“Why?”
“She needs money. It’s obvious. But her uncle Oggie confided in us that she wouldn’t take a cent from him. And when I tried to offer, she didn’t even let me get started before she was telling me no.” Ariel laid a fond hand on Regis’s arm. Regis met her gaze. Her smile returned, and her eyes grew bright. “Oh, but we did have a lovely time, didn’t we, my dearest heart?”
“Fabulous.”
She turned her smile on Price. “Oh, Price. It’s such a charming little town. I can see why Faith fell in love with it. And her family is wonderful. Such…vivid people. Do you remember Erik? You met him briefly the day Faith moved. He’s Faith’s sister’s husband. A housepainter. But he does landscapes in his spare time. Erik works in oils. His paintings are stunning. Such sweep and grandeur. They almost seem as if there is…magic in them. I’ve been thinking of talking to Maurice over at the gallery about him. And you know the famous horror novelist, Lucas Drury? Well, he’s married to one of Oggie’s granddaughters. Can you believe it? It is such a small world. Oh, and that Oggie is a pure delight. He lives with his only daughter, Delilah, who is married to a man named Sam, and—”
Price wanted to talk about Faith, not about her family, most of whom he’d never even met. He asked, “You say Faith looks tired?”
“Exhausted was the word I used.”
“Wrung out,” Regis elaborated.
“You think she’s running short of money?”
Regis looked at Ariel. They shook their heads in unison. Then Ariel said solemnly, “We’re positive she’s running short of money.”
“Did she mention wanting to come home?”
There was a silence. Price didn’t realize his gaffe until his mother raised one sleek, pale eyebrow.
“Why, Price. I imagine she believes that she is home.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, of course. Yes. What I meant was—”
“Never mind, dear.” Ariel sounded infuriatingly smug. “Your father and I understand.” She rose from the sofa. “Now. It’s been a hellish drive. Traffic was beastly. I think these two old folks need a little nap.” She held down a hand for Regis, who rose to stand beside her. “We’ll just go up now and tell Parker we’re back.” She put her arm through her husband’s. “And after that, we shall retreat to our rooms until dinnertime.”
Price had a thousand more questions to ask. But he knew very well that his mother had said all she intended to say. He watched them go, arms wrapped around each other, on their way to greet their younger son and then to seek their bed.
The next morning, Price told his parents that he would be gone for the next few days.
Ariel lifted an eyebrow at him. “And just where are you headed off to, may I ask?”
“No,” Price said, “you may not.”
His mother only smiled.
Chapter Nine
Faith stood looking down at the burst pipe beneath the bathroom sink in room 104. She’d turned off the water as soon as she discovered the disaster, but by then plenty of damage had been done. The floor of the unit was soaked through.
Her plumber, who stood beside her with his trusty crescent wrench in hand, spoke up. “Look, Miz Jones, these pipes were never the best quality. And now they’re old. They’re gonna go on you, one by one. Unless you replace ’em.”
Faith kept her gaze on the separated section of pipe. She was afraid that if she looked into the kind eyes of the plumber, she just might burst into tears. “I understand,” she said. “Can you patch it up, though, for now?”
The plumber let out a long breath. “Sure, Miz Jones. You’re the boss.”
She made herself look at him then, and she made herself smile. “Thanks.”
“S’all right.”
Wearily Faith left the bathroom. She trudged through the puddles of standing water in the main room, looking straight ahead, not letting herself think of how disgustingly squishy the wet carpet felt beneath her tennis shoes. She didn’t allow herself a single glance at the baseboards, either. And she refused to ponder how much leakage there had been into 105 next door. Firmly she told herself that it could have been worse. It could have been room 204 where the pipe had burst. Right now, water could be running down into the walls of all the units in this building.
The water on the floor was seeping into her shoes. Now there was something she could afford to think about. She could ponder how she’d change into clean socks and dry shoes as soon as she reached her apartment. Clean socks and dry shoes, she had. It was money she was short of. And as soon as she paid the plumber for fixing that pipe, she’d be even shorter than before.
Faith stepped out the door of room 104. Beyond the protection provided by the balcony of the upper floor, rain fell steadily, making a gray veil between the two buildings.
That was another thing she was going to have to deal with: how to dry out the room behind her, when the weatherman had predicted rain for the next three days straight. Maybe she should just rename the place Waterworld. It would certainly fit the other building, where the leaks in the ceilings on the upper floor grew worse every day, in spite of the patch job her cousin Patrick, Oggie’s third son, had done for her a couple of weeks before.
Faith looked for her housekeeping cart and spotted it down in front of 106, right where she’d left it when she noticed the water pouring out from under the sill of the room behind her. With a sigh, Faith trotted down to the cart and pushed it through the door of 106, which she then locked with a key from the retractable ring latched to one of the belt hooks on her jeans. Now, if the rain started driving sideways beneath the balcony before she got back to the cart, her towels and room supplies would remain dry.
Trying to tell herself that she’d just averted one disaster, at least—albeit a minor one—Faith turned toward the parking lot again. That was when she saw the Jaguar. It was pulling to a stop beneath the porte cochere in front of the office.
