Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1 (2 page)

Summer’s jaw snapped shut and she bit the inside of her cheek.
Stop it. It happened forever ago. And it wasn’t your fault, anyway.

A car backfired as she reached the end of Main Street. Here the houses spread farther apart and the sidewalks vanished. She took a deep breath and eased the Mustang to the side of the road. To her right, a hundred yards away, a wall of thick green shrubbery rose up, parted in the middle by a broken sidewalk. Spires shot into the air above the trees, and a lump grew in her throat. All thoughts of Gabe Roberts vanished in the shadow of the McCready house—monstrous, terrifying and all hers.

Chapter Two

“Oh my God.” The words fell from Summer’s mouth before she could stop them, and the steering wheel grew rubbery in her grip.

In front of her sat the McCready estate, larger and more imposing than she remembered. And more run-down, from the looks of it. Three stories skewered the sky, topped by cupolas and a widow’s walk. The two upper floors boasted crumbling balconies, and ivy obscured many of the windows along the ground floor. A worn, chipped sidewalk led up to the porch, which extended the entire length of the house and wrapped around both sides. Beside it oaks and elms thrust their laden arms upward. According to the deed, the estate included five acres of property with the two-story farmhouse out back as well.

The rental house. Where that family lives.
The pit in her stomach grew. Even after his death, Ronald Thompson hadn’t managed to make things easy on her. “Couldn’t just leave me a place I could put on the market right away, could you?” Summer closed her eyes for a moment and tried to summon strength. When she opened them again, she felt better. A little.

Through the hedges that separated the property from the street, she spied piles of lumber and building supplies strewn about the yard. Well, her lawyer had been right about that—the workers were definitely here and definitely in the middle of things. It looked as though a few trees had been trimmed and the roof replaced, but that only made the peeling paint and cracked windows look more pathetic. A lonely house, three times bigger than the one she’d grown up in, and it waited for her with empty, echoing rooms.

Oh, Dad. What the hell were you thinking?

She glanced at her watch and climbed from the car. Part of her—most of her—wanted to hop on a plane and fly straight back to the other side of the country. Out there, she knew who to trust and who to avoid. She had an apartment, a career, a routine to fill her days. And high school lay tucked away in a neat row of photo albums on the top shelf of her closet.

“Ow! Dammit, Damian, watch it—what the—”

“Sorry, Mac.”

Well, the men were still here, anyway. Maybe she could talk to Mac and his assistant about what the place needed and how much she could expect to get if they stopped renovations right now.

Summer followed the sidewalk through the hedges and scraped both bare arms on her way through. A trickle of blood appeared on her elbow and she wiped it away.
Mental note: at least have them trim these suckers.
As she pushed her way into the front yard, the walk ended and she tripped over rough ground.
And fix the sidewalk too
. Wouldn’t do to have potential buyers lining up at the emergency room after taking a tour of the place.

“Hello?” Despite the scaffolding propped against the front of the house and the tools scattered everywhere, the grounds seemed vacated.
I just heard them…
“Mac?”

“I thought I said—”

She looked up. There, along the roofline, stood two men. The head on the right bobbed up and down. A thick arm jabbed skyward for emphasis. She smiled as she recognized the bushy-haired, no-necked running back from Pine Point High’s football team. She shaded her eyes. Next to Mac, another head with lighter hair caught gold from the sun. She didn’t recognize it.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Well…” Mac’s voice faded, and Summer couldn’t hear the rest of his reprimand.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and sent up another greeting. For a moment no one responded. Then both men leaned over the edge of the roof and stared down at her.

“Summer?”

“Hi, Mac.”

The man wiped his brow. “You’re earlier than we—hang on. We’ll be down in a minute.”

Summer nodded, but they had vanished. As she waited, she took a few more steps toward the house. The double front doors hung loose on their hinges, the glass inside them scarred and cracked. Ancient graffiti scratched illegible names in the wood. The porch was scuffed and scarred, and dusty cobwebs decorated every corner.
What a mess.

She ran one finger along the splintered banister. Even run-down and raggedy, though, the house stood with a sort of grandeur. If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture a woman in hoop skirts sweeping her way down the wide stairs while a man in a top hat and tails waited for her at the bottom.
Maybe I could do some research on the place, find out its history.
People liked buying a house with a story.

