Hide in Plain Sight (8 page)

“As a matter of fact, I’m not going back for a while.”

“Now, Andrea, don’t tell me you let them talk you into doing something rash. Your job—”

“My job will wait. Right now my family needs me.”

His dismayed expression was almost comical. “My dear, I’m sorry. Is your boss all right with your taking time off?”

She shrugged. “He’s not happy, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” Her mind flickered to Cal, saying that maybe he’d learn to appreciate her more. “I have to stay, at least until the inn is up and running.”

The elderly swivel chair creaked when he sank down in it. His eyes were troubled, and he ran his hand along his jaw.

“I wish we could find some other way of dealing with this.”

“I appreciate your concern, Uncle Nick, but it’s all right. Really.” She took a breath. How to word this without alarming him or sending him running to Grams? “That’s actually not what I came to talk to you about.”

He blinked. “Is something wrong? Something else, I mean?”

“Not exactly. Well, you know about the prowler. We haven’t had any damage, but it made me wonder if there’s anyone who might have a grudge against the family.”

“Against Katherine?” He sat upright, outrage in his
voice. “Your grandmother is universally respected. You know that.”

It was said with such vehemence that she couldn’t doubt it was true of him. “Has there been anything—someone who thought Grandfather had treated him unfairly, or some dispute about property lines?”

He was already shaking his head. “Nothing at all. I’m sure the prowler was simply an isolated incident. Those security lights you put up should do the trick.”

So he knew about the lights already. She’d forgotten how quickly the township grapevine worked.

“What about turning the house into a bed-and-breakfast? Have there been any ill feelings about that?”

“Mostly from Margaret Allen, maybe a few other old-timers who hate change, don’t want to see any more tourists brought in.” He shook his head. “They’re fighting a losing battle on that one. But I’d say they’re not the type to prowl around in the dark, especially Margaret.”

He had a point. “She’s more likely to bury a person under a pile of platitudes.”

“That’s our Margaret.” He chuckled, then sobered again. “But I’m concerned about you. Your grandmother, dear woman that she is, doesn’t understand the sacrifice she’s asking you to make. Maybe I could hire someone to help out—”

“Thanks, Uncle Nick.” She was touched by his kindness. “I appreciate that, but no.”

“Really, my dear.” He rose, coming back around the desk. “I want to help. It’s the least I can do—”

The door opened and Betty marched in, holding out a briefcase. “Mr. Bendick, you must leave or you’ll
keep those people waiting.” She sounded scandalized at the thought.

“Yes, yes, I’m going.” He snatched the case and sent Andrea an apologetic look. “Think about what I said. I’ll talk to you later.”

She nodded. “I will. Thank you, Uncle Nick.”

He hurried out, letting the front door slam behind him.

“He worries about your grandmother,” Betty said, her voice almost accusing.

Several annoyed retorts occurred to her, but she suppressed them. “There’s no need. I’m there with her, and Cal Burke has been very helpful.”

“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?”

Andrea blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s none of my business, of course.” Betty patted the smooth twist of gray hair. “But I’m the one who typed the lease, so I can’t help knowing, can I?”

She resisted the impulse to shake the woman. “Knowing what?”

“Why, about his lease on the barn. Mr. Bendick warned your grandmother, but she wouldn’t listen.”

She took a step toward Betty. “What?” she snapped.

“She’s renting that barn to him at a ridiculously low price. Almost nothing. It worried Mr. Bendick something awful. Cal Burke is bound to help out. He doesn’t want your grandmother to sell, because then he’d lose the nice deal he talked her into.”

The lease clutched in one hand, Andrea charged toward the barn, anger fueling her rush. When she found Cal, he wasn’t going to know what hit him. She
held on to the anger, knowing at some level that if she let it slip, even more hurtful feelings would surface.

Betrayal. She’d already experienced enough betrayal in her life.

She hurried up the slope and shoved the heavy door aside. Her rush carried her several feet into the barn before she realized she was alone.

