The Inn at Eagle Point (7 page)

*
* *

Outside the bank, Jess stood on the sidewalk, trembling. She
whirled on her sister.
"What the hell just happened in there? I thought you were on my
side."
"Of course I'm on your side," Abby said, looking genuinely bewildered
by Jess's attack. "This was all about keeping you from losing the
inn."
"I might as well have lost it," Jess snapped. "He's put you in
charge. Way to go, sis!"
Abby frowned. "Jess, calm down. Let's go to Sally's for a cup of coffee
and talk about this. We need to plan our strategy."
"Strategy for what? Getting your name on the deed?"
"Jess!"
There was a flash of hurt in Abby's eyes, but Jess didn't feel like relenting.
She was spitting mad and she needed someone to take it out on. Her sister was
the most obvious choice, since Jess couldn't go back inside the bank and start
pummeling Trace. Even in her fury, she knew that would be counterproductive.
"I should have let Mick handle it," she said. "He'd have made a
couple of calls and the bank would have backed down. I might have had to listen
to his I-told-you-so's from here to eternity, but that would have been better
than being stabbed in the back by you."
Temper flared in Abby's eyes, and Jess knew at once she'd gone too far.
"That's it," Abby said, her tone icy. "I came down here because
you asked me to. I didn't create this mess, but I found a way out of it. I
convinced Trace to go along with it, so you could keep the inn." Her scowl
deepened. "And now you want to blame me because Trace put a condition on
his terms for not foreclosing? Did you hear me ask for this? Didn't you hear me
tell him no? Do you honestly think I want to be tied to Chesapeake Shores for
who knows how long, when my life is in New York?" She shook her head.
"It really is true—no good deed goes unpunished."
With that, she turned and walked away. Guilt flooded through Jess. Abby was
right. She hadn't asked for this outcome. And maybe, just maybe, if Jess hadn't
kept the fact that she was going to be dealing with Trace from her, Abby would
have expected something like this and could have come up with a different
strategy. As it was, she'd been blindsided, exactly as she'd warned Jess she
didn't want to be. And Trace had clearly gone back on his promise not to let
his personal feelings interfere with the bank's decision. No way had this been
about anything except getting even, forcing Abby to remain in contact with him,
just so he could…What? Humiliate her? Date her? She hadn't figured that part
out yet.
Jess drew in a deep breath, then ran after her sister. "Abby, wait!"
Abby didn't even slow down. In fact, she was in such a fit of temper that she'd
just stormed right past her rental car. Jess finally caught up with her in the
next block.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It wasn't your fault. I know that. He
just made me so furious."
"Join the club," Abby said dryly. "Why didn't you tell me Trace
was working at the bank and that he was involved in this? You knew, didn't
you?"
"Not when I called you," Jess swore to her. "He hasn't lived
here in years. Right before you got here, he came by the inn to look things
over. That's the first I knew about him being back in town, much less working
at the bank. I was afraid if you knew, you'd bail on me."
Abby lifted a brow. "Don't you know me better than that?"
"I had no idea how deep the bad blood ran between the two of you. You
never said why you broke up with him. Everyone in town knew you broke his
heart. What no one seemed to know was why, or if maybe he'd broken yours, too.
You never wanted to talk about it. Remember, I asked about a million times
until you told me if I mentioned him one more time you were going to stop
calling home?"
"You really were a pest," Abby said, but her lips quirked at the
reminder. "Okay, I suppose I understand why you didn't want to tell me I'd
be dealing with a man I'd dumped."
"Let's not forget that I did try to tell you," Jess reminded her.
"Dad arrived home, remember?"
Abby nodded. "I remember."
Jess extended an olive branch. "Want to go have that coffee, after all?
I'll treat."
"With what?" Abby retorted. "Every penny you possess has to go
into the inn. I'll treat."
Jess grinned. "Fine by me, but just so you know I'm ordering two eggs,
bacon and waffles, too. My stomach was too queasy for me to eat breakfast
before the meeting. Now the whole infuriating discussion has left me famished.
How about you?"
"If Sally served liquor, I'd have a double shot of something, but since
she doesn't, waffles sound good," Abby replied.
They were silent until they got to the café in the next block. When Abby
reached out to open the door, Jess put her hand on top of her sister's, then
waited until Abby met her gaze. "I really am sorry for what I said."
Abby sighed. "I know."
Jess studied her sister, then grinned. "Bet I know something you
don't
know."
"What's that?"
"Trace Riley still has the hots for you."
"You're crazy."
Jess shook her head. "Know something else? I'm almost a hundred percent
certain it works both ways."
