The Inn at Eagle Point (15 page)

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 sister 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."
Alarm flared in Abby's eyes. "What carpeting? Jess, we never talked about
putting down new carpeting. There's no room in the budget for that kind of
expense."
Jess sighed. "I know, but it would look great, wouldn't it?" she said
wistfully. "It would be the finishing touch this place needs to be
perfect."
"Well, put that on your wish list for when the inn starts turning a
profit," Abby advised. "The carpet we have now will look great once
we get the carpet cleaners in here to shampoo it."
"Already at the top of the list." She stood up. "Now, you can
sit there brooding for the rest of the afternoon, or you can make yourself
useful and help me paint the last guest room."
Abby regarded her with a startled expression. "You're allowing me onto
your hallowed turf upstairs?"
"Just this once. You seem in need of a distraction, and I'll be there to
supervise. Just try not to drip paint all over the floor the way you did when
you helped me paint my bedroom when I was ten."
"That wasn't me," Abby protested indignantly as she followed Jess up
the stairs. "It was Kevin. Or maybe Connor. Neither one of them ever had
the patience for painting or much of anything else when it came to odd jobs
around the house. Mick used to say it was a good thing neither of them wanted
to follow in his footsteps, because whatever they built was sure to fall right
back down on their heads."
Jess grinned. "You know, I think you're right. It was Kevin."
Abby paused on the steps, her expression sober. "I miss him," she
said quietly. "It scares me to death that he's in Iraq."
Jess's good mood evaporated at once. "I know. Me, too. But our brother
believes in what he's doing. And last time he sent me an e-mail, he said he'd
met a woman, another medic. I think it might be getting serious."
"I hope not," Abby said. "I'm not sure you can trust your emotions
when tensions are running high in a situation like they're in. I hope they'll
wait till they're back home before they do anything permanent."
"You're probably right," Jess conceded, "but I'm glad he has
someone over there. It makes me feel as if there's someone watching his
back."
All the talk about Kevin had left both of them in a somber mood. Jess forced
herself to shake it off. She prayed every night for her brother's safe return,
and that was all she could do, aside from sending him boxes and boxes of Gram's
cookies every month. According to Kevin, his unit looked forward to the arrival
of those packages as much as he did.
"Come on. Let's go paint," she said, marching up the last of the
steps. "I don't want to think about the danger our brother is in or
whether he's going to get too serious with a woman he hardly knows." She
grinned again. "I'd much rather talk about your love life."
"It's going to be a very boring conversation," Abby retorted.
"Have you taken a good look at Trace? No way is a conversation about that
man ever going to be boring."
Judging from the bright pink flags that immediately appeared in her sister's
cheeks, Abby didn't disagree. Jess had a feeling that with a few good nudges,
those two just might wind up back in each other's arms, precisely where they'd
belonged years ago. She might have been only twelve, but she'd seen something
probably no one else had—that walking away from Trace had been just as hard on
Abby as it had been on him.

*
* *

Abby had spent a surprisingly pleasant afternoon with her
sister. For once Jess hadn't been on the defensive about their forced business
relationship. Instead, it had been like old times with all the teasing banter
and resulting laughter. She was glad about that. The last thing she wanted was
for this situation Trace had created to cause a rift between them. If they
could just spend a little more time laughing, maybe they'd come through this
rough patch with their bond as sisters intact.
Still hoping to avoid an uncomfortable encounter with Wes, especially in light
of Jess's take on her marriage, she'd hung out at the inn until late in the
evening, sharing a pizza with Jess and discussing plans for the grand opening
just ahead of the Fourth of July holiday, which was only about six weeks away.
She'd even mentioned the possibility of hiring Trace to design an ad campaign
for them. Naturally Jess had promptly accused her of trying to find ways to
spend even more time with him than she already was. Though she'd denied it, she
couldn't honestly swear that there wasn't some truth to Jess's analysis of her
motivation.
She was still smiling about that discussion when she stepped onto the porch at
home and Wes called out to her. Her good spirits promptly fled.
"I've been waiting up for you," he said. "Where were you? It's
getting late."
Abby frowned at his tone. It wasn't just possessive. It had a judgmental edge
to it, one that was not only uncharacteristic but inappropriate. Still, she
fought to keep her response mild. Maybe she was being overly sensitive herself
after listening to her sister's low opinion of the way Wes treated her.
"I promised you I was going to stay out of your way, so you could spend
this weekend with the girls," she reminded him.
"Were you really being considerate, or were you trying to avoid talking to
me about your new boyfriend?"
Abby had been about to sit down, but the question kept her standing, her temper
stirring. "First, I don't have a new boyfriend. Second, even if I did, he
would be none of your business. Third, I really don't like the tone in your
voice, so I'm going to bed."