“Price.” The word escaped her lips on a groan.
The rain kept falling, making everything misty. But not misty enough. The car was pointed in Faith’s direction. The windshield, in the shadow of the porte cochere, reflected only darkness.
What could he see? Had he spotted her already, cringing here in front of room 106, shivering in her soaking tennies and frayed jeans and tattered old gray sweatshirt?
The door on the driver’s side opened. Price emerged from the car, tall and broad-shouldered, his hair impossibly dark and rich-looking, even on such a gray day. He shut the door and then stood there, unmoving, staring right at her through the wet curtain of the rain.
Well, one question was answered. He had already seen her.
Faith lifted her chin and stepped out into the downpour. By the time she made it beneath the porte cochere, where he waited, her sweatshirt was clinging to her shoulders and the strands of her hair that had escaped her bun were plastered to her cheeks and nape.
They regarded each other. Faith’s heart seemed to be trying to beat itself right out of her chest. And yet, at the same time, she felt numb, in her hands and feet and at the very surface of her skin. As if her blood weren’t making it to all the parts of her body.
Four weeks and a day since she’d last seen him. Not that long, really. It only seemed like forever.
Her hungry gaze took in every inch of him, from his shining black hair to his Tony Lama snakeskin boots. He wore one of those beautiful cashmere sweaters of his, with an attractively rumpled corduroy jacket thrown over it, along with a pair of ordinary khakis. He looked like what he was: a man who could afford the best. A man who had enough confidence to wear whatever he pleased—and wear it well. Her arms ached to reach for him.
At the same time, it occurred to her that the money he’d spent on his sweater and boots would have paid for about half of the new roof she needed on the south building.
He spoke first, whispering her name. “Faith.” The one word seemed to carry a thousand meanings. There was greeting in it. And rebuke.
She felt his gaze runni
ng over her, the same way hers was over him. It came to her then: He had missed her.
And he wanted her—even in an old sweatshirt, with her hair dripping wet.
This hunger she’d borne alone for so long was a mutual hunger now.
Faith ordered her heart to slow down. She took even, deep breaths. And she said, in a voice that she tried her best to make uncompromising, “Why are you here, Price?”
His gaze moved over her face, hot and full of a yearning she knew so very well. It was her own yearning, after all, given back to her—at last.
As she accepted the power of his desire, her old, foolish hopes were born all over again. Could it be? Had he come here to tell her he’d changed his mind? That he was willing to let go of the past? That for her sake he would give love a try one more time?
“I know you’re in trouble, Faith. I’ve come to help.”
She stared at him, absorbing those words. Help, he had said. He had come to help.
Not for love. Not even for desire.
Faith knew who had told him of her troubles. “Ariel promised she wouldn’t say anything.”
“My mother’s an artist. She makes her own rules.”
A burst of anger shot through Faith, then faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her feeling drained, shivering. Ariel was Ariel, after all; she’d always considered herself above the rules that governed mere mortals—very much like her elder son.
“Let’s go inside,” Price said.
Faith stood her ground. “Let’s not.”
“Don’t be childish. You need to change into something dry.”
She wrapped her arms around herself to stop the shivering, and leveled her most uncompromising look on him. “Go away, Price. Don’t come back.”
He didn’t move. “You need help. And you’re too damn proud to take it. Somebody’s got to get through to you about this. And I guess it’s going to have to be me.”
A slightly crazed burst of laughter escaped her before she could stop it. She composed herself, then sneered, “Do you know anything about roofs, Price? I could really use a roofer. Or an electrician. Or a plumber who works at minimum wage.”
“What you could use,” he said calmly, “is a large loan at a reasonable interest rate.”
She was shaking her head before the words were even out of his mouth. “No. Forget it. No way.”
“Faith…”
She was already turning for the office door. “Go back to Montgomery House, Price. I’m busy. My feet are wet. I want to change my shoes.”
“Faith, listen…”
She pulled open the screen, pushed the door inward and marched inside, to the tinkling of the little visitor bell overhead.
Price was right behind her. “I’m ready to invest in this motel.”
She kept walking, headed for the open door behind the check-in desk. “Absolutely not. I won’t take your charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
She stepped up to the door of her apartment, then turned on him, blocking his way into her private space.
He stopped at the outer edge of the check-in desk and regarded her measuringly. “I know you, Faith. You’ll make a go of it if you get half the chance. I’m offering you that chance.”
“My family’s already offered. So has your mother. I turned them all down.”
“They weren’t offering a business arrangement. I am. I’ll make a straightforward investment of capital here. And I’ll turn a neat profit after you get on your feet.”
Frustrated, knowing he was likely to end up breaking her down by the sheer force of his will, Faith folded her arms over her chest and looked away from him. “I just want you to go.”
“Look at me, Faith.”
She stared at the rack of tourist pamphlets, the worn plaid sofa, the nearly blank check-in book that lay open on the desk—anywhere but at him.
“Faith.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
“Faith. Please.”
Slowly she dropped her arms and met his eyes.
