“It was definitely more hellish for you than for me… but yeah.”
They stared at each other for a moment, a whole lot of shared memories going unspoken.
“I was getting ready to head to Clancy’s for a late breakfast,” Sutton said. “And by breakfast, I mean pie. You have time to join me?”
“I wish I did, but no. Although I might have to pick up a pie to bring to Willow’s on Friday, now that you’ve put it into my head.”
“It’ll go well with the bucket of wings I’m bringing.”
Ethan’s eyes lit up. “We’re allowed to bring guy food?”
“I’m taking over some guided hike for her this weekend, so she owes me. You should bring beer and onion rings and blame it on me.”
Ethan held up his hand for a high-five and Sutton slapped it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He glanced at Colonel Mustard. “Bye, cat.”
“Such disrespect,” Sutton said after Ethan walked out “toward our illustrious military feline. Hey now.” He jerked his hand away just in time. “Don’t make me regret telling Mom not to declaw you.”
The cat jumped down, disdain for humanity evident in every flick of his fluffy grey tail.
“Can’t say I disagree,” Sutton muttered, thinking dark thoughts about whoever stole that puppy from Katie Dunaway’s porch. He’d have to give Katie a call, see how she – and the dog – were faring.
But first, he considered as his stomach once again protested its lack of contents, he had a date with some apple custard.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ADELINE stood beside her parked car, staring at the inn across the street. Situated on the corner of the block, the two-story half-timbered structure looked like it would be more appropriate in an Alpine village than a small town in the American south. However, the quirkiness was part of its charm. With views of the surrounding mountains, a giant stone fireplace in the lobby, and an all-you-can-eat Sunday buffet, the place had once been a favorite with tourists – and even locals hoping for a good meal, or a night away from the kids.
Odd, how very odd, that it now stood abandoned.
Adeline swallowed. This was one property on which she didn’t need to do research. The family back story was her own.
She could still picture the garland that hung from the upstairs porch balcony, and there, in the big picture window next to the double front doors, the Christmas tree festooned with multi-colored lights. It was a running argument between her grandparents, because while her grandma Ada favored color in all things – especially during the holiday season – her grandpa Ralph preferred the simple and the plain. Needless to say, her grandma, for whom she’d been named, won. Adeline’s early childhood was a kaleidoscope of festive memories.
They’d sold the property after her mother and sister’s deaths, and Adeline hadn’t thought to keep track of it over the years. She’d assumed it was still a functioning inn. But the unkempt exterior and lack of life, not to mention the large For Sale sign plastered on the picture window, told a different story.
Hesitating, she thought about simply walking away. She’d already had enough emotional upheaval that morning. But curiosity beckoned.
Crossing the street, she approached the inn with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension, but apprehension took the upper hand. She knew from long experience that time kept moving forward no matter how badly you wished to stall it, or throw it into reverse. This place, however, was one of her most cherished childhood memories. She’d spent her last truly happy Christmas here, the final holiday where there wasn’t a hole in her life that no number of presents could fill. And when she stepped up to the window, pressed her face against the glass, that hole seemed to grow deeper.
No.
Not only was the lobby empty, but the entire thing had been gutted, right down to the studs.
“Interested in taking a look?”
Adeline couldn’t control the shriek, nor the instinctive step back when the man who’d asked the question reached out a hand and set it on her arm. Her equilibrium was so out of whack that it took a moment to bring his face into focus. He then lifted both hands, clear blue eyes going wide.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s…” Her heart pounded so hard that she could hear it in her good ear. “It’s me.” At least, she thought so. “I was lost in thought and didn’t know you were there.”
He studied her a moment and then smiled. “It’s easy to get caught up in imagining the possibilities.”
Memories swirled, the kaleidoscope she’d compared them to earlier, and Adeline had to focus on one of the buttons of his crisp blue shirt to ward off the vertigo that threatened to engulf her.
“The inn?” he said, tilting his head toward the picture window when she didn’t respond.
Adeline managed to look up in time to catch his quizzical expression. He probably thought she was addled, which at the moment wasn’t far from the truth.
“Right.” She tried to force a pleasant tone into her voice, but couldn’t quite eliminate the tremor. “Possibilities.”
“Thirty thousand square feet of them,” he said with a grand sweep of his arm, and Adeline visualized her feet growing roots, sinking into the concrete beneath them, while breathing in, out, in, out, in an attempt to stay upright.
“As you can see,” he continued, thankfully oblivious to her internal battle “the building has been completely gutted and remediated, which was long overdue. It’s just waiting for the right buyer to put their own stamp on it.”
“Stamp,” she repeated, trying to bring her brain all the way back online. Pull it together, Adeline.
“Event facility,” he suggested. “Or restaurants and retail space with chic loft apartments above them…” His blue eyes twinkled like the lights on the Christmas tree she so clearly remembered. “As metro Atlanta continues to grow, more and more people are looking for weekend getaways, and this area has all of the natural attractions they could possibly want. Now, we’re just working on developing the amenities.”
