The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (36 page)

He looked around the table. When no one spoke up, he turned back to Beck. “I know that this is hard
for you, and I’m real sorry for that. But I’m going to ask you to give her a chance. And if you can’t do that, at least keep an open mind.”

Beck was clearly struggling with his feelings.

“Just keep an open mind,” Hal repeated.

Finally, Beck nodded slowly. “Only because you’re asking me to.”

“That’s a start, son.” Hal smiled. “That’s a start …”

“So you don’t think it’s too early for the tennis whites and the cute golf clothes?” Vanessa asked Grace Sinclair over coffee at Cuppachino the following morning.

“Not at all, dear,” Grace assured her. “My son tells me that the tennis courts at the Inn have been booked solid for the past two or three weeks.”

“Great.” Vanessa smiled, envisioning the window display she was going to start on as soon as she went into the shop. “Some of the prettiest things just came in to the shop. I can’t wait to get them all unpacked and on display.”

“When do you think you’ll be able to reopen, Vanessa?” Nita asked.

“I’ll be open on Friday at the regular time,” she said proudly. “The glass has all been replaced and everything cleaned up. It’s all as good as new.” She paused. “Except for the clothes that had been tossed on the floor. I feel as if they’re tainted and I’m having a problem thinking of those things as new merchandise. I was tempted to scrap them but my insurance company would not reimburse me because they really
aren’t damaged, so I’m having a sale. Everything that touched the floor will be forty percent off when I reopen. I’m calling it my red-carpet sale.” She grinned. “Because, of course, the rug in the shop is red.”

“Very clever,” Nita told her. “And you can count on me to come in. You know I can’t miss a sale.”

Vanessa drained the coffee from her mug. “I can’t wait to get started on those windows. I’ll see you ladies later.”

She handed her mug to Carlo on her way out the door and crossed the street. Standing in front of her shop, she mentally dressed her mannequins, which, right at that moment, wore white sheets and signs that said
WATCH FOR OUR GRAND REOPENING!

And it will be grand
, she told herself as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The boxes of white shirts, skirts, and shorts that had been delivered the day before were piled on the newly replaced counter.

“Maybe an all-white window this time,” she murmured. “Maybe some white geraniums in white … no, maybe silver pots. And something white all bunched on the floor. Not chiffon, I did that for the wedding.” She stood and stared at the mannequins. “Maybe I should do Astroturf to look like a golf green …” She frowned. “But then the window’s not all white.” She paused. “Does it have to be all white?”

She sighed, and tried to feel happier at the prospect of reopening Bling. She’d missed her routine, missed the interaction with her customers.

She’d been missing a lot these days, she reminded herself.

She wasn’t going to think about Grady today. She’d
decided when she got up on Monday morning that she was not going to dwell on what could have been. And she wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself. It had been all right to feel sad—she’d give herself sad—but not
sorry
. And if nothing else, for the first time, she’d had a glimpse of what a good relationship—a
healthy
relationship—between two people who cared about each other could be like. How could she regret that?

That was the one thing he’d given her that no one could take away. She’d never had a relationship that hadn’t required her to give more than she had and take far less than what she’d wanted. With Grady, it had all been equal, give-and-take. Him to her and back again. If she were ever to have another relationship—and she wasn’t sure that she wanted one—at least she knew what she could rightfully expect.

The delivery truck pulled up in front of the shop and the driver got out, disappeared inside the body of the truck, then walked to the door with boxes piled high.

“Good morning,” she called to him after she unlocked the door and held it wide open for him.

“How are you today?” He went past her into the shop. “Where would you like these?”

“How about right there, by the counter. Yes, that’s fine, thanks.”

“Looks like another beautiful day.” He smiled and went back outside. “I have two more for you.”

He brought those in and set them on the floor next to the others. “That’s it for today. Good luck with your reopening if I don’t see you before the end of the week.”

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.” She waved from the counter, then lifted the first of the boxes and placed it on the glass to open it. “Such cute tank tops,” she murmured. “I think I’ll pair them with those button-down shirts that came in last week.”

