by Robin Bayne
Cami sighed across the phone lines, the sound drifting into Tia’s ears−as if Cami had a reason to sigh.
“Remember when we were little, Tia? And Mom used to throw us into the pool, pretending she was mad? And then Mr. George would push her in and everyone laughed?”
“Yes. And?” Tia wondered where this was going, suppressing the urge to just hang up, but careful not to do something she’d regret. She was the wronged person here, so she waited, still moving restlessly through the inn.
“You always were thrown in first.”
“So?” Tia stopped in the breakfast room, seeing her youngest guest curled up in a white wicker chair with a book.
“I want to come see you.” Obviously abandoning her original point, Cami tried a new one. A demand. “I want to see my home again, where I grew up. Where we grew up.”
“This is my home, Cami,” Tia said, mentally scoffing. “I own this place, it’s not ‘home’ to you anymore.” She didn’t mention that she only owned half.
“You mean you can’t go home again?”
Colt entered through the back door, winking at Tia as he crossed to the garage door. Dressed in black jeans and a gray, long-sleeved shirt, he looked ready to go into town and prowl around.
Tia admired him as he disappeared.
“OK, let’s cut the clichés,” Cami said.
Tia remembered she was on the phone. What would her sister say if she knew Tia was living here with Colt? Or had that spurred this call?
A chill crept through the phone line as Cami continued. “You’re my only sister. Mom’s gone. Her husband’s gone. Dad was never there to begin with, and he’s gone too. I’m single. No children. So I’d like to see you and begin to repair our relationship.” She clipped each word. “If you can handle it.”
If she could handle it? Bristling, Tia felt ready to raise her voice, but tamped it down as she glanced at the youngster nearby. She moved to the kitchen.
“Well, sis?”
Standing in front of the sink, Tia gazed out her window and saw the remnants of the day’s construction. That area was ready for development, for progress.
She wasn’t. “Not just now, Cami. I’m not saying it’s forever, but I need time.” Not to mention the fireworks that would erupt when Cami discovered who her dear sister’s business partner was.
A silence flowed from Cami’s end, lasting several seconds.
Tia smoothed her hands across the clean counter tops, using only her palms, enjoying the cool, smooth feel of it. She waited.
“OK, I respect that. And Tia?”
She tensed. “Yeah?”
“I know this sounds lame, and I wanted to say it in person. But I am so sorry. For all of it.”
The line went dead in Tia’s ear.
She returned to the breakfast room, noting her little guest had retired. She locked each door and window, pausing in the foyer to peer out the stained glass panel.
Colt’s truck wasn’t in the driveway; he’d left a few minutes earlier. For where?
It was eleven o’clock and it was none of her business. He’s your partner. Nothing more! Leaning into the door and resting her head against the cool glass, Tia went over her conversation with Cami. Now that her pulse had returned to normal, she could think about it.
Their mother had given up everything for the man she loved—the inn she had earned a partnership in, just for the sake of her friendship, a type of sisterhood, with Evelyn, George’s wife. She’d held the code sacred.
Cami, in contrast, had charged in at a vulnerable moment, while Tia was recovering from the accident and Colt was a blank book, and taken what she’d wanted. Why should Tia overlook that?
Pushing away from the door, Tia stuffed her hands in her jean pockets. She refused to waste her delicate nails on such an old problem. A shuffling noise caught her attention.
“Miss Tia, are you OK?” The girl looked around. “I forgot my book.”
“Yes, I am, thanks. I saw it earlier. A mystery, right?” Tia scanned the room. “It’s right there on the wicker table.” She picked it up and smiled. “You’re reading Nancy Drew?”
“Yeah. Might want to be a detective when I grow up. My mom says I’m too grown up already.” Meg shook her head. “And then she says ‘Kids.’”
Tia held back her chuckle at the preteen’s words. “And what else might you want to do?”