This time he gestured toward the For Sale sign, and Adeline followed the direction of his finger. Caldwell Premier Mountain Properties. Beckett Caldwell, Broker in Charge.
It was accompanied by a studio portrait of the man standing beside her.
The words he’d said began to penetrate her sensory fog, and she realized that not only was he a realtor, but he was attempting to sell her the family inn. Or, what had been the family inn. Either way, it sparked her indignation.
Her gaze shifted from the million-dollar smile in the photo to the more relaxed one on his face. He was strikingly handsome, almost too perfect, barring a slight bend in his nose. She imagined that he used those looks to his advantage. However, in her current state, Adeline was immune to his type of charm.
“And all this time I thought that a hotel was an amenity.”
Confused by her tone – she hadn’t bothered attempting to sound pleasant – his smile slipped a little. “Sure,” he agreed. “The space could easily accommodate a boutique hotel, although one did recently open across the street. But a little competition never hurt anything. I’d be happy to show you inside.”
“I appreciate that,” she said, irony coating her words like a thick layer of frosting. “But I’m afraid I’m already intimately familiar with the inside of the building. Or at least I was.”
“Ah. You must have stayed here when it was the old inn.”
“On a number of occasions. My grandparents owned it.”
Beckett – at least, she presumed that was his name – rocked back on his heels, his narrowed gaze assessing her. “You’re Bristol Arrowood’s niece.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Sorry.” The smile crept back to his face, although it was a bit more sheepish. “I’ve bungled this whole thing, haven’t I? If you’ll allow me to start over, I’m Beckett Caldwell.” He extended his hand. “And you are?”
Adeline glanced at his hand be
fore taking it. “Adeline Walker.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Adeline. I, uh, hope I didn’t come off as insensitive. I’m sure you made a lot of good memories here.”
She had, and could admit that his chipper description of their desecration had rubbed her the wrong way. But he couldn’t have known that. And as she’d thought to herself earlier, time moved on. The building would undergo another incarnation, making memories for another generation. Being upset or annoyed wouldn’t change that fact.
Letting go of her irritation, she sighed. “I guess I just expected everything to be the same as I remembered it, and it caught me off guard.”
“Perfectly understandable. Having your past and your present collide can be quite unpleasant. I –” His phone rang, and frustration flashed across his features, but he took it from his pocket nonetheless. “Excuse me,” he said, after glancing at the screen. “But I’ve been waiting on an important call, and this is it. Um,” he felt around in his blazer pocket, pulled out a card. “If you change your mind about looking inside, or need anything at all, just call me.”
With that, he strode off down the sidewalk to take his important call.
Adeline watched him go, and then studied the card before sliding it into her purse. Right now, she couldn’t imagine changing her mind, but she’d learned not to assume she would feel the same way a week from now. Her emotions were all over the place, as evidenced by her interaction with Beckett Caldwell. She’d shifted from distress and repugnance to… friendliness was too strong a term, but at least she’d managed to be cordial there at the end.
Adeline pressed her fingers against her temple, hoping that the pressure she felt there wasn’t the beginning of a headache. She actually did have to do some work, which she’d been putting off with a host of excuses. And while some of those excuses were legitimate – traveling, lack of adequate Wi-Fi connection – she also knew that being late delivering contracted work would only further serve her depression. Set small, clear goals, and persistently pursue them.
It was an approach that had helped her soldier through some of the worst times of her life, and she couldn’t let herself continue to backslide just because she was in an emotionally charged environment. She’d known ahead of time that being back here could throw her out of whack, so finding herself, well… wacky, wasn’t sufficient reason to be negligent.
The café was just down the street, so Adeline started that direction. However, after only a few steps, she found herself looking over her shoulder. Beckett Caldwell and his sales pitch were nowhere to be seen. She hated when new people caught her off guard, as he had earlier, during moments when her emotional antennae were already overloaded. It wasn’t fair to them because it made it next to impossible to discern whether her negative first impression was in fact a reflection of the person, or merely her haywire limbic system.
As if on cue, a pain shot through her arm when her laptop bag slid down, and Adeline grabbed the handle with her opposite hand. She’d put in on her left shoulder without thinking, and so switched it to the other arm. The area around her scar continued to ache, and while she knew it was the muscle beneath and not the scar itself, it was impossible not to make the mental association. After all, that scar – or rather the reason behind it – was responsible for a large percentage of the pain in her life.
Turning back toward the café, she froze, catching her breath. The heavy clouds had begun to move away, streams of sunlight breaking through to illuminate the surrounding mountains. A patchwork quilt of red and orange and gold, they swaddled the town in color. She didn’t remember much about Clayton overall, as she’d been more focused on Christmas and everything that went with it when she’d come here as a child, except for the year they’d gotten snow. That, as a Florida child, had been unforgettable. And though that Florida child was now an adult, she felt similarly awestruck.
Nature is the best medicine.