“Hey, you can’t go up there.” A strong hand grabbed her elbow.

“What?” Summer shook her arm free.
This is my house now
, she wanted to say.
I can go wherever I want
. “Why not?”

“Not safe yet.” He motioned to the steps, and when she looked closer, she saw the space left by a missing riser gaping like a placid crocodile and ready to snatch up her unsuspecting foot.

“Oh.” She smiled an apology at Mac’s helper.

He was tall with light brown hair and deep blue eyes, and his broad, shirtless chest shone with sweat. Muscular biceps, no doubt made strong from summer labor, twitched as he reached for an itch between his shoulder blades. Summer swallowed and tried to chase away a crazy urge to scratch the spot for him.

She cleared her throat and shook the hand he offered. “I’m Summer Thompson. The—ah—the owner of this place.”

He studied her with a serious expression. “So I guessed. Damian Knight.”

The one who’s renting the farmhouse
. “Listen, I—” She meant to talk to him about it, but a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and she turned.

“Summer!” Mac Herbert stood beside her, half an inch shorter and a good deal wider than she. All muscle. “Can’t believe you’re here.” He shook his head and grinned, and Summer glimpsed the chipped front teeth she remembered from high school.

“Well, I wanted to see the house. I just…” She faltered. “I just found out about it.”

His expression sobered. “I know. Your father wanted it to be a surprise for you. Sorry about your loss, by the way.” He looked over his shoulder. “He did a great thing, buying this place. Wish he could have seen it finished.”

She didn’t think it was a great thing at all but she kept her mouth shut. Maybe someone else would find beauty in it. Maybe someone else would want the story that came with owning such an estate.

Mac gestured around the yard. “We’re finishing up the roof today. And the top floor needs reinforcing. Don’t use the front steps, ’kay? Gotta replace a few.”

“It looks…”
Like nothing I would ever want to live in? Like the biggest mistake my father could have made?
She wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s a helluva lotta work,” Mac interrupted her thoughts. “But your father paid us through Labor Day, and we’ll probably finish most of the major work by then. I got a few guys who’ll help out with the interior when we get there. Course, I don’t know what your plans are. If you’re gonna sell it, or…” He stopped and waited for her to finish the sentence. She didn’t.

“Can I see the inside?” Summer asked instead. She wanted an idea of the mess she was dealing with. Her doubt grew as she looked around. Forget the plans her father had made for repairs. She couldn’t see dumping a lot of money into the place.

Mac shrugged. “Sure. I can show you the main floor, anyway. Second and third floors too, though there’s not much up there.” He glanced at his watch and turned to Damian. “You’re leaving early today, right?”

“Yeah.” But Damian didn’t move. Instead he ran one hand through his hair and sent a cloud of sawdust flying. A grin touched his eyes and, for a brief second, Summer saw her own reflection in his gaze. She looked small and dark, a little girl floating on the blue of his iris. He smiled, and in the sunlight, the blue deepened until she felt like she was falling inside it, floating, forgetting who and where she was. Something jumped in her stomach, and her palms tingled. Knights in Pine Point? There hadn’t been any for as long as she could remember.

Don’t fall for the guy whose heart you have to break tomorrow.

Mac cleared his throat. “Uh, there’s a door around back we can use until these stairs are fixed.”

“Okay.” She negotiated the grass-stubbled walk, following Mac and ticking off her to-do list inside her head. Her heels sank into the soft grass in spots, and she almost lost her balance and tumbled over a pile of shingles.

Stupid,
she thought for the tenth time that day.
Stupid idea to come back here at all.
With her eyes on the ground, she managed to reach the far corner of the house without losing her footing again. Then she made the mistake of turning and peeking over her shoulder. Damian had pulled on a faded red T-shirt, which promptly turned damp and stuck to him in all the right places. He bent and collected some tools, and his chiseled arms flexed as he deposited them into a box. He vanished through the shrubbery, and a few minutes later the roar of a throaty car engine signaled his departure.

She shook her head and reached for the wobbly banister of the back porch.
Stop it. He’s a local guy working on the house, that’s all. So he’s got a great body. And an amazing smile. He’s still nothing to get worked up over. You’ll be gone in a matter of days.

