“Several of the dolls have resin faces and aren’t breakable. They’re completely safe for her,” Anna said somewhat stiffly.
Eben looked at Sage with a question in his eyes. She nodded. “Abigail would have wanted her things to be loved,” she said. “She adored showing them off to children.”
She got the impression it wasn’t an easy thing for Eben to accept anything from anyone. He was a hard, self-contained man, though it appeared he had a soft spot for his daughter, something she wouldn’t have expected just a few days before.
“All right,” he finally said. “If you’re certain you don’t mind.”
Chloe squealed with excitement. “You have to help me choose one. Both of you.”
She grabbed Sage with one hand then Eben with the other and started tugging them both toward the stairs. Conan barked once and Sage could swear he was grinning again.
She didn’t know which she found more disturbing, her dog’s pleased expression or Anna’s speculative one.
For the next ten minutes, she, Anna and Eben helped Chloe peruse Abigail’s vast collection, doing their best to point her toward the sturdier, more age-appropriate dolls.
Sage had never been one to play with girlie things, but even she had to admit how much she enjoyed walking into the doll room. She couldn’t help feeling close to Abigail here, amid the collection that had been such a part of her friend.
Abigail never married and had no children of her own. She had a great-nephew somewhere, but he hadn’t even bothered coming to his great-aunt’s funeral. In many ways, the dolls were Abigail’s family, the inanimate counterpoints to the living, breathing strays she collected.
Sage loved seeing them, remembering the joy Abigail had found every time she added a new doll to her collection.
She especially loved the dolls Abigail had made herself over the decades, with painted faces and elaborate hand-sewn clothes. Victorian dolls with flounced dresses and parasols, teenyboppers with ponytails and poodle skirts, dolls with bobbed hair and flapper dresses.
There was no real rhyme or reason to the collection—no common theme that Sage had ever been able to discern—but each was charming in its own way.
“I can’t decide. There are too many.”
A spasm of irritation crossed Eben’s features at Chloe’s whiny tone. Sage could tell the girl was tired after their big day on the shore then coming back to Brambleberry House afterward. She hoped Eben was perceptive enough to pick up on that as well.
To her relief, after only a moment his frustration slid away, replaced by patience. He pulled his daughter close and kissed her on the top of her dark curls and Sage could swear she felt her heart tumble in her chest.
“Pick out your favorite three and maybe we can help you make your final choice,” he suggested, a new gentleness in his voice.
That seemed a less daunting task to his daughter. With renewed enthusiasm she studied the shelves of dolls, pulling one out here and there, returning another, choosing with care until she had three lined up in the middle of the floor.
They were an oddly disparate trio: a little girl with pigtails holding a teddy bear, a curvy woman in a grass Hawaiian skirt and lei, then an elegant woman with blond hair and a white dress.
Chloe studied them for a moment, then reached for the one in white. “You don’t have to help me pick. This is the one I want. She looks just like an angel.”
The doll was simple but lovely. “Good choice,” Sage said, admiring the doll when Chloe held her out.
“Her name is Brooke.”
“Of course it is,” Eben murmured.
Sage glanced at him and was surprised to see a pained look in his eyes as he studied the doll. Only then did she remember his wife’s name had been Brooke.
For the first time, Sage picked up the resemblance in the doll’s features to Chloe’s. Only their hair color was different.
Chloe must have picked the doll because it looked like her mother. Oh, poor little pumpkin. Sage wanted to gather her up and hold her tight until she didn’t hurt anymore.
So much pain in the world.
“I’m going to put her on my bureau at home,” Chloe announced. “That way I can see her every morning.”
“Good plan,” Anna said. Her eyes met Sage’s and Sage could see her own supposition mirrored there.
“Okay, kiddo,” Eben interjected, the shadows still in his gaze, “you need to say thanks to Sage and Ms. Galvez for the doll, then we should head home. You’ve had a big day and need to get some rest so you’ll be a good little camper in the morning.”
“Thank you very much for the doll. I will love her forever,” the girl said solemnly to them, then turned back to her father. “I’m not tired at all, though. I would like to stay longer.”
Eben smiled, Sage could see the lines around the corners of his mouth that only served to make him look more ruggedly handsome.
“You might not be tired, but I certainly am and I imagine Sage and Ms. Galvez are as well. Come on, let’s take your new friend home.”
Chloe paused, then ran to Anna and threw her arms around her waist. “I mean it. Thank you for the doll. I’ll take super good care of her, I promise.”
Anna looked discomfited by the girl’s hug, but there was a softness in her eyes Sage hadn’t seen before. “I’m glad to hear that. Bring her back anytime to see the rest of her friends.”
Chloe giggled, then turned to Sage and embraced her as well. That tumble in her heart before was nothing compared to the hard, swift fall she felt as she fell head over heels for this sweet, motherless little girl.
“Thank you for letting me help you make vegetable lasagna and play with Conan and see where you live. I think Brambleberry House is the most beautiful house in the world.”
Sage hugged her back. “You’re very welcome. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Don’t forget your raincoat. We’re in for some nice Oregon sunshine. That means rain, by the way.”
