The Red Door Inn (23 page)

The boy's tongue flapped like it was attached with a hinge. Like he was intent on keeping her from having a chance to ask any more questions. That had never stopped her in all her sixty-seven years.

“Where's Marie?”

He cleared his throat just as Jack slammed the back door. “Something smells wonderful! I know that's not Seth. Must be my favorite girl.” He strode through the kitchen without stopping to wash his hands and leaned in to hug her.

She put her hands up and stepped out of his reach. “Where's Marie?”

He stopped and rubbed black hands together. Shooting a glance at Seth, he shrugged. “She's staying with Caden for a bit.”

“Why?” But she already knew. These fool men. They'd
run her off. The best thing that had ever happened to them, and they'd chased her away.

Seth dipped his head, more grade-schooler than grown man. “There was a misunderstanding.”

“So why didn't you go after her and explain? Apologize if you need to. That's what grown-ups do.”

Jack cleared his throat and nodded. “That's what I've been telling him. He's got to go after her and apologize.”

She shot him a stern look, and he quieted down. “You're in no position to give the boy advice about going after what he wants. We'll come back to you in a minute.” Turning her attention back to the younger Sloane, she stepped into his space, staring hard into his puppy-dog eyes. “Nothing's so bad that you can't ask for forgiveness. She cares about you too, you know.”

He stood up a little straighter. Maybe he just needed to be reminded that he wasn't the only one with a hurting heart. But his face didn't brighten and his words were laced with anger. “It's not that easy. I said something terrible.” So that anger was directed at himself.

“What did you say?”

He looked at Jack as though begging for him to step in. But his uncle had the good sense to stay where he was. No need to get mixed up in this. She'd have a few choice words for him in a moment.

With no help coming, Seth cleared his throat. “I said that she was just like my ex-fiancée.”

“Who did what?”

“Swindled me out of my business and life savings.”

Aretha couldn't stop herself. She smacked his arm, which didn't budge. In fact, she was pretty sure it hurt her hand
more than him, but the grief registering on his face melted her heart. “That was an awful thing to do. You've run her off just to spite your own self.”

He looked up at the ceiling, running both hands over his face. “She was offering a loan, offering to be a partner with Jack. Reece wanted to be my partner too. That's how she got on all of my accounts, cleaned me out, and left the country.”

“You do realize how stupid that is. Marie is not this Reece girl.”

“I know. It was stupid.”

“Good. We're on the same page. Now go talk with her. Make it right.”

“I don't think she wants to talk with me right now. She was here this morning, and she left as fast as she could after her dad took off.” Seth's shoulders, those big broad shoulders that had rebuilt the house in which they stood, slumped.

“Her father was here? At the Red Door?” What else weren't these men telling her?

They both nodded mutely. Perfect.

She sighed, giving him a firm pat on his rather muscular arm. “So, what? She walked out of this house, but she didn't go home with her dad, right? You're just going to let her go? That is not how a man treats the woman he loves.”

“Whoa.” His hands shot up as if he was defending himself. “Who said anything about being in love with her? We're friends. We get along.”

He wouldn't even see the nose on his own face if someone didn't point it out. “It doesn't even take both eyes to see how much you care about each other. I've seen the glances you give her when you think no one is watching. Well, I'm watching. I've seen them. So set it right. Now.”

“I've been telling him the same thing.”

“Oh, don't get me started, Jack Sloane.” Her voice jumped at least an octave, but she was rolling too fast to stop now. Wagging a finger at him, she said, “You've been perfectly content to create an inn for your late wife, who I think I would have loved being friends with, while building a relationship with another woman.” She waved her finger in the air, her heart beating fast enough to steal her breath. “You don't get to give love advice. Not until you figure out what you want and decide to do something about it.”

She snatched up her picnic basket, ignoring the stunned looks on their faces, and swung around. “There won't be any more free meals from me until then either.”

S
eth straightened his polo shirt, tucking a loose tail into the waistband of his khakis and making sure his collar laid flat. He hadn't been this cleaned up and put together all week. After all, there'd been no time between painting the front porch, touching up the blue exterior, setting up the guest rooms, and overseeing the remodeling crew in the kitchen. Actually, Caden had done a fair amount of that—telling them exactly where she wanted her permanent island, showing them how high she wanted the shelves.

And with her help, they were going to open on time.

Well, with Caden's help and Marie's money.

Which had come with no strings. Just as she'd promised. She hadn't asked for her name on the deed or a percentage of the profits. They'd only had to worry about the finishing details. And there had been plenty.

But no matter how busy they'd been, Seth had found more than enough time to think about Marie, to imagine what she was doing, to wonder if she was missing him as much as he missed her. And he'd thought about what Aretha said.

She'd been right, of course. Even if it had taken him almost a week to come to terms with it. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he'd fallen in love with Marie. But instead of treating her like the woman he cared about, he'd acted like a wounded rhinoceros, stampeding over her heart.

