Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) (12 page)

An hour later Ami settled into the passenger seat of Beck’s Land Rover. “Thanks for the lift. I don’t know what happened to Katie Ruth. One minute she was there, the next she was nowhere to be found.”

Beck had an idea where Katie Ruth was, or rather with whom, but he didn’t speculate. He’d noticed the vivacious blond plastered against Clay Chapin on the dance floor, then later saw them having an intense conversation by the fireplace.

“Taking a beautiful woman home is never a hardship.” Beck slipped the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life.

“I like parties—correction—I enjoy socializing.” She gave a self-conscious-sounding laugh. “But I’m a fan of smaller, more intimate affairs.”

“I used to enjoy both.” Beck turned out of the gravel lot. “Now that I’ve been away from the society scene, I realize I don’t miss it.”

“I’ve never been a part of Good Hope society.” Ami lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “That’s why it took so long for me to be invited to join the Cherries.”

His brows pulled together. “I don’t understand.”

The highway stretched before them like a thin gray ribbon, the instrumental music from the sound system soothing and the seat warm beneath her. Ami felt herself fully relax. “Most of the members—or their husbands—are prominent in Good Hope. Many are descended from families who settled here in the mid eighteen hundreds.”

Something in her voice put him on alert. “I had the impression your family was deeply entrenched in the community.”

“The Bloom family settled here at the turn of the twentieth century,” she informed him. “My grandfather was a fisherman. My dad is a teacher. My mother, a secretary who became a stay-at-home mom once the children started coming.”

“Your family isn’t prominent.”

It was a statement of fact, not a question.

Ami chuckled. “Not at all.”

Beck’s lips tightened. “Why do you even want to be part of such an elitist group?”

“The Cherries do a lot of good. Their efforts benefit local businesses like yours and mine.” The answer rolled off her tongue with such ease, Beck could tell it was her go-to response.

“I feel as if I’m supporting my community by being a Cherrie,” she added, apparently sensing his continued disapproval. “They’re a great group of women. Truly.”

“You’re a rotarian.” He turned the vehicle in the direction of Good Hope. “Why even bother with another group?”

She grew quiet for a moment and didn’t immediately answer.

The light from the dash bathed her face in a golden glow, and Beck was seized with a sudden urge to do whatever was necessary to protect her from those blasted Cherries.

“My mother was very civic-minded,” Ami spoke at last. “She hoped to be part of the Cherries but was never invited to join. I believe it would please her to know that a Bloom has finally stormed the bastion.”

Her lips quirked up and Beck couldn’t help but smile.

“Ami, the rabble-rouser,” he teased, just as the lights of Good Hope came into view. “Though I admit I have difficulty seeing you in that role.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Actually, there was a time long, long ago when I went rogue.”

The ridiculous assertion made him laugh. “What did you do? Skip gym class?”

“I got a tattoo.”

The admission popped out so quickly Beck wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised. Sweet Ami Bloom with a tattoo simply didn’t compute. “You’re joking.”

“I got it my senior year in high school. I was, ah, having a difficult time coping with the fact that my mother had been diagnosed with cancer. At the time, they gave her three months to live.”

Even though more than a full decade had passed since that diagnosis, pain still filled her voice.

Would it be the same for him? Years from now when he spoke of Lisette, would others still hear the grief in his voice? See it in his eyes?

Shoving the thoughts aside, Beck focused on the woman beside him. “Your mother beat those odds.”

“She lived ten more years.” Ami sighed. “Yet in the end, there was no happily ever after.”

Beck had discovered how capricious life could be. His bright and sunny future had been decimated in five seconds. He took a deep breath, deliberately refocused. “You really have a tattoo?”

She ducked her head and nodded.

As he’d never seen that tat, it had to be hidden somewhere beneath her clothes. His body stirred as his mind considered all the possibilities. “What is it?
Where
is it?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She paused, appearing to rethink the response. “I mean—”

“I accept the challenge.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t issue any challenge.”

