Falling for the Innkeeper

by Meghann Whistler

  He nodded solemnly, dark eyes dancing. “I do have a younger sister, you know.”

  “So you’ve seen your share of sniffles?”

  He gave her another lopsided smile. “I’ve seen my share of sniffles.”

  She took a breath. She liked the weight of his arm on her shoulders. She liked the way he’d held her when she’d cried. She liked knowing that she could fall apart without fear that he’d judge her. She liked knowing that strong emotions wouldn’t scare him away...even if he was a workaholic lawyer who liked wearing fancy suits to the beach.

  She ducked her face into his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you, Harvard.”

  “Anytime, Lessoway.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You need me, I’m there.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Laura was psyched. After she’d dropped Emma off at preschool, she’d gone to talk to a restaurant owner friend of Chloe’s about her web design services, and she’d gotten the job!

  She couldn’t wait to tell Jonathan. He was such a good guy. The best. After she’d sobbed all over him last night, he’d helped her clean up the water that had leaked in through the roof, and this morning, before she and Emma were even up, he’d gotten more tarp and gone up and fastened it over the problem spots on the roof.

  He’d called her sweetheart yesterday. He’d let her cry on his chest. Did that mean...? Maybe it meant...

  Her excitement came to an abrupt halt, however, when she walked in the front door of the inn and found Jonathan sitting in the parlor with her mother, laughing as though Eleanor were the world’s great wit.

  “Darling!” her mother cried, large, sparkling diamonds shining from her ears, wrists and throat. “I’m back!”

  “Hey, Mom,” Laura replied warily, taking in her mother’s trim figure, her perfectly styled hair, her designer clothes.

  While her father had spent most of his time at the office when she and her sisters were growing up, their mother had spent many a long hour at the gym, doing Pilates and yoga. And when she wasn’t at the gym, she was shopping or getting a manicure or discussing the pros and cons of Botox with her friends from the country club.

  Not for the first time, Laura thanked God for her grandmother’s influence in her life. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Thanks to Gram, Laura knew exactly where her treasure was, and it wasn’t in a fat bank account or a thin body or a pretty face.

  It was here, at the inn, with the memory of people she loved, and people who had loved her.

  “How was your trip?” she asked her mom.

  “Wonderful, darling. So rejuvenating. They really do the spa right at the Ritz-Carlton, and Newbury Street is so pretty this time of year. The cherry blossoms have just exploded. You should go up there, darling. Spend some of your inheritance. Take a break.”

  “Mom,” she said slowly, aware that Jonathan was in the room, aware that she had information he didn’t. “You know there won’t be an inheritance unless we meet the terms of the will.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonathan’s head snap up at that. Felt his gaze fix on her face.

  Her stomach dropped. She should have told him. She should have gotten him those documents when he’d first asked, instead of dragging it out for days.

  “This one,” her mother said, speaking to Jonathan but waving her hand in Laura’s direction, “always the worrier. Always so good at managing the details, but the big picture?” She turned and looked abruptly at Laura. “So not your strong suit, darling.”

  “Mom,” Laura said, a warning, but her voice was too quiet.

  Her mother kept right on talking: “Her father was always so proud of her. And then she had to go and drop out of college.”

  “Mom,” she said again. “Please stop.”

  “You’d think she’d be happy about selling this old place and starting over somewhere fresh, but no, not our Laura. She has to throw a wrench in the works every time.”

  “Mom! Please!”

  “Oh, Jonathan doesn’t mind, do you, Handsome?” Her mother patted him on the cheek. He looked dumbfounded.

  “Actually,” he said, looking straight at Laura, the look in his eyes detached, somehow, even cold, “I’d like to see a copy of the will.”

  Her heart was hammering in her chest. This wasn’t the same guy who’d helped her off the roof yesterday. This wasn’t vacation-mode Jonathan, this was work-mode Jonathan, and work-mode Jonathan was as impersonal as ice. “I have to go. I have to get Emma from preschool.”

  “Run along, darling.” Her mother smiled. Her teeth looked sharp as knives.

  * * *

  Jonathan sat at a table in the inn’s front yard, watching the American flag on the flagpole flap in the wind. He wasn’t wearing a suit today, just black jeans and a red polo shirt. He had to admit, despite having met Eleanor in Boston and despite everything Laura had told him about her childhood, he hadn’t been expecting all the drama, and he felt more than a little confused.

  Laura had been putting him off about finding the documents he needed for his due diligence for almost a week now, implying that it would be easier to find them if they waited until her mother was in town. Not that he’d been pushing too hard lately, but that was neither here nor there...

  But Eleanor had no idea where to find the information he needed. According to her, she’d barely set foot in The Sea Glass Inn since she’d moved to Hong Kong. She hated the inn—she’d always hated the inn, she’d told him. She hadn’t even lived here when her parents had first bought it, when she was still a teen.

  Jonathan didn’t really know what to do with that information. He knew Laura loved this place. He liked it, too. But why was she dragging her feet on compiling the documents he needed? Didn’t she understand how much money Carberry Hotels wanted to throw at her? She and Emma would be able to go anywhere, do anything. If she invested the money wisely, as he had no doubt she would, she’d never have to work again a day in her life.