Now he only had one option—try to make up for it.

Licking his lips and taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door of Caden's bungalow. It was more guesthouse than stand-alone, but Jack had assured him that this was where she lived. And where he could find Marie. The porch light flickered on, breaking the evening darkness.

After a short pause, the blinds in the window next to the front door flicked, showing just a glimpse of Caden's blonde hair. It took another ten seconds for her to open the door, and instead of inviting him in, she stepped onto the cement stoop, crowding his space.

“Hi, Seth.”

She didn't play coy, pretending she didn't know why he was there. But she wasn't going to make this easy on him either. He tugged at the top button on his shirt and swallowed, his mouth as dry as Palm Desert.

“Is Marie here?”

“She's sleeping right now.”

It was only eight o'clock. The sun had disappeared for the night as he'd strolled down the road, playing out what he would say when he saw her. He wasn't any closer to scripting his words, but he wasn't sure time was going to be much help.

“Is that code for she doesn't want to see me?”

Caden looked away and pulled on the sleeves of her sweater. “She's hurting right now. But she told me what you said to her dad.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I think that was awesome.”

“The guy's a jerk. He doesn't realize what an amazing woman she is. Take it from someone who's been stupid enough to do the same. He's going to regret it someday.”

Caden nodded, putting a hand on the doorknob behind her.

“All right.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess I'll try to catch her another time.”

As he turned to go, she tapped his arm. When he turned back, she whispered, “Church. Tomorrow.”

“She'll be there?” Marie hadn't made an appearance at the service the week before. He knew. He'd watched and waited for her.

Caden nodded and winked before dashing back inside.

Thirteen hours. He had just thirteen hours to figure out what he was going to say to her and how he would say it. That was more than enough time to drive himself crazy.

He stabbed his fingers through his hair and yanked on it as he walked up the inn's front steps. Falling into one of the red Adirondack chairs Jack had put on the porch, he crossed an ankle over his knee.

“That you, Seth?”

“Yes.”

Jack appeared behind the screen door and leaned on the frame. “How'd it go?”

“She was sleeping.”

“At eight o'clock?” The timbre of Jack's words echoed Seth's own hunch.

“I know. But she's going to be at church in the morning. She can't avoid me there.”

“Good for you.”

“When are you going to talk to Aretha?”

Jack hung his head, the light of the early moon making his white hair glisten. “I don't know yet.” He looked in Seth's direction. “We're quite a pair, me and you. You came to the island running from love troubles. I think I was hoping to forget how lonely I've been since your aunt Rose passed. And now look at us.”

“You feel as lonely as you were back then? Right after Rose died?”

Jack hummed from somewhere deep in his throat. “I guess not. But it's probably because of you and Marie.”

“Are you sure about that?” He'd never been one to analyze someone else's feelings, but Marie had been right. Jack was ten times happier since meeting Aretha than he'd been when Seth arrived. And it wasn't just because Seth had been so sour.

Jack stared at the nearly full moon as if it had answers that couldn't be found on earth. “I never figured I'd meet anyone I liked as well as Rose. Never figured I'd meet anyone like Aretha. She's not your aunt. She's different.” He scratched his cheek, his whiskers rasping beneath his fingernails. “She has so much life, always bouncing around getting things done. You know her husband left her almost forty years ago?”

“I didn't.”

“She told me that's why she opened the antique store. She needed something to keep her from thinking about him all the time, and she'd always liked vintage things. See, something like that could break a woman. Her husband leaving her like he did. Shoot, I knew the cancer was taking Rose from me, and it still almost broke me.” Jack ruffled his hair, scratching behind his ear, never leaving the support of the
door frame. “I've been doing this all for Rose. Made a clean mess of it too.”

Seth chuckled. The old man wasn't lying. He didn't have a head for the hospitality business or much knowledge of the market. He didn't even have the construction skills or the eye for design to put the finishing touches on the house. But he'd barreled forward because this inn was Rose's dream.

“What is it that you want, Jack?”

Jack smacked his lips together, the noise reverberating off the porch's white support beams and ceiling.

“I guess I want to know that my life isn't over. I thought maybe it was, but it's not. I've got more to offer than just my memories of Rose. And I want to share this next phase with someone else.”

Seth pushed out of his chair. This was all getting a little touchy-feely for him, so he slapped Jack on the back as he entered the house. “Go get her.”

Jack frowned, nodded, and stalked off the front porch and down the street, his form disappearing between streetlights and picking up speed as he approached the three-way stop and Aretha's house just beyond.

In his room, Seth changed into something more comfortable before picking up a brown paper–wrapped package on the foot of his bed. He opened it to find the finished gift for Jack, the glass and brass plaque in place. The old image of the house nearly glowed in the mahogany frame, and he ran a finger over the plaque, Marie's idea.