And he’ll be packing up his things and moving, courtesy of your signature on a sheet of paper.

The thought kept her going even as it ached inside her chest and made her sorry for someone she’d just met.

* * * * *

“…and that’s it,” Mac finished.

They stood on the landing between the first and second floors. Little air moved inside the house, and the humidity seemed to have skyrocketed in the last half hour. Summer pulled her hair off the back of her neck. Begrudgingly, she admitted her father had been right to buy the property. Even in the places where the moldings, the doors, the stairs would have to be replaced, Mac promised he could do so and be true to the design of the house.

Dwarfed by impossibly tall walls and a ceiling rimmed with ornate, crumbling crown molding, she turned in a slow circle and took it all in with her curator’s eye. Who had lived here a century ago? The lady of the house, preening before a gilt-edged mirror as she waited for guests to arrive? Her husband, who toiled over the books by candlelight? Had five or six children tumbled across the threshold? Had an army of servants kept it spotless? She made a mental note to visit the archives down at the Town Hall and see what she could unearth about the history of the house. It would definitely help the sales listing.

She glanced into a good-sized bathroom off the main hallway. A claw-foot tub stretched along one side, and built-in cabinets covered one whole wall. Maybe she should let them continue remodeling. It would increase the value of the place, that was for sure. She took in the cathedral ceiling, the grand foyer below her, the bedroom to the right and the great room to her left.
The second floor would make a nice master suite
and a good place to…

Summer stopped breathing.

From where they stood she could see straight through the great room’s tall windows. Thickets of pines surrounded the house, with a cloudless sky above them. Beyond the trees, a mile or so away, rose a solid black fixture. For a moment, her eyes watered and she couldn’t see anything at all. Then she took a deep breath and fastened her gaze on the main gate of All Saints’ Cemetery, resting place for just about everyone who spent their lives in Pine Point.

Goose pimples rose on her arms as she understood exactly why her father had bought this house. Somewhere in that green expanse, a few hundred yards away, lay her brother’s remains. Her hand lifted to her mouth before she realized it, as if to keep the thoughts in her head from leaping out.

This had nothing to do with me. He didn’t want me to live here. He just wanted to bring me back to Pine Point so I could stand in this spot and remember what happened that night.
Resentment drilled into her heart. She’d never stepped foot inside All Saints’. She had no idea where her brother was buried or what his headstone said. Her father had never bothered to tell her. Now he wanted her to live within shouting distance of it?

“Summer, listen carefully. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

She rolled her head against the pillow. Everything hurt, from the bandage around her forehead to the splint that held her broken ankle in place.

“Aunt Sue is coming tomorrow to take you to her place. You’ll stay with her out in Chicago for a while.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ve already decided. It’ll be better for everyone…”

In a flash, the walls closed in on her. Darkness spiraled inside her peripheral vision. Summer couldn’t breathe. That conversation—she didn’t remember having it. She didn’t remember anything from the night of the crash or the three days following. She blinked and stared into the distance until the curlicues at the top of the cemetery gate blurred.
What was that? What’s happening
? Wiping both hands against her skirt, she fought the anxiety. Perspiration covered her forehead.
Get me the hell out of here.
She turned to flee but the heel of one Manolo Blahnik caught on the top riser.

“Whoa!” Mac caught her elbow and hauled her upright. “Might want to wear some different shoes if you’re going to be hanging around here.”

“Don’t worry,” Summer said through clenched teeth. “I’m not.” She counted to ten and drew a breath. Then another. With shaking fingers, she wiped her forehead.

“You okay?” He stared at her.

“Yeah. Just the heat, I guess. It got to me.”

“Here.” He handed her a clean rag from a pile on the stairs, and she pressed it to her face, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the pity in his gaze.

“Thanks.”

“So what do you think?” Mac asked as they descended the stairs.

What do I think?
Summer shook her father’s voice from her mind and dropped the rag into a box. “I’m putting it on the market. Today, I hope.”
It was some kind of weird flashback, that’s all.
A shrink had told her she might experience them once in a while. She just hadn’t thought coming back to Pine Point would jog the past into her present quite so quickly.