The Red Door Inn (18 page)

Even though, of course, he did.

He just shouldn't have made her think he was going to act on it.

As he wrestled the new shelves into place—alone in what should definitely have been a two-person job—he played the
scene over and over in his mind. And every time he reached the same conclusion. He wanted to protect her, but he'd added to her pain in order to guard Jack. He wanted to make her happy, but he couldn't do that and watch Jack's back.

He leaned against the wall and scrubbed his face with an open palm.

It smelled like her lotion.

If that was all he could think about, the shelves were going to go in crooked, and he was going to smash his thumb with a hammer. He probably deserved it.

Marie avoided Seth the rest of the day, which wasn't too difficult. He was dodging her too. When she was potting a plant in the mudroom, he'd walked in the back door. His eyes had blazed with something she couldn't name. He'd immediately turned around, the door slamming behind him.

Jack was picking up on the tension.

“You kids okay?” he said as he forked a bite of Aretha's leftover roast beef into his mouth that evening. His gaze went to Marie across from him then to Seth on his other side. “Haven't said more than three words between the two of you.”

Marie nodded, unable to look in Seth's direction without her face bursting into flames. Her hand still tingled where his calluses had brushed her palm. And every time she closed her eyes, she could feel his finger tracing the edge of her face, smell the coffee he'd sipped that morning.

She couldn't close her eyes without her body reacting to those memories.

Just being in the same room set her skin tingling and her
head spinning. It wasn't the familiar feeling of one of her attacks. This was different, painful on a deeper level.

She hadn't thought of her first kiss post-Derek. She hadn't considered anything about it, really. But whatever hopes and dreams had worked their way into her subconscious, they didn't involve being snubbed.

Or the awkwardness after.

She hadn't known what to say after kissing her first boyfriend in high school. He hadn't either. So they'd sat in silence for ten long minutes before running their separate ways to first-period classes on opposite sides of campus.

This thing with Seth was so much worse.

She couldn't just run away to the other side of campus.

But she could go.

Snapping her head up, she stared at Jack, who had given up on getting a response to his question. Could she leave him? Could she go now and save them all this horrible discomfort? It would save both Jack and Seth the distress of her father's imminent arrival, and Jack the task of sending her on her way when the chef arrived.

Her stomach lurched, and she set her fork on her plate next to a lump of barely tasted beef and two potato halves.

“Getting cold out there today.” Jack chewed another piece of meat. “Good thing we haven't put the flowers in yet.”

“You think it'll freeze tonight?” Seth sucked on the tip of his thumb, the nail newly black and blue. He cleared his throat loudly, giving a valiant effort to engage Jack. “Father Chuck didn't seem to think it would get that cold.”

Jack shrugged. “Don't know. The weatherman said we're in for a cold one. Some front coming off the Atlantic. Supposed to hit Nova Scotia and PEI pretty hard.”

Marie tuned their words out, thinking about what she would need to do before taking off. She'd have to wait until they were both asleep, or they'd try to stop her. If she left about the same time as her typical morning run, they wouldn't think anything was out of the norm. Then she'd have a couple hours to get to her next stop. But where was that? Someplace with a bus or a cab.

A city big enough that she could blend in.

On the island, Charlottetown and Summerside were her only options. And Summerside was well out of the way of anywhere.

She'd take her backpack and as much as she could stuff in it. Jack had insisted on buying her jeans to replace the ones speckled with paint. She could leave the old pairs behind.

Moving through North Rustico would be no problem that early in the morning. With only the cows for company, she could probably make it to Rusticoville before dawn. From there she might be able to hitchhike south.

As her plan formed piece by piece, she steeled herself against having to say goodbye. Even to Seth. But it was time. The right time. They'd make do without her. All the paint for the exterior and what was left to do in the interior had been purchased. The room of antiques was nearly overflowing, and linens had been picked out and paid for.

There were still plenty of finishing touches to put on the house—including painting the front door red. But they'd be all right without her.

And with one less salary and mouth to feed, Jack could put his money where it needed to go.

She chanted those words to herself as she washed up their dinner dishes and wiped down the counter for the last time.

“Going to hit the sack early,” Jack said, handing her a plate. “Been a long day.”

“Sure.” She took the plate and dunked it in the sudsy water, swallowing the lump in her throat. The back of her eyes burned and her voice cracked. “Sleep well.”

