She set down her empty glass and stood up. “Let’s table this discussion,” she said. “I have work to do and so do you.”
Jess gave her a disappointed look, then shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your life.”
“Yes, it is.”
But as she went back into the office and dug into the paperwork still piled high on the desk, she couldn’t help questioning whether the choices she’d been making all these years, the priorities she’d set, were as good as she’d always believed them to be. Maybe, like her father, she was losing more than she had gained. She wondered if Megan ever felt that way about her decision to walk away from her family.
Carrie and Caitlyn were practically bouncing up and down with excitement on Saturday morning as they awaited their father’s arrival.
“How much longer, Mommy?” Carrie demanded. “I thought he’d be here by now.”
Abby sighed. “It shouldn’t be much longer. He called a few minutes ago and said he was almost to Chesapeake Shores.”
“I see him, I see him!” Caitlyn exclaimed, pointing toward a cloud of dust billowing along the distant road.
“I see him, too!” Carrie shouted, racing down the steps and heading for the driveway.
“Wait here,” Abby commanded. “You’re not to go into the driveway until he’s parked the car. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Caitlyn said, though she stayed right at the edge of the grass, Carrie bouncing impatiently beside her.
As soon as Wes’s rental car had pulled to a stop, they tore around to the driver’s side and yanked open the door. He barely had time to untangle himself from the seat belt before they were both trying to leap into his arms.
Despite the flight and the drive, he looked as if he’d just stepped out of an ad in Forbes, featuring clothes for the wealthy businessman at leisure. Even on a weekend, Wesley Walker Winters looked every inch the executive he was, from his styled brown hair to his designer sports clothes and Italian loafers.
Unlike Abby, he’d inherited his place in the business world, running a conglomerate founded by his grandfather, then handed down to his father. That gave him the luxury and flexibility to make his own schedule. Though he worked hard, he had neither Abby’s ambition nor her workaholic tendencies. His priorities, her mother had been quick to point out, were perfectly in order. He was that rarest of men, one who put his wife and children first. He’d told her repeatedly that he understood her drive, respected her for it. He just hadn’t been able to live with it.
“Daddy, Daddy, me and Carrie had the measles,” Caitlyn announced excitedly.
“I had the most spots,” Carrie informed him.
Wes’s gaze shot to Abby, suggesting they would have a conversation later about her failure to mention the brief illness. For now, oblivious to his expensive, neatly pressed slacks, he knelt down in the grass and turned their faces from side to side. “No spots now. You must be well again.”
“I was well first,” Carrie bragged.
He laughed. “I’m just glad you’re both well now, so we can do a bunch of fun stuff this weekend.”
“Like what?” Caitlyn asked.
“I wanna go for ice cream,” Carrie said at once.
Caitlyn immediately scowled at her. “No, that’s what we’re doing with Mr. Riley, remember?”
“But if Daddy buys us ice cream, we get to have it twice,” Carrie countered.
“No!” Caitlyn repeated emphatically. “Mr. Riley said he’d take us, and I’m going with him.”
Wes looked bewildered by the argument. Again, he glanced in Abby’s direction, seeking an explanation.
“Trace Riley is an old family friend, who happened to stop by when the girls first got sick,” she told him. “He made a deal with them that they could have ice cream at Sally’s when they were over the measles.”
“All we can eat,” Carrie said excitedly.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Wes said.
For the first time since the argument began, Carrie backed down, clearly sensing that her father might put a damper on that notion. “You can take us for pizza,” she said quickly. “We haven’t had any since we came here.”
“Yes!” Caitlyn said eagerly. “Please, Daddy.”
“Pizza it is,” he agreed. “Just let me put my things inside and speak to your mother for a minute, and then we’ll go into town.”
Abby followed him inside, then showed him to a room just down the hall from the girls. When she would have made a hasty exit, he stopped her.
“Why would you allow some man to bribe the girls with all the ice cream they can eat?”
She frowned at the criticism. “It’s not as if they’re going to stuff themselves until they get sick,” she said. “It’s the idea that there’s no limit that matters. Come on, Wes. You know them. Their eyes are always bigger than their stomachs. They’ll order three scoops, eat one like always and that’ll be it.”
He still didn’t look convinced, but he finally nodded. “Okay, I suppose you’re right. But you do know this man, don’t you? You wouldn’t let them go off with him otherwise.”
“Of course I wouldn’t let them go with a stranger. Besides, I have every intention of going with them. You’re getting worked up over nothing.”
“Probably so,” he admitted. “I’m sure it’s because it’s been three weeks since I’ve seen them. So much changes in that amount of time, and I hate missing any of it. Then to have them going on and on about some man I’ve never heard of—It threw me, I guess. I’m sorry. You know I trust your judgment.”
