The Inn at Eagle Point (18 page)

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When Trace showed up for Sunday dinner at his parents'
house, he found his sister already there, though Laila didn't look especially
happy about it. He gave her a questioning look as he went to the bar and poured
himself a beer.
"Command performance," she muttered. "Mother got it into her
head that we've been neglecting the whole family thing since you got back in town.
She thinks if you feel more loved and missed, you'll stick around."
"As if," he replied. "How are we going to get through to Dad
that you belong in this job, not me?"
"
We're
not doing anything," she said. "I have my own
bookkeeping company. I make enough to live comfortably. I don't need to work
for the bank, and I
really
don't need to work for someone who doesn't
think I'm qualified for the job."
Trace frowned at her. "Your qualifications have never been an issue,
Laila."
She grinned at him. "Oh, that's right. It's my sex."
Their mother walked into the room just in time to overhear Laila's comment, but
not its context.
"Young lady, that is not a proper subject for a Sunday afternoon."
Trace grinned. "Laila was referring to her gender, Mother."
Beatrice Riley looked slightly flustered by her mistake. "Oh, sorry. But
what does your gender have to do with anything?"
"Ask Dad," Laila said.
"Not that again," Beatrice said impatiently. "Your father
offered you a job at the bank."
"About five rungs lower on the ladder than the one he's given to
Trace," Laila reminded her. "Never mind. It's old news. We're here to
celebrate the return of the prodigal son, so let's do that." She lifted
her glass of wine in a mocking salute.
"Laila, that's enough," Beatrice scolded. "I'm going to check on
our meal. I trust you'll be on better behavior when I return."
Trace sat down next to his sister and whispered in her ear, "You're making
it very hard for me to turn this around so you wind up with what you
want."
She gave him a forced smile. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I have
everything I want."
"Then why are you acting as if you're about ten seconds away from
imploding?"
"I had a bad night, if you must know."
Trace took a closer look and saw the sadness lurking in her too-bright eyes.
"What happened? Did you and Dave have a fight?"
Laila had been dating the same man since college. Dave Fisher was likable
enough, but he'd never struck Trace as the kind of man capable of strong
passion. He realized it was an odd sort of thing for him to worry about, given
that Dave was with his sister, but he thought Laila deserved a guy who could
work up some enthusiasm over something. Instead, Dave was solid, nice and about
as bland as the oatmeal he ate every morning for breakfast. The only time Trace
had ever seen him stirred up was over a three-cent error in his bank statement.
"Dave and I don't fight," she said with an air of resignation.
"The man is going to bore me into an early grave."
Hallelujah! Trace thought. "Then end it," he told her. "Find
somebody else."
"In Chesapeake Shores? I've known every man in this town since we were
toddlers. It's not as if I'm going to wake up one day, take a fresh look at
someone and say, 'Oh, my gosh, he's the one!'"
"You won't know that for sure until you break up with Dave. You have no
idea who else might be out there. I know for a fact that this place fills up
with people on weekends all summer long and that includes professional men from
Washington and Baltimore. But you're not going to meet them if you're sitting
at home on your sofa watching tapes from the History Channel with Dave."
She sighed heavily. "I suppose you have a point, but it's hard to walk
away when you've spent so many years with someone. He's been my safety net.
He's a good guy. He really is."
Trace had heard the same thing about another man all too recently. Neither time
had it sat well with him.
"Break it off, Laila. You need a fresh start. You'll never be happy if you
just keep drifting along in this dead-end relationship."
"It's not dead-end," she said.
He blinked in surprise. "It's not?"
"He's asked me to marry him. Last night, in fact. He wrote it all out on
paper, how practical and sensible it would be. The list was quite
extensive."
Trace groaned. "Now there's the proposal of any girl's dreams. I'm sure
your pulse absolutely raced."
Laila grinned. "It was pretty funny, actually. Or it would have been if it
hadn't been so horrifying. I sat there listening to him, and all I could think
was that this would be my life until the day I died, looking at lists of pros
and cons."
Trace regarded her with alarm. "You're not seriously considering it, are
you? I swear if you do, you can forget about the job at the bank. I'll tell Dad
to have you committed instead."
