The Red Door Inn (21 page)

Marie wiped the back of a dirty hand across her eyes, swiping away any wayward tears, and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Caden.” It was more of a croak than a greeting, but the other woman was still crossing the street and far enough away that she might not have noticed.

“I was hoping you'd be here.”

“Really?” Marie leaned back on her heels, nodding toward the whitewashed step. As she rubbed her hands together, the scent of earth wafted around her. “What's going on?”

Caden plopped down on a step, hugging herself and leaning forward. “I need to talk to you about this job.”

“Do you want it?”

“No—yes—I don't know.” She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed a palm to her forehead. Her blond bob hung in a loose curtain over her round cheeks, and Marie jumped up to sit by her friend.

“Tell me what's going on.”

She shrugged. “I'm not sure I'm the person for this job. I really appreciate the offer, but I don't have the experience that you're looking for.”

“This inn doesn't need experience. It needs you. We want you.” She reached out a muddy hand but pulled it back before she left dirty handprints on Caden's arm.

“It's just that I'm supposed to take over the bakery from my dad someday.”

“Oh. If he needs you, that's all right. Is he retiring soon?”

“Not for another ten years or more, probably.”

“Then I don't understand.”

Caden turned her head, her pale blue eyes filled with the pain of uncertainty.

Marie sighed, folding her hands over her lap. “It's okay if you don't want the job.”

“Yes, but I do want it.” She stared toward the row of pine trees and the sun-kissed inlet beyond. “I want to take it, but I don't want to disappoint you. What if I don't have enough recipes or enough knowledge? What would happen if I couldn't live up to your hopes or people didn't like my food?”

“I don't think there's much chance of that.”

“But I couldn't let Jack down. If I take it and fail, then I'm not just letting him down. I'm letting down my mom and Aretha, who believe in me and want me to succeed. And moreover, I'd be letting my dad down. He's taught me everything he knows about baking. If I fail at this, then I'll fail him. How could I hold my head up if I fail at the only thing he's ever wanted for me?”

Marie shook her head. “What is it with fathers and daughters? Even as adults we can't help but want their approval. Why is that?”

Caden shrugged. “I don't know.” Cradling her chin in her hand, she leaned her elbow on her knee. “Maybe we're just wired to want that affection, to want that affirmation.”

“But it seems like your dad really loves you.”

She jerked her head up. “Oh, he does. My dad's the best. But it doesn't mean I don't crave his blessing. You know how Father Chuck always talks about God as a father. It's the same thing.”

“What do you mean? The same what?”

She pursed her lips to the left and wrinkled her nose. “We all want the gifts, right? The good things that God has for us. We want God's blessing. His approval. Maybe we want the same things from our dads. Their approval and their blessing, because we know that good things come with those.”

“Maybe with
your
dad. Not so much with mine.” She hadn't meant to sound so acidic, but the words rang with years of anger and pain.

“What do you mean?”

Marie dismissed the comment with a wave of her mud-stained hand. “Nothing.”

But Caden wasn't buying the brush-off. “What happened with your dad? You never talk about your parents. I guess I assumed they were gone.”

“My mom is. She passed away when I was seventeen. But my dad is alive and well and causing trouble wherever he goes.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize.”

She forced a smile. “It's all right. How could you have?” Brushing mud from her pants leg and trying for all the world to think about anything other than her father, she said, “So, what did your dad say when you told him about Jack's job offer?”

She pinched her lips together. “He said he'd support me no matter what, and that if I really wanted it, I should take the job.”

“You have his approval no matter what, but you're still afraid of disappointing him.”

Caden's head bobbed. “Stupid. I know.”

Why did Caden insist on beating herself up? “It's not
stupid.” She swallowed, stalling for time and praying for anything to say to encourage her friend. But there was only one thing she could say. “At least your father is worth trying to impress. What's stupid is knowing that your father is an underhanded liar and still wanting to impress him.” Her throat tried to close, but she fought through it until the words could come again. “I left Boston because I'd been trying to please my dad for years. After my mom died, I craved his attention, longed to meet his approval. And then I overheard him on the phone with a business associate, leveraging what was best for me into a deal on some land he wanted to develop.”