He looked so chagrined that on impulse she gave him a hug. “Well, they’re all yours now. Go off and enjoy yourselves. Gram’s at church doing flowers for tomorrow’s services right now, but she’ll be back soon and she’ll be around if you need a break.”
“Where will you be?”
“I’m helping Jess with something.”
He immediately looked suspicious. “What’s your sister gotten herself into now? She’s the reason you’re down here, isn’t she? I should have guessed as much.”
“Let’s not talk about this now. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you after the kids are in bed tonight.”
For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to pursue it, but he finally backed down. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.”
Knowing the kind of discussion that was likely to ensue when she explained what was going on with Jess and the inn, Abby couldn’t honestly say she was looking forward to it.
Trace had been working on a design all morning, and by lunchtime he was in need of a break and a meal. Wearing an old pair of jeans and a faded Chesapeake Shores T-shirt that had seen better days, he decided to run to the small, casual pizza shop around the corner and across from the beach to grab a quick lunch. During the summer he’d been a lifeguard, he’d eaten there nearly every day. Sometimes he’d crossed the road on his break to grab a couple slices of pizza. On other days, Abby would pick up subs from the same place and bring them to the beach, where they’d eat lunch together.
He’d just turned the corner onto Shore Road when he spotted Carrie and Caitlyn coming his way. They saw him at the same time and jerked free from the man walking with them, a man he recognized at once as the same one he’d seen with Abby in New York all those years ago. He’d never forgotten the guy’s chiseled good looks and designer attire. He might be dressed more casually today, but the look still shouted money and aristocratic breeding.
“Mr. Riley,” Carrie shouted, running toward him. “We’re going for pizza. Where are you going?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m going for pizza myself,” he said. He looked up into the wary gray eyes of the man who had to be their father and Abby’s ex-husband. “I’m Trace Riley, a friend of Abby’s,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Wes Winters,” he said curtly, his handshake solid but perfunctory. “The girls mentioned you, something about a promise of ice cream.”
Trace nodded. “We made a deal when they were sick.”
“And now we’re all well,” Carrie told him.
“Then I’ll have to pay up one day next week.”
“You could have pizza with us now,” Caitlyn said shyly.
“Not today, kiddo. I don’t want to intrude on your time with your dad. Besides, I need to get back to work.”
Caitlyn studied him curiously. “You don’t look like you usually do when you work.”
Trace laughed. “Very observant. Today I’m not working at the bank. I’m doing my other job.”
“What would that be?” Wes inquired, studying him as if he’d just crawled off one of the crabbing boats. There was a world of disdain in the man’s expression. He probably wore Armani to barbecue steaks, assuming he actually knew how to do that in the first place.
“I’m a graphic designer,” Trace said, which apparently didn’t do a thing to change Wes’s obviously low opinion of him. He couldn’t resist adding, “Right now I’m working on something for Astor Pharmaceuticals.”
For the first time, Wes’s expression shifted slightly. “Good company,” he said grudgingly. “I know Steve Astor. We grew up together, in fact.”
“Really? He and I were in business school together at Harvard.”
The last of Wes’s disdain seemed to vanish. “Good school. I went to Yale myself.”
“An equally good school,” Trace said, barely able to contain a grin. Check and checkmate, apparently. There was nothing like marking turf to energize a man.
“How do you know Abby?” Wes asked, an oddly jealous edge to his voice for a man who’d let her get away.
“We both grew up here,” Trace said, then couldn’t resist adding, “We used to date.”
Wes’s expression froze. “I see.”
“Well, I’ll leave you guys to your lunch,” Trace said. “I’m going to pick up a takeout order at the counter.”
He was about to walk away when Caitlyn tugged on his hand. He looked down into her upturned face.
“Don’t forget next week,” she whispered.
“Not a chance,” he promised. “Your mom and I will figure out a day.”
“Come on, girls. Let’s grab that empty table,” Wes said firmly.
Trace watched the three of them as they settled down at the table. He could hear them bickering over toppings as he placed his own order. He had to admit that despite his own instinctive dislike of the man Abby had married, Wes seemed like a great dad. He was endlessly patient with them. Nope, he couldn’t be faulted on that front.
Still, any man who willingly walked away from Abby clearly didn’t have much sense. He counted himself among them, too, so he ought to know. He might not have done the walking, but he sure as heck hadn’t done what he should to stop her from going. And in hindsight, he could honestly say now that had been just as stupid.
11
J ess walked into the office at the inn and found Abby staring out the window. She wasn’t sure which surprised her more—that her sister was here on a Saturday or that she was apparently wasting time daydreaming.
“I thought you intended to spend Saturdays catching up on all your research for your real job,” Jess said. “What are you doing here?”
“Hiding out,” Abby admitted with a chagrined expression. “Wes is here.”