She was halfway across the porch when he called after her. "Wait,
Abby."
She paused but didn't turn around.
"I was out of line," he added.
"Yes, you were," she said. She made no move to go back and join him.
"Can we talk, please?"
"About?"
"Don't blow a gasket, but I do want to know what's going on between you
and this guy who's been spending time with my girls."
"They're
our
girls," she reminded him. "And for the last
time, there is nothing going on between Trace and me. We're old friends."
"Who used to date," he added.
She frowned. "How do you know that?"
"We ran into him in town. He could hardly wait to tell me that you used to
have a relationship. It was also plain to me that he intends to continue
it."
"And of course, mindless me, I'll go along with whatever anyone wants. Is
that what you're suggesting?" She was beginning to see what Jess had been
talking about. Wes really could be a judgmental jerk. How had she never noticed
that before? Had she been too busy taking all of his criticisms about her
faults to heart?
"Of course you're not mindless," he said, regarding her with what
looked like genuine dismay. "I'm just telling you what he said."
"Or what you interpreted based on whatever he actually said," she
accused. "I'm not in the mood for this, Wes. We'll talk in the morning,
because if we continue this right now we're going to have a really nasty
fight."
Even in the porch's shadows, she could see the bewilderment in his expression.
"What's happened to you? You never used to take offense so easily."
"Let's just say that I had a conversation today that helped me to take my
blinders off where you're concerned."
"With this Trace Riley fellow? What did he say about me?"
She sighed heavily. "Trace didn't say a thing. I haven't seen or spoken to
him today."
"Jess, then," he said, sounding resigned. "She knows I've never
approved of how she uses you. I'm sure she was eager to retaliate by saying all
sorts of unflattering things about me."
Abby could have stood there and debated the point with him. Or she could have
simply told him off. Instead, she merely said good-night and walked away. Maybe
by morning she wouldn't feel like smacking him silly.

*
* *

Trace hadn't been able to get Abby out of his mind all day.
He'd tried calling her cell phone a couple of times, but either she didn't have
it with her or it was turned off or she was ignoring the calls because she
didn't want to talk to him.
Taking his phone with him, he walked down to the end of the block and found a
bench looking out at the water. The half-moon was sparkling on the waves and
the sky was filled with stars. There were quite a few people out for a
stroll—couples, groups of teens, families. There were even more people sitting
at the various sidewalk cafés across the street. Chesapeake Shores was busy for
a May night that still had a slight nip in the air. He saw a few people he
knew, but most were tourists who'd come because of the restaurants and quaint
shops that stayed open late into the evening on weekends.
He'd thought coming out here would relax him, but it only made him miss Abby
more. Flipping open his cell phone, he called her again.
"Yes, hello," she snapped, her tone testier than he'd ever heard it.
"Did I catch you in the middle of something?" he asked, treading
carefully.
"Yes, a major-league snit," she said, her tone mellowing slightly.
"Caused by?"
"My ex-husband, if you must know. He was waiting to ambush me when I got
home a little while ago. He was just full of questions about my boyfriend. That
would be you, by the way."
She didn't sound overjoyed, though he couldn't tell for sure if it was because
of the questions or because of the label her ex had pinned on him.
"Am I supposed to say I'm sorry?"
"For what? You're not responsible for him jumping to all sorts of
misguided conclusions. Look, I really don't want to talk about this. Did you
call for any particular reason?"
"It's probably not the best time to admit I just wanted to hear your
voice, is it?"
Silence greeted the question, though he had a feeling she was fighting a smile.
She'd always been quick to anger, but just as quick to let it go.
"Abby, why don't you come meet me for a drink?" he coaxed. "You
sound as if you could use one."
"Which is exactly why it's a bad idea."
"What's bad about it? It's still early. I'm down here by the water at the
end of Main Street. There are lots of people around. There's no way we could
possibly succumb to temptation in this crowd," he teased, even though it
was the kind of night that encouraged romance.
"Who says I'd be tempted to succumb to your charms?"
"Maybe it's the other way around," he retorted. "Maybe I'm
afraid you'll seduce me."
"You don't sound afraid. You sound eager."
Trace chuckled at her perceptiveness. "Okay, you got me. Come on. It's one
drink. Not even a real date."
He could tell she was weighing her options. When she finally said yes, he
couldn't be sure if it was his persuasiveness, his challenge or her annoyance
with her ex-husband that decided her. Whatever it was, he was relieved. And
eager.
"I'll stay put where I am," he said. "You find me when you get
here, and we'll pick out a place to go together."
"You're right at the end of Main Street?"
"On a bench facing the bay. The same one where we used to meet."
