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“That’s a different thing. Little l—that’s pretty terrific. I’m not looking for more from him, for promises and absolutes. Like I said, it’s different this time. I understand more than I possibly could have at sixteen. I’ve got more to risk.”
“And to offer,” Hope added.
“Yeah, I do. But . . .” She thought of Beckett’s words the night before. “Love takes work. A woman, three kids—and now two dogs? A lot of work. I’m happy the way things are. I’m so happy, so grateful to feel this again. To know I can.”
“I love that feeling.” Remembering, Hope sighed. “I miss it.”
“I guess I have, too, and didn’t realize it. And it’s a little scary this time. It may sound crazy, but I kind of like that it is. It adds an energy.”
“If you’re happy,” Hope decided, “we’re happy.”
“I’m very happy. I’m in love with a really good, interesting man who enjoys my kids. That’s pretty damn amazing.”
“I’ve always admired your taste in men,” Avery told her.
The bathroom window shot open, and the air that blew in carried the scent of honeysuckle.
“I’d say she does, too,” Hope murmured.
JUST ONE OF the things Clare loved about Boonsboro, and that made her glad she’d brought her kids home to raise them, was the community feel. As she stood in the new gift shop, sipping wine from a little plastic cup, she saw or spoke to more than a dozen people she knew. She watched them wander, form and re-form into groups, share news, opinions.
Avery’s father—a big man with his wild red hair and trim beard threaded with glints of pewter—eased his way over to her. Clare tipped her head toward his broad shoulder.
“Look at you, all dressed up.”
He flushed, sweetly shy. “Justine said no work clothes.”
“I should say not, when you’re one of the featured artists.”
His flush deepened; his big feet shuffled. “Oh, I’m no artist. Just a welder with time on his hands.”
“Willy B, it takes more than some welding skill and spare time to create those metal sculptures. And the clocks are just wonderful. You know Hope’s already earmarked that one”—she gestured—“and the cattails for the inn.”
“She’s going to put that stuff in the inn? Really?”
“She wants the clock for the dining room, in front of the stone arch. People who stay will see your work.”
“Isn’t that something?” He let out a short, baffled laugh.
Avery squeezed her way through the crowd. “Lay off the crab balls for now. We’re nearly out. They’re bringing down more.”
“It’s a nice crowd,” Clare commented. “Madeline looks thrilled, and a little dazed.”
“I should step outside. I feel like I’m taking up half the room all by myself.”
“You stay right where you are,” Avery ordered her father. “Madeline wants you to talk up the potential customers, tell them about your artistic process.”
“Oh now, Avery.”
“Oh now, Willy B.” She poked him in his wide chest. “I’ve got to check the other trays. Don’t you let him run away, Clare.”
“I have my orders.” She gave Willy B a shrug, but took pity on him. “We could step right outside though. Plenty of potentials out there getting fresh air.”
“It’s nice to see people come out like this.” He took a breath when they stepped out to the sidewalk.
“It is, isn’t it? I was just thinking how nice it is to see so many familiar faces, have a little time just to chat and catch up.”
She scanned the little groups, so intent on the people around her she didn’t notice the car parked half a block down—or Sam Freemont behind the wheel, watching her.
“How are those boys of yours? I heard you got a couple new family members. Justine mentioned it,” Willy B added.
“They’re in boy heaven, and for now, at least, being very responsible about taking care of the puppies. I have to admit they’re more fun and less work than I imagined—again, for now.”
“You won’t regret it. I heard Beckett picked them up.”
“Brought them into the bookstore,” she confirmed. “Trapped me.”
“You know, Justine’s pretty pleased that you and Beckett are going around together. She’s fond of you and those boys.”
“I know. And speaking of them, I have to get home, relieve Mazie.”
“So, the minute I turn my back, you move in on my territory.” Beckett stepped out, gave Willy B a light punch on the arm.
“I’ve got no defense against a pretty woman. Sure looks good over there.” He lifted his bearded chin toward the inn. “Tommy’d be real proud.”
