The Inn at Eagle Point (28 page)

*
* *

Abby got home before dawn, after spending most of the night
in Trace's bed. She slipped inside, doing her best not to wake anyone, but to
her dismay she encountered Mick on the stairs. He was on his way down, fully
dressed and ready to start his day. He eyed her with a look she couldn't
entirely interpret. It was somewhere between protective fatherly concern and
amusement.
"Long night," he commented. "You must have found a way to occupy
your evening."
Abby regarded him with defiance. "I am not discussing my evening with
you."
He held up his hands. "Believe me, I do not want to hear details."
Still, he gave her a hard, assessing look. "You know what you're
doing?"
She sighed at that, thinking of all the possible complications there would
likely be. "I hope so." Hoping to force a change of subject, she
asked, "The girls okay?"
"They're still sound asleep. I checked on 'em just now."
"Okay, then, I'm going to take a quick shower and get ready to go to
work."
He frowned at that. "Come with me," he ordered. "You can spare
time for a cup of coffee before you take that shower."
Abby followed reluctantly. She knew that tone, though. Ignoring his command
would only delay whatever he had to say.
When they were in the kitchen and he'd filled the coffeepot and turned it on,
Mick sat down at the table opposite her. "Did I miss something? Did Jess
apologize?"
"No."
"Didn't she order you off her property?"
Abby gave him an incredulous look. "Do you honestly think I'll pay any
attention to that? I have a job to do, whether she's happy about it or
not."
"Why does it have to be you? You know the bank could give someone else
oversight of the inn's finances."
"Trace already offered to do that," she admitted. "I turned him
down."
Mick looked dismayed. "Why would you do a darn fool thing like that? Do
you want to ruin your relationship with Jess forever?"
"I'm not going to ruin anything," Abby said, leaving the table to
pour the coffee. She handed Mick his in his favorite mug, one Connor had gotten
for him years ago that said World's Best Dad. She sat back down and tried to
make him see her point of view. "Dad, if someone else takes over they're
not going to be half as understanding of all Jess's issues."
Even though she said it, she knew that wasn't entirely true. Laila would
certainly understand. She'd been around the O'Brien house during all those
difficult years after Megan first left. She knew about Jess's tendency to lose
focus. She'd cut her some slack.
But not as much as Abby would. And she certainly wouldn't insist, as Abby
intended to, that Jess find some manageable way to organize what needed to be
done and started to follow through. So far, none of the techniques she'd
learned to stay on task seemed to be working.
Mick shook his head, his disapproval plain. "You can't spend your entire
life bailing your sister out of jams. She has to grow up sometime."
"She will, Dad. She's accomplished so much. We'll figure out the best way
to make sure she handles all the rest. First, we just have to get the inn
open."
"How's that coming? I know what Jess has told me, but I want your
assessment."
"We're actually in very good shape. All of the redecorating and
renovations are finished. Jess hired a chef." She made a face as she said
that.
"The one who wanted the fancy range?" he asked.
Abby nodded. "I honestly don't think she made a big issue of it, though. I
think Jess just got it into her head that we had to have it."
"You sure this isn't a necessity? If it is, I could…"
"No, absolutely not," Abby said at once. "The equipment we have
is perfectly fine for now. And if you go out and buy it, it will undermine the
lesson I'm trying to instill in Jess about fiscal responsibility."
He nodded. "You're right, of course. I just thought maybe I could make
some kind of contribution, something to commemorate the start of the
business."
Abby saw that he really did want to do something to show his support of Jess.
"Dad, it's a really expensive range. Wouldn't a bouquet of flowers be
enough?"
He laughed. "Not my style. Your mama's the only one who ever got flowers
from me and that was only after I discovered the kind of reward I could get for
my thoughtfulness."
Abby held up a hand. "Too much information," she said, but then
turned thoughtful. "You could send Mom flowers for her room at the inn,
you know. It would be a really nice gesture of welcome."
Mick scowled at her. "Don't go getting any ideas about your mother and me.
That ship has sailed."
Abby thought it might be about to return to port, but she kept her opinion to
herself. "Dad, do you really want to make a gift of the stove to Jess? It
would be an amazing gesture, and I shouldn't be the one to stand in the way of
your making it."
"I'd like to do it," he confirmed.
"For Jess? Not because you think it'll make peace between us?"
"It's for your sister, so she knows she has my support. If it eases things
between the two of you, so much the better."
Abby studied him and saw the real yearning in his expression to make this grand
gesture. How could she stop him from reaching out to Jess? She stood up and
hugged him. "Do it, Dad. I'll bring the paperwork back with me later today
and you can call and make the arrangements."
He nodded. "Consider it done."
"Then I'm going upstairs to take that shower." She kissed his cheek.
"You're a great guy, you know that, don't you?"
He shrugged. "I may be a great guy, but I haven't always been the best
father. I'm going to do my best to fix that before it's too late."
Abby heard the determination in his voice, saw the commitment in his eyes. It
was a far cry from the sad, defeated man he'd been in the months and years
after Megan had left.
"If I know one thing about you, Dad, it's that you can do anything you set
your mind to. You planned and built an entire town, for heaven's sake. Anything
else you decide to tackle should be a piece of cake."
He shook his head. "I understand bricks and mortar and infrastructure, and
maybe even a little bit about what it takes to turn a bunch of houses into a
real community," he said. "You kids…you're a whole other kettle of
fish."
"Well, I have faith that you'll figure it out," she told him.
To her surprise, she wasn't just saying the words he wanted—or needed—to hear.
She meant every one of them. Her dad, the man she'd idolized as a little girl,
was really trying to find his way back to his family.

