Harley shook her head.
“To make room for a new tourist center.”
Harley thought. “The current one is pretty sad. It’s been there as long as I can remember. And it makes sense to relocate it to the town center.”
Jack sampled his wine. “Right. It’s just a shame they have to use up the only green space.”
“Can’t you do anything?”
“This is my mother we’re talking about.”
“If it were my mother, she’d listen to me with an open mind.”
“Because your mother wouldn’t have an ulterior motive, which is to gain favor with the other movers and shakers on the committee.” Jack sighed. “Anyway, witnessing the demonstration opened a discussion between her and the twins. Somehow the topic of aesthetics came up.”
Harley made a doubtful face.
She took the glass he handed her and sat down on the couch.
Jack lowered himself next to her. “It was Mother who brought it up, but the girls couldn’t let it go. That led to me taking them to the new art gallery on Main Street this morning.”
“Oh?”
“They loved it. We ended up spending more time there than we did in the park. But I had no idea what I was looking at. They had all these questions, and all I could do was shrug.” Jack pointed to her open laptop on the coffee table. “Did I interrupt something?”
Harley beamed and reached for it. “This is him,” she said, turning the screen to face Jack.
“Brings back memories,” said Jack. “Except he’s got a lot more room in there than the twins did.”
Gently, Harley closed the lid. “Do the girls still miss their mother?”
“They were only five when she died. They’ve spent more of their lives without her than with her. Especially when you consider that they have no memories of their first couple of years at all.”
“Do me a favor? Don’t tell them about my baby yet.”
“After the hearing, the cat’s out of the bag, don’t you think?”
“Among the adults who happened to be present. But that doesn’t change the fact that there could still be complications. The less the girls know, the less you’ll have to explain later, should the need arise.” Whatever this dance was that she and Jack were trying out, it still felt very trial-and-error. Who knew where it would lead—if anywhere?
“If that’s what you want.”
Then there was the whole thing with Jack’s mother. If she and Jack got closer, Melinda would surely have something to say about it.
Jack set down his glass and turned toward her, lifting her chin with his finger. “Hey. You were in such a good mood a second ago.”
The Pettys may not have been very perky, but today marked a milestone. She’d had her first guests and she’d seen another baby picture. Everything in her life—her work, this beautiful home, aglow with candles placed around the room—was coming together. She wasn’t going to let Melinda kill her buzz.
“You’re right.” Harley jumped up. “How about some leftover quiche?”
They talked about the new vintage and some new ideas for collaboration among their properties while they ate. Then Jack scraped his plate clean and set it on the table.
“Well,” he said, rising to his feet, “guess I should go.”
Harley straightened her top and stood, too. “It is getting late, and I have to get up early. I’ve signed a contract for a collection of twenty-four greeting cards, and the B and B chores have me way behind.”
He grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch—unlike Mother, Harley hadn’t said a thing about him leaving it there—and made his way slowly to the door, Harley by his side.
“Why didn’t you tell me before? That’s great! First sketches, then dishes, and what was it? Towels?”
“Linens,” she said with a small, indulgent smile.
“Linens. Right.”
They had made it to the foyer. “Before I go, I was wondering . . . the girls and I do something most Saturday mornings. Would you be interested in maybe going with us to the art collective some time?”
She bit the inside of her lip. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s just an art gallery. No big deal.”
“Are you sure you want your daughters spending that much time with me? I mean, I would think that someone in your shoes would want to be very selective about who he lets into his kids’ world. You know, so that they don’t get . . . confused.”
“Is that why you’re so tense? Come on, Har. I don’t know a Rembrandt from a Picasso. Besides, it’ll be more fun with you. Everything always is.”
“It is?”
“Of course it is.” He’d better keep his enthusiasm in check. He didn’t want to scare her off before she even got to know the girls.
“I have more guests coming next week, so I’ll be tied up then. But maybe the Saturday after that, assuming I don’t get another booking.”
His heart leapt. Yes! “I can’t wait to tell the girls.” It was all he could do to keep from hooting with happiness. Somehow, he managed to rein it in. “Well, thanks for the quiche.”
“Thanks for the wine,” she said, nervously ducking her head.
He put his hand on the doorknob. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. Cautiously, he bent his head over hers.
When her eyelids fluttered closed, he gently, ever so gently, touched her mouth with his. Her lips were warm and soft, and she smelled like shampoo and second chances.
“Night,” he whispered.
“Night.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Harley’s morning shower wasn’t as hot as she liked it, but she excused it away as having just run the dishwasher.
She gazed at the stack of folders and forms she’d deposited on Prudence Mitchell’s desk.
“It feels strange leaving all this paperwork here.”
“Would you rather take it back home with you?”
“Definitely not. I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“Have no fear,” said Pru, deftly sorting through the papers, separating them into piles. “By tax time, we’ll have you all straightened out.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. Is there anything else you need from me?”