She set about looking for the box with the shirts, grateful to be busy, happy to be back in her routine. These days, it seemed that Bling was all she had. Funny, she reminded herself, once upon a time—oh, not so very long ago—the shop was all she wanted, all that mattered to her.

At first, she didn’t hear the knock on the glass panel of the door. When the knock came louder, she responded, thinking it was Mitch, the mailman, who’d gotten into the habit of bringing in her mail rather than stuffing it through the slot, on instructions, no doubt, from his wife, the town busybody.

“Come on in, Mitch,” she called from the counter where she was going through boxes.
Where did I put those cotton shirts …?

The bell over the door jingled, and she heard it close softly.

“Sorry, Mitch. I was distracted.” She turned from the window and started toward the door.

“Mitch? Who’s Mitch?”

“Oh.” She stopped in her tracks. “Oh.”

“Mind if I come in?” Grady didn’t wait for her response. “Who’s Mitch?” he repeated.

“The mailman.”

“Hey, it looks great in here. All cleaned up, the displays all nice and tidy again.” He walked over to the repaired window. “It looks great. The glass guy did a good job.”

“Thanks.” She forced her hands to hold on to each other so that she wouldn’t reach out for him. She wasn’t sure why he was there, and didn’t want to make a fool out of herself.

“When do you think you’ll be able to reopen?” He strolled around to the counter.

“I’ll be open on Friday.”

“It looks like you could open tomorrow.”

“If I had the window dressing finished, I probably could. I’ve gotten in most of the merchandise I ordered for the summer, so I’m pretty much ready to go.”

“Good for you, Ness. I’m really happy for you. I know how much this place means to you.”

“Thank you.” Her head was spinning. “Ah … did I ever thank you for saving my life?”

“I don’t remember.” He leaned back against the counter. “You could thank me now.”

“Thank you for everything. For saving my life and Maggie’s life.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She nodded and tried to think of something else to say. Finally, she asked, “How was your camping thing?”

“It was all right. I took four guys up to Bear Trap Canyon for a couple of days. The weather was better than they’d forecast, so it wasn’t quite as cold as it could have been.”

“So did you see any of those cool things you told me about?”

“What cool things?” He frowned.

“You said that sometimes when you were hiking
alone, you’d see really cool things but didn’t have anyone to share them with.”

“Well, I saw a baby moose and a golden eagle,” he told her, “but I didn’t really have anyone to share those with.”

“You just said you had four people with you.”

“It’s not the same as having someone to share the really good moments with, Ness. It wasn’t like having you with me.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to him slowly. “I missed you. I started missing you as soon as I left. I was sitting in the plane, waiting for it to take off, wishing we’d have some kind of mechanical failure so that my flight wouldn’t take off until the next day, so I could come back here for just one more night.” He smiled. “A three-nighter, I guess that would have been.”

She looked up at him, barely able to believe what she was hearing.

“I took my group out on the trail, and I came back home and I wondered what I was doing there when everything that made me smile was here in St. Dennis. So I had to take the chance, come back, and see if you missed me, too.”

“You could have called.” She smiled. “I would have told you.”

“The service up there isn’t dependable.” He pulled her closer. “And besides, if we were on the phone, I wouldn’t be able to do this …”

He kissed her mouth and her chin and then he kissed her mouth again.

“I missed you, too,” she told him. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you again.”

“Look, I don’t know what this is between us. I just
know that it’s been good enough that I’m not ready to see it end. I don’t know that I ever will be. I want to come back and see how it works out. That is, if you feel the same way, if you’re willing to see where it goes.”

She nodded. “More than willing. But what about your business?”

“I have several trips already lined up for the summer. July, August, even into September, are big hiking and camping months out there. I can continue to do that. I’ll just fly back and forth. It isn’t that big a deal to me. I flew all over the country when I was with the Bureau. This is actually less travel than that was.”

