by Donna Alward
* * *
Abby’s heart pounded and she forced herself to keep her composure. Tom looked delicious today, out of his customary jeans and into what she’d consider business casual. The way his trousers hugged his hips and the blue shirt spread across the wide expanse of his chest …
Time hadn’t taken away the attraction, the need for him. It made the stakes today even greater.
She led him through the sunny porch and down the steps to the backyard. Several tents were set up, and beneath their shade were tables with blindingly white cloths. Each table held a bouquet of flowers in patriotic colors. Abby tilted her head up at him, her heart full of gladness that he’d actually come. She’d been afraid he wouldn’t. “What do you think? Red roses, white carnations, and blue irises—those for my gram.”
His gaze met hers. “It’s beautiful, Abby. Your gram would have loved it, I think. But it must have cost you a fortune.”
She lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “It was worth it. Besides, I wanted it to be an event worthy of the house, you know?”
“Especially if it’s the only one you ever have, right?”
She looked away, inexplicably stung by the way he said the words—almost like an accusation. “I should go,” she said, some of her enthusiasm dimmed. “More people are arriving and I need to be a good hostess. Excuse me, Tom.”
She made her rounds, ensuring the food was circulated, tea was served, and the punch bowl always filled. She never lost sight of Tom, though. The light blue fabric of his shirt emphasized his summer tan, and he’d left the top button undone. She swallowed thickly. She did like the look of an unbuttoned man. But today it wasn’t just any man. It was Tom Arseneault and frankly she was terrified that at the end of it he was going to drive away in his truck and never darken her door again.
He’d put an offer in on the house. The Realtor had wasted no time calling her up and giving her the news. He’d hedged when she’d asked the name, but he’d given in eventually.
Tom was so sure that she was leaving that he was going to buy her house himself, just like he’d proposed that very first day. She leaned against the trunk of a tree and looked out over what had been a pasture decades before. The grass grew tall and wild there. He expected her to sell him the house and hit the road as she’d always intended. Go back to her life and her job. Play it safe.
But he was in for a surprise. She’d done a lot of soul-searching since that afternoon at the hospital, surrounded by Tom’s family. She wasn’t that scared girl any longer. Sure, she’d been a little slow on the uptake, but looking around her house filled with laughter and friends, Abby knew she was right to refuse the offer, take it off the market, and finally make this her permanent home. She laughed a little to herself. When she’d first driven into town, she couldn’t wait to get back out again. Now she could admit to herself that she loved Jewell Cove. Abby was finally being honest with herself, and the house wasn’t the only reason she had for staying in Jewell Cove. She wanted a life here, and there was no way she was going to sit back and live here, seeing Tom day in and day out, without first fighting for them. She just had to get the courage to actually say something first.
“Penny for your thoughts,” a voice said.
Josh stood at her shoulder. “Oh, goodness,” she gasped. “You startled me.”
He smiled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t expect to see you here today. It’s not generally a guy thing.”
“Sarah made me promise to come with her. She said she would if I would. She needed to get out of the house, so…” He let the thought hang.
“What about Mark?”
A cloud darkened Josh’s face. “He took the kids somewhere. It’s been rough on the whole family. And Mark thought that Sarah needed a break.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby turned a little and rested her shoulders against the tree. “They’ll be okay, though, right?”
Josh’s eyes were somber. Abby realized she’d never really seen him smile or laugh. “I hope so,” he answered. He lifted his chin at the activity behind them. “This is quite something, you know. Foster House has been quiet for as long as I can remember. The town’s going to be talking about how you brought it back to life for a long time. Too bad you’re not going to be here to enjoy it.”
His gaze was just a little too knowing and Abby made sure she focused her attention on the guests and not him. “Ah, well. A last hurrah for the Fosters, I guess.”
“How long are you going to torture him, Abby?”
Her gaze snapped to his before she could think better of it.
“I know what Tom looks like when he’s in love,” Josh said. “And I know what he looks like when it’s killing him and it’s right there in his expression today.”
She saw Tom standing on the perimeter of the lawn, talking to someone. He had one hand stuck casually in his pocket. “He looks fine to me,” she replied coolly, but she probably wasn’t fooling Josh any more than she was fooling herself.
“He’s not fine. He’s waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
Josh sighed. “Waiting for you to choose him. I loved my wife, Abby, but I know why she married me. I was a better prospect than Tom. Erin had money. Or rather, her family had money. There were … expectations. Tom never met those expectations. And she put those above her heart and married me. And then regretted it.”
“Josh,” Abby said quietly. Lord, how it must have hurt his pride knowing that. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Turns out both Tom and I were second choice, just in different ways. You have to make him your first choice, Abby. I think especially because there are some similarities between you and Erin.”
“Similarities?”
He frowned. “You inherited a family fortune. You don’t need him. And Tom is used to being needed.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “I don’t know what Tom’s told you about me…”
“We’ve made up. We haven’t made it to baring our souls yet.”
