Echo Lake

by Carla Neggers

  “To say hello.”

  She bet that wasn’t all. “I see.”

  “You didn’t tell us he’s staying up at Vic Scarlatti’s place.”

  “I told Eric and Justin this morning. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t affect my work.”

  “Yeah. He said he drove you home last night.”

  “My truck—”

  “Wouldn’t start. Got that part, too.” He pointed at the ceiling. “When you lived upstairs, I knew most everything that was going on with you.”

  Heather smiled and leaned toward him. “Why do you think I seized the moment to stay at Phoebe’s house?” she asked him in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Brandon lives within spitting distance of Thistle Lane. Chris and Eric are close by, too.”

  “Going to put a spy detail on me, Pop?”

  He grunted. “Tempting with a federal agent with a bad history in town driving you around in the dark.”

  “It was six o’clock, and he wasn’t driving me around. I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle myself.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t remind me.”

  Heather knew he wasn’t serious about being overprotective. Half-serious, maybe. She sometimes joked that being the youngest of six and the only daughter came with certain privileges and responsibilities and a whole lot of scrutiny, no matter her age.

  “What happened between Brody and my dear, kind, sweet brothers?” she asked.

  Her father waved a hand. “Six kids—something was always going on. I couldn’t hold a grudge for every scrap you all got into as teenagers or we’d never have stayed in town or in business.” He got to his feet. He wore a heavy sweatshirt, faded work pants and scuffed boots, his uniform for as far back as Heather could remember. “Note my use of the past tense. Any scraps you all get into now that you’re adults are your problem.”

  “So if Brody Hancock drives me home from work again, it’s my problem?”

  He ground his teeth. “Heather.”

  “I know. It’s unsettling to have him back when he’s a Diplomatic Security Service agent and Vic’s a newly retired diplomat. Did Brody ask you any questions?”

  “Like what?”

  “About unusual goings-on, anything like that.”

  “No. I got the feeling he wanted to check out the place and see how we’re doing, but he’s a federal agent. Those guys are always looking for trouble.”

  “Where is he off to now?”

  “He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.” Her father studied her a moment. “Heather...” He sighed. “Never mind. How are things going up at the Scarlatti place?”

  Heather updated him on the renovations and some changes she wanted to make, as well as the wine cellar and potential sauna. “So far, so good,” she said when she finished. “I need to check with Justin on a couple things. He’s at the McCaffrey site?”

  Her father nodded. “Brandon and Adam are out there, too. We’ll be starting the Scarlatti work soon. It’s good to have these large projects.”

  “Everything’s going well on my end,” Heather said.

  “I’ve no doubt.”

  He followed her outside and stood in the driveway until she got her truck started. She grinned at him and waved, but he just shook his head and mouthed, “Get a new battery,” as she shifted into first gear and headed out.

  * * *

  The house and “barn” Sloan & Sons was building for Dylan McCaffrey and now Olivia, his wife, Randy and Louise Frost’s elder daughter, would be spectacular when completed. Mark Flanagan, the architect on Vic Scarlatti’s renovations, had done the design. Both the house and barn would meld into the landscape of open, rolling fields, old stone walls and woodlands above the protected Quabbin wilderness. The property was located on Carriage Hill Road, which once wound through the now-flooded valley towns. It dead-ended at a Quabbin gate just past Olivia’s destination inn, The Farm at Carriage Hill. Turning her 1803 center-chimney house into her own kind of inn had led her to contacting Dylan, who had unknowingly inherited a run-down house and overgrown yard, then a hopeless eyesore.

  If only he could clean up the place, Olivia had pleaded, or let her clean it up...

  Now they were married and on an extended honeymoon. Dylan, a very wealthy man, was still putting together what came next for him now that NAK, Inc., the San Diego–based company he’d helped grow with Noah Kendrick, had gone public, leaving them both at loose ends. An ex-NHL hockey player and a high-tech genius—not typical friends, maybe, but obviously the best of friends.