"No, I'm not considering it," she said. "I told Dave no. In
fact, I broke up with him." Tears filled her eyes. She rubbed them away
impatiently. "I hurt him, Trace. He looked so bewildered. It was like
kicking a puppy that trusts you. I felt awful."
"Better to feel awful for a few hours or even a few weeks than to be
miserable for the rest of your life," he told her. "Dave will get
over it. I guarantee you he'll find a replacement in no time, someone who's far
better suited to him."
"Maybe I could fix him up," she said, her expression thoughtful.
Trace stared at her incredulously. "Are you crazy? Do you have any friends
you dislike that much?"
"Stop it! He's a great guy. He just wasn't right for me."
"Okay, I can leave it at that, but trust me, he won't appreciate you
trying to find a replacement for him."
"Why not?"
"Because he's a man. Not only do we not take rejection well, we certainly
don't want the woman involved to pop up a few days later offering a fresh
alternative like some sort of human sacrifice. If Abby had sent one of her
friends to console me after she took off, I would have been furious."
Laila gave him a considering look. "It might have been better if she
had."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because it might have proved to you that she was over you. Maybe then you
could have moved on, instead of wasting all these years pining for her."
He didn't like the way she'd summed up the past ten years of his life.
"They weren't wasted. I built up a very successful career."
She twirled a finger in the air. "Whoopee!"
He scowled at her reaction. "And I dated."
"Name two women you went out with more than twice," his sister
challenged. "Oh, wait, there was Rene. She lasted a few months, until you
figured out that just because she was the spitting image of Abby didn't mean
she bore any resemblance to her otherwise. Anyone else?"
Much to his chagrin, Trace was stymied. "Okay, so I didn't have another
lasting relationship, but it wasn't for lack of trying. And Rene didn't look
anything like Abby."
"Auburn hair, blue eyes, slender figure," his sister recited.
"Sound familiar?"
"Whatever," he said, brushing the comparison aside and ready to drop
the subject.
Laila, however, clearly still had points she wanted to make. "Besides,
brother dearest, casual sex is not the same as seriously looking," she
said, just as their mother returned.
"Don't you try to tell me
this
conversation was about gender,"
Beatrice said, regarding them both with disapproval. "Dinner's ready, and
I don't want to hear one single word about sex at the table."
"Yes, ma'am," Trace said, barely containing a grin. "You won't
hear that word come out of my mouth. Of course, I can't speak for Laila. She
seems a little obsessed with it today for some reason."
"You are so dead," his sister muttered as she strode past them on her
way to the dining room.
His mother paused and frowned at him. "I don't know what gets into you
two. Aren't you a little old for squabbling?"
Trace draped an arm over her stiff shoulders. "What else are we supposed to
do?" he teased. "You ruled out the one subject we both found
interesting."
She rolled her eyes, then regarded him somberly. "What's really going on
with Laila? I can tell she's upset about something. She's been in an odd mood
ever since she got here."
"Ask her," he suggested. "It's not my news to share."
Worry immediately creased her brow. "She and Dave aren't getting married,
are they?"
Trace was relieved he wasn't the only one who'd thought it an unsuitable match.
He felt he could reassure his mother that she needn't worry about that.
"No."
"Thank goodness!"
"Maybe you shouldn't seem quite so pleased when she tells you," he
said wryly.
She scowled. "I know how to be diplomatic when it's called for."
"Speaking of diplomatic, Mother, how are we going to get her the job she
wants at the bank?" he asked. "You know she's the one who ought to be
there, not me, but she's every bit as stubborn as Dad is."
"I'm very well aware of that. Haven't I lived with your father for nearly
forty years? And I made a decision years ago not to get involved in bank
business."
She was about to step into the dining room when he stopped her. "Not even
if it means your daughter's happiness?"
She looked up at him. "I thought her accounting company was doing
well."
"It is. That's not the point."
"You really think working for your father is that important to her?"
"I know it is," he said. "She needs to know he trusts her, that
he believes in her."
His mother nodded decisively. "Then I'm quite sure if we put our heads
together we can come up with a solution. I'll give it some thought."
"Thank you."
She gave him a sad look. "Just promise me that you won't stay away so long
once you do go back to New York."
"I won't," he said. "Being back here this time has given me a
new perspective on Chesapeake Shores."