She stood for a moment, looking at the scattered pieces of furniture as if Cal might be hiding behind one of them. Nothing split the silence except her own labored breathing.

Instinct sent her outside again, where she looked around, frowning. The inn grounds and the surrounding farmland dozed in the Saturday-afternoon sunshine.

And already the anger was seeping away, leaving space for pain and regret. How could she have been so foolish as to trust the man? She knew better than to let herself be taken in by a plausible stranger, the way Grams undoubtedly had.

Maybe he was in the apartment he’d created for himself in the tack room. She followed the path around the corner of the barn. She’d find him and make him admit that he was taking advantage of her grandmother. If there was an explanation for this…

But there couldn’t be. She stifled that notion. There could be no logical reason for Cal to have talked Grams into renting him the barn at what anyone would consider a token amount. No wonder Uncle Nick had been upset.

Upset didn’t begin to cover it for her.

She rounded the corner and stopped. She’d been
prepared to find the story-and-a-half tack room annex changed, but she hadn’t expected this.

The rough-hewn door had been replaced by a paneled one with nine-pane beveled glass. A bow window curved out at the front of the building, with a flagstone path leading to the entry.

Irritation prickled along her skin. He’d probably talked Grams into paying for all this, creating a cozy nest for himself at someone else’s expense.

Her feet flew over the stones, and she gave a peremptory rap on the door.

The door swung open before she had a chance to raise her hand for another knock.

Cal stood there, smiling. Welcoming.

“Good, you’re here. How did you make out with Bendick?”

For a moment she could only stare at him. They’d become partners. She’d agreed to investigate with him.

Before she’d known he was a cheat.

She stalked inside. The old tack room had certainly been transformed. Wooden built-ins lined the walls on either side of a fieldstone fireplace. The wide plank floors were dotted with colorful Navajo rugs that contrasted with the solid Pennsylvania Dutch furniture. The open space was living room, dining room, and kitchen combined, with an eating bar separating the kitchen section. An open stairway led up to a loft that must be the bedroom.

Cal closed the door. “Do you like it?”

Anger danced along her nerves. “Yes. Did my grandmother pay for this?”

He blinked. Then his face tightened, brown eyes turning cold. “Maybe you should ask your grandmother that.”

“I’m asking you.” Small wonder Grams hadn’t confided in her about this dubious rental. She’d have known how Andrea would react. If Grams planned to run the inn on these lines, she’d be bankrupt in a month.

Cal looked at her steadily. “You’d better tell me what this is about, Andrea. I’m not good at guessing games.”

He leaned against the bar between kitchen and living room, elbows propped on it. The pose might have looked casual, if not for the muscle that twitched in his jaw, belying his outward calm.

“This.” She thrust the lease at him, appalled to see that her hand was shaking. “How did you talk my grandmother into this? She might be naive about business, but surely she realized how ridiculous the rent is. And for both your home and your business—you really got a great deal, didn’t you?”

He made no move to take the paper, but his hands curled into fists. “Did you talk to your grandmother?”

“I’m talking to you. The person who’s cheating her.”
The person who lied to me and made me let my guard down. The person I thought I could trust.

Cal thrust himself away from the counter, taking a step toward her. “You don’t believe that.” He stopped, shaking his head. “My mistake. I guess you do.”

“I was the one who made the mistake. I trusted you.” She would not let her voice break. “How could you do this to an old woman?”

His face might have been carved from a block of
wood. “That lease is between your grandmother and me. You don’t come into it at all.”

“My grandmother asked me to help her with her business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “As far as I know, Katherine didn’t sign a power of attorney, turning her affairs over to you. If she wants to talk to you about my rental, she will. Are you worried that she’s squandering away your inheritance?”

Fury boiled over, threatening to scald anyone in its path. “I’m trying to protect my grandmother from people who would take advantage of her.”

Like you, Cal. It wouldn’t have been hard to get her to trust you. I did, and I’m a much tougher case than Grams.
Something twisted and hurt under the anger.