"I'll be there soon," she said.
Pleased with himself, Trace tucked his phone in his pocket and settled back to
wait.
Fifteen minutes later there was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find
Abby standing behind him. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks rosy.
"You drove Mick's convertible, didn't you?"
She grinned mischievously. "I did."
"What'll he do if he finds out?" he asked, knowing how her father
babied the original Mustang and classic Corvette that came out of the garage
only for town parades. Abby had ridden in the back of the Mustang the year
she'd been Homecoming Queen, but no one in the family other than Mick had ever
been allowed to drive either car. "I seem to recall Connor being grounded
for a month when he took the Mustang for a ride one night."
"I'm too old to be grounded," she said, and gave him a challenging
look. "Besides, Mick's in San Francisco. Who's going to tell him?
You?"
"No way, sweetheart. Then I'd have to admit how I found out, because you
were sneaking out of the house to meet me. I don't care how old and independent
you are, I'm not sure how Mick would feel about that, either."
She came around and dropped down beside him. "I have to admit that
creeping out to the garage and taking that car did add an element of excitement
to my evening. Took me right back to the times I crawled out of my bedroom
window and shimmied down a tree to meet you."
Trace laughed. He'd always loved that reckless side of her, had, in fact,
encouraged it. "I've always been a terrible influence on you
apparently." He studied her intently and noted that despite her light
tone, she didn't look happy. "So did you borrow Mick's car for the thrill
of getting away with it, or was there another reason?"
She hesitated, then said, "If I'd taken mine, I was afraid Wes would see
me and demand to know where I was going."
Trace bristled. "Why would it be his business?"
"I have no idea. Something tells me that his encounter with you earlier
today has something to do with it."
Trace had worried that his casual comment about having a past relationship with
Abby would stir up trouble, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why
it should. Their relationship had ended before she and Wes had even met.
"Can I ask you a serious question?"
"Only if you buy me that drink," she said.
He stood up at once and held out his hand. "Okay then, let's walk until we
find a place that we like. With so many new little cafés along here, there's
bound to be something that fits the bill."
Abby took his hand and fell into step beside him. "It really is amazing,
isn't it?" she said as they walked past an ethnic smorgasbord of small
restaurants. When they were kids, there'd been only the pizza place, which had
been a popular teen hangout along with Sally's, a frozen custard and snowball
shop that was open only in summer and a gourmet coffee shop that also sold
newspapers and magazines.
"Just look at how many new places have opened up since we were living
here. I wonder if Dad envisioned this."
"He must have," Trace said. "After all, he designed this row of
commercial property along here."
"There was only one block of commercial property originally," Abby
reminded him. "Now there are two or three."
"Have you spotted any place that appeals to you?" Trace asked,
anxious to get back to that discussion about her ex-husband. Maybe, he admitted
to himself, even more anxious to get her alone in the shadows where he could
try his luck stealing another kiss.
"They all look fine," she responded. "You choose."
"How about that one?" he asked, gesturing toward one where most of
the outdoor tables had emptied. They could have the patio to themselves.
"Will you be too cold if we sit outside?"
"No, this feels downright balmy compared to the cold spell we were having
when I left New York."
He nodded. "Yeah, that's when I left, too. I got out just ahead of a
snowstorm. I don't think the city got much, though."
"If it was the one that fell the night before I came home, it was only a
dusting. The roads to the airport were completely clear when the girls and I
left to fly down here."
Trace settled her at a table, asked what she wanted to drink, then stuck his
head inside to alert a waiter that they were there and needed a glass of wine
and a beer.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her when the waiter brought their drinks.
"No, Jess and I had pizza earlier at the inn, but you order something if
you're hungry."
"Maybe later," he told the waiter, then turned back to her.
"Okay, you have your drink, now I get to ask my question. Which one of you
wanted out of the marriage, you or Wes?"
"He did."
"That confirms it," Trace said. "The guy's an idiot."
Abby smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Was he having an affair?"
"Heavens no," she said, sounding genuinely shocked by the question.
"Wes lived by a rock-solid set of family values."
"Rock-solid, yet they included divorce?"
"Only after I proved that I couldn't live up to his high standard for
being a proper wife. I worked too much. I had too much drive and ambition. I
wasn't free for all the social engagements that keep his world spinning."
"Didn't he know that about you when you were dating?"
She nodded. "That's what I've never entirely figured out. I didn't change.
I guess he just assumed that once we were married and had kids, I'd forget all
about my career and stay home where he thought I belonged. We certainly didn't
need my income, but he never figured out that I didn't work because of the
money."
"Did you discuss it? Fight about it?"
"Never. One day he just announced that my priorities were all messed up
and that he couldn't live like that anymore."
