The Inn at Rose Harbor

by Debbie Macomber

  “I just know. I suppose you’re here because you want me to apologize.”

  I was about to correct him—I’d come for information and nothing more, but he continued without allowing me the opportunity to speak.

  “Okay, fine. I owe you an apology,” he admitted gruffly. “I was abrupt and impatient, but frankly I was angry.”

  “Angry about what?”

  He tossed his hands in the air as if he worked in a pizza factory. “That’s just it. I don’t know. I took one look at your … friend and it was all I could do not to ram my fist down his throat. I haven’t felt like that in a long time. I don’t initiate fights, but I don’t back away from them, either.”

  His answer confused me all the more. “You’re sure the two of you have never met?”

  “One hundred percent positive.”

  I walked around two sawhorses he had in the middle of his work area. “What did you say to him?”

  Mark didn’t answer right away and when he did a frown creased his forehead. “He asked me what my relationship was to you.”

  I stiffened. Spenser had no business making such an inquiry. “And you said?”

  “I told him it wasn’t any of his business.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then he said the two of you were having a private conversation and he’d appreciate it if I butted out.” Mark picked up the planer again. “Now if you don’t mind …”

  “A couple more questions.”

  He glared at me and then exhaled. “Go ahead.”

  “What convinced Spenser to leave when he did?”

  “I did. I told him to leave you alone and advised him not to come back … ever.” He exhaled. “I probably spoke out of turn. If you’re looking for an apology, okay fine, you’ve got one. But if he was a good friend, then I’d say you need better friends.”

  I bristled. “He isn’t my friend.” And frankly I felt even more certain that he wasn’t Paul’s either, despite Spenser’s claims.

  “Then no harm done.” Mark reached for the planer, apparently dismissing me.

  “No harm … only.”

  “What now?” Mark said, and set the planer down on the workbench. Clearly my questions frustrated him but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to let the matter drop—well, not entirely. “I saw Spenser a few minutes ago.”

  Mark straightened, and seemed to be on full alert. His gaze narrowed and he started moving toward the door.

  “He was in his car. I’m not one hundred percent sure it was him, but it was the same car, same model, same color …”

  “It was him.”

  I didn’t question how he could be so sure.

  Mark set the planer aside and faced me, his frown darkening all the more. “Do you know where he went after he left the inn?”

  I shook my head. Frankly, I had no idea, and I certainly didn’t appreciate the accusing look Mark sent my way.

  “Which direction?” Mark demanded.

  “He took off …” I couldn’t remember the name of the street. Tree-something. “On the main street coming up the hill.”

  Mark relaxed. “Headed toward the freeway on-ramp?”

  I nodded. “Speeding toward the on-ramp would be a more accurate description.”

  “Maybe he’ll get a ticket.” Mark chuckled, and for the first time since I’d arrived I sensed a smile in his voice.

  My curiosity hadn’t been resolved. In truth, Mark’s answers seemed to raise even more questions. But I’d already outworn my welcome.

  “I said I wouldn’t stay long and I meant it. Thanks.”

  He shrugged and returned to his workbench. He reached for another sheet of plywood and carried it to the saw.

  I watched him for a couple of moments and when he switched on the saw, spitting sawdust in a perfect plume, I turned to leave. I wasn’t more than a few feet from the door when the saw went silent.

  “Jo Marie,” Mark asked.

  “Yeah?” I turned back to face him.

  He wore a frown and he scratched the side of his head. “Can I ask you something?”

  Seeing how I’d drilled him with questions it didn’t seem fair to deny him. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “Can you tell me who Paul is?”

  Chapter 18

  “We need to join the others before the wedding rehearsal starts,” Abby’s mother said, wrapping her arm around her daughter’s waist. “I’m just so happy.” She laughed lightly and the joy seemed to fizz up inside her like champagne bubbles. “I can’t tell you how long your father and I have waited for this day.”

  “I’ve only just met Victoria and I love her already.”

  “Your father and I feel the same. She’s perfect for Roger, just perfect.”

  They came out of the sanctuary and Abby immediately caught sight of her father. He saw her at the same time and hurried toward her, his arms outstretched, his face lit up with happiness.

  “Abby, sweetheart.”

  Her mother released her and within seconds Abby was embraced in a huge bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” her father murmured against her hair.

  “I can’t remember the last time the whole family was together like this,” her mother said.

  “All I can say is that it’s been far too long,” her dad agreed.