He nodded and shuffled toward the door, and her heart seized. She'd never see him again, this man who'd cared for her better than any other man had ever tried to. Blinking against streaming eyes, she swiped her arm across her face.

She couldn't let him walk out of the room without a goodbye.

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

He stopped halfway across the room, his white hair ruffled and his dear face sagging under the worries of the inn.

With hands still dripping wet, she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tight. Both of his arms stayed at his side for several long seconds as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Stiff and slow, he reached around her and patted her back with solid thumps. “Everything all right?”

She sniffed, blinking hard against the rush of tears. “Yes. Everything's going to be fine.”

He leaned away, looking directly into her eyes. “Is this about Seth?”

Clamping her lips together to keep them from quivering, she shook her head.

His face pinched like he was eating a lemon as he asked, “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” The word floated on a chuckle as relief washed over his face.

“Then take care. Things will look better in the morning.”

She nodded, letting him go.

Releasing him from her hug was a lot easier than letting him go completely. Her tears were just as troublesome as she packed her bag later, stuffing each corner until the zipper strained to close.

And then she waited.

Knees tucked under her chin. Arms wrapped around her legs. Head bent until she nearly disappeared.

She knuckled away the tears again, but one slipped through, making its way along her nose before dripping off the tip. The mark that it left on the top of her shoe taunted her. But she was making the right decision. This was the best time to leave. Jack would save money. Seth would be saved any lingering embarrassment.

And she would be saved a further broken heart.

The hours dragged on, marked only by her occasional sniffles and shivers. In her basement the temperature dropped until she had to get up and move or risk freezing in place.

The alarm clock glared 4:26. As good a time as any to find her next step.

She slipped up the stairs, skipping the squeaking board, and waited on the landing. Silence filled the hallway to Jack's and Seth's rooms, but somewhere near the dining room the old house groaned.

Marie patted the kitchen door as she crept through the darkness. “I don't like the cold either.” The words were more breath than sound, but the old home whined in response. Her outstretched hands brushed the counter on her way to the mudroom.

A sound like a wrench hitting a pipe made her jump, and
she stared hard into the darkness. But there was no one there. She held her breath, waiting for any sound from down the hallway. Jack and Seth hadn't woken up, so she twisted the door handle. But when she picked up her foot, her shoe was heavy and wet.

She flicked the light switch, blinded for a moment before she could make out the deluge from beneath the kitchen sink.

S
eth jerked from a deep sleep at the sound of Marie screaming his name. Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he rolled out of bed. As he stood, the world tilted, and he grabbed at the wall to hold it still. He yanked a T-shirt over his head and shoved his arms through the sleeves as he slammed into the door. Shaking his head, he grabbed the handle again and got it far enough open to barrel down the hall.

“Seth! Jack!” Marie's pitch rose, the words steeped in panic. “Help!”

The hardwood floor shot ice through his bare feet, but he didn't slow down as he neared the sound of her voice, which was coming from the kitchen.

In the dark, he ran into one of the new dining room tables, grunting as the corner branded his thigh. “I'm coming. What's wrong?”

Light beneath the swinging door shimmered, dancing like a swaying chandelier.

Barging in, he nearly tripped over Marie on all fours,
sopping towels in her hands. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes matching the ever-growing flood.

The wooden cabinets were already waterlogged, and the water would reach the appliances if he didn't get it turned off. There wasn't time to check if the water was coming from directly under the sink or spurting from somewhere within the wall. He had to get the main water valve shut off.

Jumping over Marie, he raced through the mudroom and sailed down the back stairs. Frozen grass crunched under his feet, and he tried not to think about the searing pain in his bare toes. He raced around the side of the house to the hidden knob next to the spigot. By the time he reached it, his fingers were so numb he could barely grip it enough to turn it off.

“Come on. Come on.” His words rose in puffs of white, chills making his hands shake. The main line refused to turn, and he looked around for anything to give him enough leverage to close it. “God, a little help here?”

There. A trowel that Marie had been using to prepare the flower beds. He snatched it up and pressed the blade into a rivet on the handle, cranking it hard.

Once it was moving, Seth turned it the rest of the way, breathing a prayer of thanks that he'd found just what he needed. Now to find out how much damage had been done.

As he bounded back into the kitchen, Jack grunted at him from the floor beside Marie. Bags hung beneath his eyes, and his hair was a mess. But he looked almost like a child wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe.