Trace frowned. "Without even giving you a chance to change or compromise?
That's not fair."
"You should hear what Jess says about it. She says he was always
passive-aggressive, telling me he was proud of me one minute, then taking
little digs about my failures as a wife and mother. I honestly never paid that
much attention to the digs, maybe because I thought they were fair." She
held up a hand. "Look, this is all water under the bridge. We're divorced.
Wes is basically a good guy and a great father. I need to get along with him
for the sake of the girls."
For some reason, Trace couldn't let it go. "But, Abby, he has no right to
come down here and question you about who you're spending time with. Are you
sure he's not after something?"
Abby looked bewildered. "Such as?"
"I see two possibilities," he said, treading carefully. He'd picked
up on some kind of territorial vibe when he'd met Wes and he couldn't seem to
shake it. He didn't want to upset or alarm her, and he had a feeling he was
about to do both. On some level, he knew he ought to stay out of this, but he'd
started it now, and Abby wasn't likely to let him drop it.
"What possibilities?" she asked, proving his point.
"Either he wants you back and he's jealous of whatever he thinks is going
on with us," he began.
Abby shook her head at once. "Believe me, he doesn't want me back."
Trace hesitated.
"Come on," she commanded. "Don't stop now. I'm fascinated by how
much thought you've apparently given to me and my ex-husband, a man you've
spent, what, five minutes with?"
"You're right. I don't know him, but I've crossed paths with plenty of men
just like him. And in those five minutes I spent around him today, I saw
something else."
"What?"
"I can't be sure, of course, but maybe he's hunting for ammunition to
start a battle for full custody of Carrie and Caitlyn."
As he'd feared, real alarm flared in her eyes. "He wouldn't dare!"
Trace clasped her hand. "Settle down. I'm just saying it's a possibility
you need to be prepared for. Don't let your guard down for a minute. Like I
said, I've known men like Wes. They almost always act based on some hidden
agenda that's in their own interests. They win because they hit when people are
least expecting it."
Abby's expression went from indignant to thoughtful. "As much as it kills
me to say it, it does make a sick kind of sense. Before he came down here, he
threatened to take the girls back to New York with him since I'm going to be
here a while longer. I told him to forget about it, but that might have put
some crazy idea into his head about trying to take them away from me." She
met Trace's gaze, fire in her eyes. "I swear to God, if he tries to pull a
stunt like that, I will go after him with every penny I've got."
"Right now you share custody, right?"
"Yes. The girls pretty much divide their time between the two of us. Most
of the year they're with me during the week, because I live maybe half a dozen
blocks closer to the private school where they go to kindergarten. The nanny
walks them to school. They're with Wes every other weekend. Sometimes,
especially around holidays, they'll stay with him for the whole week. The nanny
just goes with them to wherever they're staying. Neither of us wanted to turn
them into pawns in our battle. The whole divorce was totally civilized. We
drafted it ourselves and had it approved by the court. He pays generous child
support, including their school tuition, but no alimony. I didn't want or need
his money for myself."
Trace wondered what Wes Winters might stand to gain by fighting Abby for
custody. Maybe he was just a dad who wanted more time with his daughters,
especially if he feared they were going to be a few hundred miles away for any
length of time, but Trace thought otherwise. Perhaps he'd taken an instant
dislike to the man and that was behind his suspicions, but he didn't think so.
He was usually a decent judge of character. It was a trait he'd inherited from
his father, who claimed that a good banker had to be a good judge of the people
he dealt with. His father always said a balance sheet only told half the story
about a customer. Instinct filled in the rest.
Since all he had at the moment were suspicions, Trace decided to do a little
checking first thing on Monday. In the meantime, he didn't want Abby to get any
more worked up than she already was, especially since for the moment he was
only speculating based on very little hard information.
"Look, I'm really sorry I stirred this up," he told her sincerely.
"He hasn't said anything about the whole custody issue, so it's probably
just my imagination."
She could have accepted the easy explanation, but she shook her head, which
told him she'd been harboring similar thoughts.
"I'd say you were crazy, if Wes hadn't made that comment when we spoke on
the phone before he came down here." She stood up. "I need to get
home and talk to him."
"Now? He's probably gone to bed."
She glanced at her watch and sat back down, but she was clearly still agitated.
Once again, Trace regretted stirring her up, possibly for no good reason. He
had to distract her.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She turned to face him.
"No one will take the girls away from you," he said firmly.
"You don't know how powerful Wes's family is," she said.
"Actually I do," he said. "We have some mutual friends, so I
know the circle that puts him in. But powerful people have weaknesses. If it
comes to a fight, we'll find theirs." He touched a finger to her lips when
she would have responded. "No more speculation. Let's drop this for
now."