Abby drew herself up until her back was ramrod-straight, her expression regal
and dismissive. "You could not be more wrong."
Jess wasn't impressed by her sister's performance. "We'll see."
In fact, watching the two of them trying to deny what was obvious to any
observer, might be just about the only amusing part of this entire messed-up
situation.

*
* *

Abby was in no mood for the interrogation that awaited her
at home. Gram and Mick were going to insist on hearing every detail about the
meeting, and she wasn't sure she had the stomach for filling them in. Of
course, it had occurred to her more than once that one sure way of extricating
herself from the situation would be to let her father step in. Even Jess had
mentioned that possibility, though she'd looked thoroughly defeated when she'd
said it. Abby had known right then that she couldn't do it.
When she got to the house, she found Mick on the porch looking more frazzled than
she could ever recall seeing him. There were unidentifiable stains on his
shirt, his complexion was pale and he was leaning over the railing drawing in
deep breaths.
"Dad?" she asked, alarmed. "Are you okay?"
Color flooded his cheeks.
"Dad, talk to me. What's wrong?"
"With me? Nothing. It's the girls. Both of them started complaining of
headaches and looked glassy-eyed right after you left here this morning. I
figured they didn't get enough sleep last night, but your grandmother seems to
think they both have the measles. She said you didn't get them
vaccinated."
"That's right—at the time the thinking was that the MMR vaccine might
overwhelm an immature immune system, and there was even a theory it caused
autism. I didn't want to take the risk. How are they now?"
"They're asleep, so I came out here for a couple of minutes."
"You probably ought to shower and change your clothes," she said,
astounded by the obvious signs that he'd pitched in and helped. "I'll go
up and take over from Gram. I'm sure she could use a break, too. I wish you'd
called me."
"We agreed that the meeting at the bank was too important to be
interrupted. Besides, we've both had plenty of experience with sick kids
before. They weren't in any danger," he said defensively.
"I know that. Thanks for taking care of them."
"Part of the job," he said with a shrug. "You want to tell me
how the meeting went?"
"I really want to check on the girls first."
He nodded. "Of course you do. You need anything, holler."
Inside, she was on her way upstairs when she met her grandmother coming down.
"I'm so sorry you had to deal with all this. If I'd had any idea they'd
even been exposed to measles, I wouldn't have brought them down here to
visit."
"Pretty hard to keep children from getting sick when they're around other
kids. Tricky with two of them, especially. It's a good thing your father was
here. Did you see him?"
"He's on the porch. I think seeing them sick rattled him more than he
wants to let on."
"No one wants to see someone they love in pain," Gram said.
"Your father's no tougher than the rest of us on that score."
"Well, as soon as I've looked in on the girls, I'll come down and make you
both some lunch or some tea, whatever you want."
Upstairs, she changed quickly into shorts and a blouse, then slipped into
Connor's old room and noted the pile of dirty sheets beside the door. She'd
take those downstairs with her and get them into the washer. Kneeling between
the twin beds, she was able to put a hand on each girl's forehead. They were feverish,
but not burning up. For the moment, they seemed to be resting comfortably,
oblivious to the itching that was bound to set in soon given the spreading rash
on their skin.
"Love you, babies," she whispered, then rose and picked up the sheets
and took them down to the laundry room off the kitchen. Gram was sitting at the
kitchen table with a cup of tea, Mick across from her with a beer.
"They okay?" her father asked, his gaze filled with real concern.
"Sound asleep," she said. "How about lunch? Have either of you
eaten?"
"I could eat a sandwich," Mick replied. "Ma, what about
you?"
"Maybe some of that potato soup I made yesterday," she said. She
started to stand up.
"Sit," Abby ordered. "I can fix a sandwich and warm up some
soup. Dad, you want soup, too?"
"Sounds good. What about you?"
"Jess and I ate a late breakfast at Sally's after our meeting at the
bank," she said, deliberately keeping her back to them as she prepared the
meal. She was hoping that would discourage more questions, but of course, it
didn't.
Once she'd served them, she sat at the table with her own cup of tea.
"Okay, here's where things stand," she said, summarizing what had
happened at the meeting.
Mick looked increasingly agitated. When she finished, he was on his feet and
reaching for the phone. "I'll put an end to this right now."
Abby grabbed the phone from him. "No, Dad, leave it alone. Trace will get
the bank to back off. They won't foreclose."
"And you're willing to stick around here the way he wants you to?" he
demanded.
"I'll call my boss and work something out. A lot of what I do can be
handled online and by phone or fax. Once Trace has had time to think about it,
he'll see how absurd he's being."
"Not if it's his way of keeping you underfoot," Gram said, her expression
knowing.
"What are you talking about?" Mick asked.