  Abby knew she was the one to blame. For years she’d avoided her family, made convenient excuses not to see her parents. And yet, when she did see them, she felt enveloped by their love. Protected. Neither of them would bring up the painful subject of Angela’s death, but if anyone else did, Abby had the strong feeling that her parents were determined to run interference. Just knowing that made Abby feel like a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

  Father Murphy, the elderly priest who would be performing the wedding ceremony, entered the vestibule. Roger, Lonny—the best man—and the three ushers joined him. Abby glanced at the ushers without any real interest. She’d probably met them at one time or another. Deep down she’d hoped that Steve might attend the wedding. She owed her brother’s old roommate an apology for the way she’d treated him following the accident. Apparently Roger and Steve were no longer close, though, because Steve was nowhere in sight. Later, Abby decided, she would ask her brother about him. No doubt Steve was married by now …

  Victoria and the rest of the wedding party joined the group. There was more good-natured teasing back and forth and Abby found herself smiling again. She remained close to her mother’s side although she soon realized all the attention was for Roger and Victoria, as it should be.

  Gradually Abby felt herself getting caught up in the joy of the moment. It felt so good to be a part of this. It’d been silly and wrong of her to dread her return to Cedar Cove.

  Because she didn’t have a role in the actual ceremony, Abby slipped into the back pew and waited while Father Murphy gave instructions to the wedding party.

  While the priest spoke to Roger and Victoria, Abby’s mother slipped into the pew next to her.

  “You won’t believe what your father did,” she leaned close and whispered in Abby’s ear.

  Linda Kincaid sounded like a teenager, telling tales out of school.

  “What did Dad do?” Abby asked.

  “He bought a new suit for the wedding.”

  “Daddy?”

  Her mother cupped her mouth. “I told him he needed to try on his old suit and, well, you know your father. He insisted it was perfectly fine and he wasn’t going to spend money unnecessarily.”

  “That’s Dad.”

  “Well, he put on the suit just to prove how right he was and it was tight across the shoulders.”

  “Dad’s gained weight?” That surprised Abby; her father didn’t look as if he’d gained an ounce. He was one of those lucky people whose weight never varied. Unfortunately she hadn’t inherited his metabolism.

  “His shoulders are a bit larger,” her mother admitted. “He’s been playing a lot of golf lately and I think he gained muscle mass from swinging t
he golf club.”

  “I thought his shoulders looked bigger.”

  Linda giggled again. “Be sure and tell your father that. He’s out on the golf course two or three times a week.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, and he loves it. He swears he’s in the best physical shape of his life.”

  “And he’s tan, too.”

  Her mother wrapped her arm around Abby’s elbow. “We’re loving retirement.”

  “It certainly sounds like it.”

  “I do wish you’d come see us more often,” her mother said, sighing.

  This was a constant request. “You don’t regret leaving Washington?” Abby asked, diverting the conversation away from herself.

  “Regret taking early retirement?” Linda repeated as if the question was crazy. “Sweetheart, it’s one of the smartest moves we’ve ever made.”

  “But all your friends are here.”

  “We’ve made new ones. My goodness, your father and I are so socially connected that we hardly have a free night at home. Your father is actually considering joining the country club.”

  “Dad?” Abby found that hard to believe. Her father had been a blue-collar shipyard worker. Golfing, socializing, clothes shopping … that simply wasn’t the behavior of the father Abby remembered.

  “And you know what else?”

  “You mean there’s more?” Abby teased.

  Linda nodded eagerly. “Your father wants me to take up golf, too.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Oh, I don’t know … I’m not much good at that sort of thing.”

  “You could try, Mom.” Abby knew that her mother enjoyed quilting and being part of a book group. She was an excellent cook, too. But she hadn’t ever been particularly athletic. With one small exception—when they’d lived in Cedar Cove, Linda had been part of a Jazzercise group.

  “Do you honestly think I’d be any good at golfing?”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  Her mother considered Abby’s advice and then slowly shook her head. “You’re right. I should sign up for classes. Your father even offered to buy me my own set of clubs.”

  Abby smiled at her mother. Both of her parents seemed genuinely happy. Even if they had moved away from Cedar Cove to escape criticism or speculation, it’d obviously been a positive transition.

  “Oh … Oh, my goodness I got so caught up telling you about your father golfing that I forgot the best part.”

  “Do tell,” Abby teased.