Chloe giggled, then slipped her hand in her father’s.
Though Anna and Conan stayed in her apartment, Sage followed them outside. The rain had nearly stopped and only a light drizzle fell.
On the porch, she stopped, feeling as awkward as if they’d been on a date. That stunning, gentle kiss in her apartment seemed to shimmer through her mind and she couldn’t seem to think of anything but his warm mouth and his strong, hard arms around her.
Though Chloe ran ahead and climbed into the back seat of the Jag, Eben paused and met her gaze, the recessed porch lights reflecting in his eyes. He grabbed her hand, his fingers enfolded around hers. “Thank you again for taking Chloe later than you planned, and for dinner and everything.”
“You’re very welcome. She was no trouble.”
“Only because you’re amazing with her.”
Sage shook her head, slipping her hand from his, needing the safety of physical distance from him even as her emotions seemed to tug her ever nearer. “I find her a joy. I told you that.”
“I’ll be ready in the morning to run with Conan.”
“I promise, I won’t hold you to that. I was joking.”
“I’m looking forward to it. This morning was wonderful and I’d love a repeat. The, uh, run I meant.”
She was certain if the light had been brighter she would have seen faint color on his features. Somehow his discomfort over their unexpected kiss charmed her beyond measure.
She didn’t need to spend more time with him or with Chloe. Both of them were already sneaking their way into her heart. More time would only make their departure that much more difficult. She already dreaded thinking about when they left Cannon Beach.
“Don’t count on it,” she answered. “If I’m lucky, my furry alarm clock will sleep in tomorrow.”
“I’ll be waiting if he doesn’t.”
Without another word, he turn
ed and hurried down the steps into the drizzle.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Long after the car drove away, headlights reflecting on the wet streets, Sage stood on the porch of Brambleberry House, hugging her arms to her against the evening chill and worrying.
She had to find it in her heart to push them both away. That was the only solution. Her emotions were too battered right now, raw and aching from Abigail’s death.
She wasn’t strong enough to sustain another devastating loss. That’s what it would be, she feared, if she let them inside any farther. She was afraid she would find it entirely too easy to fall for both of them. Already she was halfway to being in love with Chloe, with her sweet eyes and her quirky sense of humor and her desperate eagerness to please.
She sighed as an owl called somewhere in the distance, then Sage opened the door into the house.
She expected Anna to be cloistered in Abigail’s apartment by the time she returned. Instead, she found her waiting in the foyer, one hand absently rubbing Conan’s head. She looked softer, somehow, more approachable—perhaps because she’d changed out of her work clothes while Sage, Eben and Chloe had been upstairs having dinner.
She should have invited Anna to join them, she thought, ashamed of herself for not thinking of it.
“Thank you for the whole doll thing,” she said. “It seemed to be a big hit with Chloe.”
“I probably should have talked to you first about giving her one before I suggested it to her. I know what you said the other day about the collection staying together. Technically, they belong to both of us and they’re not really mine to give away.”
Would she ever escape the complexities of that blasted will? “Despite what you might think, I honestly don’t want to hoard all of Abigail’s things forever, to freeze everything in the house just as it is and never alter so much as a nail hole.”
“I know you don’t,” Anna said stiffly. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I thought otherwise.”
Sage sighed. “I’m sorry to be short with you. This is all so awkward, isn’t it?”
Anna was quiet for a moment. “I know you loved Abigail deeply and she felt the same way about you. There was an unbreakable bond between the two of you. Everyone could see it. I understand how painful her death is for you. Believe me, I understand. Maybe you loved her longer but… I loved her, too. I miss her.”
Guilt lodged in her throat at her weeks of coldness toward Anna, at her ridiculous resentment—as if it were Anna’s fault they found themselves in this tangled arrangement.
She had never felt so small and petty.
Abigail would have been furious with her, would have given her a stern look out of those blue eyes and told her to put on her big girl panties and just deal.
“Would you…like to come in?” Anna asked at Sage’s continued silence. “I was about to have some tea and you’re welcome to share it. You don’t have to, of course.”
She was exhausted suddenly, emotionally and physically. Her day had been tumultuous from that first kiss in Eben’s beach house and she wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed and yank the quilt over her head and shut out the world.
But how could she rebuff such a clearcut overture of friendship?
“Sure. Okay.”
Anna looked surprised, then thrilled, which only added to Sage’s guilt level. The other woman led the way into her apartment, toward the little kitchen that still looked as it had the day Abigail died. Her gaze landed on the calendar still turned back to April and Abigail’s handwritten little notes in the date squares.
Conan, shots, 10:30.
Lunch with the girls.
Will’s birthday.
It was a snapshot of her life, busy and fulfilling. Why hadn’t Anna taken it down? Sage would have thought that to be one of the first things an efficient, orderly woman like Anna would make an effort to do when she moved her own things in.
Did she find some kind of comfort from this small reminder of Abigail and her life? Sage resolved to try harder to forge a connection with Anna.
“What kind of tea would you like? I think there’s every kind imaginable here.”