*
* *

On Monday Trace once again cajoled Laila into coming into
his office to pick up the folders scheduled for review by the loan committee on
Tuesday. To his relief, though not his surprise, she didn't put up much of a
fight.
"Have you looked at these?" she asked, tucking the folders into her
briefcase.
"Nah," he said. "I can't be at tomorrow's meeting. You'll have
to do the report again."
His sister frowned at him. "You're not even trying to be sneaky about this
anymore, are you?"
"What's the point? You know what I'm up to. Dad knows it. So does Raymond,
for that matter. Since everything's out in the open anyway, why should I bother
with pretense?"
Laila sat down in the chair opposite him. "Do you really think this is
going to work?"
He shrugged. "Eventually. Dad's stubborn. He's not stupid. You're the
future of this bank, not me."
"And you have absolutely no regrets or second thoughts about that?"
she asked.
"None. This spot is rightfully yours, Laila. I have a career."
"One that will allow you to go back to New York to be with Abby," she
guessed.
"That's one possibility," he admitted.
Laila frowned. "Trace, she doesn't want to live here. You know that."
"Things change," he said, hoping he was right about that. If it came
down to it, he would return to New York, but he hoped Abby could be convinced
that their future was right here in the town her father had built, where her family
had roots going back a couple of generations. To him that meant something. He
hoped it did to her, too.
In fact, he was suddenly hit by exactly the thing that might convince her.
"I've got to go somewhere," he said, jumping up and snatching his
jacket off the back of the chair. "Hold the fort. Look over those folders
here, if you want to." He grinned. "Get the feel of what's going to
be your office one of these days."
Laila shook her head and followed him out the door. "I think I'll hold off
on getting too far ahead of myself. Dad has to be the one to tell me that
office is mine."
Outside, Trace gave his sister a quick kiss on the cheek. "He'll come
around," he promised. "Just do the job the way I know you can. He
won't be able to deny what's right in front of his face."
Laila didn't look convinced. "We're talking about Dad. He wasn't entirely
willing to believe I'd graduated with honors from the master's program at the
Wharton School of Business until he held the diploma in his hand."
"Like I said, he's stubborn as a mule, but all he really wants is for the
bank to be in good hands once he retires. Those are your hands, sis. No
question about it."
She blinked back tears. "Do you have any idea how much your faith in me
means?"
He winked at her. "Some." They'd spent a lifetime being there for
each other. He'd gotten his share of support and motivation from her,
especially after Abby had taken off. "Go, get to work. Prove Dad wrong and
me right." He grinned. "For once."
"And where are you going?"
"Secret mission," he told her.
And, if he handled this just right, it would ensure the future he wanted for
himself.