"Oh, for goodness' sakes, Mick, Trace always did have a soft spot for
Abby. Surely you remember the way he was always hanging around here? It wasn't
just to play catch with Kevin and Connor, I can tell you that." Her gaze
met Abby's. "Maybe his feelings for you ran deeper than you ever said, am
I right? I always had the feeling something happened between the two of you
before you took off for New York."
Mick looked confused. "So what then? He's blackmailing her into staying
here?"
"Don't make it sound ugly, Mick," Gram chastised. "Men in love
will do a lot of crazy things to get their way."
"Trace is not in love with me," Abby protested. "Come on, Gram,
we're focusing on the wrong thing here. All that matters is helping Jess keep
the inn."
Now it was Mick's turn to give her a considering look. "If that's the only
thing that matters, then why not let me call Lawrence Riley? Is it because
you're happy with this turn of events?"
Abby frowned. "Of course I'm not happy with it, but I can handle it. I can
handle Trace."
"Doesn't look that way from where I'm sitting," Gram said, though she
seemed surprisingly pleased about it. "If you handled that man all that
well, he wouldn't still be carrying a torch for you ten years later."
"Will you stop it?" Abby pleaded. "I'm going upstairs to check
on the girls. Then I'm going to call the office and tell them I'll need to work
from here for a few more days until I can get all this sorted out."
She hadn't gone far when she heard her father say, "Abby and Trace Riley?
Why didn't I know about that?"
"Because you weren't around," Gram replied. "And you never
listened to half of what I told you, especially if it concerned your daughters'
love lives. If it had been up to you, none of them would have gone on a date
before they hit thirty."
"You say that as if it would have been a bad thing," he grumbled.
Abby sighed. At least her father wasn't trying to interfere in Jess's business
for the moment. Apparently he'd suddenly discovered that her life was a lot
more fascinating. Unfortunately, who knew where that could lead? To nothing
good, that's for sure. The only thing worse than having a disengaged father was
having one who meddled.

5

M
ick
stood up from the kitchen table, his mind made up. He couldn't sit on the
sidelines and let Trace Riley manipulate things in a way that was bound to
cause problems between his daughters. He didn't care what Abby said about it.
"Where are you going?" his mother asked suspiciously.
"Thought I'd take a drive," he said evasively.
"Into town?"
"Possibly. Is that a crime?"
"It is if you're thinking of stopping at the bank. You heard Abby. She'll
work this out."
He regarded her with frustration. "Ma, how can I let Trace Riley get away
with this? You know how it's going to end. Jess will wind up resenting Abby the
same way she'd resent me for interfering. I'm used to it. I can live with
Jess's anger and with Abby's, for that matter, but I don't want anything to
come between those girls. Abby's always looked after Jess, and Jess has always
turned to her big sister. The bond those two share shouldn't be risked over a
couple of loans I could guarantee with the stroke of a pen."
"Leave it alone, Mick. They'll figure things out for themselves," his
mother said confidently. "You said it yourself, those two have always
stuck together. There's no point in making things worse between you and Jess,
which is exactly what would happen if you step in and try to fix things at the bank.
Abby probably wouldn't be happy about it, either."
"You're asking me to sit back and do nothing," he grumbled.
"That's not my nature."
She gave him a chiding look. "Did I ask you to do nothing? Seems to me
that a man who's feeling restless could use a walk," she said, her
expression sly. "The inn's only about a mile away. It wouldn't hurt to ask
your daughter to give you a tour, show you all the improvements she's
made."
Mick considered the idea. He had to admit he was curious about the work Jess
was doing. Finally, though, he shook his head. "She'll just think I'm over
there spying on her."
"Or maybe she'll think you're taking an interest in something that really
matters to her. Just keep your opinions to yourself unless she asks for
them." When he was about to reply, she held up a hand. "I know that
goes against your nature, too, but for once just listen to me and follow my
advice. I didn't spend twenty-five years married to the world's most stubborn
man and raise three impossible boys without learning a thing or two about
biding my time."
"Take a walk. Tour the inn. Keep my mouth shut," he mimicked.
"Do I have that right?"
She gave him a satisfied smile. "I think that sums it up. I'm going up to
take a nap. I hate to admit it, but taking care of those girls this morning
just about wore me out."
Mick regarded her with concern. "Are you okay? Should I call your
doctor?"
"Heavens, no. I'm just a little tired. Spend the afternoon with Jess.
That's where you're needed."
"Okay, then," he said, bending down to press a kiss to her brow.
"If you need anything, or the girls do, I'll have my cell phone with
me."
"We'll be fine. Just focus on mending fences with Jess."
