side, the soft breeze lifting their hair away from their shoulders and mingling the curly yellow and straight brown strands.

  He was going to lose them both.

  The weight of it slammed heavily into him. He stumbled on a rock, sending dirt and pebbles tumbling. Katie’s and Angel’s heads jerked around.

  He tried to smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  The corners of Angel’s mouth lifted and fell and she started to rise. “I…I was just leaving.”

  “Don’t go.” Why did the wrong words keep coming out of his mouth? “I…uh…uh…” Hell, he sounded as nervous as she looked.

  She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  Cooper took his place on the other side of his niece. “We don’t mind, do we, Katydid?” He wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders and made himself look at Angel over her head. “After all, this is…what? Your second-to-the-last Big Sur sunset? We’ll share it with you.”

  Angel hesitated a long moment, then she nodded, her eyes cooling, her expression now composed. Not a single nerve showing. “That’s right. I’ll be leaving right after the art show.”

  If she’d expected to do any different after his earlier demand for her to get “personal” with him, if she’d expected he’d ask her to stay longer, there was not a hint of it in her manner. Relieved, he took the bottle of sparkling water Katie held toward him and swallowed half in one gulp.

  Then he loo
ked down at his niece. “And how was your day, miss?”

  “Fine.”

  Her wooden expression was an uncomfortable echo of Angel’s. He knew there was a wealth of emotion beneath Katie’s emotionless face. Did that mean there was trouble brewing behind Angel’s calm eyes too?

  Disquieted again, Cooper stared out at the fiery orange sun sliding inexorably down the slope of the afternoon sky. It was moving so quickly now, he thought, the day passing so fast. Like his life.

  “I was just telling Katie about San Francisco,” Angel put in. “That I can’t wait to get back.”

  San Francisco. Maybe he should have returned to his firm after recovering from the surgery. Maybe he should have gone back to the city and burned out like a candle, doing what he loved best. But instead, he’d come here, hoping to secure the future of Tranquility House and his family as well as he could.

  Watch out for your mother and sisters, his father had said that night in the mountains. Cooper was holding himself to that promise as long as possible.

  Closing his eyes, he reminded himself that it had seemed like a fine idea to die in the Sur. Here, compared to the permanence of the mountains, the unceasing movement of the Pacific, the infinite horizon, his life was nothing.

  He’d hoped that would make the idea of his dying feel like nothing too. He’d hoped to find acceptance.

  He was still hoping, damn it.

  “Uncle Cooper?”

  Startled, he opened his eyes and looked down at Katie. “What is it?”

  “The sun’s gone. And you’re cold, Uncle Cooper. You’re shivering.”

  The wind had kicked up, and Katie’s and Angel’s hair was swirling around their heads, twining yellow and brown in a pretty dance that had him staring.

  Angel jumped to her feet and put her hand on his shoulder. “Cooper?”

  Her fingers were warm. He didn’t stop himself from covering them with his cold ones. Just for the moment, just for now, he needed her heat.

  Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “You are freezing.”

  He avoided her concern by shifting his gaze to the ocean. He stared out across the endless water toward the distant horizon and the sunless sky. It was beautiful, he thought, even though another day was gone.

  The wind and the waves roared in his ears. His chest expanded on a breath of briny air, and he could taste seaweed and salt and pine on his tongue. Yes, it was still so very beautiful, even with the sunset a thing past.

  It hit him then. The sun was gone, but the world wasn’t. Its light was gone, but this moment wasn’t. Its heat was gone, but the warmth of Angel’s hand wasn’t.

  And I’m not gone either.

  Sudden optimism flooding through him, he squeezed her fingers and smiled up at her. “You ready to go back? It’s getting late, sweetheart, and we have things to do.”

  “What?”

  “You know,” he said, his voice going husky. “Things to do.”

  The startled giggle on his other side reminded him that Katie was still with them. He glanced at his niece and winked. “Adult things, squirt, so get lost.”

  “Cooper!” Angel sounded mortified. “What’s the matter with you?”

  He grinned at her, because he thought she might get mad if he laughed. But God, he felt like it. He felt like laughing, grinning, smiling, because there was no point in worrying about the future when having Angel in his arms once more sounded so simple and so right. So not yet finished.

  He didn’t let go of her hand, even when they came within sight of his place and Angel tried tugging it back. “You never answered my question back there,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  Once again, smiling was easy, because he had all the answers now.

  “We’ve been thinking too much.” He ushered her toward his front door.

  “We’ve been worrying too much.” He pushed her over the threshold.

  “And not living,” he said against her mouth, “not living enough in the moment.”

  Her skin was sleek and hot against his cool flesh. She was wet where he was hard. Her mouth fit against his, his body fit inside hers. Just another of nature’s incredible beauties.

  There was no future.

  There was only now.

  Though not yet dawn, the art exhibition tent was as bright as noon, thanks to the track lighting spilling onto the paneled walls. Beth tore a strip of brown wrapping paper off another painting. They’d returned from the framer—who’d worked feverishly to get them finished as a special favor—the day before and she was going to hang them quickly, then go.