"That has something to do with Abby's presence, I'm sure," she said,
studying him closely as she awaited his reply.
"It does."
She hesitated. "Do you think she's feeling the same way? About the town, I
mean?"
"If you're asking if we could settle here at some point, I have no idea.
First I have to see if she'll consider starting over with me. The logistics of
our lives will fall into place after that."
She smiled. "That gives me room for hope, then. Nothing would please me
more than to see the two of you together finally and to have you living close
by." Her eyes filled with excitement. "Oh, Trace, I know the perfect
house for you."
He immediately put the brakes on her enthusiasm. "One thing at a time,
Mother."
Unfortunately, she seemed to be on a roll. She ignored his warning.
"Perhaps I should run over to the inn tomorrow and invite her to
lunch," she said, looking pleased with herself. "Yes, that's exactly
what I'll do."
"I don't need you courting Abby for me," he protested.
She gave him a skeptical look that said otherwise. "You lost her before,
didn't you, so apparently you can use all the help you can get."
Trace laughed. "You're right. Maybe I can."
His mother was known around town for her persuasiveness. If she could wheedle
money out of everyone she knew for a good cause, then surely she could coax
Abby into keeping an open mind where he was concerned. And an open mind was all
he needed. He was reasonably confident he could take it from there.

14

A
bby
decided to call in the big guns to persuade her mother that she needed to visit
Chesapeake Shores for the opening of Jess's inn.
"Carrie, Caitlyn, come in here. We're going to call Grandma Megan."
The twins came running. They adored her mother, who indulged them with trips to
art galleries, plays and regular visits to the Bronx Zoo. Abby doubted they
grasped the importance of the art they saw, but being exposed to it was a
wonderful thing. And they seemed to love having tea afterward. They were
enchanted with the tiny sandwiches and cakes. Back home, they had tea parties
with their favorite dolls for at least a week after each excursion. Abby
couldn't help wishing Jess had had those same kind of memories with their
mother.
Regarding the twins seriously, she said, "Now before I call, I want to
explain that I'm going to try to convince her she needs to come down here for
the opening of Aunt Jess's inn. You have to help me talk her into it. Tell her
you miss her, okay?" she requested, unashamed of her attempt at
manipulation. It was, after all, for a good cause.
"We do miss her," Caitlyn said, even as Carrie nodded, then added,
"Lots and lots."
Satisfied, Abby dialed Megan's number. When her mother answered, she handed the
phone to Carrie.
"Hi, Grandma Megan, it's me, Carrie. Caitlyn's here, too."
Abby hit the button for speakerphone. "I'm also here, Mom."
"Well, my goodness, I was beginning to wonder what happened to my favorite
girls," Megan said warmly. "It's been ages since I heard from
you."
"We're at the beach," Carrie told her excitedly. "With Gram and
Aunt Jess. And Grandpa Mick was here, too."
"I see," Megan said, her voice losing some of its warmth and
enthusiasm.
Abby stepped in. "Actually that's why we're calling, Mom. We're hoping
you'll join us."
"Absolutely not," she said emphatically, leaving no room for
argument.
Fortunately the girls were oblivious to the finality in her response.
"But, Grandma Megan, we really, really miss you and there's going to be a
big party, so you should be here," Carrie said.
"Please, Grandma Megan," Caitlyn begged. "It's going to be a
really big party. We're going to get new dresses and new shoes. Mommy says we
can pick them out ourselves when we come to New York to see Daddy. Maybe you
can help us."
Her mother's hesitation told Abby that her scheme was working. Megan had never
been able to deny the twins anything, especially not a shopping spree. Their
closets were crammed with dresses and outfits from some of the top designers of
children's clothes. They had more shoes than Abby did, eighty percent of them
courtesy of their indulgent grandmother.
"Okay, so tell me, what's this about a party?" Megan asked, her voice
cautious, giving away nothing about her intentions.
It was a tiny opening, but Abby seized it. "Jess has bought the old inn up
the road from our house. That's why I came down here, to help her deal with the
remodeling." She saw no point in mentioning the financial difficulties or
the role those had played in her continued presence. "The party's on June
thirtieth, right before it officially opens. It really should be a family
affair, Mom. Please do this for Jess."
"Will your father be there?"
"He's promised to come back from California for it," she said.