She would love it. The perfect gift for Jack, and they'd hang it in the dining room. Somewhere that everyone would see it. He needed to show it to her. But first he had to apologize.

If she wouldn't speak to him, would she read a note? Maybe the old typewriter had one more letter in it.

He moved a stack of boxes to make room to sit in front of the black machine. As he scrolled a fresh sheet of paper into place, he closed his eyes and waited for the words to come. But they didn't.

He'd been afraid to trust again. The scars had been too deep for him to see how God could give him another shot at love. But he had, and Seth wouldn't waste it. “God, I need your help. Don't let me blow it again.”

And then the words came in sharp, rhythmic beats against the page, each filling the sheet with his deepest hope. With every fading black line, he prayed that the typewriter would hold out. Just long enough to tell her the truth.

He loved her.

Dear M,

I read in a book once about a man who wrote a letter of apology. And the girl took him back.

I wish I had his words. But somehow I can't find them. So I'll give you the only ones I have.

When I met Reece, I thought I'd met the woman I would marry. She was everything I'd ever hoped to find. And when she left me, I realized that everything about her had been a lie. She'd constructed a pretense so perfect that within weeks I couldn't imagine my life without her.

When you first arrived, I thought I was protecting Jack from the same fate by pushing you away. Except I couldn't ignore how you cared about him. And when I realized that my feelings for you were begin
ning to resemble what I'd felt for Reece, I feared the same deception. I wanted to kiss you so much that day in the closet. But you were already finding a place in my life that I couldn't imagine filling again.

I was terrified. And I was angry with myself. I should have been the one to help Jack when he needed it. He's my uncle, but because of my own stupidity, I don't have a nickel to give him.

At the first hint of what I thought to be a betrayal of my trust, I turned on you.

I have been a fool and the worst kind of man. I should have protected you. Instead, I left you to fend for yourself because I was so caught up in the pain of my own memories and anger at my own mistakes.

I don't want to be that man. I want to be deserving of you.

Will you let me try?

Yours,
S

P.S. The frame is finished. Meet me at my spot? I'll show it to you. I'll be there until the sun goes down. I promise I'll pay for the ice cream this time.

Aretha smiled when her doorbell rang.

She stood from the chair in front of her television, and Chapter jumped down, flicking her tail as if to say she wasn't very happy about losing her seat. “Get used to it, girl.” She chuckled as she opened the door.

Jack didn't even wait to be welcomed in. He just stepped past her and began pacing the living room, scratching his head and mumbling to himself.

“Please. Won't you come in?”

He looked up in confusion and promptly resumed his shuffled steps. “There's something I need to say to you, Aretha Franklin.”

She turned off the news that she'd been watching and sat on the edge of her seat, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt with flat palms. “What is it, Jack Sloane?”

He pointed toward the Red Door, never stopping his pace. “We don't just invite you over to bring us food.” His words were benign, but his voice shook, almost as if he were angry.

“I know that. I volunteered to bring you meals.”

“Right.” He stopped, clearly confused that they were already in agreement.

“Right. So that's one thing.”

Now she was confused. “What is?”

He pinched his eyes closed and rubbed his forehead, the lines around his mouth growing even deeper. “Here's the other thing. It's just that I'm not usually someone who likes to talk a lot.”

“You could have fooled me.”

He shot her a look, and she stemmed her smile with pursed lips, thankful she'd just put on a touch of lipstick. She smoothed a hand over her hair, making sure the ends curled under just as they were supposed to.

“I don't usually talk so much. Don't usually have that much on my mind. But ever since I met you, I can't seem to stop. Between you and Marie, you've got me thinking about things and wondering what my life is supposed to be like.
I only had a plan to get the inn open. Now that's about to happen, and I don't know what's next. Running a bed-and-breakfast? I don't have a clue about how to do that.”

“Because it was Rose's dream.”

“Right. It was all her idea, and she would have loved the inn, but she's gone. And I'm in that big house.”

“You have Seth.” She shrugged. “And if he plays his cards right, you might have Marie too. Plus it'll be full of visitors soon enough.”

“That's not enough.” He stopped pacing, his shoulders rising and falling, but his gaze level on her face.

She sat up a little straighter, trying to breathe and pushing all the hopes that this man had stirred in her somewhere deep inside. She'd said her piece, and he'd taken his sweet time to think about it. It was time for him to step up or walk away.

She'd been through that once, and she prayed that Jack was a better man than her husband had been.

“The thing is, you're alone too.”

“Well, I have Chapter.”

He dropped his head toward the gray tabby winding its way through his legs. “Right. A cat. But you don't have anyone to talk with. Anyone to share ideas and laugh with. And truth is, we've been doing a lot of that these last couple months.”

“That's true. We have been.”

He rubbed flat palms together before making fists. They were big hands. Strong and callused from years of manual labor. A mechanic who opened his own shop. Aged with spots and little white hairs at his knuckles, his hands were still capable.