  And now both were in love with women from Knights Bridge.

  Heather found Justin and Brandon, her middle brother, in what would be the kitchen, its generous windows looking out at the back fields and Carriage Hill itself, the namesake for the road and Olivia’s inn. Heather had hiked to the summit countless times, by herself, with her brothers, with friends. She would soak in the views of the sprawling reservoir in the valley where less than a hundred years ago the three branches of the Swift River once meandered through four small towns, now gone, a part of history.

  “Brody stopped to see Pop,” Justin said as he shut down his laptop. “He tell you?”

  “Pop did, not Brody.” Heather kept her tone matter-of-fact. “I haven’t seen Brody since I left Vic’s.”

  Her second-eldest brother stood back, eyeing her. “Anything going on out there, Heather?”

  Anything going on—like Brody kissing her? Thinking about the touch of his lips on hers made her feel warm, but she covered for herself with a shrug. “Not that I know of. Why? Do you have any reason to think there’s something going on?”

  “I don’t, no,” Justin said.

  Brandon looked up from a nail gun he was fiddling with on a sawhorse worktable. “Does Brody?”

  Heather decided to tell them. “He asked me if I’ve noticed any unusual incidents. I haven’t.”

  Justin grimaced. “Why would he ask that?”

  “A natural thing for a DSS agent to ask, maybe. I don’t know, though. It’s none of my business. I’m out there to work.”

  “Hold that thought,” Brandon said.

  He sat on a high stool at the worktable. Heather knew he was more attuned than Justin to when she was trying to hide something. Even worse were Adam and especially Christopher, both closer to her in age. Normally, she didn’t mind her brothers’ questions since she was open by nature and rarely had anything she didn’t want to talk about with them. Her walk with Brody out to his property was one of those rare things.

  Justin closed his laptop. “If Brody’s concerned about Vic Scarlatti’s safety or mental state, maybe you shouldn’t go out there by yourself.”

  “I’m not by myself. Vic, Brody and Adrienne are there. I’ve been there alone a number of times and haven’t run into any problems.”

  As if just to complicate her life, she saw Brody through the window in the back door.

  What was he doing here?

  So much for wanting to avoid her brothers. He had to be following her—except, of course, he’d visited her father before she’d stopped by. Still, she could feel a rush of self-consciousness that didn’t bode well for the next few minutes of her life. She didn’t know why she couldn’t be more matter-of-fact about her reaction to him, but she couldn’t. Even if she hadn’t walked out to the lake with him—even if he hadn’t kissed her—her emotions would be all lit up.

  Justin glanced darkly at her then walked over and opened the door. “Hey, Brody.”

  “Justin.” Brody stepped inside. He didn’t look ill at ease. “It hasn’t gotten any warmer in Knights Bridge since I left.” He nodded to Brandon. “Good to see you, Brandon.”

  “Welcome home.”

  If there was any sarcasm in Brandon’s voice, Heather missed it. She unzipped her vest. She was boili
ng hot, but she figured she could blame red cheeks or a sweaty brow on being inside, not on having Brody Hancock show up.

  “What can we do for you?” Justin asked him.

  “I was out and about and thought I’d stop by. I gather Heather here told you I was in town.” Brody glanced around the unfinished kitchen. “This place is something. It’s Grace Webster’s old property, isn’t it?”

  Justin nodded. “She’s in an assisted living facility in town.”

  “And now you’re building this place for Dylan and Olivia McCaffrey. Turns out Dylan is Grace’s long-lost grandson.” Brody ran a fingertip over a windowsill where the sink would go; it and the cabinets would be among the last items installed. “I drove down the road and checked out Olivia’s new venture.”

  “The Farm at Carriage Hill,” Heather said.

  His dark eyes settled on her. “The sign with the clump of chives is her work? Isn’t she an artist?”

  “Graphic designer,” Brandon said. “Maggie’s her business partner now.”