“We can talk about it more at my place. Come home with me, Ami.”

C
hapter
T
welve

Startled surprise rippled through Ami at Beck’s suggestion. “G-go home with you?”

Beck stopped at the light two blocks from his house and turned to face her, offering a persuasive smile. “For wine and conversation.”

“We’ve been talking all night.” She feigned a yawn even as her heart began tripping over itself in anticipation. “I should probably get some sleep.”

“Sleep is highly overrated.” Beck made the ridiculous claim as if it were fact. “Besides, I never did get a chance to finish telling you about my brothers. And we didn’t even speak of the rest of your sisters.”

Ami caught her lower lip between her teeth and considered. “I would like to hear more about your family.”

Beck looked pleased and a bit smug. “Then it’s settled.”

He kept the conversation focused on the party while he parked the SUV in the carriage house. Once inside, they shed their coats and climbed the steps to the sitting area off his bedroom.

He gestured to the furniture facing the fireplace. “Sit wherever you want.”

Ami noticed Beck smiled in approval when she picked the settee. She wondered if he was picturing himself sitting beside her.

“I love the yellow stone with the blue veins.” Ami admired his masculine form as he crouched in front of the hearth. “It’s quite striking.”

“Siena marble from northern Italy,” Beck said absently, focused on getting the fire started. “Fits nicely with the decor.”

Ami thought the entire sitting area had much to recommend it. She loved the richly woven blue Persian rug over the shiny oak floors with walnut inlay. The Victorian loveseat settee with its navy-and-cream-striped pattern added to the charm and the feeling of elegant warmth.

Beck’s earlier claim that the fireplace wasn’t in his bedroom hadn’t been entirely accurate. The sitting area with its impressive walnut-and-burl woodwork flowed into the bedroom. If she turned around, she could see the large four-poster bed with the navy duvet from where she sat.

While the downstairs needed much work, Kate had remodeled this part of the house several years earlier. The wallpaper with robust colors of burgundy and blue looked authentic, but anyone seeing it would know the paper was in too fine a shape to be original to the house.

Beck kept the conversation going while he stoked the fire into a cheery blaze. When he went downstairs to retrieve the wine, it gave Ami a few minutes alone.

Instead of getting up to explore, she kicked off her heels and let the warmth radiating from the fire stoke a feeling of contentment.

She’d been going ninety miles an hour since Twelve Nights had begun last week. The sense of overload she was experiencing was no one’s fault but her own. From the time she could walk, she’d wanted to have her fingers in a whole lot of everything.

Like today. She could have slept late and enjoyed a leisurely morning off. Yet what had she done? She’d gotten up early to have coffee with Beck, then worked on bakery business all day.

Beck returned with a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and news that snow had begun to fall.

“I can’t stay too long.” She took a sip of the merlot he’d handed her and gestured with her glass. “What with the snow and all.”

“You only live a few blocks away.” Beck took a seat beside her, resting an arm across the top of the settee. “And I believe we’ve already determined that it’s always snowing in Wisconsin.”

“True enough.” Ami couldn’t keep from laughing. She shifted in her seat to face him and leaned forward. “Tell me about your brothers.”

“Ladies first.” He offered a sardonic smile. “I want to hear about you and your other sisters.”

“Me? There’s not much to tell.”

“Any old boyfriends or ex-husbands still pining for you?”

“I’ve never been married. Or engaged.” Ami shrugged. “Any old boyfriends are so far in the past I find it difficult to picture their faces.”

“A sign you’ve moved on.” Beck felt a stab at the thought. Lately he’d been having difficulty bringing Lisette’s features into focus.

Ami thought of the two men—boys, really—she’d dated in college. “I never loved either of them.”

“Tell me about your sisters.”

Ami pinned him with her gaze. “As long as you understand I’m not leaving until I hear more about your brothers.”