“But your house …”

“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to that. The renovations that Missy began are finished, and that was my goal—to finish what she started. While I was home I ran into a neighbor who was telling me that his son and daughter-in-law were looking for a property to use as a camp to teach riding to kids with special needs. I’m going to meet with them before I take my next trail group out, which will be in about two weeks. If they like the facilities, they can rent from me or buy it outright, but I think that would be the best use of the property.”

“Well, you know I have to ask: What about the money you found in the bookcase?”

“I’m having more of a problem with that,” he admitted. “I’m going to have to talk to my old boss. Is it legally mine? As Missy’s husband, I’m assuming it is. But if it was gained by illegal means, what then?”

“Are you serious?” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re
seriously going to ask someone at the FBI if you can keep it?”

“Here’s the thing. I don’t want it.” He raised a hand when she started to speak. “Yeah, I know it’s a lot of money. But it’s blood money, as far as I’m concerned. It’s money my brother paid my wife to keep silent about the fact that she knew he killed my cousin Dylan. It’s money that eventually led Luther Blue to kill her.”

“When you put it in those terms …” She weighed what he’d said. “Still, it’s almost half a million dollars.”

“Enough to fund that camp for kids with special needs,” he said. “Enough to start a foundation that would keep it running for a while. At least it would go to some good use.”

She nodded. “Why don’t you skip the part where you talk to the FBI about it? What would they do with it? Let it sit in a box somewhere? Buy information with it?”

Grady laughed. “I feel I can trust John Mancini to steer me in the right direction.” He ran his hands up her arms. “So, you think you could fit in a little shopping this afternoon?”

Vanessa frowned. “Shopping? What do you need to shop for?”

“Not for me, for you.” He glanced down at her feet even while he kissed her neck. “I’m guessing a size, what, seven and a half? Eight?”

“We’re going to shop for shoes?” Her eyebrows rose.

“Not shoes,” he corrected her. “Hiking boots …”

*   *   *

They were, she suspected, the ugliest things she’d ever had on her feet, but she was okay with them, because they meant that she and Grady would be spending the entire day together. It meant that he wanted to share something with her that was important to him.

She still could barely believe he’d come back. She’d pinched herself twenty times between yesterday afternoon and this morning, when he woke her at four—after a very few hours of sleep—and made her eat a real breakfast before they left the house.

“Tell me again where we’re going?” she asked sleepily as they walked to his rented Jeep.

“Bull Run Mountain in Virginia,” he told her. “I heard it was a nice hike. We’ll start with a short walk, an easy walk, so you can see if you like it.”

“I like to walk. I walk up to Charles Street and back every day,” she reminded him. “And I don’t have to wear ugly shoes to do it.”

He laughed. “You’ll be very happy to have those ‘ugly shoes’ when you start up the mountain.”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t have worn my running shoes.” She got into the passenger seat and closed the door.

“Because you’re not running. You’re hiking. And you’d have been wise to wear them around the house last night to get your feet accustomed to them.”

“We didn’t do much walking around the house last night. As a matter of fact, as I recall, we almost didn’t have dinner.”

“Good point.”

“So you were saying that you read somewhere that this is a nice hike.” She settled into the seat and closed her eyes. “What constitutes a ‘nice’ hike?”

“It’s supposed to have some interesting trails. Most of the trails are relatively easy. The Battle of Thoroughfare Gap was fought there during the Civil War.”

“Who won?” she asked.

“I believe the Confederates won that round.”

“How far is it?”

“Maybe another hour, hour and a half from here.”

“No, I meant, how long is the hike?”

“Oh, you mean, how long are the trails, start to finish?”

She nodded.

“Not long at all. I think I read that the main loop is only about four and a half miles. But there are other sights to see off the main loop. If you took all those trails, too, it runs about seven miles, I think.”

“Seven miles? In one day?” She wrinkled her nose and Grady laughed again.

“We don’t have to do all seven,” he assured her. “We don’t even have to do the entire four. We can just walk until you feel tired, but I did hear that there are spectacular views from the top of the ridge.”