  Brody gave a small smile. “Maggie O’Dunn. Glad things worked out for you two.”

  “Thanks. We have two boys now, Aidan and Tyler.”

  “That’s great.” Brody sounded genuinely pleased. “Noah Kendrick is about to become your brother-in-law, I hear. I kind of figured Phoebe would end up surprising everyone. Dylan and Noah are both out of town right now, aren’t they?”

  It wasn’t a casual question. Heather knew it, and she saw that her brothers did, too. Justin stiffened visibly. “That’s right,” he said.

  “Come on, Brody,” Heather said. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  He nodded. “Sure. That’d be great.”

  She glanced at her two brothers. “Don’t let us keep you from your work.”

  In other words, she could handle herself. Also, the house was full of carpenters, two electricians and a stonemason in the form of her brother Adam, who was fine-tuning his work on the hearth in the main gathering room, the first stop on Heather’s tour. He and Brody exchanged a polite greeting. Adam was her quiet brother, not always easy for her—or anyone else—to read, but she got his message loud and clear. He wasn’t any happier about Brody showing up at the work site than Justin and Brandon were.

  Their uncle Pete was downright blunt when they ran into him in what would be the library. He grunted at Brody. “Trouble returns.”

  Brody grinned. “So it does. Good to see you, Pete.”

  “Yeah. You, too. I guess you have to behave now that you’re a federal agent.”

  Heather led Brody to the second floor. She stopped when they reached the top of the stairs. “It’s a surprise you’re back here. They’ll adjust.”

  “I don’t need them to adjust,” he said.

  Because he wouldn’t be staying in Knights Bridge, she thought. She stood at a window and pointed to the barn Sloan & Sons was building. “That’s where Dylan’s adventure travel business will be based. He and Noah are also talking about doing some kind of entrepreneurial education retreats there. They’re both still young and have so much experience, and they know everyone— They could bring in all sorts of guest lecturers. It could be great.”

  “Sounds it.”

  She showed Brody the rest of the house. The barn could wait for another day. It was further from completion, and she needed to get him on his way before any old tensions between him and her brothers worked their way to the surface.

  She walked out to his car with him. She waited for him to open the driver’s door before she let her own tension rise to the surface. “Are you investigating me, Brody?”

  Her question didn’t seem to catch him by surprise. “Investigating is too strong.”

  “Snooping? Would that work better?”

  “I’m getting the lay of the land in Knights Bridge after all this time.”

  “Is it because I’m overseeing Vic’s renovations? Do you think whatever is going on that you’re not telling me traces back to me? Is that why you invited me to walk with you out to your property?” The cold penetrated her vest and sweatshirt and the wool layers underneath. “It’s not why you kissed me, is it? Because then I’d have to slap you right here and now, and someone in the house would see—”

  “Heather. It’s not why I kissed you.”

  “All right, that’s something, anyway. What about my brothers? Are you investigating them? Do you think one of them is harassing Vic?”

  “It’s best not to speculate.”

  “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

  “This isn’t a matter of trust.”

  She studied him. None of the approachability she’d experienced on their walk was in evidence now. He wasn’t easy to talk to. He struck her as remote—arrogant, even. Whether it was seeing her brothers again, the tour of Olivia and Dylan’s new home or her—delayed regret over kissing her—didn’t matter.

  “Then what is it?” she asked him.

  He put a hand on the car door. “Go home, Heather.”

  “What—are you making sure my family isn’t taking advantage of Vic? Soaking him for money, that sort of thing? You stopped by here because Dylan is even wealthier than Vic. If we’re soaking Vic, we’re probably soaking Dylan, too. This is where the bad blood between you and my brothers comes in, doesn’t it?”

  He looked up at the sky as if it could provide answers, then sighed at her. “You’re taking some pretty big leaps there, Heather.”

  “Maybe so, but I guarantee my family wouldn’t have stayed in business in Knights Bridge for all this time if we were a bunch of charlatans.”