“You’re going to make it.”
All her troubles came back to her. The plumbing. The wiring. The roof. “You don’t know…”
His voice was firm. “All you need is a little help. I’ll give you that help. And I’ll make money from it in the end. Everybody wins.”
For a quarter of a second, she almost believed him. And then she remembered that he was the last person in the world she could afford to come to any sort of an arrangement with—business or otherwise. He was never going to marry. And as long as she had to deal with him, she would never learn to stop loving him.
“Faith.” His voice was tender. “It’s really so simple.”
“It’s not. Oh, please, Price. You know that it’s not.”
His eyes were telling her things. Secret things. Forbidden things. “It’s…something I can do. For you.”
Rather than make a life with me. Rather than love me, she thought.
“Let me do it.”
“No.”
The finality of the word gave him pause. He put his hands in his pockets and shifted from one boot to the other, looking away. When he faced her again, his jaw was set. “All right. I’d like a room, then.”
Faith drooped against the door jamb. “Oh, Price. Stop it. Give up. Go back home.”
“No. Give me a room.”
“But why? I’ve already told you—”
He cut her off with a sweeping gesture of his left hand. “This is what you want, isn’t it? A life here. A business here.”
“Yes. So what?”
“So I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’ll have what you want.”
“There’s nothing you can do. Nothing I can let you do.”
“That’s not true. That’s stubborn pride talking.”
“You’re wasting your time, Price.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
They were deadlocked. Faith considered her options and decided that she was perfectly within her rights simply to refuse him a room. She started to tell him that.
He didn’t let her get the words out. “If you send me away, I’ll go looking for that peculiar uncle of yours.”
She frowned. “Whatever for?”
“He seemed like an interesting old guy. And from what my mother told me, he’s tried to loan you money, too. It’s obvious he really cares about you. Maybe I can get him to plead my case for me.”
Faith thought of Oggie, who saw too much and understood too well. If Oggie got involved in this, Faith would never hear the end of it.
And there was more, something Price couldn’t know at this point: Oggie was a zealot when it came to romance. As the old sweetheart loved to tell anyone who’d listen, he had been instrumental in uniting each and every one of his children with their mates. To hear him tell it, his record was unblemished when it came to getting lovers together for their walk down the aisle.
Well, with Price, Oggie would be doomed to failure. But that probably wouldn’t stop him from trying. And that, Faith decided, she could do without.
With a small sigh of defeat, she pushed away from the door jamb. Price backed up—careful, as he’d been since his arrival, not to get too near her. Faith suppressed another sigh. She knew what he was up to; by keeping his distance, he could convince himself that his motives in this were completely honorable.
She snared a key from the wall rack behind the desk. “Here. Room 206. Upstairs in back, the other building, across the parking lot.” And as far away from me as I can get you, she added silently.
Price looked at the key in her outstretched hand. “Don’t try any tricks.”
She dropped the key on the desk. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Ariel said all the beds were lumpy, so I guess I’m going to have to put up with that. But I’d like a room where the heater and the lights are dependable. And the ceiling doesn’t leak.”
She made a little humphing sound. “Around here, that’s as
king a lot.”
“You won’t get rid of me by making me uncomfortable.”
She gave him a look of pure disdain. “This is not Montgomery House, Price. I don’t run around here making sure that the flowers are fresh in all the rooms. By your standards, you are going to be uncomfortable, whether the roof leaks on you or not.” She shoved the keys closer to him. “Go ahead. It’s dry and warm and the lights still work. Or at least they did as of yesterday morning, when I last cleaned it.”
He scooped up the key. “I’d like to pay in advance.” She saw the light in his eyes before he added, “Say, for six months.”
Another ploy to help her out with her finances. She wasn’t going for it. “Oh, please. Try it a week at a time. See how much you enjoy it first.”
“Faith.” He had the audacity to assume a wounded look. “You never used to be this sarcastic.”
She said nothing, just slanted him a long-suffering look.
Now, he dared to grin. “I know, I know. Hardship has made you this way. Let me put some money into this place. You’d be surprised how a little money will improve your attitude.”
“No, thanks.” She pointed to the register. “Sign here. Cash, check or credit card?”
He signed where she pointed and flipped out a gold card. She gave it a single glance. “Visa or MasterCard.”
“You really should take American Express, Faith. All the best places do.”
She looked him right in the eye. “Don’t push it, Price. Maybe you’ll learn that I really have changed—in a number of very unpleasant ways.”
He was grinning again. “Sounds intriguing.”
“Visa or Master?”
He gave her another card, and she ran it through the machine. “Here,” she said. He scrawled his name. She tore out his copy and handed it over. “Do enjoy your stay with us.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Even nature seemed to bend to Price Montgomery’s will. As soon as he’d checked into his room, the rain stopped and the sky cleared. Faith saw him stroll past the office, the sun making his hair shine like a raven’s wing. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she went to the window and watched him as he headed up Main toward the center of town. Even from the back, she decided with a slightly pained little moan, he was just about the best-looking man she’d ever seen.
No Less Than a Lifetime Page 14