Beck appeared unconcerned by the threat. “We have all night.”

“I agreed to wine and conversation, not a sleepover.”

He flashed a smile. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

Ami chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“As I could talk about my sisters all night, I’ll give you the condensed version. I’m the oldest. Fin—Delphinium, the one I mentioned earlier—is the next stair step.”

He lifted one brow. “Stair step?”

“The first three girls in our family were born a year apart. There’s eighteen months between Primrose and Marigold, the baby.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” He held up a hand and counted off on his fingers. “There’s you, Delphinium, Primrose, and Marigold.”

“That’s correct.”

“You’re the only one in Good Hope.”

She nodded.

“Where do the others live?”

Ami went with the least-complicated sister first. “Marigold lives in Chicago. She works in a hair salon on the Gold Coast.”

“Upscale area.”

The comment told her he was familiar with the neighborhood located north of downtown Chicago. “It’s very nice.”

“Does Marigold get home much?”

During the discussion his hand began to knead her shoulder. It should have been relaxing. But not when the tips of his fingers seemed determined to dip inside the edges of her dress.

“Marigold,” he prompted. “How often does she come back to Good Hope?”

“Twice a year.” Ami cleared her throat. “Ah, she came last May and will be here for Christmas.”

“You must be looking forward to seeing her.”

“I am.” Ami shifted slightly, hoping to encourage those fingers to delve a little farther inside the silky fabric . . .

Amusement lit Beck’s eyes. “You were about to tell me about Primrose.”

Ami blinked. “I was?”

“As you began with the baby of the family, I assume you were going in reverse order.” To her chagrin, he lifted his hand from her neckline to twine her hair loosely around his fingers.

“Yes, yes, I was.” Ami tried to ignore the heat that continued to course through her body. “Prim is the only Bloom who is married. Or rather, she
was
married. Her husband died a little over two years ago. Their boys, twins, are almost six now.”

His fingers stilled on her hair. “I’m sorry to hear about her husband. How did he die?”

“Rory had CF—cystic fibrosis—but that’s not what killed him,” Ami added when Beck began to nod, obviously drawing the same conclusion most in Good Hope made when they heard of Rory’s death. “My brother-in-law was an adrenaline junkie. He died in a rock-climbing accident.”

“That had to have been difficult for her.” Sympathy shimmered in his dark eyes. “Where do she and her sons live?”

“In Milwaukee. She has this great job as an actuary for a large insurance company. She considered moving back, but the twins are happy and she has this—”

“—great job,” he finished the sentence. “And last, but not least, the magnificent Fin. You said she’s currently living in LA.”

“That’s correct. And yes, she is magnificent.”

Beck would see that for himself once her charismatic sister arrived in Good Hope. Ami forced the nip of jealousy aside by reminding herself she didn’t have any claim on Beck or his affections.

If he did prefer Fin, it would be a repeat of what had happened with Kyle, the boy she’d dated her freshman year in college. When she’d brought him home that summer, he’d been dazzled by her sister.

Ami had overheard him hitting on Fin at a fish boil. Of course, her sister had shut him down immediately. Before Fin could even tell her what happened, Ami had broken it off with Kyle and sent him scurrying back to Madison.

Beck cleared his throat.

She blinked and found him staring, concern in his eyes. He took her hand. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope. I’m done.” Ami smiled brightly. “Your turn.”

“It’s getting late—”

“We have all night.” She found great pleasure in tossing his earlier words back at him. “I want to hear all about your brothers.”

As if realizing protesting was pointless, Beck settled back against the settee. “Elliott is an investment banker in Atlanta. He and his wife, Suellen, have one child, Jefferson. Elliott is extremely disciplined. His life has followed a traditional path—college, marriage, and now a child. Anders, on the other hand, is more of an adventurer.”

Clearly intrigued, Ami leaned forward. “How so?”

Beck poured more wine into her now-empty glass before answering.