“I'm going to turn on a faucet to empty the pipe faster.” Seth slipped as he hurried past Marie and caught himself on the door. His trail to the bathroom was marked by wet
footprints, and as he reached the warmest part of the house, the shivers settled in.

He fought them as he ran the shower and the faucet full blast and scooped every towel he could find from the linen closet. His hands trembled as he entered the kitchen, but at least the rush of water from the blown pipe had slowed to a trickle.

From her knees Marie pulled two dry towels from him and added them to her terrycloth fortress in front of the refrigerator. He tossed one to Jack, who snatched it out of the air.

“Seth?” He turned toward Marie, her tone a warm coat to his freezing body. “You're shivering. Go put on something warm and dry.”

He shook his head and pointed toward the backyard. “The wet/dry vac.” He swallowed the tremor in his voice and tried again. “Let me just help get this cleaned up.” He stepped around her, but his foot caught on a pink backpack. He shook it off, his brain trying to figure out why it was sitting there.

“Seth.” She stood. Placing her hand on his forearm, she nodded slowly. Where she touched him, his skin burned. She was nearly on fire. “You'll get sick if you don't take care of yourself.”

He blinked hard several times. Her words jumbled in his brain, and all he could focus on was the outline of her hand on his arm.

“Do what she says, boy.” Jack's words sounded like gravel scraping against gravel. “I'll get the vac.”

Seth scrunched his eyes closed, running a hand down his face, except he could only feel the touch on his cheeks. His nose and hand were too numb to register the contact.

Marie pointed to the pool and pulled the last two towels
from his grasp. “Look. It's not growing. You can go. We'll take care of it.”

He nodded and backed out of the room, following the trail of footprints past his room and down the stairs into Marie's apartment. There he found just what he feared, water dripping from the ceiling and down the side wall directly beneath the kitchen sink. The leak was somewhere in the wall behind the cabinets and leaving a trail of spongy drywall.

This could ruin Jack.

Marie wiped her forearm across her face, pushing her hair out of the way and leaning on the mop handle with the other arm. Jack had gotten most of the water with the vacuum but had taken it outside to empty it and call the insurance company, leaving her to touch up the trails from the towels.

As the sun rose, illuminating the room through the window over the sink, she bent over to wring the mop into the bucket. The water just kept coming up from the wooden floors—the pool was gone, but a water mark that spanned the entire width of the room remained.

She cried right along with the floorboards for all the work that had gone into the now-ruined room. She cried for the misery etched into every line of Jack's face as he paced, the phone pressed to his ear.

And she cried because it could have, would have, been so much worse.

If she'd left ten minutes earlier.

Jack took a deep breath from his spot along the far wall of the dining room, and she peeked at him through the open
door as her mop swung in his direction. “This is Jack Sloane. I need to make a claim.”

“He still on the phone?”

Seth's voice in her ear sent tremors to her toes, warming every inch of her. “Yes. He's been on hold for more than half an hour.”

Seth's frown pinched his features, wrinkling the straight line of his nose.

“What do you think they're going to say?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. They'll send an assessor to see how much damage has been done. But I don't know how fast they can get someone out here. I doubt the insurance company has a large office on the island.”

“How soon do you think they'd pay out his claim?”

Seth shook his head. “I don't know. But it might not be soon enough.”

He hadn't bothered to step back, and the warmth of his body called to her in the still-frigid morning. Or maybe it was the aching reality of the Red Door that made her teeth chatter. Either way, she stepped toward him, keeping her voice low as Jack continued his conversation. “Did you find any other frozen pipes?”

“No. Most of the pipes inside are insulated enough just by the house. And when the plumber and I put in new pipes in the bathrooms a few months back, we protected all the new ones along the outer walls.” He tugged at the cuffs of his sweatshirt and stared at Jack, following the older man's stilted movements with dogged determination. “There must have been a weak joint under the sink.” He clenched his hands into fists and shook his head, a low sigh escaping.

“You were working under the sink a few weeks ago. You don't think it was that pipe, do you?”

“I hope not.” When he looked at her for a moment, fear flashed in his eyes, sending a kick to her chest. Her breath disappeared at the pain in his features, her stomach tying itself into a knot.

She pressed her hand to his. “I'm sure it wasn't.”

“We'll find out as soon as the assessor gets here and we can dig around under there.” Uncertainty covered his words. If only there was something she could do to reassure him. Instead she could only distract him.