Adeline smiled, her dad’s voice filling her head. Although he’d taken a deductive approach to practically everything he did, he’d remained… almost reverential toward the natural world. Some things, even after you studied and dissected and tested them in every way possible, still held a sort of mystery that seemed to escape understanding.
Spirit buoyed, Adeline continued down the street, admiring the tastefully arranged pumpkins, haybales and cornstalks decorating public spaces. A gathering of scarecrows occupied the small park in front of the aptly named Rock House cultural center, which, according to the sign out front, would be holding a holiday craft fair at the end of the month. Just after Thanksgiving. Adeline felt a pang, because she knew that Sally hoped she’d be back for that holiday, but she wasn’t ready to think about that just yet. Not with memories of her childhood Christmases so fresh in her mind.
It was early still, so many of the shops were closed, but she entertained herself by glancing in their windows, and making note of the – oh my – homemade donut place, through the open door of which wafted mouthwatering smells. According to the chalkboard, the donut of the day was stuffed with apple pie filling and topped with whipped cream and caramel. She glanced inside, sorely tempted. Ever since her father’s heart attack, Sally had gone on a tear about clean eating, but what was the point of living if you couldn’t treat yourself from time to time?
However, she had to sit down and work for a while, and so she needed an establishment with more room, and a laptop friendly environment. She’d researched, and Clancy’s – part café, part coffee shop – fit the bill.
But when she arrived at the front door, she realized finding a table might not be as easy as she’d thought. There appeared to be a line. Since the people ahead of her were sitting on chairs in front of the hostess stand, scrolling on phones or actually chatting with one another, Adeline gathered they’d already put in their names. She waged a brief internal debate about whether to stay and wait, but it wasn’t like Clayton was a hotbed of remote work establishments. However, given how busy it was, she wasn’t sure she’d win any friends by taking up a table for a couple of hours, either.
She’d just made up her mind to check out the donut place again – they did have a couple of small tables – when a waving hand toward the back of the room caught her eye.
Adeline leaned to the side so that she could see around the hostess. The hand was attached to Sutton McCloud, who smiled and beckoned her over.
Adeline froze. Remembering the whole nipple incident made her want to act like she hadn’t seen him, but she wasn’t that big of a coward. And she was wearing a thick sweater today. Her nipples were safely under control.
Mustering her courage, she made her way toward his table, which thankfully was tucked into a comparatively quiet back corner.
“Good morning,” he said, standing up to greet her.
Adeline looked up, and then up again. “You’re very tall.”
“My parents used to hang me upside down when I was wet to stretch me out. I’m kidding,” he said, when Adeline just looked at him. “It’s sort of a conditioned response from hearing it so often.”
Freak. Hide your kites everybody. Ben Franklin is here.
“I get it,” she said, wishing she’d pretended not to see him, after all. “I’m, um, sorry for being Captain Obvious. My social filter doesn’t always engage, and sometimes things fall out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying.”
“Oh, well, now there’s something we have in common. My mom once threatened to put a muzzle on me, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
He smiled again, one side of his mouth tilting higher than the other, and Adeline felt it in the pit of her stomach. Or a bit lower, if she were being entirely honest. The man’s… aura, if that’s what you wanted to call it, packed quite a punch.
“Would you like to sit down?”
Amazingly, Adeline hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d basically just responded to his waving hand like Pavlov’s dog.
“I mean, you don’t have to. But I do
n’t think you’ll be able to grab a table by yourself for a little while.”
Adeline realized that once again, she was being rude without intending to. “I… would love to, actually.”
Sutton pulled out her chair, and Adeline stared at it for a moment before sitting down. “You have very good manners.”
“If I call my mom, will you tell her that directly?”
Adeline laughed, and then hung her laptop bag on the back of her chair, along with her purse.
“Weren’t you going to use that?” He nodded toward the bag.
“Well, yes. But I don’t want to be rude and set it up on your table while you’re trying to eat.”
“I’m finished,” he said, pointing to his empty plate as evidence. “I was just having another cup of coffee while I waited for my check.”
Adeline realized that he’d effectively allowed her to bypass the line so that she could work, as opposed to merely inviting her over to socialize. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or disappointed.
“How’s your arm?”
“Ummm… really sore,” she admitted.
“You’re sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“I’m sure. But…” Was she actually going to ask? “I could use some help splitting more kindling.”
“Will you be home this evening?”
“Unless Barnaby decides to take me out on the town.”
Sutton looked confused, but then grinned, clearly remembering the bear. “I’ll wrestle him for the privilege.”
It was a good thing that the waitress chose that moment to stop by, because Adeline wasn’t sure how to respond.
Only this was no ordinary waitress. Unless it was standard practice here to grab your customers in a bear hug.
“Sutton McCloud. You were gonna come in here, eat my pie and leave without saying a word?”
“Nomam,” came the muffled reply.
“I should hope not.” Releasing his head from her bosom, she cupped his face in her hand, turned it side to side. “You’re looking better. Not as skinny as you were when you first came home.”
Slow Burn (Rabun County Book 1) Page 10