Abby laughed lightly. “Let’s just say I had to get through a bunch of my own stuff first. And I do love him, Josh. I’m just afraid to be the one to take the first step. I’ve been afraid of … well, losing someone else I care about.”
They were silent for a few minutes. Then Abby spoke up. “I don’t think he wanted me to know, but he put an offer in on the house today. He’s so sure I’m going to run.”
“Have you given him a reason to believe otherwise?”
“I’ve been figuring things out.”
“God, the two of you make a pair. Stubborn fools.” Josh put his hand on her arm. “Don’t wait. Don’t let pride or fear stand in your way. Just be honest and tell him how you feel. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But you have to try.”
She knew he was right and it terrified her to bits. “For someone who hated him a few weeks ago, you sure are pleading his case.”
Josh let go of her wrist. “No sense in both of us being miserable,” he answered, and while Abby was left trying to think of a suitable response, he walked away to join the party.
* * *
The afternoon dragged on. Tom drank two cups of punch that was a bit sweet to his taste, tempered it with black tea, and then simply wished for a cold beer. He made a show of eating finger sandwiches and tiny sweets with pastel frosting off antique china, made small talk with Abby’s guests, and answered questions about his renovations on the house. He managed to escape Summer Arnold’s flirting green eyes and instead spent some time with Sarah, who was smiling just a little too widely for him to be comfortable. And when four o’clock arrived and the crowd started to filter out, he figured he should probably head that way, too. And he might have hurried, except a very long evening seemed to be the only thing waiting for him.
He’d probably spend the evening on his deck eating one of his usual grilled burgers and pondering the significance of the u
niverse.
“You’re not leaving already, are you?”
Abby came up behind him, holding her skirts in her hands as she quickened her step. A few strands of hair had come loose from her elaborate hairstyle, the effect softening her face and making her look slightly undone. Any man who figured a woman had to prance around in next to nothing to be sexy simply hadn’t seen Abby Foster buttoned up in her vintage clothes. All it did was make Tom want to reveal what was beneath—button by delicious button.
“Things are starting to wind down,” he observed.
“But…”
“But what, Abby?”
If she wanted him to stay, he wished she’d just say it. Ever since the day at the hospital she’d been toothachingly sweet, pleasant, and impersonal as hell. He’d had the thought once or twice that she’d simply got her shit together and that the sorry truth was she didn’t need him anymore. House fixed, family mystery solved, thanks for your help, bye.
“Will you stay?”
“Why?”
The question put her off balance, he could tell. A strange look passed over her face as she deliberated her answer. After several long seconds, he huffed out a sigh and turned on his heel.
“I know it was you who put a bid on the house,” she said.
He paused. “You weren’t supposed to know that yet.”
“Were you planning on telling me yourself sometime today? Or just keeping it a secret?”
He turned to face her, ignoring the curious stares of the makeshift house staff who were clearing away silver platters and dirty china cups. He kept his voice low but each word was perfectly clear. “What does it matter? You wanted to sell the house and I offered for it. A solution I suggested from the beginning, if you remember.”
“Is it really only about the house for you?”
Damn, what was she trying to get him to say? “Can we shelve this for another time? When it’s more private?”
“Everyone will be gone soon. No one’s coming for the tents until tomorrow. I can send them all home now if you like.”
“How very Lady of the Manor of you.” The FOR SALE sign at the end of the road was clear. Abby Foster wasn’t staying. Why would she want to settle in a little nowhere town like this with a simple contractor who preferred beer and boots over garden parties and champagne?
“And how snobbish of you to point that out.” She met his gaze evenly. “I’m not Erin, Tom. I don’t care about wealth and status.”
Her honest words struck him square in the chest. Not just because she was right but because she knew she was right and she’d used it against him.
“Ouch,” he said roughly, turning to go.
“Would you rather I not be honest with you, Tom? We could pretend it doesn’t matter but it does. We can pretend that Erin isn’t in the picture but it would be pointless because it does matter. And if you’re going to walk away from me, you can at least be man enough to tell me why.”
He turned back. She had her chin lifted and she stood defiantly in the corridor, but he saw the vulnerability, too. In the softness of her lips, the quick rise and fall of her chest.
He took a step forward. “Me? Walk away from you?” He pointed toward the door. “You’re the one with the FOR SALE sign in your front yard.”
“And you’re the one offering to buy it.”
“So?”
They were standing off against each other when one of the kitchen maids entered from the side door. “Excuse me, but we’re done in the kitchen, Abby. Do you want us to look after the linens and vases, too?”
Abby finally looked away from Tom and smiled. “No, I’ll do that later, thanks, Cindy. Tell everyone thank you for me, will you?”
Cindy looked from Abby to Tom, and back to Abby again. “We’ll just get out of your hair, then,” she said quietly. Tom watched her make a retreat with a soft swish of her black skirts. Voices quieted as the last of the ladies exited the house, leaving them alone.
Tom considered joining them. Getting in his truck and driving away. And yet he couldn’t make himself do it.