“Are you feeling warmer?”

His gaze jerked from following Jack's stilted paces to her face. Slowly it dropped to the space between them. Then her knees. Then their toes, which were almost touching. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

Pushing his shoulder, she laughed out loud. His chuckle mingled with hers, a welcome noise after four tense hours. Shivers completely unrelated to the cold ran down her spine.

She clung to that sensation, to the simple pleasure of his presence.

Jack trudged toward them, his footfalls painful to her ears. He cleared his throat, and Marie swallowed the lump that jumped into her own. “They're going to send out an assessor on Monday. Until then, we can't touch anything.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Her words came out more of a cry than a question, so she tried again. “What can we do until then?”

“Check for other damage. Get some fans blowing to dry out wet spots. Need to report all areas affected.” Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“I've checked the laundry area, bathrooms, and any place with pipes in the walls, but it wouldn't hurt to do another walk through,” Seth said.

“Good.” Jack's shoulders drooped. “And then we'll have to find a place to stay, I guess.”

Marie rubbed his shoulder with her free hand. “It'll be okay.”

He stared at her, and she knew the truth. She had no right to say such a thing. She'd made a promise that she couldn't keep. If the insurance company failed to give Jack the money he needed, he would have an inn he couldn't run and a loan he couldn't repay.

He needed money.

She had money. More than enough to save the Red Door. Nearly a quarter of a million.

Her mother's will had been generous and explicit. Marie was to get everything that Claudia Carrington had brought into the marriage.

But the strings attached to that money were too heavy.

Her father's name was on the bank account. And if she accessed that money in any way, he'd know. He'd track her down. His PI wouldn't need more than an hour to find her, even in North Rustico, Prince Edward Island—population 637 residents, one drifter, and a herd of cows.

Maybe the insurance company would come through with the money they needed in time.

Dear Lord, let them give Jack enough money.

Marie closed her eyes on the prayer, recognizing it for what it was. Her only hope.

“Check the back bedroom?” Jack pointed to her. He didn't expound on his direction, but their eyes grew wide at the same
moment. All of the antiques were in that room. Thousands of dollars' worth of furnishings and decorations would be ruined if a pipe had burst in there.

Her mop splashed into the half-full bucket of water as she slid it out of the way. She ran down the hall, her stomach somersaulting. She slammed the door open and dipped and jumped to get a look around the stacks and crates.

“How's it look?” Seth sounded close, probably investigating in his own bedroom.

“Good so far. I'm going to have to move some of these boxes to get a good look.”

“Need help?”

“I've got it.” There wasn't really room for more than one person at a time. Especially someone Seth's size. They'd have no choice but to touch. In spite of his flirtatious smile and her unruly butterflies, space was an appreciated commodity.

Especially if she didn't want to be rejected again.

After nearly two hours, she'd looked behind every crate and moved every antique until sweat poured down her back and her hands stuck to every piece. All of it was safe. The walls were solid and intact, the floors dry.

She took a breath, deep and filling. So unlike those first days on the island.

Setting down the last box, she surveyed the room. Like a white flag, the paper still in the typewriter caught her eye, and she slipped between the stacks to reach it. As she bent to pull the page free, she bumped the lid of another box, sending it skittering across the floor.

“Great,” she mumbled as she twisted to reach the errant piece of cardboard. Stretching her fingers until they couldn't reach any farther, she caught the edge of the lid and yanked
it back over the box. Before it fell into place, a flash of color caught her eye.

The black and white photograph of the Red Door before she had a name. But when she did have a crimson entrance.

A slow smile crept into place. Marie had almost forgotten about this second gift from Aretha. And she'd never shown it to Jack.

Too bad guests wouldn't be able to see how much work Jack and Seth had put into this home to make it shine even brighter than it had when it was first built. The original house should be on display.

An idea, complete and clear, popped into her mind, and she jumped toward the door, calling for Seth.

He stepped out of Jack's bedroom, Jack trailing slowly behind him. “Did you find something?”

Yes. But not what he was asking about. “No.”

His eyebrows formed a V, his hands on his hips. “What do you need?”

“Um . . .” Her gaze danced between Jack and Seth, worry sweeping over their faces. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

“You sure?”

Jack could use a surprise, and not one like he'd gotten that morning. She'd wait and speak to Seth privately. If she could just get him alone.