"Then you know it's a bad idea, Abby. We can't even be in the same room
without having an argument. It's been that way ever since the divorce. There
was an unbelievable amount of tension every time I came down there to visit you
kids. I doubt your father's suddenly mellowed. If I'm right, we would spoil
this for Jess and everyone else. The focus would wind up being on us, when it
should be on your sister."
"What makes you think that you and Dad are destined to argue? My wedding
was the last time you even saw each other." She winced as she recalled
what a stiff and awkward encounter that had been. For most of the day they'd
done everything humanly possible to avoid each other. Surely, though, time
would have eased the tension. "Don't you think you could at least manage
to be civil for Jess's sake? You owe her this, Mom. You know you do. Think
about how many other big events in her life you missed."
"Only because she made it plain she didn't want me there," Megan said
wearily.
Abby couldn't deny that of all of them, Jess had made it the hardest for her
mother to remain in her life. She'd openly rebelled against visiting her in New
York, and Mick had never insisted she make the trip. On Megan's visits to
Chesapeake Shores, Jess had thrown tantrums when she was young, then pulled
convenient vanishing acts as she got older. Abby knew it was because she was
hurt and that Megan should have fought harder to bridge the ever-widening gap
between them, but it wasn't too late for her to start doing that.
"Well, I want you here now," Abby said firmly. "And Jess needs
you here, whether she admits it or not."
"Please, Grandma Megan," Caitlyn cajoled again.
"I'll think about it," Megan said at last.
"Really think about it?" Abby prodded. "Or will you dismiss it
the second I hang up?"
"I'll really think about it," Megan assured her. "Will Bree and
your brothers be there?" There was a trace of wistfulness in her voice as
she asked.
"I haven't spoken to them yet. I doubt Kevin will be home from Iraq. His
tour lasts a few more months. I imagine Bree and Connor will try to make it,
though. It will be a real O'Brien family reunion, Mom, and it won't be the same
if you're not here."
"I'll give it some thought and get back to you in a day or two,"
Megan promised.
"If you don't agree, the girls and I will badger you when we get up to New
York. You might as well give in now."
"I said I'd think about it. That's the most I can promise."
"Okay, then," Abby said, backing down for the moment.
"Love you, girls," her mother said.
"Love you," the twins shouted back, then scampered from the room to
get back outdoors.
"I love you, too," Abby said. "And I'll call you to make plans
for that shopping trip with the girls. Bye, Mom."
She hung up and turned to find Gram staring at her with a dismayed expression.
"What have you done?" Gram asked.
"I've invited Mom to the opening party at the inn," she replied with
a touch of defiance.
Her grandmother's face filled with dismay. "Oh, Abby, why would you do
such a thing? You know it will go badly."
"I don't know that," Abby insisted.
"It's Jess's big night. Did you ask her what she wanted?"
"No, because she would have told me not to do it, even though having Mom
here would mean the world to her. She's too angry and scared of rejection to
reach out, so I did it for her."
"And your father? How do you think Mick will feel? If he learns about
this, he'll stay right where he is, all the way across the country, rather than
see Megan under this roof again. It was hard enough on him having her back here
to visit you children."
"I think you're wrong," Abby said, though with less confidence than
she'd felt a few minutes ago. Gram knew Mick better than any of them.
"Maybe they can finally mend fences, or at least find a way to be civil so
the family can celebrate holidays and other important occasions together."
Gram shook her head. "You always were an optimist. Well, you didn't ask me
what I thought ahead of time, so it's all on you. I hope you don't come to
regret it."
Abby sighed at her dire tone. She was already praying that Gram had it wrong
and that this wasn't going to blow up in her face. To prepare for the
possibility that she'd need some allies, she called Bree next. Her sister,
who'd won a grant to write scripts for a regional theater in Chicago, wasn't
home, so Abby left her a message. She tried Connor at his apartment in
Baltimore and wound up leaving a voice mail for him, as well. Though his final
year of law school studies kept him busy, she was sure he'd make time for this.
Now all that was left was to tell Jess what she'd done. And she was pretty sure
that it would be best not to do that until she had firm commitments from all of
them. At least that would give her a few days to come up with a strategy that
wouldn't end with Jess accusing her once again of trying to run—or maybe
ruin—her life.