  “Take a few deep breaths. You’ll see where I’m coming from.”

  “A few deep breaths? Are you patronizing me, Agent Hancock?”

  He smiled. “Never.”

  She almost smiled. “Good.” She watched as he got into his car. “You’re not going to explain yourself, are you? You’ve said all you have to say.”

  “See you at Vic’s tomorrow.”

  He shut the door and started the engine. Heather stood back as he reversed then drove down the sanded driveway. She headed for her truck, but Justin beat her to it. “You’re flushed,” her brother said.

  “It’s the cold.”

  “It’s not the cold. You’re mad. Brody was always straightforward. It can sting, that kind of in-your-face approach. He’s found a place where it works for him. It never did here.”

  “I’m focusing on my work.”

  “That’s what I want to hear.”

  “What’s Samantha up to today?”

  Justin softened. “Researching pirates.”

  “I’m glad you two hit it off,” Heather said as she climbed into her truck, pleased she and Justin were parting on a note of mutual agreement.

  * * *

  When Heather arrived on Thistle Lane late that afternoon, her sister-in-law, Maggie, was sprinkling sand on the front walk. She barely looked up from her task when Heather joined her. “I walked over here and didn’t have any trouble until I hit this one patch of ice. It snuck up on me.” She pointed to the offending spot, now covered with sand. “That’s all it took. Isn’t that pathetic? I went right down on my behind.”

  Heather noticed a streak of snow and dirt on Maggie’s right hip and upper thigh. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

  She shook her head. She was hatless, her dark red hair and turquoise eyes a touch of color against the snowy landscape. “I’m glad there were no witnesses. Falling while ice-skating I can explain. Falling while walking to your front door—I feel uncoordinated.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have thrown some sand out here this morning.”

  “It’s not your fault. I should know to be ever vigilant in January.” Maggie squinted at Heather despite the gray dusk. “I brought you bread. Oatmeal
and honey, one of your favorites. It’s still warm from the oven.”

  “Thanks, Maggie. I’m out of food, and your bread is the best. Well, anything you cook is the best. Where are the boys?”

  “They’re at the library picking out books. Aidan’s into sea otters these days. Ask him how many hairs on a sea otter. He’ll tell you. Tyler’s all about pirates these days, thanks to Samantha. Brandon’s taking them ice-skating on the common after they’re done at the library.” Maggie stretched a little, wincing. “I think I’ll pass on skating and take a hot bath instead. What are you up to?”

  “Quiet evening.”

  “Alone?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “My mother says you and Adrienne Portale have become friends.”

  “We get along well. We’ve talked about going to a movie together, but we haven’t gotten around to it.”

  “She seems nice, but I’ve only met her once.” Maggie set her sand cup on a porch step. “You got sucked into a whirlwind with this renovation project, didn’t you? Doing your job, and here comes Vic Scarlatti and his dramas.”

  Heather sighed. “Brandon told you Brody Hancock is back in town.”

  “Brandon didn’t need to tell me. It’s all over town. A federal agent with a not-so-great history with your brothers turns up, people are going to talk.”

  “That’s understandable, but I’m just doing my job.”

  Maggie looked dubious. “My mother predicted Vic would need time to settle down after the life he’s led. She thinks he’s too young to retire, especially for a diplomat. He needs stuff to do besides look after a stray golden retriever puppy and watch you work.”

  “He’s helping decide on wines for his wine cellar, too.”

  “Oh. Well, there you go. That’ll keep him occupied for, what—a day? He’s used to being busy and important, and now he’s just another guy.”

  Heather shrugged, feeling the cold now. “Maybe that’s what he wants.”

  “And maybe it’s what he thinks he wants,” Maggie said. “Or he’s sincere and didn’t realize he needed a transition period. Maybe he still doesn’t realize it.”

  “Brody could be here simply because Vic’s retired now and has time for company.” Heather motioned toward the front door. “Do you want to come inside for a minute?”