by Kathryn Shay
“God, I’ve missed you, Portia.” Alexis hugged her friend tightly.
“Me too. I still can’t believe you’re here for the whole summer.” Portia winked at Jamie over her mom’s shoulder. “How ya doing, girlfriend?”
“Great. How ‘bout you, Madonna?” Jamie loved giving people nicknames and decided to perfect her technique this summer.
“I’m terrific. Let’s go inside.” Portia treated Alexis to one last squeeze. “Dinner’s almost ready. I plan to fatten you up real quick.”
Some of the tension drained from Alexis’s shoulders and she even managed to ignore her own outlandish clothes as she negotiated the stairs behind her cousin. Images of herself and her once-best friend bombarded Alexis. The smell of summer nights at thirteen, when they sneaked cigarettes out in the boathouse; the sting of cool water as they skinny-dipped at sixteen in a remote bay; starry nights on the lake, the two of them making out with the Brewster brothers who lived a few doors down. Alexis had been right to come here to heal. The knots in her stomach were loosening already.
Inside, the spicy smells of Mexican food brought her up short. Briefly Alexis closed her eyes. There were definite disadvantages to not having told her cousin and aunt she had an ulcer. But Alexis could still hear Portia’s stern warning, years ago: You can’t do this to yourself you can’t work this hard. You’ll get an ulcer. The disagreement over Alexis’s choices had caused a falling-out between them and their friendship had never been the same. Sharing secrets had stopped. Eventually—around the time Jamie turned five—they didn’t see very much of each other and had contact only by e-mail and letters, with visits mostly on holidays. Ironically, Portia had been right about Alexis’s life. But having gotten used to keeping things from her friend, Alexis didn’t feel comfortable bringing up a difficult subject after only two days at the lake. Besides, she hated when her weaknesses became public.
As she headed to the kitchen, Portia said, “Go see Ma on the side porch. I gotta check the burritos.”
“I’ll help.” Jamie’s voice was more enthusiastic than Alexis had heard it in months. “I wanna talk to you about my hair.”
“Okay. But, I gotta tell ya, kiddo, you got a bad dye job.” Portia’s voice and her daughter’s drifted off in easy conversation.
Alexis breathed a silent prayer that Portia would be able to do something about the atrocity that passed for Jamie’s hair these days. Her cousin owned ShyLocks, an avant-garde styling salon that people came from miles around to patronize. Alexis smiled at the name of her shop. The pun had been retired English teacher Clare’s wit at work—Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice had been one of her favorite plays. Up until last year, the seventy-year-old woman had worked as a receptionist in her daughter’s business.
Alexis sought out Clare. The side door was ajar and when Alexis came flush with it, she caught sight of Clare sitting in a beautiful old wicker rocking chair .Her hair was now snow-white but still thick and heavy. Portia had swept it up in a pretty knot on the top of Clare’s head. Tendrils framed her face. The style reminded Alexis of Katherine Hepburn. Clare wore a pale pink cotton sundress and orthopedic shoes. Her sparkling silver cane—Portia’ s doing no doubt—that Clare needed ever since the accident two months ago, rested against the house. She was talking to the man who perched adjacent to her on an Adirondack chair. Alexis was surprised that someone else had been invited to this casual family dinner tonight.
“...had a call,” the man was saying. “What happened?”
“Oh, it was awful. Jenna went with him.”
The man took in a deep breath. “No, my girl wouldn’t do that, Clare.”
“She did. Raymond’s got her under some kind of spell.” Just then Clare saw Alexis standing in the doorway. “Oh, my dear, hello.”
Alexis pushed open the screen and was just about to start toward them, when the man swiveled in his seat. She swallowed back her surprise. Spence Keagan wasn’t as quick to hide his own shock as he stood.
Like her, he too looked different, out of his flight suit. Black shorts, a white polo shirt and battered Top-Siders made him appear younger. The fedora-style straw hat on his head was a little startling.
Clare said, “Come out dear, and meet Spence.”
Disconcerted at running into him in a social setting, Alexis crossed the deck. Leaning over, she kissed Clare’s cheek. “We’ve already met, Aunt Clare.”
“Really? Where?”
