The Quinn Legacy: Inner Harbor ; Chesapeake Blue

by Nora Roberts

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” That joy leaped out in his voice, filled his face. “And you—you tried to intercept a pass and got hit above the eye. Knocked you down, nearly out. That’s right, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Cam had to steady himself. It was a good memory. There were so many good ones. “She came running out the back door, shouting at us just as I was making the jump. I turned, and bam. Fucking galaxy of stars. That bread was like a goddamn brick. She was a hell of a doctor, but she never could cook worth a damn.”

  “Yeah, she told me.”

  “So, she bent down, looked at my pupils or whatever, held up fingers for me to count. Said it was just as well I got beaned. Saved her the trouble. Then we all started laughing—me and Dad, Phil and Ethan. Bunch of lunatics. Mom stood there, staring at us, with her hands on her hips. I can still see it. See her.”

  He let out a long breath. “Then she went back in and got another loaf so we could keep playing. She tell you that part?”

  “No.” Seth laid a hand on Cam’s shoulder as they turned toward the cargo doors. “I guess she wanted you to tell me.”

  THIRTEEN

  WHEN THE DOUGHNUTS were devoured, and Seth was hunkered down in a corner refining Ethan’s basic design for Dru’s sloop, Dru stepped outside her shop to snip off any faded blossoms in the whiskey barrel tub of verbena and heliotrope beside the front door.

  The night’s storm had cooled the air, swept away the dragging humidity and left the morning fresh and bell-clear.

  The Bay was rich blue, still kicking a bit from the turbulence of the night. Boats were already rolling over it. The watermen in their workboats, the vacationers in their rented skiffs or motorboats shared the waters. The summer people who moored their boats and stole time to use them were out early. Why waste a minute of a perfect day? Dru mused.

  In a few months, she’d be able to spend a pretty morning working on rigging, washing down the deck, polishing the brightwork of her own boat. Owning a boat meant a great deal more than casting off, hoisting sails and riding the wind. It meant pouring time, money, energy into maintenance. But that, she thought, was part of the pleasure. Or would be for her.

  She liked to work. It had been one of the many small self-realizations that had come to her over the years. She liked working, producing and the satisfaction of standing back and seeing what she’d managed to do on her own.

  She enjoyed the business end of running a business. The bookkeeping, the supplies, filling orders, calculating profit. It suited her sense of order just as the nature of her business suited her love of beauty for the sake of beauty.

  The boat, when it was finished, would be her personal reward for making it all come together.

  And Seth . . . She wasn’t entirely sure what Seth was. The night she’d spent with him had been glorious. But like a boat, a relationship with him would never be all smooth sailing, and there was bound to be maintenance.

  Just where would they be, she wondered, if the wind that had carried them to this point stalled on them? What would they do if they ran into a serious storm, or ran aground, or simply—as so many did—found the excitement draining from the ride?

  And she wished she could do no more than enjoy the moment without looking ahead for problems.

  He intrigued her and challenged her. He aroused her and amused her. He stirred up feelings in her no one had—not even, she was forced to admit, the man she’d nearly married.

  She was drawn to his solid sense of self, his honesty and his ease. And she was fascinated by the hints of the turbulence and passions she saw bubbling just under the surface of that ease.

  He was, she believed, the most compelling man she’d ever met. He made her happy. Now they were lovers, and she was already looking for the trouble ahead.

  Because if you didn’t look ahead, she reminded herself, you rammed straight into those problems and sank.

  She carried the little shears back inside, into the storeroom, where she put it on its place on the shelf. She wished she could talk to someone, another woman, about the thrill and anxiety running so fast inside her. She wanted to be able to sit down with a friend and have a silly conversation where she could ramble on about everything she was feeling.

  About how her heart started to flop around when he smiled at her. How it raced when he touched her. How scary and wonderful it was to be with someone who liked and accepted her for who she needed to be.

  She wanted to tell someone that she was falling in love.

  None of the women in her previous social circle would understand. Not the way she needed to be understood. They would be interested, certainly, even supportive. But she couldn’t imagine telling any of them how he’d bitten the nape of her neck, then have them groan and sigh in envy.

  And that’s what she wanted.

  She couldn’t call her mother and tell her she’d had the most incredible sex of her life with a man she was stumbling into love with.

  It just wasn’t the kind of conversation either of them would be comfortable having.

  Though her instincts told her there was nothing she could say to shock Aubrey, and she was dead certain she’d get the exact reaction she was looking for from her new friend, Aubrey’s connection to Seth made that possibility just a bit too sticky.

  So she was on her own, Dru supposed. Which was exactly where she’d wanted to be in the first place. But now that she had something to share, now that she felt her life shifting under her feet, there was no one to reach out to.

  It was her own doing, she admitted. She could either live with it, or begin to change it. Opening up meant more than taking a lover. It meant more than dipping a toe into the waters of a new friendship.

  It meant work. So she’d work.

  The bells on the front door jingled, signaling her first customer of the day. Dru squared her shoulders. She’d proven she could remake her life once. She could do it again.