  So what was the hold-up? Why the delay?

  Was she just trying to irritate her mother? Or did those documents contain material information she didn’t want him to know? Debts, liens, pending litigation? Man, if he’d wasted nearly a week here for nothing...

  He rubbed his temples. He felt a headache coming on.

  Not that he hadn’t enjoyed goofing off with her and Emma for the past few days. He had. No doubt. Even with the disappointment of not finding his father and the terrible anxiety of yesterday afternoon, it had been the most relaxing few days he could remember in a long time.

  But he didn’t need to relax right now. He needed to focus. Because once he’d drafted the legal agreements associated with this deal, he could set his sights on wooing Carberry Hotels over to his law firm. And if he was successful, he’d soon hold his partnership in the palm of his hand.

  He took out his phone to bring Mike Roe up to speed on the situation at the inn.

  “Masters,” Mike said in greeting. “What’s the word? We got ourselves a deal?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Hit a snag.”

  “What’s up? Thought you’d have this one in the bag by now.” At a holiday party a couple of years ago, someone had described Mike as “festive.” Jonathan had always thought that description was particularly apt. When everything went Mike’s way he was the life of the party, and his perfectionism ensured that things went his way most of the time. But if perchance you messed up on one of his cases, you basically ceased to exist for him, and you never got a second shot at earning your way back into his good graces.

  Mentally, Jonathan tried to prepare himself for the moment Mike’s sun ceased to shine. He’d been Mike’s go-to guy for years now, and without Mike’s special favor, would he even recognize himself? “I’m having a little trouble getting the documents together for the initial review.”

  “And it took you, what?
Six days to realize this? A week?”

  Jonathan opened his mouth, then closed it again. He’d gotten distracted. He knew it. No need for Mike to rub it in.

  “It’s not going to probate court, is it? That would put this thing on ice for months and months.”

  “I don’t think so...”

  “You don’t think so, Masters? Haven’t you seen the will?”

  Jonathan shook his head, though Mike couldn’t see him. He hadn’t seen the will.

  Mike let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “What have you been doing down there? You meet a girl?”

  Jonathan’s silence was all the confirmation Mike needed. “You did. You met a girl. Great. Fantastic. Just what I need. I thought I could count on you, Masters. Do I have to find somebody else to take care of this for me?”

  Jonathan gritted his teeth. If Mike had to send someone else down here, it would be career suicide. “I’ll get it done.”

  “See that you do,” Mike ordered. Then he hung up.

  Jonathan put the phone down, rubbed his face. This was a mess. He needed to see those documents. He needed to see if Laura was hiding something. He needed to see the will. Now.

  A car pulled up in front of the inn. Emma hopped out, followed closely by Chloe and then, more slowly, Laura.

  “Mr. Jonafin!” Emma yelled, running over.

  “Hey, Tiny.” He worked hard to make his voice sound normal.

  “Aunt Chloe’s gonna take me to the beach to look for seashells!” she exclaimed, while Chloe gave him a sheepish wave. It appeared that Laura had filled her in on all the fun with her mom. “Do you wanna come?” Emma asked.

  “Not right now, Tiny. But thanks.” Talking to her as though everything was normal left him feeling lost. Bereft.

  “We’re gonna go get my sand buckets and shovels,” Emma announced, dragging Chloe away by the hand.

  Laura approached him slowly, like an animal wary of a predator. “Hey, um, about earlier—”

  “Your mother doesn’t know where to find my documents.” His voice sounded flat.

  Her face froze for a second.

  “I’m betting you know exactly where they are, don’t you?” He stood so he wouldn’t have to look up at her.

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “I told you I’d get to it when I have time.”

  “Gee, thanks. And when’s that going to be? Today? Tomorrow? Next week?” He heard the sarcasm, but couldn’t stop it. Mike thought he had to send someone else down here to do Jonathan’s job. He’d never been the unreliable one before. He’d always been sharp and disciplined and focused. Why couldn’t he be that way now?

  “You want them now?” She gestured indignantly toward the front door. “We can get them now.”

  “Finally. You do realize that I’ve been here a week now, and I have nothing to show for it.”

  She regarded him steadily. “Nothing, huh?”

  He felt his jaw tighten. “Is there something in those documents you don’t want me to see? A debt? A lien? A lawsuit?”

  She flinched. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “Well, what am I supposed to think, Laura?” His voice was clipped. He didn’t understand why this woman—this gorgeous, smart, captivating woman—was standing between him and his goals. He’d told her how important this was to him. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know that his career was on the line. “Here I want to give you a boatload of money, and you’ve been stalling this whole time.”

  “You think that’s what’s important to me? Money?” She shook her head, her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes full of...pity. “You’re as bad as my mother.”

  “You know, it would have been nice if you’d given me a heads-up earlier that this whole trip would just be a big waste of my time.”

  Her green eyes flashed, the pity turning hurt and wild. “Oh, what? Me telling you the inn wasn’t for sale and slamming the door in your face wasn’t a big enough clue that I didn’t want you here?”