There was a breeze blowing in off the bay as he set out on his walk. It kept
the air cool, despite the warmth of the sun. Since it was a weekday there were
only a handful of pleasure boats bobbing on the water. He spotted a couple of
watermen checking their crab pots for needed repairs, but most of them had
returned to dock by this time of the day, especially this early in the season.
In another few weeks, they'd be out before dawn, chugging along, trying to make
a living from the dwindling supply of crabs, croakers and rockfish in these
beautiful but increasingly polluted waters.
It made him sick the way people took the bay for granted. Thank God for people
like his brother Thomas. They might have mixed like oil and water when they'd
tried to work together, but Mick admired the way Tom fought for the
environment, trying to protect the bay's natural resources. Mick had tried to
build Chesapeake Shores responsibly, but even with all of his best efforts, he
hadn't been able to meet his brother's high standards. And neither of them had
been much good at compromise, though eventually they'd hammered out a plan they
could both live with.
He'd left more open spaces than he'd initially planned, steered well away from
the wetlands and tried not to remove any trees that didn't absolutely have to
go. He'd landscaped with plants from a very specific list his brother had
compiled for him. If Tom had had his way, not a single tree would have been
felled and the dilapidated general store once owned by some O'Brien ancestor or
another would have become the centerpiece of downtown. Mick had agreed to
renovate the family's original farmhouse and to save an old structure that had
doubled as a school and church, but that's where he'd drawn the line.
He was still thinking of the lively shouting matches they'd had over all that
when he rounded the final curve in the road and saw the inn for the first time
since Jess had bought it. He was taken aback by how good it looked. She'd
brought back its inviting facade, almost as if she remembered how welcoming it
had originally looked when he and Jeff had first built it. But Jess had only
been a baby back then. How had she remembered it so clearly? The Pattersons
certainly hadn't kept it looking like that in years. The yard was shaded by
ancient oaks, and there were even a few weeping willows far enough from the
house that they wouldn't mess with the water pipes. The inn had gotten its name
from a lone eagle that his brother had spotted during construction. Since then,
there were more in the region, including a pair that took up residence in the
highest branches overlooking the bay and the inn.
"Dad!"
He heard the surprise in Jess's voice, then spotted her sitting on the porch
with a glass of iced tea, her bare feet propped up on the railing. "Hey,
Jess," he greeted her, trying to keep his tone casual. "I was out for
a walk after lunch and found myself heading in this direction."
"Why?" she asked, radiating suspicion.
"I just wanted to see what you've done with the place," he admitted,
sitting down next to her. He glanced sideways, saw the tension in her shoulders
and inquired, "Any more of that tea?"
She hesitated, looking as if she weren't all that happy about the prospect of
spending time with him. Then she stood, ingrained hospitality winning out over
her reservations. "Sure. I'll be right back with some."
Mick sighed after she'd gone. She wasn't going to make this easy for him, he
concluded. Then, again, why should she? Ma was right about one thing. He'd
always criticized her. Early on, he'd excused it, thinking he'd been as tough
on all his kids. But then, when they'd found out that Jess had a relatively
mild case of ADD, he hadn't been able to stop himself from continuing with the
same pattern, as if he'd thought she could change her behavior if she wanted to
badly enough, even without the medication that doctors thought she probably
didn't need. Mick sighed, wondering if they shouldn't have revisited that.
Maybe she
had
needed it.
Because he'd recognized that his attitude wasn't helping, he'd always assumed
she was probably happier when he was away, but maybe that hadn't been true.
Maybe she'd felt abandoned, just as his mother had suggested. He vowed to try a
different approach.
When Jess returned with his glass of tea, he lifted it in a toast.
"Congratulations, Jess! You've done a fine job here. It hasn't looked this
good since the day Jeff and I sold it to the Pattersons."
"They really did let it fall apart," she said. "But thanks to
you, it had good bones. Most of what I've had to do is cosmetic."
"I'd like to see what you've done inside, if you have time to show me
around."
She looked surprised by that. "Really?"
"Why not? I'm here. Unless you don't have time."
"No, come on," she said, though she seemed to be struggling to
balance her eagerness to show off what she'd accomplished with her fear of his
reaction. "I can at least take time for the fifty-cent tour."
Mick followed her inside, reminding himself to keep all of his comments
positive and superficial, no matter how badly he wanted to give advice. By the
time they'd reached the third floor, though, he realized that his mental
warning had been unnecessary. She was doing a great job without any input from
him. She had her uncle Jeff's intuitive sense of style. Mick could design a
structure that would last, a development that could become a community, but it
was Jeff who'd given each home its individual character.