  Prepared to be more than the polite and efficient florist, she stepped out of the storeroom with a warm smile.

  “Good morning. How can I help you?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure. I’m just going to look around.”

  “Help yourself. It’s a gorgeous day, isn’t it?” Dru walked over to prop open the front door. “Too gorgeous to be closed in. Are you visiting Saint Chris?”

  “That’s right,” Gloria said. “Taking a nice little vacation.”

  “You picked a perfect time.” Dru ignored a frisson of unease at the way she was being studied. “Are you here with your family?”

  “No, just me.” Gloria flicked fingers over the petals of an arrangement, and kept her eyes on Dru. “Sometimes a girl just has to get away on her own. You know?”

  “Yes, I do.” She didn’t look like the type to spend time or money on flowers, Dru thought. She looked . . . hard, edgy—and cheap. Her shorts were too tight, too brief, and her top too snug. When she caught what she thought was a whiff of whiskey along with the woman’s florid perfume, she wondered if she was about to be robbed.

  Then she dismissed the thought. Nobody robbed florists, certainly not in St. Chris. And if the woman had any sort of weapon it would have to be very, very tiny to be concealed under that outfit.

  And to judge someone because she didn’t care for the style of her dress wasn’t the way to begin the new phase of becoming more personable with her customers.

  “If you’re looking for something to cheer up your hotel room while you’re here, I have carnations on special this week. They have a nice fragrance and they’re very low maintenance.”

  “That might work. You know, you look familiar, and you don’t sound like a local. Maybe I’ve met you before. Do you spend much time in D.C.?”

  Dru relaxed again. “I grew up there.”

  “That’s got to be it. The minute I saw you, I thought . . . Wait a minute! You’re Katherine’s daug
hter. Prucilla—no, no, Drusilla.”

  Dru tried to imagine her mother having any sort of acquaintance with the thin, badly dressed woman who smelled of cheap perfume and whiskey. Then cursed herself for being a snob.

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Gloria planted her hands on her hips, made her smile large and friendly. She’d done her research. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

  “I live here now. So you know my mother?”

  “Sure, sure. I worked on several committees with Kathy. Haven’t run into her in a while. I guess it’s been three or four years. Last time, I think it was a fund-raiser for literacy. Book and author dinner at the Shoreham.”

  The event had been written up in the Washington Post, with enough detail in the archives Gloria had looked up on-line to make her claim smooth. “How is she, and your father?”

  No, Dru thought, she wasn’t a snob. She was simply a good judge of character. But she spoke evenly. “They’re both very well, thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s Glo. Glo Harrow,” she said, using her mother’s maiden name. “Hell of a small world, huh? Seems to me the last time I talked to Kath, you were engaged. She was over the moon about that. Guess it didn’t work out.”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “Well, men are like buses. Another one always comes along. You know, my mother’s friendly with your grandfather.” And that was true enough, though “acquainted” would have been more accurate. “The senator, he just keeps trucking along. A regular institution.”

  “He’s an amazing man.” Dru spoke coolly now.

  “Gotta admire him. A man his age still active the way he is. Then you figure with the family money, he never had to work a day in his life, much less dedicate himself to politics. Tough arena, even for a young man, the way people like to sling mud these days.”

  “People have always slung mud. My family’s never believed that financial advantage means letting someone else do the work.”

  “Gotta admire that, like I said.”

  When a man walked in, Dru bit down on her rising irritation and turned toward him. “Good morning.”

  “Hi. Hey, don’t mind me, just finish what you’re doing. I’m not in a rush.”

  “Would you like to look around some more, Ms. Harrow?”

  “No.” She’d spent more than enough time on this visit. “Why don’t I take a dozen of those . . . what was on special?”

  “Carnations.” Dru gestured to the holding vase where she’d arranged samples in every color. “Would you like any specific color or combination?”

  “No, no, just mix them up.”

  Gloria read the sign under the display and calculated it was a cheap enough price to pay for the up-close look. She took out cash, laid it on the counter.

  Now that the contact had been made, Gloria wanted to be gone. She didn’t care for the way the guy who’d come in was watching her and trying to pretend he wasn’t watching her.

  “I hope you enjoy them.”

  “I already am. Give my best to your mom when you talk to her,” Gloria added as she started out.

  “Oh, I will.” Dru turned to her new customer. Some of the temper that had begun to simmer leaked out on her face.

  “Bad time?”

  “No, of course not.” She readjusted her thoughts. “How can I help you?”

  “First, I’m Will. Will McLean.” He offered a hand.

  “Oh, you’re Aubrey’s friend.” Seriously cute, Aubrey had said. And with perfect accuracy, Dru decided as they shook hands. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. I just got off shift, figured on swinging by to see Aub—maybe catch up with Seth, before I go home and crash in a dark room for a few hours. Those flowers Seth got my girl a few weeks back were a really big hit. Can’t let him get an edge on me. What’ve you got that’ll knock her out, and make up for me working doubles most of the week?”

  “How’s your budget?”

  “Just got paid.” He patted his back pocket. “Sky’s the limit.”