  “You let me back in, Laura! You let me believe...” Instead of finishing his sentence, he stared toward the beach, where the grass waved on the dunes and the waves crashed on the shore and the light from the jetty flashed faithfully—mockingly—reminding him of how stupid he’d been to put his faith in anyone beside himself.

  “What?” she demanded. “I let you believe what?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. She’d let him believe a lot of things, but nothing he wanted to talk about now. “Nothing. Never mind. Let’s get the documents. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Laura sifted some sand through her fingers, looking for little shells. Chloe and Emma were closer to the water, shoes off, squealing every time a wave broke at their feet.

  She surveyed the coastline around her. It was very different here from Hong Kong’s Repulse Bay. There, restaurants lined the beachfront, crammed with people from morning to night, especially on the weekends. It was a place for young professionals to see and be seen, a place for hired help to take other people’s children. Here, though, was a place for families.

  Yes, the public beach here got crowded in the summer, but it wasn’t a trendy crowd. It wasn’t a bunch of nannies hanging out together while their young charges amused themselves in the sand. It was parents building memories with their children, alongside the sand castles. It was knowing, deep down, that while the memories might be built on sand, the family making them most certainly wasn’t.

  She sighed, feeling both sad and angry, but she wasn’t sure where to direct her anger—at her mother, at Jonathan or at herself?

  She’d been taken aback to see him in the parlor with her mother, that was for sure. And the shock, the coolness in his eyes after he’d found out about the will...

  He’d told her, that first night, why he was there. He’d told her again and again—every time he asked her to pull together the documents for his review. But still, her foolish heart had glossed right over all the warning signs. Her foolish heart had wanted...more.

  Sure, she’d given good lip service to not wanting to be with him. To Angie, to Chloe, to herself, it had been deny, deny, deny. But in her heart of hearts, she’d wanted him to be the man she’d seen over the last few days. The one who confided in her, the one who comforted her, the one who made her daughter shine with joy. The man he was when he relaxed a little. The man he was without the cutthroat, high-stakes job.

  Obviously, though, he was not that man. Because, when push came to shove, she was just a big waste of his time.

  She bit her lip. Hard. She wasn’t an angel in all this. She’d purposefully kept him from looking at those documents, and she wasn’t even entirely sure why. She’d always known he’d see them eventually, always known that, if her mother had her heart set on selling, there really wasn’t anything she could do to block the sale. She certainly didn’t have the money to buy out her mother’s share of The Sea Glass Inn. So, if Carberry Hotels was where this thing was heading, she supposed Carberry Hotels was where it would have to be.

  And telling Jonathan she didn’t want him here? A lie. Maybe it had been true that first night, before she’d gotten to know him. At that point, she truly hadn’t wanted some smarmy lawyer hanging around trying to lay claim to the inn.

  But that had been before she’d talked to him, before she’d told him about Conrad, and her dad, and her fears for Emma’s future. Before he’d fixed her dishwasher, and rescued her from falling off the roof. Before she’d started to believe that maybe, just maybe, not all lawyers were the unethical, morally bankrupt people she’d believed them to be.

  I’ve been here a week now, and you’ve been stalling this whole time.

  She’d known, back at the trampoline park, even on the drive to Beacon Light, that she was in trouble, in danger of falling for him. But if that was how he felt about the past few days, that it was all a big noth
ing, then maybe she could let go of those worries. Because, clearly, he wasn’t the man she’d believed him to be.

  If only her mother hadn’t come back so suddenly. If only she’d had time to talk to him first about the inn, and the will, and why she’d been so hesitant to help him with his deal. She massaged her temples. Why was it always so much easier to be calm when her mother was half a world away?

  Laura sighed. Why had her grandmother thought they could run the inn together, even for just a few months? Her mother was self-absorbed and unreliable. They’d drive each other crazy before the season even kicked off on Memorial Day.

  Emma squealed and ran up to her. “Mom! Mom! I got a sand crab!” She was holding the poor burrowing creature in her hands. “It tickles! It tickles!”

  Laura held out her hand and Emma dumped the little crab in. “He likes the wet sand, okay, honey?”

  “But I want to keep him! I’ll put him in my bucket!”

  “You can put him in your bucket until we leave, but then you have to let him go.”

  Emma balanced on one foot like a flamingo for all of five seconds, then tried again on the other foot. “Aw, why? He can be my pet!”

  “Honey, he gets his food at the beach,” Laura said. “If you leave him in your bucket, he’ll die.”

  “I’ll feed him! I’ll bring him food every day!” her daughter protested.

  “His food’s too small for you see, sweetie.”

  Emma pouted.

  “Are you cold, honey? Looks like you got wet.”

  Emma glanced down at her soggy pants. “I’m not cold.”

  “Aunt Chloe looks cold.”

  Chloe turned and waved at them, the bottom of her oversize sweater flapping in the wind. “Some crazy person’s out there swimming,” she called back to them.

  Laura got to her feet, sand crab still in hand, and squinted out to sea. Sure enough, after a minute, she saw the swimmer’s strong arms coming out of the water at forty-five-degree angles. Whoever it was, he was out pretty far.