"I'm impressed," he said when they'd toured all of the rooms,
including the kitchen where every stainless-steel surface gleamed. The old
appliances looked a little timeworn by contrast. "You really do have a knack
for this, Jess."
To his surprise, she blinked back tears. "Thanks," she murmured, then
turned away, busying herself by pouring more tea.
He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm really proud of you."
She turned slowly, her eyes welling up with tears. "You've never, ever
said that to me before."
"Of course—"
Her jaw set stubbornly. "No, Dad, you haven't."
"Then I'm sorry. This is certainly not the first time it's been
true."
The smile that broke slowly across her face made his heart ache. How had he not
seen how much she needed a simple thing like him voicing his approval? He vowed
to be more generous with his praise. Right now, though, he had another issue
that needed to be dealt with, and he was wise enough to know he had to tread
cautiously, even if that wasn't his usual blunt style. Still, he hesitated
about bringing up the meeting at the bank and ruining this moment of
hard-earned peace with his youngest child.
In the end, because the outcome of that meeting still stuck in his craw, he
couldn't stop himself. "Jess, how do you feel about what happened at the
bank?"
She frowned and backed away, ending their rapport and literally putting
distance back between them. "I'm not happy about it, but I guess I see
Trace's point. Abby's better at finances than I am, and it's not like she's
going to take the inn away from me. She'll just stay involved until I'm on a
solid financial footing." She met his gaze, worry in her eyes. "Why?
Did she say something? She's not going to back out, is she?"
"No, she's determined to see this through. I just wanted to be sure it
wasn't going to cause problems between you, because I could call Lawrence Riley
and put an end to Trace's plan."
"How?"
"I'll cosign your notes."
"Absolutely not," she said at once. "I don't want you to bail me
out."
"It wouldn't be a bailout. It would just make me your backup, so your
sister could get back to her life. It's my signature on a few papers. That's
it."
She gave him a wry look. "That wouldn't be it, Dad, and you know it. You'd
think your signature entitled you to make a few suggestions and the next thing
you know you'd be running things."
"I won't even be around," he protested. "I'll be heading back to
California in a few more days. Come on, Jess. Let me do this for you."
"Why are you pushing so hard for this?"
"Because you're my daughter. I want to help out with something that
matters to you. You've finally found the one thing you really seem to care
about. I don't want that taken away from you."
"Abby will see to that, Dad. She's always been there for me. And having
her here again, that'll be great for both of us. Maybe she'll actually learn
how to relax. And it's going to be wonderful for Caitlyn and Carrie, too. This
will be a win-win, Dad. I'm sure of it."
He sighed. "I hope so."
"Look, I appreciate the offer. I really do, but it's better this way. Abby
won't boss me around."
Mick gave her a disbelieving look. "Have you met your sister? She grew up
bossing people around."
Jess laughed. "True, but she doesn't scare me."
"And I do?"
"More than you know," she admitted.
That was another thing he'd have to live with and figure out how to change.
"Okay, then, I'll back off," he said, brushing a strand of hair back
from her cheek. "But if things get tense between you two, remember that
the offer's on the table. I don't want anything to come between you and Abby,
okay? Promise me you'll call me if you think that could happen."
"I will," she said. "I'm glad you came by."
"Me, too. Is there anything else I can do for you? I'm still halfway
decent with a paintbrush. I could help with the last of those rooms
upstairs."
He saw her struggling with herself. She was too bloody stubborn to admit she
could use any help at all, even from him. Maybe
especially
from him. He
leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Never mind. I know you want to do every
single thing yourself. But that offer's on the table, too, if you change your
mind."
"Thanks for understanding, Dad." To his surprise, she stood on tiptoe
and kissed him. "Love you."
"Right back at you," he said. "You coming over for dinner
tonight?"
"I might."
"I should warn you that Caitlyn and Carrie have the measles."
"Oh, my gosh, Abby must be beside herself."
"She has Gram and me for backup."
"Then you all have more than enough to do. I'll skip dinner, but call me
if any of you need anything."
"Right," he said. He was halfway down the walk when he called back,
"By the way, I noticed that rhododendron in back of the porch could use
trimming."
To his surprise, Jess laughed. "I knew it. I knew you couldn't get away
from here without finding at least one thing to criticize."
He silently cursed himself for speaking up. He tried to brush off the comment.
"Hey, it's only a bush. No big deal."
Jess shook her head, her lips still twitching with amusement. "If you want
to, bring your clippers over tomorrow and trim it yourself."
It was part invitation, part challenge, but Mick felt as if his daughter had
just opened the door a tiny crack to a real relationship. Now he just had to
wiggle through without causing a ruckus that would send them back to square
one.