“At Guardian.” Spence’s voice was deeper than she recalled.
“Oh, my, I didn’t know you’d gone over there yet. You only arrived two days ago.”
Avoiding Spence’s gaze—his eyes were the color of the lake tonight—Alexis patted Clare’s hand. “Just for a little while.”
“Too long,” Jamie tossed out brashly from behind her. “Hi, Auntie Em.” Jamie flew to Clare for a big hug. She turned to Keagan. “Who’s this? Indiana Jones?”
“Jamie, don’t be rude.” Alexis winced at her nagging mother voice, as Jamie called it. And truth be told, though Spence didn’t actually look like Harrison Ford, there was something about him, other than the hat, which was reminiscent of the archeologist-turned-explorer.
Ignoring her response, Spence turned to Jamie. “I’m Spence Keagan. I live on the lake, and I’m a friend of Clare’s.”
Jamie took his hand. “Hi. I’m Jamie Castle.”
Spence looked puzzled.
“My daughter,” Alexis told him.
Again, the shocked expression. It said: You have a child? People were often surprised she had a daughter, given her position and high level of responsibility in Castle Enterprises.
“Chow’s on,” Portia called from the doorway. “Keag, will you help Ma?”
Alexis started to say she’d assist Clare but “Keag” had already gotten the cane and was at the old woman’s side. Clare inched to the edge of the rocker while Spence held it steady; he bent over and grasped her hand. Slowly, Clare drew herself up, and Spence supported her until she balanced herself. He gave her the cane and gently looped his arm though hers. Clare leaned on him heavily. They took baby steps toward the house, while Alexis watched curiously.
“Mom, you okay?” Jamie asked.
Alexis nodded. Just surprised, she thought. And touched by the big man’s tenderness toward the older woman. She hadn’t pegged him as the sensitive type. Thoughtfully, she followed the couple to the kitchen.
o0o
SPENCE STOLE ANOTHER glance at Miss Alexis as Portia placed a huge plate of enchiladas on the table. Inwardly, he frowned. Alexis Castle didn’t look like the starched woman he’d met just hours ago at Guardian. She seemed soft and feminine, even if she was too skinny for his taste. But, despite her thinness, that clingy pink top revealed curves. And her eyes—maybe it was the hair down around them—but they were huge, and made him think of a doe, wary of the world. He took a long swig of his beer, wondering where that whimsical thought came from.
“Lexy, what do you want to drink?” Portia asked before she sat down.
He scowled, blurted out, “Lexy?”
Alexis flushed. “A nickname my cousin gave me years ago.” She faced Portia. “A soft drink, no caffeine, if you have it.”
“The name suits you,” Clare said. “You get to look more like Mary every year.”
A heartbreaking expression spread across Alexis’s face. “She was just my age when she died, that’s probably why.”
Again, Spence was puzzled. The little squirt with the gaudy hair noticed his reaction. “Aunt Clare and my grandma Mary were sisters. Portia is mom’s first cousin, my second.” She shrugged. “My mother lived in Rochester when she was little; they moved to New York City when Grandma died. Now we’re back in Rochester— Grandpa moved his headquarters there five years ago— and I go to a small, private school in the big city.”
Ah, Spence got it now. He’d wondered at the connection, since Portia and Miss Alexis seemed worlds apart and unlikely to have chosen to be friends. He liked Portia’s reb
ellious streak, and couldn’t imagine Alexis ever coloring outside the lines. As he passed the food to them, he saw Jamie stare at it, lean over and whisper in her mother’s ear. Frowning, Alexis shook her head. She took a helping and cut off a small piece.
Spence bit into a big chunk of one of his enchiladas. “Hmm, this is great, Portia. My favorite.”
“I know, it’s the least I can do for you.”
“Why?” Jamie asked with her mouth full. From the corner of his eye, Spence saw Alexis press her lips together, probably to keep back a scolding comment.
Clare touched Jamie’s arm. “Wait till you chew, love.” She smiled. “Spence is building a new room in the back of Portia’s house for me.”
“I thought you were a pilot,” Jamie said.
“I am. I do carpentry work when the mood strikes me.”
“He built his whole cottage from the ground up.” Clare beamed like a proud mother.
