Winter Reunion (11 page)

“Good luck. I know Frank thinks you've got a great opportunity there, and he's really looking forward to helping you out.”

 

At eight o'clock that evening, Beth blew the flyaway strands of hair out of her eyes and looked around at the amazing transformation.

The refuse had filled a rented trailer parked outside,
and also formed several towering heaps waiting to be hauled away.

The boardinghouse tenants and her book club had helped Dev and Beth scour every inch of the walls and floors until the place sparkled.

And once it dried, they'd repainted the living room with soft taupe, the bedroom in an inviting shade of silvery aspen, and the kitchen a pale, buttery yellow.

The hardwood floors needed refinishing, but a good buffing tomorrow would bring out the rich amber and gold shades of the oak.

Keeley tamped the lid onto the last gallon of paint. “Wow. Remind me to call you guys when I start fixing up
my
house. You're amazing!”

“This didn't take long at all,” Olivia agreed. She glanced at her watch. “And now, I have to run. Anyone want a ride home?”

“I would,” Sophie said, peeling off her rubber gloves. “I planned to walk home, but it's getting late and I'm beat.”

Keeley nodded. “Me, too.”

Beth hugged each of her friends as they headed for the door. “You guys are the greatest. Thanks so much.”

As soon as they were gone, she flopped down on the only usable chair in the cottage and closed her eyes. “What a job.”

“It wouldn't have gotten done if not for you.”

“And all of the others who helped,” she said drily. “Don't forget about them.”

“But you got them to come. I would still be looking
at five tons of garbage in here and thinking it was a lost cause.”

“Don't forget that you have to vacate the premises tomorrow afternoon, while we get the place set up.”

“That thought is just plain terrifying.”

“Ruffles, lace and chintz, all the way. Count on it.”

She smiled to herself as she sorted through her memories of the day…especially the way Frank had tentatively flirted with Reva while she worked on the kitchen cupboards, insisting that she needed help.

She'd staunchly refused, though there'd been a bit of pink in her cheeks afterward, so maybe she wasn't entirely immune to his old-fashioned courtly charm.

Cody and Elana had come by midafternoon, and the way the boy had watched Dev's every move had been so sweet.

“It was good of you to let Cody help with the painting. He was very proud of himself.”

“He's a good kid.”

“And he's had a lot of tough breaks. I'm glad he could spend some time with you.”
You would have made a good father,
she added silently, but she didn't say the words aloud.

Some things were better left unsaid.

B
eth paced through her store fluffing pillows on the sofas and rockers and tweaking the book displays.

The tantalizing aroma from a fresh pot of crème brûlée decaf wafted in the air, along with the fragrance of still-warm shortbread cookies she'd baked and dipped in melted Belgian milk chocolate just a few minutes ago.

She paused in the center of the store and spun slowly on her heel, taking in the inviting baskets of ivy and fern hanging in the windows and the colorful afghans draped just so across the backs of the sofas.

Perfect. Just as quaint and inviting as she'd dreamed of, during those long months of feeling lost and alone after her divorce.

With the good friends who would be showing up any minute for their Saturday morning book club, a business she loved, and the warm fellowship and faith she shared with the members at the Aspen Creek Community Church, there was nothing else she needed to make her life complete.

An inner voice whispered Dev's name, but she ignored it. Past mistakes had brought painful lessons that she would not be repeating.

The bells over the front door tinkled.

“Ah…” Olivia stepped inside and took a deep breath as she slipped off her cropped leather jacket. “Now
this
is why we always want our book club to meet right here. What on earth smells so fabulous?”

“Cookies. Coffee. Keeley's bringing the healthy treat this time. A fresh fruit platter, I think.”

“You should invite your mother to join us. She's been here over a week and I haven't seen her at all in town.”

Beth switched on a stained glass floor lamp by the section on home decorating. “She and I have lunch and go sightseeing together. Otherwise she spends a lot of time resting.”

“Is she all right?” Olivia headed for the antique library table, where Beth had set up a fall bouquet and refreshments on her favorite autumn leaves tablecloth. She poured herself a cup of coffee and picked up a cookie, then leaned a slim hip against the table and dunked an edge of the cookie in the steaming brew. “The Maura I remember would be gadding about from dawn to dusk.”

“I know. She doesn't seem quite like herself these days. One minute she'll be as breezy as ever, but then she'll seem really pensive…like something is bothering her. She just brushes off my questions when I ask, though.”

“If she's the Maura I remember, she'll speak her mind
when she's ready,” Olivia said with a smile. “No holds barred.”

“That would be Mom,” Beth admitted. “She usually doesn't keep you guessing about what she thinks.”