“Just make sure you utilize the program I gave you to track income and expenses and my staff and I will figure out the rest.”
Harley rose from her chair in front of Pru’s desk and draped her jacket over her arm. “Thanks for your help.”
“You got it.” Pru came around her desk to walk her out. “By the way. Heard you spent the night in the slammer for that park thing.”
“It was only four hours.”
“Oh,” said Pru, sounding disappointed. “See much of Jack these days?”
In her need for help with her accounting, Harley had shuttled aside Pru’s schoolgirl crush on Jack. She shrugged. “Jack and I are neighbors. That’s all.”
“Wonder if he found a mother for those twins of his yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s the whole reason he came back from New Zealand.”
Harley blinked. “I thought it was because his work was done, Down Under.”
“That’s not what he told me. Obviously, I didn’t come right out and ask him. But his mother hinted as much to my father.”
The Mitchells ran in the same circles as the Friestatts. Harley had waited on them at the club. It wouldn’t be surprising if Melinda had run into Judge Mitchell since they’d come back from overseas. Even less surprising if Pru had misconstrued a conversation.
“My next guests are arriving this afternoon and I still have things to do to get ready. Thanks for your help.”
Pru might be a little dense when it came to social cues, but she had saved Harley once before, when she was failing algebra. They’d never been best friends and they never would be. But Pru could provide Harley with a service and Harley could compensate her. As long as they stuck to numbers, they would get along just fin
e.
* * *
Harley spent the morning vacuuming and dusting. As much as she’d wished for guests to start coming, she had also promised to send new sketches to her design team today. She’d been going to work on them last night, but she’d gone down a rabbit hole researching the best kind of disposable diaper. After a quick lunch, she had just sat down at her drawing table, hoping to grab a couple of hours to work, when the doorbell rang.
“This house is adorable!” exclaimed the woman in a yellow sweater set and lavender-framed glasses.
“Oh! That settee! And look, George. That sideboard has got to be an original Biedermeier!” She scurried over to it, examining every inch. “I’m sure of it. And that chandelier with the colored pendants! Where’s my phone? I’ve got to get a picture.”
Following the Pettys, Harley basked in the new guests’ compliments, seeing no reason to admit that all those decorator touches were the work of the previous owner.
Lisa’s partner was still standing in the foyer. “Are you going to spend all day taking pictures of the furniture when there’s all that great wine waiting to be drunk? Let’s get registered and get going. We’re burning daylight.” Setting down his duffel bag, he reached for Harley’s hand. “George and Lisa Reynolds, Alexandria, Virginia. Tell me everything you know about the Willamette Valley.”
Harley lifted a brow. “Well, I—”
“And don’t leave anything out.”
Harley led George to the window. “See those vineyards?”
George went over and, with one look, motioned to his wife. “Sweetheart. Come here. Check it out.”
Harley looked down at Lisa’s heels and George’s Italian loafers. “Did you bring any sturdy shoes?”
George looked at his wife. “Did you pack my hiking boots?”
“Those ugly old black things?” A sheepish look came over her face.
“Lisa . . . what did you do with my hiking boots?”
“Did those fat, rubber-soled things ever have a fashion moment? Don’t worry, honey, the minute we get back to DC, I’ll help you pick out a new pair of nice, stylish boots, one that doesn’t make you look like an Amishman.”
George sighed and looked at the ceiling.
“You were saying?” he asked Harley.
“We’re within walking distance of seven excellent wineries. My best advice is for you to put on the sturdiest shoes you have and start walking.”
Their eyes glittered in anticipation.
“You heard the lady,” said George. “The sooner we get our stuff up to our room, the sooner we can get going.”
* * *
The following morning, Harley scooped nondairy yogurt into a serving bowl and sliced bananas while the traditional quiche baked. She was looking forward to the minute her guests left and she cleaned the kitchen and threw their sheets in the wash, when she could finally finish up her sketches.
Lisa appeared in the kitchen doorway, wrapped in a fat terry-cloth robe. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we seemed to have run out of hot water.”
Remembering her own tepid shower, Harley paused in midscoop, set down her spoon, and using the back of her hand, brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. Uh-oh.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Thank goodness it was a weekend. She picked up her phone and punched in a number under Favorites. “Dad? Can you come over, please? I think I have a problem.”
* * *
“Yup. She’s dead.” Dad squatted next to the tall, gray metal cylinder.
“You can’t fix it?”
“Bottom’s rusted out. You need a new one.”
“Alfred said it was fine.”
“Alfred?”
Dad knew how much Jack had hurt Harley. She tried not to mention Jack or anything to do with the Friestatts around him. Now she had no choice.
“Alfred. He saw me painting the porch ceiling and I gave him a tour.”
There was a long pause as, just as she’d feared, the old tension seeped back.
“Was Jack with him?”
“Yes.”
“You been seeing a lot of him?”
“Not a lot.”
