“Why not?” he asked, suddenly edgy.
She hesitated. “Do you want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“Even though you made it sound as if you were simply taking a pragmatic view, I saw it as a sign that you’d never stand up to your father. Even though I knew what you really wanted, I couldn’t imagine you ever leaving Chesapeake Shores or walking away from the bank.”
Trace was stunned by her low opinion of his resolve back then. “Sweetheart, I may come across like an easygoing guy, but I do have a backbone. How could you, of all people, have misjudged me like that? I thought you were the one person who really understood me.”
She looked away, her expression sad. “Apparently I didn’t.”
“Is that why it was so easy for you to walk away? Did you think I didn’t mean a single word I said about us building a future together?”
She shook her head. “I thought you meant it at the time,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t take a chance that you’d change your mind. I knew exactly what I wanted and where I needed to be to get it. If…” Her voice trailed off.
“If you’d trusted me and I’d caved in to my father’s wishes, you would have lost your dream, is that it?”
She nodded. “Pretty much.”
Sally returned just then with their meals, but Abby pushed hers away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Eat,” Trace ordered brusquely. “I don’t want to be accused of ruining your appetite, too.”
She seemed startled by his tone. “Why are you angry?”
“Because if we had just talked about all this ten years ago, things might have turned out differently. Instead, you just ran off. Look at all the time we wasted.”
“You’re wrong,” she corrected quietly. “Don’t you see, Trace, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I was too scared to take anything you could have told me at face value. I think I had to be free to go after what I wanted. It’s true that I didn’t entirely trust what you said, but I didn’t trust myself, either. I was afraid of how I felt about you and what I might do because of it. If you’d asked me to stay here and wait until you could straighten things out with your father, I might have done just that. We’d have fallen into some comfortable rhythm and never moved on.”
Trace didn’t buy it. They’d both been stronger and more determined than that, even if Abby didn’t recognize it. “Oh, please,” he scoffed. “Just admit it, Abby, you never really loved me at all,” he said flatly, pushing aside his own meal.
“Yes, I did,” she insisted. “I loved you.” Her expression turned sad. “It just wasn’t enough.”
The weight of those words settled in Trace’s stomach like lead. “I need to get to work,” he claimed, tossing a few bills on the table. “That should take care of lunch.”
He’d just started away from the table when Abby said softly, “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” She had no idea how sorry. Because for the first time he realized he’d never really understood her at all, either. All these years he’d been carrying a torch for an illusion.
When Mick arrived at the inn to tell Jess he was leaving, he found her upstairs in the attic digging through an old trunk filled with nothing but junk, as near as he could tell. Given the time crunch she was under to get the place ready to open, it didn’t seem to him to be the best use of her time.
“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?” he asked, working hard to keep his tone light, rather than voicing the criticism that was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to ruin their recent rapport with a few careless words.
“I came up here to see if there was any way to turn this into another couple of rooms and found this.” She held up a dusty volume of what appeared to be poetry. “Look at this. I think it might be a first edition of Emily Dickinson poems. It’s signed, too.”
“That’s great,” he said, trying to feign enthusiasm.
Jess regarded him curiously. “Why do you have that edge in your voice?”
“What edge?”
“The one that says you don’t give a hoot about a book of poems and that I shouldn’t, either.”
Mick regarded her incredulously. “You got all that from what I said?”
“I’ve had a lifetime to learn to interpret what you really mean. If you’re annoyed with me for some reason, just spit it out.”
Mick hesitated. He really didn’t want to end this visit to Chesapeake Shores on a bad note with Jess. Anything he was likely to say, though, was going to do just that. Still, how could he let her waste time and what amounted to Abby’s money dawdling over some dusty old book, no matter how rare it might be?
“I guess I’m just surprised to find you up here, when there are still two or three rooms that need to be finished before you open,” he said, trying to choose his words with care, something he rarely bothered to do.
“I took a break, for heaven’s sake. Is that a crime?”
Mick backed off. “Of course not. I just thought that with a deadline staring you in the face—”
Jess cut him off. “I’m perfectly aware of our timetable and what needs to be done,” she snapped. “I don’t need you over here supervising to make sure I do my job. I suppose Abby sent you. Did the two of you sit around and decide whose turn it was to keep tabs on me?”
“No one’s keeping tabs on you,” he said, his temper fraying. “All anyone is trying to do is help you achieve your dream. Yours, Jess. Not Abby’s and not mine. I’d think you’d be a little more grateful and maybe work a little harder to be sure what Abby’s doing for you doesn’t go to waste.”