“How has it gone with Dev and her?”

“They haven't run into each other much, far as I know. Or if they have, no one's talking and the town is still standing, so it must have gone all right.”

“I had a nice chat with him when we came to work on the cottage. And once before, when he was at the Walker Building.”

“You did?” Surprised, Beth looked up from pouring herself a cup of coffee, trying to imagine Dev chatting at length with anyone.

He'd become so distant over the years…an intense, guarded warrior who appeared edgy just setting foot in this pretty little postcard of a town that had to be worlds away from the life he led as a marine.

Olivia sipped her coffee. “I have to admit that I'm impressed. With him
and
his plans.”

“I know his shoulder injury has to bother him, but he works night and day on that building anyway.”

“Frank tells me it's going to be quite a place when he's done. I gave Dev my brother's number so he could talk to someone else in the business.” Olivia turned back to the table to scoop a teaspoonful of sugar into her coffee. “He seems like a complex guy. To just look at him, you'd think he's got his life under perfect control.”

“If he doesn't, he isn't one to discuss it.”

Olivia tipped her head in agreement. “But words unsaid can be just as strong. When I told him how I was
proud of him for his military service, he seemed genuinely surprised, as if he couldn't even fathom receiving praise.”

“His parents hated that he went into the service. They expected him to be a physician or a lawyer, and drummed it into him from early grade school. When he enlisted, they were outraged. They let him know how much of a disappointment he was. And Vivian never missed a chance to tell him about her friends' children who made the ‘right' choices.”

“I thought I remembered something like that. I wasn't in her social circle back in those days, of course. Viv was a generation older than me. But gossip in a small town never dies.” Olivia frowned. “From the very beginning, she should have been proud and supportive. I rather enjoyed telling him about her change of heart before she died, in case she hadn't found the spine to do it herself. He was
really
surprised at that, so I guess she didn't.”

There'd been so much bitterness between his parents and Dev that Beth knew Olivia's description of his reaction was no exaggeration. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. His expression said it all.” Olivia tilted her head and studied Beth over the rim of her steaming cup of coffee. “How are you and he getting along? Any nice quiet dinners just to catch up with each other?”

“Hardly. I think we may have progressed from ‘painfully awkward' to just awkward. I don't think either of us wants to dredge up the past.”

“I'd guess he doesn't confide in many people. He doesn't even talk to you?”

“The few times I've seen him around town when he's
been back, we've barely spoken. There's no animosity. There's just…nothing, as if he has no emotion at all.”

“There you would be wrong.”

Beth blinked. “You two must have had quite a conversation.”

“It wasn't just his words. I think he's really struggling with something, and he could use a friend. Frank Ferguson says the same thing.”

“Frank?”

“He and I use to teach together…ages ago. I saw him in the post office yesterday, and he mentioned being really sorry that he startled Devlin on Thursday morning. To quote Frank, ‘It was like the poor boy had one of those war flashbacks, or something.'”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder?”

“It would make sense, given what he does for a living. Maybe he needs to get help. Or maybe he just needs someone to talk to. Of all people, you'd be the one who knows him best.”

“Not anymore.” Beth swirled the coffee in her cup and stared at the dark liquid, trying to dispel the sudden, graphic images of the horrors he'd probably faced. How could anyone ever get over something like that? “And I'd be the last one he'd consider.”

Through the front windows, she caught a glimpse of Keeley and Sophie crossing the street together toward the store, walking arm in arm. Relieved at the distraction, she waved to them through the window.

Olivia shook her head in disbelief. She touched Beth's arm and lowered her voice as the other women came in
the door. “Don't forget what I said about Dev, honey, because I think that man is really hurting inside.”

“I don't—”

“At least try. And say a few prayers for him, too. I'll sure keep him in mine.”

 

At ten o'clock, the antique grandfather clock by the front door started its rich, melodious chime and a customer knocked on the locked door of the store.

Beth went to unlock the door and flip the window sign to Open, then returned to the circle of chairs in the back.

“We didn't get very far with our book discussion,” Sophie said ruefully. “And it was my fault, this time.”

Keeley and Olivia both enveloped her in a group hug, then Hannah and Beth took their turn.

“Anytime you're having a bad day, you need to call one of us,” Keeley said, reaching out to grasp both of Sophie's pale, delicate hands. “I just can't imagine how hard it is to lose a husband. Actually, I can't imagine what's it's like to
have
one, but that's another story.”

“Usually, it was pretty nice.” Sophie smiled, though her eyes were still damp and her voice wobbled. “I didn't realize our anniversary would hit me so hard this year.”

“How is Eli doing? Does he still talk about his dad a lot?”