“After he graduated from Cornell he spent three years in a large PR and advertising firm, steadily moving up the corporate ladder. Then, out of the blue, he quit. For the last year he’s been crisscrossing the country working odd jobs.”

There was no censure in Beck’s tone when he spoke of his younger brother, only fondness and admiration.

“Where is he now?” Ami asked. “Or do you know?”

“We stay in contact by text.” Beck gazed into the burgundy liquid, then up at her. “Right now he’s a ski instructor in Aspen. Before that he was putting up hay in Wyoming. Who knows where he’ll be next.”

“You sound as if you envy him.”

“Anders is his own man. I respect someone who follows their own path.”

“What about you, Beck? What did you do after you graduated from college? Did you follow Elliott’s traditional path?”

“I did. I graduated from Vanderbilt, attended law school at Duke, then married.”

“You’re m-married?” The word stuck in her throat.

“I was married. I’m not anymore.” Beck took a sip of wine and stared into the fire for a long, quiet moment. “My wife died in a car accident eighteen months ago.”

“Oh, Beck.” Ami slipped an arm through his and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”

Though he didn’t push her away, his bicep was stiff and unyielding. She stroked his arm with a gentle hand.

His eyes had taken on a faraway look. “One minute she was there, the next she was gone.”

“Were you in the car with her?” Ami spoke quietly.

“No. I wasn’t in the vehicle.”

Relief surged through Ami. She continued to stroke his arm. “Tell me about her.”

“Lisette was a physician, a beautiful, accomplished woman with her whole life ahead of her.”

“She sounds amazing.” A
doctor
. A
beauty
. Ami sighed. What kind of person was jealous of a dead woman? “I take it you didn’t have children.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “No children.”

A heaviness now hung in the air, a pall Ami was determined to lift.

“You may be a twin, but from your description of the two men, you appear to have more in common with Anders.”

Puzzlement furrowed Beck’s brow. “What makes you say that?”

“Think about it. Anders chucked it all to bale hay in Wyoming. You chucked it all to flip burgers in Wisconsin.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “It might appear to some that Elliott is the only sane one in the family.”

He chuckled. “You’ll think I’m really crazy if I tell you how I decided to move here.”

Ami was pleased to see the haunted look in his brown eyes had disappeared. “Tell me.”

“I opened a map of the United States, shut my eyes, and let my finger drop. It landed on Good Hope.”

“Seriously?”

“Told you it was crazy.”

“Actually, it seems to be more ‘meant to be’ than ‘crazy.’” Ami tilted her head. “Are you really an attorney?”

“I am.”

“What type of law did you practice?”

“I was a criminal defense attorney in Athens, Georgia.”

Ami pulled her brows together. “Why did you stop practicing?”

“I started to see the people I’d kept out of jail killing again, hurting others again. While I believe everyone is entitled to a defense, I no longer wanted to be the one getting them off.”

Ami mulled over his words. “Did you ever think about changing sides? You know, become a prosecutor?”

“No.”

No other explanation. Just no. Ami was curious, but not once had Beck interrogated her about her decision not to drive. She would afford him the same respect.

“I’m happy that your finger landed on Good Hope.” With her arm still looped through his, Ami snuggled up against him. “Though I’m sure your family misses you.”

“I stay in touch.” Unexpectedly, he leaned forward and gently stroked the side of her cheek. “Tell me about the tattoo.”

“When my mother was diagnosed, I was so angry. At the situation. At the unfairness of it all.” Even now Ami remembered the rage and overwhelming despair. She took a long drink of wine and stared into the fire. “I not only got a tattoo, I started staying out past curfew and talking back. My grades dropped. I was a mess. I wanted to scream or to chuck it all. I don’t know if you can under—”

“I understand all about rage and despair.”

“I feel bad that I added to my parents’ stress at a time when they were already overloaded.” Ami often thought of those months with a sense of shame.