“Don’t leave,” Abby said quietly. “There are things I need to say. Please. Will you wait while I change out of these things?”
He sighed, knowing he couldn’t really say no to her, not when she looked at him the way she was now. “I’ll wait.”
“Promise?” Her blue eyes were uncertain as they met his. “You won’t wait until I’m upstairs and then take off?”
He held her gaze. “I’ll wait,” he said, and the connection that had been missing for the past days was suddenly there again, tethering them together. He’d been a fool to think they could just walk away from each other easily.
She whirled in a swish of skirts and disappeared up the stairs, jogging down again in record time in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Let’s go for a walk. Let’s go to the top of the mountain and look down over Jewell Cove and the estate.” She reached out and took his hand. “You are the one who took this falling-down mansion and made it beautiful again. You’re the one who’s been here from the very beginning.”
“I can’t argue with that,” he replied hesitantly. This was already difficult enough without prolonging the torture. And yet time alone with her was a gift he wasn’t ready to give back.
They strolled up the road to the gate, the sun soaking through the cotton of his shirt. As they skirted the barrier, Tom reached over and took her hand, helping her over the rough hump of gravel beside the post. Once they were on the dirt road, he kept her fingers in his.
When they reached the summit they stood for a moment and stared at the rubble of the barn. Then she turned to look up at him and smiled. “Come on. Let me show you my favorite view.”
She led him to the outcropping surrounded by grass and wild blackberries, not yet ripe.
Tom sat next to her in the grass. She was so beautiful. So strong … and headstrong. That one trait bugged the hell out of him and yet it was one of his favorite things about her. He admired it and yet it left him wondering what he had to offer.
“It’s pretty, right?” she asked quietly.
“Gorgeous.” But he didn’t look down over the town, as she was doing. He simply watched her, the tiny smile that flickered on her lips, the way the light touched her hair. From now on he would always consider this spot theirs; that whatever happened in the next several minutes mattered little. Right now it was he and Abby together, inextricably linked by threads that were beautiful and complicated. Whatever happened in the future, nothing could take this moment away from them. From him.
“Look,” she said softly, nodding at the stately house that had once been a neglected mausoleum.
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
“Home,” she replied.
CHAPTER 22
“Home?”
She nodded, nervousness expanding exponentially in her stomach. This was such a big leap of faith. One she felt good about, but one that came with risks to her heart, too.
He reached for her hand and squeezed. “What do you mean, home?”
She let out a breath. “I mean, Tom, that I’ve made a decision. The house on Blackberry Hill is no longer for sale.”
“You’re staying?”
Something big and awesome expanded in her chest at the hope she heard in his words. It was now or never. “Yes, I’m staying. For good.”
“You’re saying that you’re going to live in that house.”
She smiled, the expansive feeling growing, making her certain that this was absolutely the right decision. “I’m going to live in that house,” she confirmed. “I’m going to keep it alive and have friends and music and a book club in the library and a rose garden in the summer. I’m going to put down roots, Tom. It’s time.”
His dark eyes softened. “I’m happy for you,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “Disappointed for me, but happy for you.”
Tom gazed into her face. God, how she’d fallen for him. Now that she’d made the decision to st
ay, the next part was even harder. She didn’t want this to be the end of them but a new beginning. And yet she was smart enough to know that for that to happen, they had to talk about everything that had been unsaid since that day at the hospital. She knew there was still a chance that this wouldn’t work out between them, and the fear tempered the fizzy feeling of celebration.
She looked away for a minute, gathering her thoughts. In the soft, early evening they could see sailboats bobbing on the water below and a white line that marked the long wake of a speedboat in the bay. Puffy white clouds slid across the sky as the sun mellowed into peach and periwinkle. The town was quiet now, but in a few hours everyone would gather at the ball diamond for fireworks. Home, she confirmed to herself. She finally had a place to belong.
“You’re really sure about staying, Abby? You were so determined to leave this place behind.”
“It’s time I stop running,” she answered simply. “I’ve been too afraid to settle anywhere, to make any lasting bonds, because I know what it feels like to lose everything. But know what? I found my family—or at least my family’s history, the good and the bad.” For a brief second she thought about Edith and Kristian. “I think I understand now why Marian wanted it to stay in Foster hands, you know? Even though she knew I technically wasn’t a Foster, but a Prescott. The house needs to be with family.”
“It’s a big commitment. It’s a small town. It can get claustrophobic. There’s no theater, no hospital, no—”
“It’s not like it’s far to find all those things. Jewell Cove has lots of other charms.” She smiled. “It’s not just the house. It’s the town. It’s the people here. I want to belong somewhere, Tom. I haven’t in such a long time. This feels like home for the first time since I was a very little girl.”
He was so quiet it made her nervous. “What are you thinking?” she asked, toying with her glass.
He shrugged. “I’m just surprised, I guess.”
She chuckled. “Tom Arseneault, you are doing it again. You aren’t saying what you really mean. I wish you’d stop that.”