To his dismay, tears welled in her eyes. “I really thought you were starting to believe in me,” she whispered, her chin wobbling. “My bad. Instead, you’ve just been hanging around waiting for me to screw up. Well, Dad, that’s just what I do. I screw up, so you might as well go on back to California knowing that I’m right on schedule for doing it again.”
His annoyance drained away. “Ah, Jess, come on now. I never said you were screwing up. Haven’t I said how proud I am of what you’ve accomplished here?”
She sniffed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you believe I can actually pull this off.”
“Of course I do,” he insisted. “But you do have to stay focused.”
“By never leaving here? By never taking five minutes to do something else?”
He hunkered down in front of her and clasped one of her hands in his. Hers was ice-cold and rough from all the work she’d been doing to fix up the inn.
“Tell me this, then,” he said quietly. “How long have you been up here in the attic?”
“I don’t know. A few minutes or so.”
“What time was it when you came up here?” he persisted.
“I don’t know. Nine-thirty, maybe ten o’clock. Not that long ago.”
“It’s after noon now.”
She regarded him with dismay. “I had no idea.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Once this place is open, you’ll have plenty of time for poking around in the attic or anything else you want to do, but losing a couple of hours now, when there’s painting to be finished…” He shook his head. “You can’t afford that, Jess. That’s all I’m trying to tell you.”
She sighed heavily, her expression contrite. “I’m sorry I overreacted. You’re right.” She stood up and brushed the dust from her hands. “I’ll get back to work right now.”
; “I could help for an hour or two,” he offered. “Then I have to leave to catch my flight.”
She stopped in her tracks. “You’re going back to California?”
Mick nodded.
“I thought you’d be here, at least till the opening.”
“I’ll come back for that,” he promised. “There’s no way I’d miss it. And if you need anything in the meantime…” He saw the resigned expression settle on her face and bit back a sigh. “Just call me if there’s anything you need, okay? I can send a crew over here to help you finish up if you need it. All you have to do is say the word.”
“No,” she said stiffly. “I can handle it.”
Mick studied her with regret. It seemed they were destined to end this on a sour note, no matter what he said now. Whatever progress they’d made in the past few days had died. He’d killed it with a few pointed comments meant to help, comments she’d taken to heart and viewed only through the prism of their past relationship. It seemed unlikely there was anything he could say now to fix that.
Again, he offered to help with the painting, and again, she turned him down.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks, then,” he said. When he tried to hug her, she held herself stiff. “I love you, Jess.” He forced her chin up, so she had to meet his gaze. “I love you,” he repeated.
“I know,” she whispered.
The flat, sad look in her eyes told Mick she didn’t believe him. Not entirely. And as far as he could see, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to convince her.
Jess was so furious with herself for letting her father catch her goofing off that she doubled her efforts as soon as he’d gone.
She worked nonstop in what she was now referring to as the yellow room with its sunny walls, white trim and deep blue carpet. The furniture in here was white—an old-fashioned iron bed, an antique dresser with a beveled mirror and a washstand, also painted white. She’d found the perfect drapes with tiny white, yellow and blue stripes. The comforter and cushions for the chairs had similar stripes, but there were sprigs of yellow and blue flowers scattered over the background of the fabric. It was going to look amazing.
She’d just finished painting the last of the woodwork when Abby found her.
“Oh, I like it,” her sister enthused. “It looks so cheerful.”
“Wait till you see the drapes and comforter,” Jess said, basking in Abby’s praise. “If you want a peek, I’ve stored them next door until I get the paint scent out of here. I’ll leave the window open overnight and it should be okay by morning.”
“Show me,” Abby said eagerly.
Jess led the way into the room next door and pointed to the packages piled next to the bed. “All the comforters, drapes and pillows for the last three rooms are in there. The blue and yellow ones will go next door. There’s turquoise for the room at the end of the hall and dark green for the last room on this floor.”
Abby admired all the things Jess had spent so much time choosing. “You really do have good taste. Every room will have its own personality.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Jess said. She hesitated, then said, “Dad was here earlier. He’s going back to California.”
Abby nodded. “I know. He told me before I went into town.”
“It figures he’d take off just when there are a million things to do,” Jess said.
Her sister frowned at the accusatory note in her voice. “Hold on, Jess. How many times did he offer to help out and how many times did you turn him down flat?”
Jess sighed. “Okay, I know you’re right, but this is the way it always is. He always has one foot out the door.”
“That’s the nature of his business,” Abby pointed out impatiently. “Why are you on his case again? Did something happen when he was over here?”
Jess was sorry she’d brought it up, but now she admitted, “He called me on the carpet, as usual. He accused me of wasting time and money.”