“He does, almost every day. But that's good for both of us, really. No one at the restaurant or my school even brings it up anymore. I suppose they all think we've had enough time to mourn.”

“But they're wrong,” Olivia said flatly. “They just haven't been through such a big loss themselves, bless their hearts.”

Sophie nodded. “And now, with Eli getting older, he misses having a dad all the more when he sees other dads at school activities and Cub Scouts. I'm so torn—he needs a dad. But I just can't imagine falling in love again. I tried dating again once, and it was a total disaster. Remember Allan?”

Keeley smiled. “Now, you'll have to admit that he was an unusual case. How often are you going to run into someone who was an ex-con?”

Sophie's mouth trembled, then she broke into helpless laughter. “And I didn't have a clue—even when he had those ‘coffee meetings with his uncle,' who turned out to be his parole officer. How naive can anyone be?”

“Maybe when you get done with school, and have some time for yourself, you'll find the perfect guy,” Olivia said. “Give yourself a break, dear. Things will happen when the time is right.”

 

A stout, middle-aged man walked in from the street, smiling as he passed the members of the book club standing near the door. He continued to the back, and wandered through the bookshelves and displays as the women said their farewells.

His face, with its folds of flesh, made him look nearly identical to the bulldog gracing the cover of this month's
Dog Lover
magazine, displayed not ten feet away from him.

“Duty calls,” Beth whispered, hiding a grin. She
turned away from her friends and went to the counter. “How can I help you?”

His benign smile wreathed his eyes in wrinkles. “I'm from out of town, and just wanted to stop by to look around. Nice store.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Browsing. Is there more upstairs?”

“That's an apartment.”

His expression brightened. “Available?”

“No—I live there.”

“Long-term? Or might it become available sometime?”

“Long-term.”

“Well, I'll bet it's just as charming as your store.” He glanced around. “Are there books downstairs, as well?”

“Just storage.”

He nodded in obvious satisfaction. “Beautiful old building. Beautiful. I like the old-fashioned bay windows facing the street, and how you've decorated them in such a quaint, appealing way. I'm sure this store draws plenty of tourists down to Hawthorne.”

He seemed more interested in the building than the books, but Aspen Creek did draw a lot of people who came to soak up the Victorian flavor of the town and prowl its dozens of antiques shops.

He strolled through the store again, eyeing the crown moldings and pressed tin ceilings, a smile curving his thick lips. “I haven't been inside until now. It used to be a dentist's office, you know. And before that, a milliner's
shop. Beautiful views of Aspen Creek and the bluffs, out back.”

She eyed him closely. “How did you know that?”

He ducked his head modestly. “Research. And I toured the other buildings along this part of Hawthorne Avenue earlier this morning.”

“Why?”

He took a business card from his suit jacket pocket and handed it to her. “I'm here this weekend from St. Paul to check out a few things about the Sloane property.”

She stared at the card. “You're Stan Murdock?”

“That's right—Devlin Sloane's uncle.” The man smiled beneficently, though his inquisitive gaze continued to roam the store. “He's a fine, fine boy. Is he around, by any chance? Might I be able to see the rest of the building?”

“Devlin doesn't work here. And the basement is just that—stone walls, rather damp, and only used for storage.”

“I'll bet the upstairs is positively charming.”

“It is.”

“Would you mind letting me see it? I so love these quaint old buildings.”

He was fishing for permission, but the thought of him snooping through her things up there made Beth's skin crawl. “No. I'm sorry, but there isn't really anything up there for you to see. Nor will there be.”

“I was married to Vivian's sister, and I'm named in the will. Are you aware of that?”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, I never understood it, but Vivian had her fun trying to help charity cases. If those people weren't able to get on their feet before she took them in, it's unlikely that any of them can do it now. They are just marking time, enjoying cheap rent.”

“I disagree.”

“Because you still think you can hang on to this building. But face the facts—you're simply delaying the inevitable,” he said gently. “Those people are enjoying themselves at your expense, because they'll still be sitting in that boardinghouse when the deadline is long past…. and they won't even care.”

“I don't agree.”

“But it isn't realistic to assume they'll
ever
be able to find ‘careers.' You could save yourself a lot of trouble by relinquishing your rights and walking away.”

Stunned, she stared at him. Was the man
crazy?
“I think you need to talk to Devlin.”

“I'm heading that way next. With luck, he'll have enough business sense to see that I'm offering both of you a chance to escape the impossible stipulations of his mother's will,
and
come out of the deal with some good money.”

Stan's smile had seemed oddly familiar, and now she realized that he reminded her of a smug, self-satisfied cat. “Good ‘business sense' would mean turning boarders out onto the street?”