Meg tilted her head and dark wisps of hair fell across her eyes. “Maybe fashion design. Or I could be an actress.” She flicked the hair away from her face in a melodramatic swipe. “Or maybe, it might be fun to be an innkeeper.” Leaning closer, Meg lowered her voice. “As long as I had a partner like Colt.”
“Like Colt?” Tia couldn’t wait to hear this one.
“You know, a stud-muffin.”
Tia laughed then, and shooed the girl toward the hall, reminding her of the early morning swim lesson. As she started to turn away, a flash of movement caught her eye. Colt’s truck pulled into the drive. How long had she stood there, being pricked by her own thoughts? The rumbling of the garage door opening sounded overhead, and Tia was glad she’d opted for an electric opener.
Colt’s dark head appeared from the side of the garage, and he stood for a few seconds, looking at the house, the surrounding trees, and the road in front, his arms crossed as he took in his fill. What was he feeling?
Even when she’d been part of his life, she’d often wondered that. He’d been subtle about his emotions, his thoughts and needs. Only now, after several uncharacteristic admissions, was she aware of how much he used to care for her.
She shivered as Colt’s gaze passed over her post at the doorway, but he didn’t indicate he’d seen her. He turned and pulled something from the other side of the building, lifting it easily and then moving toward the curb, his muscles bearing the weight with grace.
Tia could see rippling under the sleeves of his shirt and his long legs moving under the denim. Her heart caught when she realized what he was doing. It was so domestic, so normal, and absolutely no reason for her eyes to well with tears.
Colt, her hero in black jeans, was putting out the trash.
~*~
Tia dove into the cold water, splicing it neatly as she landed head first, surfaced and swam to the opposite end. She loved these early morning sessions when the air still felt chilled and no one was up and about. With the pool and patio to herself, she was refreshed, burning calories, strengthening her muscles and mentally preparing for the day.
And after last night’s surprise call, she really needed to regroup. Through the night she’d woken many times, her body aching with tension and her emotions mixed like a blender full of whipped fruit. She didn’t know how she should react to her sister now, or how Cami, down in Maryland, would react if she knew Colt was here too.
Tia clung to the side and smoothed back her hair, checking out the patio to make sure she was still alone.
Colt once swam with her on a moonless night, when the guests and family were all in town. They hadn’t been living here then, but were visiting for the Fourth of July or something, and had been hopelessly in love.
She’d sat on the side of the pool, the concrete scratching the back of her thighs, and applied sunscreen in the dark to keep her hands busy.
Colt had merely watched from his side of the pool, smiling, his body covered with sparkling drops. But his gaze, fixed on her, steamed the water from her skin.
He’d kissed her in the pool, suggested they do more, but Tia had resisted, believing they had the rest of their lives to explore each other.
Boy, had she been wrong.
She dove again and when she surfaced, Meg was waiting for her in the shallow end. Crystal blue water lapped her waist as she moved her arm in small circles away from her body. “Hey, you’ve had a lesson before.”
Meg looked up. “Hey, Miss Tia, watch this.” She dipped down so her little shoulders submerged, and her eyes opened wide.
Tia sat by her on the edge, danglin
g her legs, allowing the girl time to acclimate herself. She leaned back on her hands, the concrete surface boring into her palms.
Meg stood. “I want to learn more than to dog paddle. And you know what? I asked Mr. Colt where he learned to swim, and he said he didn’t remember ‘cause it made him feel old.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Something like that. And then he said not to call him ‘Mr.’ because it made him feel even older.”
“And then?” Tia clenched her jaw.
“And then I asked him when you and him were going on a date, because I thought he liked you.”
“Oh, no.” She felt her teeth grinding.
Meg nodded helpfully. “Yes, I did! But he said he couldn’t do that.” She reached for the side, grabbed on with both hands and kicked her feet behind her. “He said that would make him feel really, really old.”