“Why would he say that?” Abby asked, looking bewildered. “He knows how hard you’ve been working.”
“He caught me looking through an old trunk I found in the attic, instead of working down here. I’d just gone up there to see what it would take to add a couple more rooms and baths up there. I saw the trunk and found all this cool stuff in there. So, I was up there a little longer than I should have been. So what?”
“You realize you’re on a very tight deadline here, don’t you?” Abby said.
“Dammit, not you, too,” Jess said, her temper flaring. “I’m sick to death of everyone thinking they need to remind me of what’s at stake here. Don’t you think I know?”
“It’s just that sometimes you…”
“I what? Take ten minutes for myself? Sit down and have a glass of tea or look through an old trunk? I am not going to defend myself to you or Dad or anyone else,” she shouted. “You may think you’re in charge of the inn because Trace said so, but you’re not in charge of me.”
She whirled around and left the room with Abby staring after her. Thundering downstairs, she grabbed her purse and keys from the table in the foyer and took off. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to get away from here, away from all the voices judging her.
Usually when she was in this kind of a mood, she would go to Gram for some quiet sympathy and wise advice, but she could hardly go there when Abby was likely to turn up right behind her. When it came to a fight between her and her sister, there was no way Gram would take sides, no matter which of them she thought was in the right. In fact, she’d be so darn impartial and reasonable, Jess would wind up grinding her teeth to keep from yelling at her, too.
As Jess drove along the shore road, her temper slowly cooled until she started thinking about Trace Riley and his role in all this. It was his fault that Abby was in her face, his doing that her father was on her case about wasting Abby’s money.
The next thing she knew, she was parked outside the bank. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she stormed inside, marched right past an obviously startled Mariah Walsh and threw open the door to Trace’s office.
“This has to stop,” she told him, when he regarded her with wariness.
“Why don’t you sit down and take a deep breath?” he suggested.
His calm tone only inflamed her more. “Don’t you dare patronize me. I’ve had more than enough of that for one day.”
He nodded. “Okay, fair enough. Then tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I want Abby gone.”
He reacted with obvious shock. “Excuse me?”
She waved off the comment. “Not forever, for goodness’ sakes. I just want you to tell her she can go back to New York. If I wind up losing the inn, then it’s all on me. I don’t want my big sister involved in this anymore.”
Trace’s face set stubbornly. “It’s too late for that, Jess. You know the terms we agreed to, so that the bank wouldn’t foreclose immediately.”
“I never agreed to anything. You and the board decided what you wanted, you dragged Abby into it and I just had to go along with it.”
“That pretty much sums it up,” he agreed. “As far as I can tell, nothing’s changed.”
Jess stared into his unrelenting gaze and sighed. She sat down, feeling more defeated than she ever had in her entire life. “You won’t even consider letting someone else oversee the business affairs at the inn?” An idea struck her, and she brightened. “Laila! Put your sister in charge. You trust her, don’t you? And the bank
certainly couldn’t find fault with that choice.” She warmed to the idea. “Come on, Trace. It’s the perfect solution.”
“No,” he said flatly.
“Why not?”
“Abby stays.”
“You’re just being stubborn,” she accused, and then understanding dawned. “It’s because you want her here, isn’t it? You want another chance with her.”
“This is strictly business,” he replied stiffly.
The fact that he couldn’t meet her gaze when he said it spoke volumes. “Hogwash!” Jess declared. “This is all about buying you time so that you can hook up with her again. I wonder what your father would think if he knew about that.”
Trace gave her a rueful look. “He’d probably be pleased as punch. I’m about ninety percent certain that he and my sister conspired to get me back here at this particular time just so I could deal with this one piece of bank business. They knew it would throw me together with Abby.”
Jess stared at him incredulously. “You’re kidding. They would do that?”
“Of course they would. My father wants me settled down with a wife and kids, and Laila knows that I’ve always loved Abby. Opportunity knocks and here we are.”
“Wow, your family is even more devious and mixed-up than mine. Does Abby know?”
“I think your sister is blissfully ignorant of the undercurrents and the scheming—theirs, anyway. I think she suspects my motives, but she doesn’t have conclusive proof of anything.”
Jess leaned forward, distracted for the moment from her own problems. “So, do you have a plan?”
“Since the last time I saw your sister, I left her sitting in Sally’s and took off in a huff, my current plan is to steer clear of her till I cool down.”
“What did you fight about?”
“Misunderstandings, lack of trust, love’s inability to conquer all, the usual relationship stuff,” he said dryly.
“Must have been quite a conversation,” Jess said, trying to imagine it. “And you were in Sally’s?”
The Inn at Eagle Point Page 13