Chai was her favorite but she wasn’t sure she could drink it here in this kitchen out of Abigail’s favorite teacups, not with her emotions so close to the surface.
“It’s late. I don’t need more caffeine with my head already buzzing. I’d better go for chamomile.”
Anna smiled and found teabags in the cupboard, then pulled a burbling kettle off the stove and poured it over the bags.
Sage watched for a moment, awkward at the silence. “Thank you again for the doll thing,” she said. “It was a great idea. Chloe was thrilled.”
“She picked an angel doll and named her Brooke. Am I crazy or was there some deeper significance to that?”
“It was her mother’s name.”
Anna pursed her lips in distress. “That’s what I thought. Poor little thing.”
Anna studied her for a moment as if she wasn’t sure whether to ask the questions Sage could see forming in her eyes. “You do know that’s Eben Spencer, the CEO of Spencer Hotels, right?” she finally said.
“I hope so. If not, he’s doing a fairly credible job of masquerading as the man.”
“And do you realize he’s brilliant? I read about him in Fortune a few months ago. The man has single-handedly rescued a small, floundering hotel company and turned it into a major player in the hospitality industry with small luxury properties around the globe.”
“Yippee for him.”
And she had fed him vegetarian lasagna and breadsticks at her dining table with the mismatched chairs. She wanted a do-over on the whole evening.
No, she corrected herself. She wouldn’t allow him to make her feel ashamed of her life or what she had worked hard to build for herself. After severing the last fragile ties with her father, she had started with nothing and had built a rich, fulfilling life here.
“While we were looking at the dolls, Chloe told me he’s looking to buy The Sea Urchin.”
“That’s what I understand.”
“It’s a perfect property for Spencer Hotels. It will be interesting to see what he can do with the place.”
“I like The Sea Urchin exactly the way it is,” she muttered.
“So do I,” Anna assured her. “But Spencer Hotels has a reputation for taking great properties and making them even better. It will be interesting to watch.”
“If Stanley and Jade ultimately decide to sell. I don’t believe Eben has convinced them yet.”
“If what I’ve heard about him is halfway true, he will.” She paused and gave Sage a careful look as she handed her the cup of tea. “Was I crazy or did I pick up some kind of vibe between you two?”
Sage could feel herself flush and was grateful again for her Italian heritage. She could taste his mouth again on hers, feel the silky softness of his hair beneath her fingertips. “You have a much more vivid imagination than I ever gave you credit for.”
She immediately wished she could call the words back, but to her surprise, Anna only laughed. “Sorry. Not much imagination here, but I do pride myself on my keen powers of observation. Comes from reading too many mysteries, I think.”
“What did you see?” Sage asked warily.
“Wet handprints. They were all over his shirt. Unless the man has some kind of weird, acrobatic agility, I don’t believe he could put handprints on his own back. And since you were the only one in the apartment with him, I guess that leaves you. Not that it’s any of my business.”
Sage could feel herself flush and for the life of her, she couldn’t think how to respond.
“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Anna went on, “but I have to tell you, he doesn’t seem like your usual type.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a type.”
&n
bsp; “Of course you do. Everyone does.”
She told herself she was grateful the conversation had turned from handprints—or anything else she might have put on Eben. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s my type?”
Anna added at least three teaspoons of sugar to her own cup as she gave Sage a sidelong look. “I don’t know. Maybe some shaggy-haired, folk-singer guy who smells like patchouli and drives a hybrid with a Peace-Out bumper sticker on the back bumper.”
She was too tired to be offended, she decided. Besides, she had to admit it was a pretty accurate description of the guys she usually dated. She sipped at her tea and grinned a little, astonished to find a sense of humor in Anna Galvez—and more astonished to find herself enjoying their interaction.
“All right, Ms. Know-it-All. What’s your type, then?”
She was certain Anna’s smile slipped a bit. “Well, probably not shaggy-haired folk singers.”
Her evasion only made Sage more curious. She had never given much thought to Anna’s social life, though she thought she remembered something about a broken engagement in the last few years.
“Seriously, are you dating anybody? Since we’re living in the same house, it would be good to be prepared if I encounter some strange man on the stairway in the middle of the night.”
Anna sighed. “No. I’m currently on sabbatical from men.”
For some reason—probably because of her exhaustion—Sage found that hilarious. “Is there a stipend that goes with that?”
The other woman laughed and shook her head. “No, it’s all purely gratis. But the benefits to my mental health are enormous.”
No wonder Abigail had loved Anna. It was a surprising revelation in a day full of them, but by the time Sage finished her tea fifteen minutes later, all her misconceptions about Anna Galvez had flown out the window. The other woman wasn’t at all the stuffy, serious businesswoman she presented herself as most of the time, at least the way she had always presented herself to Sage.
Why the facade? Sage wondered. Why had she always acted so cool and polite to her? Was it only a protective response to some latent, unconscious hostility Sage might have been projecting? She didn’t want to think so, especially tonight when she was too tired for such deep introspection, but she had a feeling she may have been largely to blame for the awkwardness between them.
The House on Cannon Beach Page 9