  Leave the Sur.

  Her hands were shaking, but she told herself it was lack of sleep, not fear of everything she was about to do.

  Leave her home.

  Leave her family.

  For once and for all, breaking the chains of the past, of the secrets, and of the silence that had kept her half-living for too long.

  Steeling herself, she tore at the wrapping again, revealing another cherubic child. Without allowing herself to look at the image itself, she reassessed the painting’s size, making sure it would show to advantage on the panel she’d selected. Then she mounted the ladder.

  As she reached upward, she heard footsteps. Her little start of surprise set the ladder rocking, but then its movement abruptly stilled. From behind her, hands—one still marked by long scratches—wrapped two of the ladder’s legs to steady it.

  There was nothing to steady her pulse, so Beth just ignored its jumping. She went about the task of hanging the picture on the silk-covered panel as if Judd weren’t there. Then she took her time adjusting it to hang perfectly straight.

  But the fussing only made her pulse more jumpy, so she finally forced her hands away and took a step down the ladder.

  The back of her calf brushed him and she jerked again.

  “Get out of my way,” she said through her teeth.

  He didn’t move.

  She shot him a glance over her shoulder. He looked as steady, as calm, as silent as always. “You’re in my way.”

  He was. He stood between her and freedom. He was a piece of the why she’d stayed too long already.

  Now when she moved, he stepped to the side, leaving only one hand on the ladder. She stared at it, at the scratches that had started to heal, at new scratches the kittens must have given him since.

  “Will you take Shaft for me?” she asked abruptly.

  He blinked. Frowned.

  “I’m leaving. I need someone to care for Shaft.”

  Judd’s hand released the ladder and fell to his side. His gaze stayed trained on her face as if he were trying to read her mind. For years, she’d thought he could. Somehow, anyway, through shared smiles and laughter, her chatter and his cryptic notes, he’d become her foundation, her sounding board, her best friend.

  She sucked in a shallow breath, her chest too tight for a deeper one. “I can’t stay for the show. I can’t watch people stroll through my secrets and my shame.”

  Judd looked away, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking. She’d never been able to read his mind. Sure, they’d always managed to communicate, but he’d only let her in so far, so deep. Though Judd’s calm silence had always been attractive to her, such a contrast to Stephen’s nearly manic self-absorption, it had left her feeling selfish at times.

  She took from Judd and never gave.

  Just like Stephen had taken from her, from Lainey too. Knowing him, he’d probably egotistically rationalized his behavior as the demands of his muse. Or the passions of the artistic mind.

  Not that he hadn’t been charming about it. Not that he hadn’t possessed a talent for finding and connecting to the soft center of people’s hearts. But now that he was gone she was seeing him—and what she’d done with him—so much more clearly.

  Grabbing up the next painting, she viciously tore at the paper covering. The last time she’d felt this kind of anger, she’d been walking down the aisle toward the man she loved—as her sister�
��s maid of honor. But the feeling was surfacing again, fighting its way through the layers of shame and blame she’d tried to suffocate it with. With another rip, she worked the painting free.

  She instantly averted her eyes from the blond baby depicted on the canvas. Determined to get on with the job, she forced her gaze around the room, searching for a likely spot.

  A likely spot among painting after painting of her baby. Blond, like Stephen. His blue eyes. There wasn’t even a hint of her features in those of the child depicted over and over and over.

  “How could he?” It was already warm outside and it was even hotter in the tent. Or maybe it was her mood, her rage, finally becoming something she was releasing from her soul. “How could he have married my sister and have an affair with me? How could he have made us both pregnant? How could he paint our baby like this, with such…such love, when she was already gone?”

  Judd hadn’t moved. He stared at her, silent.

  She stalked toward him, seething. “I lived half a life as penance for my mistakes. I stayed to watch Stephen, to make sure he didn’t take advantage of Lainey or some other woman again. I stayed because I love my sister and my niece. I also stayed because—”

  She’d be damned if she’d tell Judd that. “But I’m done settling for half, for living on guilt and a friendship that only goes so far.”

  She whirled, made it one step. He caught her arm. She wrenched it free, then turned on him again.

  “Why did you kiss me?” she demanded. “Why?”

  He looked at her, his expression as helpless, as silent, as when she’d asked him that question the day before.

  She laughed, and it was so short and bitter that it felt like a sob. “Go ahead, keep it to yourself. But I’m not keeping my secrets anymore. Not one. Not one more hour.”

  Resolved to face up to everything, though, she took a last, long inspection of the paintings of the child. Her stomach instinctively cramped, steeling against the pain of what was lost.

  Funny, though. When she looked, really looked, it was hard to equate them with loss. The canvases were beautiful, really beautiful, the child in them vital and alive.

  They weren’t her child, she thought suddenly. They were Stephen’s imagination, his artistic gift, and that warm part of his heart that was undeniable, despite his flaws.