The toothpick in Dad’s mouth bobbed up and down like a seismometer in an earthquake. “How’s Jack doing since he come back from New Zealand?”
“He’s fine.”
“His twins? Must be getting big.”
“They’re adorable. A handful, but adorable. They kind of remind me of myself at that age.”
“Uh-oh.” Dad grinned. “What’s Jack’s mother think?”
If Harley told him Melinda had tried to bribe her, there was no telling what he might do.
“We’re adults now. Does it matter?”
“I guess not. Just tread careful. Melinda Friestatt’s always ruled over her realm with an iron fist. I’d hate to see you get your heart broke all over again.”
A flash of anger took Harley off guard. “You certainly wasted no time in going to her that time you caught Jack and me kissing.”
“You don’t think she had the right to know?”
“We were fifteen! Kissing, standing up, with all our clothes on. I don’t see what the big deal was.”
Harley still felt betrayed over the way Dad had handled the incident.
“Whoa, whoa. Why are you so mad at me after all this time? You know I always had your best interests at heart. I can count the times I interfered with your life on one hand.”
Her temper was already subsiding. “I know.” Here he was, helping her with her hot-water heater and trying to make conversation, and she had repaid him by jumping down his throat over something that had happened fifteen years before.
She crouched down next to Dad. “How much is fixing this going to cost?”
“If you hire a plumber, about a grand. If your old man happens to be handy and a pushover, then just the cost of materials, about three hundred.”
“Maybe it’s covered under my homeowner’s policy.”
“Nope. That only covers damage to your house caused by something gone wrong with it.”
She groaned.
“Welcome to owning your own home.”
The poor Reynolds’ had had to start their day bathing with ice water. At least they’d been understanding. She hated to think of how the Pettys would have reacted if she’d had to tell them there was no hot water for their shower.
“If you want, I’ll go with you to Home Depot.”
“Suit yourself.”
A few minutes later, they were in his truck. Dad draped his arm over the steering wheel, his toothpick still hanging from his mouth. “How’s the baby thing coming along?”
“Great! I saw his sonogram. Kelly’s due date is December 24. Less than three months to go. I can’t wait! That reminds me: While we’re at the store, I need to pick up a baby monitor.”
“How you feeling these days?”
What he wanted to know but was too embarrassed to ask was if she’d started having periods again. Normally, that was information he got from Mom. That he was asking Harley, even in such a vague way, was a further indication that she was now truly grown-up.
“Still no change. Honestly, Dad, I’ve kind of given up on all that.”
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“Don’t feel bad. Things always work out for the best. I have a little one on the way, don’t I?”
He grunted a response, his eyes fixed on the road, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
Dad had exited the highway and was driving slowly through the parking lot in search of a space. “Just don’t want to see you get hurt again, Harley girl,” was the last thing he said as he shifted into Park and they got out.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The next morning, Harley climbed into Jack’s front seat as planned and turned around to greet the twins. “Hi, guys. How are you?”
“What’s it like in jail?” asked Frankie.
“Harley was never actually in jail,” Jack interjected.
“I was kept in a
holding cell for a very short time, just while I was waiting to get fingerprinted. And the answer is, it’s very plain. The walls were gray and the floors were gray, and even the benches were gray.”
“Fingerprinted?” asked Freddie.
“They press your fingertip into an ink pad and then onto a piece of paper. Every person in the world has her own unique fingerprints. Maybe later, after we get back, I’ll show you how it’s done. We’ll make your own set of prints.”
“Really?” The twins grinned.
“Sure. There are all kinds of ways to make prints.”
“Don’t forget, girls, I have a meeting,” Jack warned.
“Another time, then,” said Harley.
“Awww,” the girls complained.
“Tell me about your favorite artworks at the gallery,” said Harley.
“I can’t wait to show you the picture of the dancer,” said Frankie. “She’s, like, doing a backbend, but she has one leg pointing up in the air.”
“And I can’t wait to show you the folded-up comic book,” said Freddie.
Inside the shop, Frankie took Harley’s hand and dragged her to the picture and pointed.
“That’s a photograph,” said Harley immediately. “Let’s see where it was taken.” She read the caption beneath it. “Read this. It’s a company in Portland. Have you ever been to see a performance of modern dance?”
Frankie shook her head.
“Maybe your dad will take you sometime.”
Jack hung in the background, listening. Frankie had been talking about dance even when they were still in New Zealand. Why hadn’t he ever thought of taking her to see a performance there? There was probably a big performance hall in Auckland. It was too late for that, now. But there were doubtless lots of places to take her in the Pacific Northwest, too.
Freddie had been waiting patiently. “Are you done?”
“Yes. Let’s go see yours,” said Harley.
“That’s what’s called an altered book.”
“Do you know how to make those?”
“I’ve never done it, but it might be fun to try.”
“Can I do it with you?”
“I have lots of art supplies back at my house. I’m sure we can find something that would work.”
Harley led them through the rest of the gallery, teaching them things Jack never could have.
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