“I see.” Nothing changed in his expression, but he seemed suddenly more distant. “I can’t help you, Andrea. The details of my lease are between me and Katherine.”

“Anyone who knows the rent you’re paying would know you’re cheating her.”

“That’s for Katherine to decide. You’re not the owner. And even if you were, you can’t throw me out.” He nodded toward the paper in her hand. “I have a lease, remember?”

She stared at him, baffled and furious. Then she turned and slammed her way out.

“I
don’t know what you thought you were doing.” The glare Grams directed at Andrea left no doubt about what Grams considered her actions. Interfering.

“I’m trying to help you. That’s all.” Andrea sat up a bit straighter. Being called onto the library carpet made her feel about eight.

“Going to my tenant behind my back in not helpful, Andrea Katherine.”

When Grams resorted to using both names, the situation was serious. “I’m sorry, but I’m worried about you. If you’d let me know how bad the financial situation is—”

“You’d have told me I should sell the place.” Grams finished the thought for her. Her face tightened, and she suddenly looked her age. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to argue about it.”

That was more or less what Rachel had said, but how could Andrea keep silent when the people she loved best in the world seemed bent on the wrong course?

“Are you so sure selling wouldn’t have been for the best?” She kept her tone soft.

Grams shook her head. “You’re more like your grandfather than you want to admit. That’s what he would have said, too, even though this place has been in his family for close to two hundred years.”

Grams was right about one thing. She didn’t care to be told she was like her grandfather.

If saving Unger House meant enough to Grams that she’d go against what she believed Grandfather would have wanted, then no argument of Andrea’s would sway her.

“I’ve already agreed that I’ll do all I can to help you. But if you want to involve me in the business, I have to understand what’s going on. When Betty told me—”

“Betty!” Grams’s nostrils flared. “What right does she have to talk about my concerns, I’d like to know.”

“I’m sure she was just reflecting Uncle Nick’s feelings.” She shouldn’t have mentioned Betty. Relations had always been strained between Grandfather’s wife and his secretary.

“Nick is a good friend.” Grams’s face softened. “He worries too much, but he means well.”

“I mean well, too, even if you think I’m going about it the wrong way.”

“I know that.” Grams’s voice gentled a little. Maybe the storm was over, even if the problem wasn’t resolved. “Rachel and I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to stay here and help us.”

“I want to get you on a good business basis, so that you have a chance to succeed. As far as the rental is concerned…” She couldn’t let it go without trying once more to show Grams that Cal was taking advantage of
her. “The barn is yours to do as you like with, but I have to tell you that the rent you’re charging is extremely low by current standards.”

Grams was already shaking her head. “You don’t understand.”

“How can I, when you won’t tell me about it?”

For a moment the situation hung in the balance. If her grandmother continued to treat her like a child who had to be protected from the facts, this would never work.

Finally Grams nodded. “I suppose you ought to know.” She glanced toward the portrait over the fireplace. “When Cal approached me about renting the barn, I couldn’t imagine how he’d live there. But he was willing to do all the work on the apartment himself. If you’ve seen it, you’ll have to admit he’s done a fine job, and he insisted on paying for everything that went into the renovation.”

She’d misjudged him in that respect, at least. To her surprise, Andrea was relieved.

“He’s certainly increased the value of the building,” she admitted. “But even so, to lock yourself into a contract with that low a rent could be a problem.” Cal’s turning the lease against her still rankled.

“We agreed that as his business picked up, the rent would increase.” Grams flushed, as if she found the discussion of money distasteful. “He insists on paying me more every month, more than he should. I don’t want to feel as if I’m accepting charity.”

No, Grams wouldn’t like that feeling. She had always been the giver, not the recipient.

Andrea took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Grams. I shouldn’t have gone to Cal without talking to you about it first.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Grams gave her the look that suggested Andrea’s manners weren’t up to what was expected of an Unger. “Now I think we’ll both see Cal and apologize.”

“Both…”

Words failed her. Grams proposed to lead her by the hand and make sure she apologized properly, the way she had when Andrea had left the farm gate open and the Zook cows had gotten out.