  “In that case, wait right here.” She paused, reconsidered. The morning jolt wasn’t going to spoil her plans for a more open Drusilla. “Better yet, come on back. If you like what I have in mind, you can sit down, get off your feet for a few minutes while I put them together for you.”

  “I look that bad?”

  “You look exhausted.” She gestured him back. “Go ahead, have a seat,” she told him while she went to a refrigerated unit. “Delivered fresh this morning,” she said as she took out a single long-stemmed rose in cotton-candy pink. “A dozen of these are guaranteed to knock her out.”

  He sniffed it when she held it out. “Smells great. Maybe I should make it two dozen. I’ve had to cancel two dates in the last ten days.”

  “Two dozen will put her in a coma.”

  “Perfect. Can you put them in one of those fancy boxes?”

  “Absolutely.” She moved to the work counter. “You and your brother are becoming my best customers. He bought me out of yellow roses about a week ago.”

  “He got himself engaged.”

  “Yes, I know. He was floating along about six inches above ground. You and your brother and Seth have been friends a long time.”

  “Since we were kids,” Will concurred. “I can’t believe he’s been back a month and I haven’t been able to catch up with him. Dan says Seth’s been pretty tied up himself between his work, the boatyard and you. Whoops.” The crooked smile flashed as he rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. Tongue gets loose when I’m brain-dead.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t imagine it’s a secret Seth and I are . . .” What? “Seeing each other,” she decided.

  Will did his best to stifle a yawn. “Well, if we ever get our schedules aligned, maybe the six of us can do something.”

  “I’d like that.” Dru laid the roses and baby’s breath in the tissue-lined box. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Good. Ah, can I ask you something? That woman who was in here before? Was she hassling you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know, just a feeling. Plus there was something about her. I think I know her from somewhere. Can’t put my finger on it, but it doesn’t feel right. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” She glanced over at him. He was a friend of Aubrey’s, of Seth’s. The new, more open Dru was going to consider him a friend as well.

  “She claimed to know my mother, but she didn’t.” No one, Dru thought, absolutely no one referred to her mother as Kathy. It was Katherine, and on rare occasions, Kate. But never Kathy, never Kath. “I don’t know what she was after, but I’m glad you came in when you did.”

  “You want me to stick around awhile, in case she comes back?”

  “No, but thanks. She doesn’t worry me.”

  “You called her Harrow?” Will shook his head. “Doesn’t ring any bells. But I know her from somewhere. When I come up with it, I’ll let you know.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  * * *

  IT was a mistake to call her mother. Dru realized it immediately. But she hadn’t been able to get the morning customer out of her mind. The only way to check out the story was to ask.

  Her mother had breezily told her she knew no one named Glo Harrow, though she did know a Laura Harrow, and a former Barbara Harrow. Dru was lulled by her mother’s cheerful mood, and the news that she and Dru’s father were reconciled.

  For the moment, at least.

  But the conversation had soon shot down its usual paths. Why didn’t she come home for the weekend—better, for the summer? Why didn’t they all go spend a few days at the family enclave in North Hampton?

  Reasons were brushed aside, excuses ignored, until when they hung up, Dru had no doubt h
er mother was just as irritated and unhappy as she herself was.

  It reminded her to leave bad enough alone.

  But she discovered even that was too little, too late, when her mother walked into the shop ten minutes before closing.

  “Sweetheart!” Katherine threw out her arms as she rushed to the counter, then wrapped them like ropes around Dru. “I’m so happy to see you. Just so happy.”

  “Mom.” Dru patted Katherine’s back and hated herself for the desire to pull away. “What are you doing here?”

  “As soon as we hung up, I realized I just couldn’t wait to see you. I miss my baby. Just let me look at you.” Katherine eased back, stroked a hand over Dru’s hair. “When are you going to grow this back? You have such beautiful hair, and here you go around with it chopped off like a boy. You’re so thin! You’re losing weight.”

  “I’m not losing weight.”

  “I worry about you not eating properly. If you’d hire some household staff—”

  “Mom, I don’t want household staff. I’m eating very well. I haven’t lost an ounce since I saw you last month. You look wonderful.”

  It was invariably true. She wore a beautifully cut pink jacket over pearl gray trousers, both perfectly draped over a figure she maintained with scrupulous diet and exercise.

  “Oh, I feel like a hag these days.” Katherine waved a hand in dismissal.

  Dru softened. “No, you don’t, because you have very keen vision and any number of mirrors.”

  “You’re so sweet.”

  “Did you drive down alone?”

  “Henry,” she said, referring to her chauffeur. “I told him to take half an hour, walk around a bit. It’s a charming little town, really, for a holiday.”

  “Yes, it is.” Dru kept her voice pleasant. “Those of us who live here are very grateful tourists find it as charming as we do.”

  “But what do you find to do? Oh, don’t get angry. Don’t get angry.” Katherine waved a hand again as she wandered to the front window. “You’re so far away from the city. Everything it offers, everything you’re used to. Darling, you could live anywhere. Though God knows, I’d go mad if you moved away any farther than you have. But seeing you bury yourself here just hurts my heart.”