Willy B had been his father’s best friend, since both of them had been boys. Had wept unashamed at his funeral, Beckett remembered. And very likely missed Thomas Montgomery as much as his wife and sons.
“Yeah, I think he would be. I think he’d have enjoyed a night like this.”
“He’d’ve loved it. Wouldn’t mind a chance to see what’s what inside that place.”
“Anytime you want,” Beckett told him. “You know that.”
“I’ll be stopping by then, ready to gawk.”
“Willy B.” Justine came to the doorway, hands on hips. “You get back in here and mingle.”
“Oh now, Justine.” He blew out a breath. “No point arguing. Hope to hell I don’t knock something over.”
“He’s the cutest man,” Clare stated when he trudged back in.
“He’s six-five and probably goes two-sixty or better. How can he be cute?”
“He just is. I’ve got to get home, as much as I’d like to stay. Don’t forget, I’ll be by at seven tomorrow.”
“Wait, wait.” He took her arm, shook his head. “You’re not driving home by yourself.”
“Beckett, it’s not even a mile, straight down on Main.”
“I’ll follow you, make sure you get in all right, give Mazie a lift home. You heard what Willy B said. No point in arguing.”
She considered it foolishly overprotective, especially when he insisted she come with him to his truck in Vesta’s lot so he could drive her the short distance to her van in back of TTP.
She knew he waited while she locked up so gave the porch light a quick flick off and on. He tapped the horn before easing out of the driveway and making the turn to drop Mazie at home.
From acr
oss the street, a few doors down, Sam watched the house, noting how the front washed with light as Clare went to the door—as the babysitter came out a few minutes later.
He considered and stewed, saw the backyard flood with light. Letting the mongrels out, he mused.
Dogs and security lights. Were those for his benefit? Did she think he was a fucking burglar?
It was no way to act, no way to treat him. Montgomery’s doing, he decided. She was just too soft, too accommodating to tell that interfering bastard to mind his own business.
He’d take care of that. Take care of her.
He knew what she needed. A man of means, of style, of stature. One who could put those kids in a good boarding school so she didn’t have to work so hard. A man who could take her places, show her off.
She’d see. He’d make her see.
He settled in, watching the routine of lights going off, going on.
He sat for nearly an hour, watching her lighted bedroom windows, and longer still after the windows went dark.
When he drove away, he had a plan.
SINCE MOST OF the men were busy, Beckett helped muscle the first tub to the second floor. In any case, he wanted to see how Lizzy liked it. Once they’d set the white slipper tub in place, he lingered. Light, warm colors, he thought, studying the tile work, a more traditional feel than some of the rooms. A nice contrast, he decided, with the deep tone of the old rubbed-bronze fixtures, and the charm of the telephone-style floor faucet for the tub.
He waited, but apparently Lizzy was withholding judgment until the plumber finished it off.
He went down—and up again countless times, hauling tubs, toilets, faucets, shower systems. All meticulously labeled, he noted, by either his brother or Hope.
On what he prayed was nearly the last trip, he saw Hope outside the on-site storage unit with a clipboard.
“Didn’t know you were here.”
“I’ve been down at the other storage. We finally have room in there. I’m checking off here, then I’m going to go through, make sure all the fixtures are in the right rooms.”
“They’re marked,” he reminded her. “We’re putting them in the right rooms.”
“So you say.” She grinned at him. “I have to see for myself. There are a lot of pieces to each pie. Shower system, sink faucets, bath faucets, towel warmers, P-traps, vanity mirrors, robe hooks.” She lifted one elegant eyebrow. “Should I continue?”
“No, because I’ve muled that and more in and up.”
“It’ll be worth it.” She lowered her clipboard, adjusted her intricately tied scarf. “Besides, you’ll be able to relax on your hot date tonight.”
“Where am I going?”
She laughed. “For me to know and you to find out. Oh, I had this idea.” She opened a purse the size of a small planet, pulled out what looked like a little diary or journal, with stylized fairies on the cover. “I’m going to run this past