“Grams, I can handle this myself. It’s my mistake.”

Her grandmother stood, every inch the lady. “It was my error, as well, in not telling you. We’ll both go.”

Apologizing to Cal alone would have been embarrassing. Doing it with Grams looking on was humiliating. It didn’t help to know that she deserved it.

If she kept herself busy enough, maybe she could forget that awkward scene with Cal. At least that’s what Andrea had been telling herself since Grams left to spend the evening with Rachel at the hospital. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working.

She shoved away from the desk in the library, blinking as she tried to focus her eyes on something other than the computer screen. It was getting dark, and she hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights.

She stretched, rubbing at the tension in the back of her neck. She’d started entering data for the inn into the desktop hours ago. As far as she could tell, neither
Grams nor Rachel had touched the computer since they’d bought it, supposedly for the business, and that increased her worries over their chances for success. Running a B and B wasn’t just about being a good cook or a good host. It was a business. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Cal about Rachel’s idea of a filing system.

And that brought her right back to Cal again. He’d been gracious when she’d apologized. Pleasant, even.

She frowned at Barney, who’d taken up residence on the hearth rug, seeming to transfer his allegiance to her when Grams wasn’t around. “I’d be just as happy if he hadn’t been so nice about it. You understand, don’t you?”

Barney thumped his tail against the rug. The only thing he understood was that someone was talking to him. He rose, stretching very much as she had, and padded over to her. She patted the silky head that pressed against her leg.

“I’m being ridiculous, I suppose.”

He didn’t comment.

It had been a difficult situation, made worse by Grams accepting part of the responsibility for the misunderstanding. She’d actually admitted that she should have told Andrea the whole story.

That had hit her right in the heart. She didn’t want her grandmother to feel any less in charge than she’d always been.

I don’t know how to balance all this.
The discovery that she was actually taking her problems to God startled her, but it felt right. Maybe Grams’s quiet faith was having an impact on her.
Usually I think I can
handle anything, but I can’t. I need guidance. I have to know what I should do—about Grams, about the inn, even about Cal. Please guide me. Amen.

Maybe it wasn’t the most perfect of prayers, but the admission that she couldn’t see her way somehow made her feel a bit better.

And as for Cal having such an inside glimpse of their family dynamics—well, maybe she’d be lucky enough not to be alone with him for the next few days. Or ever.

Barney whined, his head coming up, and he let out a soft woof.

“What is it, boy? Do you hear Grams coming?” She peered out the side window, but there was no sign of a car turning into the drive.

The sheltie whined again, then paced to the door and nosed at it.

“You want to go out? I guess it has been a while.” She opened the library door and then followed the dog through to the back hallway.

“Okay, out you go.” The lights Cal had installed showed her the garden, the outbuildings, the barn, and beyond them, the dark, silent woods and pasture. All was quiet.

Barney bounded out, the screen door banging behind him. He’d be a few minutes at least, needing to investigate every shadow before coming back inside.

She leaned against the doorjamb, tiredness sinking in. Tomorrow was Sunday, and that meant church with Grams in the morning and an afternoon visit to Rachel. Probably she ought to try and find the rest of the
receipts Rachel thought she had saved, just in case any of them required an explanation.

In typical Rachel fashion, the receipts had, her sister thought, been tucked away in one of Grandfather’s ledgers, which she vaguely remembered putting on the top shelf of the closet which stored kitchen and dining room linens.

Of course. What a logical place to keep receipts they would need to produce come tax time, to say nothing of Grandfather’s ledgers. Rachel hadn’t inherited any of his organizational genes, that was clear. Obviously Andrea would either have to do the business taxes for them or hire someone locally who’d keep after them all year long.

She opened the closet, frowning at the creaking that came from the hinges. Sometimes it seemed everything in the house had its own sound, all of them together creating a symphony of creaks, cracks, whines and pops. Hopefully none of their guests would be the nervous sort.