Pale blue eyes narrowed in on her as Caden laid a hand on her arm. “What happened to you?”

Marie looked away, blinking at the tears that seemed intent on moving in. “It's not really important right now. But trust me when I tell you that I know how much we daughters want to please our dads. And if I had a dad like yours or Jack, I would still be trying to make him happy.”

“I'm glad you left. I'm glad you came here.” Caden bumped her shoulder and winked. “I think Seth is too.”

Time to change the subject. “So, what about this job? What if it started on a temporary basis? What if you could give it a test drive and decide if you even like doing it? You have plenty of time to try out recipes and plan a schedule before we open.”

If we open.

She banished the thought as soon as it popped into her mind. They would open. On time. They wouldn't leave travelers stranded or guests hungry. She couldn't leave Jack to flounder. They'd open. Whatever she had to do.

“And if it doesn't work, you'll look for someone from the culinary school?”

“Sure. No contracts. No pressure.”

“All right then. You have a deal.” Caden stuck out her hand to shake, but Marie held up muddy messes.

They were still smiling from their perch on the front steps as Jack and Seth plodded up the street, Jack with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped. When the men reached the end of the walkway, Marie called out to them, “We have a chef.”

Jack lifted his head, looking between the two women. “We don't have money for a kitchen.”

Her stomach hit the ground, her ears ringing.

Jeff Tate hadn't come through.

And now the money from her mother's trust—and facing down her father—was the only way to save the Red Door.

S
eth paced the perimeter of the dining room the next evening, his arms crossed and head down. He couldn't look at Marie or Jack, who sat across one of the tables from her.

She leaned toward the old man, her hands outstretched and face pleading. “Jack, let me loan you the money. It's the only way. And you can pay me back. It'll just be an interest-free loan. I'll be an investor or a partner or whatever you want me to be. Just let me give you the money.”

Seth had heard the same thing over and over all afternoon until it rang in his head like a mantra. It made him sick to his stomach. She wanted part ownership in the inn. She wanted to become an investor.

And she wanted to eventually take over everything that he and Jack had worked for.

She hadn't said it in quite those terms, but that didn't change the facts. It was too much like Reece. She was weaseling her way into the paperwork, adding her name to documents. All the things that had left him vulnerable to Reece's schemes.

A flashing blue gaze caught his as Marie looked for help, but he shook his head. He couldn't seem to separate the two women, so different yet so similar.

Jack covered her hands with his gnarled ones. “It's not going to do any good. A couple thousand dollars isn't going to be enough. The insurance company isn't going to pay out for at least thirty days, and the check won't cover the entire cost of the kitchen. By then it'll be too little too late.”

“You're not hearing me. I have money. Lots of it.”

Seth paused his march to stare at her. What was her game? What did she think she could gain through this charade? And why hadn't he figured it out sooner?

She couldn't have any money. She'd come to the house penniless. Jack had said she didn't even have enough to buy a ferry ticket onto the island. So why claim to have a secret stash of money now?

“Jack, please hear me out. My mother left me a trust fund when she passed away. She came from a family of means in Boston, and when she died, she left all of her money to me. I have more than enough money to fix the kitchen. We can pay to have a crew fix it instead of breaking our backs to get it done in time for the grand opening.”

Her words jumbled together until he couldn't make any sense of them.

Jack seemed to be struggling to understand too. “What do you mean?”

“You need help. You're bleeding, and I have a cure.”

“It should come from family.” Bitterness laced the words Seth hadn't even meant to speak.

She took a long breath through her nose and let it out slowly. “Then call me family. I want to help you open the Red
Door. And I have money to loan you. I love this place, and I want others to love it too. If it doesn't open, it's a loss for the island. You deserve to see it open. For Rose.”

Okay, that was true. The inn needed to open. But the rest of it, the recurring bit about the money, didn't compute.

“Seth, will you please tell him to just accept the money?”

“I'm not sure I can. We don't know what strings might be attached.”