21

W
ith
Gram teaching the girls the basics of gardening, Abby arrived at the inn just
in time to see another delivery truck pulling out of the driveway, this one
from a carpet company. Her temper shot into the stratosphere.
She and Jess had had a discussion about new carpet. It, like the stove, was an
expense they couldn't handle right now. She thought she'd made that clear. That
meant that Jess was deliberately defying her, probably in retaliation for not
being allowed to keep the stove.
As tempted as she was to bolt straight inside and have yet another knock-down,
drag-out fight with Jess, she simply couldn't do it. She couldn't face her
right now when she was so furious she wanted to shake some sense into her. She
turned on her heel and headed to the beach. Maybe a brisk walk would be enough
to calm her down so they could have a rational discussion about this latest
unauthorized purchase.
Or not.
The day had dawned sunny and clear with the June temperature already hovering
in the midseventies. It was heading for the high eighties by afternoon. The air
was already thick with humidity, as well, but there was a breeze along the
shore.
With the wind blowing in her face and the smell of salt and seaweed in the air,
Abby felt her sense of peace returning. When she came to a sun-kissed boulder
that had been smoothed over by the waves at high tide, she climbed up and sat
down, drawing her knees up to her chest in the position she'd always favored
for thinking when she was a girl. She rubbed her fingers over the boulder,
letting its warmth seep into her.
One of the things the sea had always done for her—whether river, ocean or her
beloved Chesapeake Bay—was to put things in perspective. The reminder that this
huge rock, the beach, the waters of the bay had all been here for far longer
than she or anyone she knew had been alive gave her a sense of the continuity
of this place. It would be here, just like this, long after she was gone,
assuming careless or greedy people didn't plunder it with treatment that killed
the sea life, destroyed the habitat of so many birds and shifted the delicate
ecological balance beyond repair. Just the thought of that made her feel
physically ill. It was one reason she was so grateful to her uncle for the
fight he waged on a daily basis to preserve it.
Since there was only so much she could do herself about the unwitting
destruction of such a unique setting, she focused on the other problem that was
paramount in her life: Jess. How could she make her sister see with total
clarity that she was creating a precarious financial mess for herself? She'd
seen it in black and white. She was on notice from the bank. Abby had told her
the situation she was facing.
And yet Jess continued to make these impetuous purchases, blindly determined to
have what she wanted when she wanted it. Was Abby really doing her any favors
by fighting her on any of it? Would it be better to let her flounder,
destroying the inn's chances of succeeding, ruining her dream?
No, she thought at once. She simply couldn't let that happen. It was out of the
question. Tough love might make sense in some situations, but not this one. The
stakes were too high. Which meant somehow getting through to Jess. She sighed.
Was that even possible anymore? Jess was beyond listening to anything she said.
Maybe it would be smarter to let Trace put Laila or almost anyone else in
charge.
Abby let that thought simmer as she absorbed the sun's heat and let the soft
splash of the waves soothe her. In the end, though, she knew she couldn't let
anyone else step in, not without making one more attempt to get this right
herself. She owed that not to the grown-up Jess, but to the little girl who'd
spent way too many years blaming herself because their mother was gone.
Maybe it wasn't Abby's obligation to make that up to her, but she'd taken it on
years ago. She had to follow through now, acting on those same maternal
instincts that were a thousand times stronger now that she had Carrie and
Caitlyn in her life. It had been pure instinct years ago with Jess, but now it
was a way of life.
Rising slowly, her mind made up, she brushed the sand from the top of the
boulder off her legs, then started back toward the inn. Despite the heat, the
sand at the edge of the water was still cool between her toes, the water cooler
still. She felt refreshed and at ease with her decision by the time she made
her way back to the inn across the wide expanse of lawn.
And maybe it would have stayed that way if she hadn't walked in and practically
stumbled over a half dozen or so rolls of carpet still sitting in the foyer.
With that reminder of Jess's latest folly, most of her good intentions shot
right out the window.