The deep closet had shelves against its back wall, accessible only after she’d moved several metal pails, a corn broom and two mops. What the closet didn’t have was a light, but the fixture in the hallway sent enough illumination to show her that there appeared to be a book of some sort on the top shelf, stuck between two roasting pans big enough to cook the largest turkey she could imagine. She’d need something to stand on in order to reach the shelf.

She propped the closet door open with one of the mops and retrieved a chair from the kitchen, glancing out the screen as she passed. No sign of Barney yet. She could only hope he hadn’t found a rabbit to chase or
worse, a skunk. She doubted they had enough tomato juice in the house to cope with that.

The very fact that she knew the remedy for a dog’s encounter with a skunk gave her pause. That certainly wasn’t part of her normal urban life. Since she’d been back in this house, all sorts of things were resurfacing from her early years.

Grasping the chair with both hands, she carried it into the closet and climbed onto it. She reached up to find that her fingertips fell inches short of the top shelf. That was what came of having twelve-foot ceilings. How on earth had her sister gotten the book up there to begin with? And why did she think that a logical place to put it?

She could go in search of a stepladder, but maybe if she put her foot on one of the lower shelves, she could boost herself up enough to reach the book.

She wedged her toe between two stacks of table linens that someone, probably Emma, had stored carefully in plastic bags. Bracing her left hand against the wall, she stretched upward, groping with her right. Her fingertips brushed the soft leather cover of the ledger. Memory took her back to Grandfather’s desk, sitting on a high stool next to him, watching as he entered figures in a neat row.

This is the proper way to do it, Drea. If I keep the records myself, then I know they’re accurate.

She blinked, willing away the childhood memory, and stretched until her hand closed on the edge of the book. Victory in her grasp, she started to pull it down. The palm that was braced against the wall slipped, the
chair wobbled, then tipped. In an instant she was falling, tangled helplessly in chair legs and sliding linens, landing with a thud that would probably leave a bruise on her hip.

A board creaked out in the hallway, separate from the clatter of her fall. Before she could look the door slammed shut, leaving her in total darkness.

Her breath caught, and she pressed her lips together.
Don’t panic. It’s all right. All you have to do is get up and open the door. If you could cope with being trapped in the car and shoved into the toolshed, you can cope with this.

She untangled herself, willing her heart to stop pounding, and fumbled with sweat-slicked hands for a knob. And realized there was none on the inside of the door.

Be calm. You’re all right. Grams will be home soon.

But another voice was drowning out the calm, reasonable adult. It came welling up from someplace deep inside her, erupting with all the violence of a child’s terror.

“Let me out!” She pounded on the door, unable to hold back the fear she didn’t understand. “Let me out! Someone help me! Help!”

The child inside was crying, hot, helpless tears.
Someone help me. Father, please, help me.

Cal rounded the corner of the toolshed, his sneakers making little sound on the damp grass. He could see the garage now, illuminated by one of the lights he’d installed, with the door still standing open. Katherine and Andrea must have gone to the hospital to see Rachel.

He frowned absently, coming to a halt and gazing around, probing the shadows, searching for anything that was not as it should be. It would be best if he got back to his own place before they returned. He and Andrea had already butted heads too many times today.

He wasn’t sure whether it had been worse to bear her accusations or to listen to her apology. At least when she’d been throwing her fury toward him, he’d had the shield of his righteous anger.

It was only afterward that he began to wonder just how righteous that feeling had been. The hard lessons of the past had driven him to God, but he suspected he still had a lot to learn about living the way God expected.

Andrea had at least been furious with him on behalf of someone else. His feelings had been motivated entirely by something much more personal. He’d thought they’d been on the road to becoming friends. Now it was clear they’d never be that, and disappointment had fueled his anger. Maybe he hadn’t expressed it, but he’d felt it, and that was just as bad.

He’d turned to head back to the barn when he saw Barney dash across the garden toward the inn door. Odd. Katherine wouldn’t leave the dog outside when the place was empty. How had he gotten out of a locked house?