Her face jerked as though she'd been slapped, her eyes shining in the chandelier light. His arms reached for her, but he pushed his hands into his pockets. If what she said was true, she'd been lying to them all along. And if that was the case, he couldn't believe anything she'd said or done.

The kindness in her eyes. The gentleness in her touch. The passion in her kiss.

If some of it was untrue, all of it was.

And he'd been duped again.

Like an idiot, he'd let down his guard and fallen for a pretty face. Again.

He resumed his journey around the room, glancing at her as he turned every corner. “So you're saying that you've had loads of money the whole time you've been with us.”

“Well . . . yes.” Barely a whisper, her words hung in the air.

“And you didn't bother to mention it. You just thought you'd take Jack's charity.”

Her eyes sprang open. “No. I mean, I didn't want his money or his charity. I wasn't trying to take anything. I just needed a safe place to stay.”

“Why not use some of this money you claim to have to rent a room somewhere?”

She cowered under his glare, and he hated himself for
doing it. But he couldn't stop until he knew all of it, the entire terrible truth. This was the past she'd hidden so carefully. But there had to be a reason for all the secrecy.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them away without breaking eye contact. “I couldn't get to it before.”

“So just in the nick of time, you suddenly have access to it? Very convenient.” He rubbed his temples, praying for relief from the pounding there. He wanted to believe her, but everything she'd said and done had been duplicitous. She was a con woman. An artist trying to stake a claim in Jack and Rose's dream.

And she'd waited until the most opportune moment. Out of money and out of options, Jack could hardly be blamed for considering the offer at this point. Seth was the only thing standing between him and the worst mistake of his life.

He wouldn't let his uncle make the same mistake he had.

“What I meant—” Her voice trembled, so she cleared her throat and carried on. “What I mean is that I wasn't ready to face the consequences of using that money.”

“And you are now?”

“Enough.” Jack held up a hand to him and patted Marie's arm with the other. “Why on earth would you want to invest in a business that's on its last leg before it's even open?”

“I don't. I want to give my money to you, and you can do whatever you like with it.”

Seth scoffed, but held his tongue as Jack raised his hand again.

“Why?”

Her gaze locked on Jack's wrinkled face. She wore a mask of sincerity like she'd been born with it. “You took me in when I had nowhere to go. How can I sit back and let Rose's
legacy end like this? I'd do anything for you. I love you like I always wanted to love my own father.”

Every word sliced him like a knife. She played it all so true, so real. But no stage talent made it any less of an act.

Jack's face broke, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “I never wished for a daughter until I met you.”

“You're not actually buying this line, are you, Jack?”

She looked at Seth, her face a mirror image of Jack's. Except confusion etched into the lines of her forehead, hurt painting each of her features. “I don't understand. I'm giving you everything you need to open the door.”

“At what cost?”

“No cost. No strings.” Her voice was jagged, aching. “I just want the Red Door to open. I want you to be happy here.”

Seth leaned into her, placing one hand on the table in front of her and one on the back of her chair. His breath stirred the long, chestnut strands of hair at her shoulder. This close, he could see the dark smudge across her cheek, a leftover from the garden. “I've been through this before.”

“Reece?” She blinked those sapphires at him, her lips parting on a sob, and his gut clenched.

She'd wiggled her way into his arms, dug herself a place in his heart. He'd held her, promising shelter from the world.

But he couldn't stop the words from coming out. “You're
just
like her.”

He'd never loathed himself more.

She licked her lips, swallowing several times before whispering, “I think I need to go.”

He couldn't stop one final jab as she slithered out beneath his arm, scurrying for the door. “We don't want your money and the conditions that go with it.”

Just inside the red door that she'd painted—in the exact spot where he'd hoped to be free to kiss her whenever he liked—she turned watery eyes on Jack. “Take it or leave it. I've already called the bank. More than enough money will be wired in your name to the credit union by the bakery tomorrow morning. Please, please, take it.”

“What about the consequences you mentioned?” Jack's voice was gravel as he reached out to her across the room.

“It's too late to worry about those. They're in motion already.”