Jess gave an exaggerated shiver. “Say no more,” she said. “If I never see that man again, it will be too soon.”
Abby frowned at the comment. “You’ve never liked him, have you?”
Jess shrugged. It seemed pointless to deny it now that he and Abby were divorced. In her opinion, they never should have married in the first place. Abby’s heart, whether she wanted to admit it or not, had always belonged to Trace.
“Sorry, but no,” Jess told her. “I tried to, for your sake, but I always thought he was a stuffy, judgmental jerk.” She grinned. “Good-looking, of course, but it didn’t compensate for the absence of a sense of humor or a personality.”
Abby chuckled. “Come on. He’s not that bad.”
“He is seriously humor challenged,” Jess insisted. “It didn’t help his case that he made sure I knew he thought I was a total screwup. He’s always resented every minute you spent listening to me or bailing me out of jams. He must be apoplectic over this latest turn of events.”
“Actually, he doesn’t know anything about the inn yet,” Abby admitted. “But you’re exaggerating about his low opinion of you and his resentment.”
Jess regarded her with skepticism. “Please, don’t try to spare my feelings. Come on, Abby. You have to know how he feels about me. He always looks at me with that icy expression that says I’m wasting his time and yours. He wants me to feel like I’m lower than pond scum.”
The guilty expression on Abby’s face proved she had known what Wes was doing. Still, she said, “I never realized he made you feel that way. I’m truly sorry.”
“Hey, I’m used to that reaction,” Jess said cavalierly. “ Everyone thinks I’m a screwup. I’m just sorry that he made you feel that way about yourself.”
Her sister looked shocked by her comment. “But he didn’t,” Abby protested.
“Of course he did. He’d tell you how proud he was of your success, but the very next second he’d list a dozen things you weren’t doing at home or with the girls. He tried to make you feel inadequate and I’m pretty sure he succeeded.”
“I most certainly do not feel inadequate,” Abby said.
Jess gave her a knowing look. “Not even as a wife and mother?” She leaned forward. “Don’t try to deny it, Abby. You know that’s why you don’t want to get involved with Trace. You said it yourself. You messed up your marriage. You’re a workaholic. Well, who made you see yourself that way? I’ll tell you who, Wes Winters. I really hate him for doing that to you. He should have been boasting about all your accomplishments, but he deliberately undermined every one of them with his snippy little remarks. It made you doubt yourself and question your priorities.”
Abby seemed surprised by her fierce defense. “You weren’t there, Jess.”
“No, I wasn’t inside your marriage,” she admitted. “But I was in New York often enough to see how Wes treated you. What astounded me was that you sat back and took it. I would have kicked his sorry butt to the curb for all that passive-aggressive crap long before he got around to asking me for a divorce.”
“It takes two to make a marriage work and two to let it fail,” Abby persisted.
Jess seized on the comment. “That’s right. It takes two! Have you ever once asked yourself how much Wes was at fault for the way things turned out? You need to stop beating yourself up for not meeting his expectations and find yourself a man who appreciates who you are and is interested in being a full partner, which means handling his share of the responsibilities.” She gave her siste
r a knowing look. “Did Wes ever once load the dishwasher after a meal? Did he ever toss a batch of laundry into the machine?”
“No,” Abby admitted.
“And yet he expected you to do that and juggle your career and the girls, too, didn’t he?”
“Okay, I see your point,” Abby conceded reluctantly, then gave Jess a wry look. “You know, everything you’re saying about Wes could have applied to Dad at one time. It surprises me you’re not more sympathetic to Mom.”
“Whole different situation,” Jess said. “Dad never belittled Mom. And nothing he did could justify what she did.” She waved off the subject before they got into a full-fledged fight. “Let’s not go there. We’re never going to agree about Mom’s decision to walk out on us. You’ve forgiven her. I haven’t. End of story.”
Abby started to respond, then shook her head. “You’re right. It’s better not to go there.” She deftly changed the subject. “I assume you’ve already picked out the perfect man who will never, ever treat me in such a shoddy way.”
“Of course. You have to admit that Trace has a lot to recommend him,” Jess taunted. “If he weren’t so hot for you, I’d give him a tumble myself.”
“Why don’t you?” Abby said, her tone deliberately nonchalant.
“Really?” Jess said, testing her just to see if she’d own up to the attraction. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Hey, he’s a free agent. I certainly have no claim on him. Go for it.”
Jess couldn’t help it. She laughed. “And have you stick a dagger in my heart the first time you saw me kiss him? I don’t think so.”
Abby scowled. “I told you to go for it.”
“Your lips said the words,” Jess agreed. “But the fire in your eyes said something else entirely. I think I’ll go with that and stay far, far away from Trace. I don’t have time for a man in my life right now, anyway, unless he knows how to run an inn or rip up carpeting.”
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