An hour after Meg’s lesson, Tia climbed from the pool and grabbed her towel, rolling it around her shoulders in her usual style. Just keeping the heavy hair off her neck warmed her enough, and she leaned over and wrung out the excess water, thinking about getting the length cut to hit her at the shoulders. Why not? She was almost thirty-two and kind of old for a long style.
Meg’s report of Colt’s words hung in her mind. Old? Neither of them was that old.
But as for her hair, she knew exactly why not, though she’d never admit it out loud. Because once upon a time, in another life, Colt had promised to always keep his hair short if she kept hers long.
He obviously hadn’t remembered that yet, or didn’t think it applied anymore. Moving into the corridor, Tia was careful to walk only on the indoor-outdoor treated carpet as the drips fell from her still wet suit. In her room she peeled off the tank, grimacing at the clammy feel left on her skin.
She remembered dating Michael Canton, who was studying architecture, while they were both college students. They’d used the student’s pool together, just for swimming. He’d loved her hair wet, and up, swept away from her face, with a few curly pieces dangling on the sides. She wondered what had happened to Michael; the last she’d heard he’d met his fiancée in Tia’s own cooking class.
When they parted, Michael told Tia that she didn’t seem to always be there in the same room with him, that her mind was elsewhere. They’d never made it to the kissing stage for that reason.
Tugging a wide-toothed comb through her hair, she thought again of cutting it as she squirted it liberally with conditioner. It was no one’s business but hers if she chose to cut it, in spite of what men thought, and since she had made it so clear to Colt that their personal lives were completely separate, she had nothing to say about his hair either.
Tia dressed and pulled her hair up into a tight chignon, using a leather bun cover to keep it in place. She’d serve dinner tonight in her teal sarong skirt and fringed blouse, but her hair would look conservative. She styled it for herself and herself alone.
But she did pull out those ends to curl and hang around her face. She should look nice for her guests, after all.
~*~
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Colt’s dark gaze set on Tia as she turned from the hutch.
“Sure.” She wiped a final smudge from her favorite vase. “What’s up?”
“I need to hire an electrician.” He spoke quietly, making a request, not a demand.
Tia nodded, relieved by the topic, and reached for another item to dust. The bone china teapot had been her grandmother’s, and Tia gently polished the spout.
“Well?”
“Well, I guess we hire someone. Who will you use? The group you subcontracted at Canton? They were probably pretty good, huh?”
“Probably.” Colt shoved his hands in his pockets. “Does it matter? Do I need approval?”
She saw he was uncomfortable and hated to see their working relationship strained over their lack of a personal one. Tia touched his shoulder, feeling him freeze up like a statue. “Of course not. It’s your decision.”
He said nothing, but stared, tiny wrinkles lining his eyes.
When had he started getting those? Maybe they were both getting old after all. Or he was upset.
Tia’s mind raced back through the last few minutes, but she thought she’d handled his request well, not been high-handed or bossy. What was wrong with him? Was it the fact that he’d had to make a request at all? Perhaps he thought of her as the decision maker because she’d brought the money to their partnership, or maybe because she was a woman?
Nah. He’d never been that petty, and people didn’t change that much, did they? Even after a trauma?
She broke her gaze from his and put the teapot on a high shelf, clinking the china against glass gently. “You can spend whatever you need to, within reason, of course.” Even her inheritance had limits.
Colt took a few steps toward the door before responding. “Well, thanks so much, boss.”
It was all she could do not to stamp her foot. “You know I didn’t mean it like that!” She clicked her nails on the clear shelf as she turned toward him. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” Colt picked up his toolbox, which he had set in the doorway. “I just...”
Tia stilled. “Just what?”
He shrugged, and the edge of his metal box clunked the door frame. “I wish I knew how to do the wiring myself. I hate to hire someone else and pay top dollar.” He hit the frame again and grimaced, probably thinking he now had to patch the marks.
Tia found his motions very telling. “Do electricians make you feel inadequate?” She twisted a piece of her hair, hoping he’d watch her and spill his guts.