Marie couldn't wipe away the tears as fast as they flooded her eyes, so she ran blindly to the only friend she could count on. With trembling hands, she banged on Caden's door until it opened.

“Marie? What's wrong? Is it something at the inn?”

She hiccupped, and biting her lip didn't do much to stem the trembling there.

“Come on in.” Caden swung open the door and held out her arm toward the living room of her quaint bungalow. She guided Marie into a fluffy chair and plopped down on the couch across from her. “Tell me what's going on.”

Marie rubbed her hands over her face, and they came away sticky with tears and streaks of leftover mud. She must look a mess.

Caden seemed to understand. “Why don't you go wash up, and I'll find us a snack. Something sweet.”

Nodding, Marie headed down the hall. In the little bathroom, she refused to look into the mirror. She didn't need a firsthand view of her red, puffy eyes or mud-streaked cheeks.
She scooped cool water into her hand and splashed it over her face, drops running down her neck, trailing the places that Seth had once touched with such tenderness.

Did he really think everything she'd done was an act? Or that she was anything like Reece?

As she wiped away the water, she tried to do the same to the memories. But they weren't so easily dispatched. His caress. His embrace. His kiss. They swarmed in on her, surrounding her lungs until breathing became a distant memory. Dark spots danced in the corners of her eyes, and she sank to the floor, praying to be delivered. From what, she wasn't quite sure.

After what felt like an hour on the cold tile floor, a soft knock at the door was followed by Caden's voice. “Are you all right? Can I get you something?”

Marie snatched at whatever breath she could find. “Yes. I'll be right there.” With all the strength she could muster, she pulled herself up by the lip of the sink onto shaking legs. After a long minute, she managed a shaky breath and a tentative step. As she slipped back into the hall to the smell of chocolate and peanut butter, her stomach rolled.

The chair and couch seemed to fill the entire living room, but Caden had made a small dinner tray appear and set two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of brownies on the server.

She smiled up from her seat on the couch, hugging a pillow close to her chest. “Feeling better?”

“A little.”

Caden motioned to the heaping dessert plate. “These are my specialty. Peanut butter fudge brownies. Have one. And then tell me what happened.”

With rolling insides, Marie didn't really want it, but she couldn't refuse. She broke off a corner and put it in her
mouth, the moist treat melting on her tongue and shooting sugar to her whole system.

“You should make these sometime for the Red Door. For an afternoon snack on the buffet.”

“All right. I will.” Hugging the pillow again, Caden leaned forward. “Tell me what happened today.”

The backs of her eyelids felt like sandpaper as she blinked, but she had to fight off the burning behind her eyes. “I don't even know where to start.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

Wise words. Painful memories. But she nodded.

She hadn't told a soul about Derek except her therapist and her dad. And that hadn't turned out as well as she'd hoped. But it was time to be honest. If she ever hoped to be free of it, she had to speak the truth. “I was in Boston on New Year's Eve. I was working at my father's real estate company and had been traveling for the job. But my dad was after me to be home for the holidays. He was hosting a big party, and he wanted me to be there. And you know how we are with our dads. Always angling for their approval.”

Caden nodded, her eyes never leaving Marie's face as she sipped her tea.

“The company's New Year's Eve party was an exclusive event for their friends and clients at a swanky hotel. I was introduced around, and I saw a man that I had gone to high school with. Derek and I hadn't exactly run in the same crowds, but it was good to see a familiar face. He and his dad were business associates, and my dad encouraged me to dance with Derek. We did. It was harmless.

“And then he invited me up to his room. I wanted to see the city lights from the penthouse, see the partiers in the
streets, and watch the midnight fireworks. So I went.” She stared at her hands, swallowing the urge to change topics or gloss over the facts.

“But we didn't look at the lights. He threw me on his bed, held me down, and took what he wanted.” Her throat ached and her stomach burned. She pressed her hands over her face, wishing she could hide from the truth of the memories. “He took everything.”

Tears streamed down Caden's cheeks. “I am so sorry.” She seemed to know there was nothing else she could say. There weren't words deep enough for one woman to say to another when she'd been broken like that.