Jamie’s brows rose. “The big wooden one with all the windows, next door to this house?”
“Yep,” Spence answered.
“It’s beautiful,” Alexis said.
It was. Spence had worked for years to build the update of a Victorian stick house. Cedar sided, it sported high-peaked roof lines, with eight skylights, wraparound porches, oddly angled windows, and a spacious, open floor plan inside.
“Cool.” Jamie smiled ingenuously at him. “Can I see it sometime?”
Spence smiled back. He’d forgotten how uninhibited kids could be. Of course, his son, Jeff, had never been this open even when he was little. “Sure. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Speaking of which,” Portia said, “I got bad news for you, Jame. I can’t take you out on the lake in the afternoon.”
“How come?”
“I have a doctor’s appointment that I forgot to tell Portia about, dear,” Clare told her. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”
Jamie’s gaze was drawn to the row of sliding doors that opened up onto the lake Spence loved. She watched it longingly. “Hey, it’s cool. I can just hang out here with Mommy Dearest.”
Alexis flinched at the unflattering term.
Then Jamie grinned at Spence. “Or maybe I can help Keag.”
“Mr. Keagan, Jamie.”
Jamie scowled, obviously irritated at her mother’s nagging. Spence didn’t blame the kid.
When dinner was over, Spence noticed half of Alexis’s meal left on her plate. No wonder she was a twig. Covering the evidence with a napkin, she stood. “I’ll clean up.”
“I’ll help,” Spence offered.
“No,” Portia said to him. “You take Mom back outside so she can see the sunset. Jamie, you go with them. Lexy and I will play Person, Place or Thing while we do the dishes.” She swatted Alexis’s butt with a towel. “Just like the old days.”
“Person, Place or Thing?” Spence asked.
“Don’t ask,” Alexis said.
The trip to the deck seemed to take Clare a long time. Spence was worried about her since she’d fallen and hurt her bad hip.
When he had her settled in the rocker, she lay back, patted his hand with her fragile, parchment-skin fingers and closed her eyes. Spence straightened; Jamie sat on the bench that he’d built for Portia around the perimeter of the small side deck. The girl was staring out at the lake, which reflected the last of the sun. It sparkled on the surface and rippled out into big, gold circles. This was Spence’s favorite time of day.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” He came up to the bench and sat down next to her. This close, the eyebrow ring made him shudder.
“Yeah. It’s mag.” She glanced at the water. “I was looking for the ducks.”
“Ah, they were around earlier.”
“How come there are three of them?”
Shaking his head, Spence wondered how to answer that question tactfully. He hardly knew this child. “The two mallard drakes are rivals for the female duck’s affection.” Then in a school-teacher voice, he said, “Migrating ducks mate late up here.”
“I get it.” Jamie scanned the horizon, was quiet for a while. Then her face perked up. “Hey, there’s a dragon.” Her eyes narrowed on him “You see it?”
Spence felt as if this was some kind of test. Good thing he’d played the game before. He looked up. Studied the fluffy clouds that hung like cotton candy in the late May sky. “Over there, to the left?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I see it. Right next to the three horses.”
The girl’s smile dawned quick and pretty. Despite her wild clothes and pierced eyebrow, she looked very young. “Where?”
He pointed. “See, right there.”
“Hmm, maybe.” Again, she scanned the horizon. “Oh, look a castle.” She grinned. “That’s what we called this game, Castles in the Sky.”
“Pun intended?”
“Yep.”
Spence stared hard at the sky and, damn it, if he didn’t see the castle—two big turrets, even a moat— right behind the dragon.
“Who’d you play with before?” she asked.
“How’d you know I played before?”
Now her expression was very adult.
“My son, but he didn’t like it much. You?”
“Mom, when I was little. Then she stopped writing it in her day planner.”
“What?”
“My mom, she writes time she has to spend with me in her day planner.”
Spence choked back a scathing retort.
Hell, it looked like he’d had Miss Alexis pegged right after all.