But it was the wrong question.
Colt’s expression hardened.
Now what? He acted like she’d asked the size of his bank account. She flashed through her mental list of things that made guys get their back up, but came up with nothing. Now what were they talking about?
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I get a little−”
“Defensive?”
He shrugged, hitting the door frame for the third time.
“If you keep that up, not only will you have to sand and paint the entire frame, but your shoulders will fall off and your head will follow.”
Colt snorted, but Tia heard laughter in the sound. “Sorry, again. I just want to be able to do everything around here myself. Electricity included.”
“Why don’t you take some classes?”
“Yeah. I should.” An eyebrow raised in interest.
“I can call and ask for a catalog from the community college. Or you can probably find information online.”
“OK if I use your computer sometime? My cell is too hard to navigate.”
“Sure. After dinner I’m going to clean the sun room, so you can use it then.”
He shook his head. “Have plans tonight. Maybe during your morning swim?”
“Sure.” She watched him go, hating herself for being so curious about his plans.
After she’d found the information she needed online, she heard her name called from the front yard.
“Liz! You’re here!” Tia clapped her hands, greeted her friend under the inn’s arched entrance, and then lifted an eyebrow. “You’re early! Is everything OK?”
Liz laughed, shaking her black curls, her voice deep. “Everything’s peachy.” She pulled Tia close for a hug.
“Your timing is perfect. I just booked my first wedding reception.” Tia picked up one of Liz’s suitcases, which more closely resembled duffel bags. “C’mon in. I saved you the room you wanted. The cloudy one.” Feeling a surge in her mood with her friend’s arrival, Tia led the way.
“So, is he here? The Coltster?”
Tia sighed. “Boy. You certainly don’t waste any time. And yes, he’s here, out back in the stable. He just brought in four horses to be boarded.”
“Cool. What kind?”
“Um, brown? Four-legged?” Tia stopped in front of room five and slid her master key into t
he lock. “Honestly, Liz, I know nothing about horses. They and I don’t really see eye-to-eye.” She led Liz into the room and pulled the powder blue curtains wide, letting sunlight stream in to illuminate the puffy white clouds Colt’s mother had painted on the blue walls years before.
“I’d forgotten how pretty this was.”
Tia nodded, plopping on the blue satin comforter. “You haven’t been here in at least−”
“Eight years.” Liz finished her thought. She opened the larger of her cases and began to unpack, tossing folded jeans and T-shirts into the wood dresser drawers. “I only brought one skirt, this denim thing.” She held up a miniskirt with a zipper running the entire length in front.
“Save it for Saturday night.” Tia told her about the barbecue and Jake Canton.
Liz grinned. “He sounds hunky.”
“So you still only wear jeans?” Eyeing her friend’s wardrobe, Tia felt her own must look plain in comparison. She liked lightweight cotton clothes in the summer, with floral prints, not the heavy denim Liz preferred. Tia wore small gold buttons while Liz preferred the big hoops that always dangled from her ears.
“Yeah, sometimes, but I did buy a yellow dress last week. Hey, when is the reception you’re doing?”
“Not until next month. It’s really just a small deal. They didn’t have enough advance notice to book a hall or big hotel. Worked out well for me.”
“Pregnant?”
“Yeah.” Tia smiled, thinking of her frazzled client bride and her more distraught mother. “Very.”
“You want me to come back down for the day and help out?”
A tingle of affection and a rush of relief warmed Tia’s heart. “That would be great. You’re the best.” That’s what loyal friends do for each other. Tia glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to start dinner. Want to take a swim?”
“Not yet. After dinner, maybe. Mind if I go down to see the horses?” Liz loved to ride and her eagerness was evident.
Or was it a chance for her to see Colt? Tia shook off the thought, knowing it was uncalled for. Liz had won a host of ribbons and cups growing up in upstate New York, and Tia had often wished she’d been there to see her accomplishments.