CHAPTER TWO
“DAMN.” SPENCE YANKED back his hand and shook it hard. It was bad enough that the hellish Middle East-like sun was beating down on him, poking a thousand tiny heat needles into his skin as he nailed shingles on the roof of Clare’s new room. Now his thumb throbbed. Picking up the ragged white T-shirt he’d discarded, he wiped the sweat from his eyes, and grumbled. “Concentrate, jerk.”
“People who talk to themselves are mega-weird.” The voice came from twelve feet below; he pivoted carefully to glance down.
Jamie Castle stood on the ground, decked out in red shorts, a yellow T-shirt and purple sunglasses. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “Hi, kid.”
“What ya doing up there, Crash?”
He frowned down at her. “You criticizin’ my piloting?”
“Nope. Wearing a baseball cap, you look like that guy in the old movie, Bull Durham. My mother thinks he’s cute.”
A grin tugged at Spence’s lips. First Harrison Ford. Now Kevin Costner. She was great for his forty-four-year-old ego.
“Can I help?”
Spence caught the note of hope in her voice. He’d seen her wandering around next door, idly skimming stones on the lake—she could use a few pointers—dipping her feet in the water, luring the mallards from under the dock. She’d even brought out a small keyboard and played some cool jazz. It reminded him of Jeff on the piano when he was little. He said, “I’d give my eyeteeth for a cold drink.”
Her face lit up. “How about some lemonade?”
“Sounds great.”
Spence completed another row of shingles around the skylight before she returned, carrying a red pitcher and plastic glasses, wearing a mischievous grin.
“Hey, Keag, you want me to bring it up?” A kid’s anticipation of danger laced her voice. But, Spence had seen too many daredevil stunts end in heartache in his years at Guardian so he descended the latter.
“No way. It’s time for a break anyway.”
Jamie shrugged her shoulders, as if she was used to being told no and poured them each a glass of lemonade at the picnic table. Without a word, Spence dropped onto a bench across from her and gulped the drink. Tart and ice-cold, it was nectar of the gods in the eighty-five degree heat. “Mmm. Just right.”
Idly, Jamie toyed with her glass. “You’re almost done with the roof.”
“Yeah, should be finished by noon.”
“Portia said you would’ve been done sooner if you
hadn’t put the skylights in.”
“Clare loves the light. Since she can’t enjoy the lake, this might compensate some.”
Jamie nodded and then scowled at the woods behind their houses. “Who’s that?”
Turning, Spence caught a glimpse of white before it darted behind a tree. “Over by the big oak?”
“Yep. I think I saw somebody there, and around the back of our house earlier.”
“Maybe it’s Max.”
“Who’s Max?”
“A girl down the road. She likes to slip in and out of sight. She’s not very sociable.”
“Why not?”
Spence shook his head. “Her parents own a seafood restaurant and warehouse at the east end of the lake. They work days and nights, and Max is left alone a lot. Guess she got used to her own company.” He stared knowingly at Jamie. “Maybe you two could be friends.”
“How old is she?”
“Twelve or thirteen, I guess.”
Scoffing, Jamie said, “Nah, she’s too young for me.”
“You look like you could use a friend.”
Jamie tossed her head to indicate the cottage behind her. “Yeah, I’m Orphan Annie again today.”
“Mom went to work?”
“Nope. She’s in bed.”
“She sick?”
Jamie hesitated. “Um, no, not exactly.” She glanced at the roof. “You gonna do this all day?”
“I’m quittin’ at noon. It’s too hot.”
She stared longingly at the lake. “I can go swimming when my mother gets up.”
“Are you sure she’s—”
“Jamie Anne Castle, I told you not to bother Mr. Keagan!”
Alexis Castle had appeared suddenly behind Jamie. No, not Alexis. Lexy. Dressed in black spandex shorts and a Nike T-shirt in blue metallic that read, Just Do It. Her arms were wrapped around her waist in the same gesture he’d noted last night. Her hair was down again, and mussed like she’d just climbed out of bed.
Jamie’s scowl was mutinous. “I only brought him some freakin’ lemonade.”
Spence wanted to tell Miss Alexis that if she was so worried about the kid bothering him, she shouldn’t have lounged in bed all morning. But her face was sickly pale—she could use some sun—and her lips were pressed tightly in a grim line. Again the word pain came to mind “She’s no bother,” he reassured here.