  “I went with your father to help him choose a new suit and …” She paused and looked around for fear Tom might be close enough to overhear the conversation. When she spoke again, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “He bought two new suits.”

  “Two?” In all her life Abby had never known her father to walk inside a department store.

  Her mother cupped her mouth once again as though she was trying to squelch the giggles. “And a sports coat, too.”

  Abby felt like laughing herself. “Oh, Mom, that’s just great.”

  “Oops, I’m up.” Her mother scooted out of the pew and Abby watched as she approached Father Murphy. “That would be me. I’m the mother of the groom.”

  While her mother and father were busy with the rehearsal, Abby watched the proceedings. Roger waited at the altar as Victoria walked down the center aisle on her father’s arm. Father and daughter laughed and teased each other along the way.

  A few years after the accident, when her high school friends had started to marry, Abby had been asked to be a bridesmaid in two weddings. Both times she’d declined because it would have meant traveling back to Cedar Cove. Since she’d lived in Florida, it’d been easy enough to make an excuse. She’d mailed off generous wedding gifts and left it at that. Christmas cards and birth announcements had followed. Abby had ignored those, too, choosing to turn her back on her old life and concentrate on the new one. The life where no one knew about Angela and the accident. A life free of guilt and speculation and pity.

  She’d grown comfortable in Florida. Her life was uncomplicated by the weight of the past. Gone was the carefree young woman who’d taken off for an evening of shared fun with her best friend over Christmas break. In an instant, her life had forever changed on a patch of icy roadway. How abruptly she’d transitioned into the reserved young woman who kept her secrets to herself.

  Abby was mesmerized by the rehearsal, and she found herself smiling several times. Unrestrained happiness was foreign to her. Joy had become a rare commodity for someone unworthy of contentment. How could she be happy? How could she laugh when her best friend was buried in the ground? Especially when Abby was the one who’d put her there.

  “Would it be all right if I sat with you?”

  Abby jerked herself away from her thoughts and turned her attention to the man who sat down beside her.

  “Oh … of course.”

  “I’m Scott,” he said, and held out his hand.

  “Abby Kincaid.”

  He seemed surprised but for what reason she could only guess.

  “You’re Roger’s sister, right?”

  “I am.”

  “The one who lives in Florida?”

  She smiled and relaxed. “He only has one sister.”

  “So I understand.”

  “Are you related to Victoria?” she asked him.

  “Actually no. I’m one of the groomsmen. I met your brother in Seattle after college. We play basketball together.”

  Abby glanced from Scott to the altar. “Shouldn’t you be up there with the rest of the wedding party?”

  “Probably. But I’ve been in a lot of weddings so I’m familiar with what to do. You looked so alone back here that I thought I would join you.” He relaxed against the seat and stretched his arms along the back of the pew.

  “Scott,” Abby said slowly, dragging out his name. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He grinned and his eyes flashed with amusement. “I would say that I am.”

  “I’m flattered but …”

  The wedding party broke up then and Roger noticed for the first time that one of the groomsmen was missing. Shaking his head, he walked toward Abby and Scott.

  “Is Scott pestering you, little sister?”

  “Me?” Scott planted his hand over his chest and cast a look of pure innocence toward Roger. “She was making eyes at me.”

  “I most certainly was not.” And then she burst out laughing at the old-fashioned expression he’d used. “Making eyes?”

  “You most definitely were,” Scott insisted. “I looked back here and you were all alone and I said to myself, ‘Self, the most beautiful woman in the room needs you.’ ”

  “My sister is indeed beautiful, but the most beautiful woman in the room at any wedding is always the bride,” Roger chastised, “and especially in this case.”

  “Right,” Scott agreed, “but Victoria is obviously not interested in me.”

  “I would hope not,” Roger agreed, chuckling.

  “So,” Scott explained with perfect logic, “that leaves your sister, and I was simply staking my claim before any of these bozos took the lead.”

  Roger shook his head. “I don’t think Abby’s interested, Scott. I actually think someone else has dibs.”

  “Someone else?” Abby asked.

  Roger patted her hand. “Just wait, sis. I have a small surprise for you.”

  “Which leaves me out in the cold,” said Scott mournfully.

  “Sorry, Scott,” Roger said, without the least bit of contrition.

  “Foiled again.”

  Abby laughed and so did Roger.

  Scott was obviously a player. And she was sure that Roger had said someone had dibs on her just to deter Scott from hitting on her.

  Her parents joined them and Abby stood. “Do you need a ride to the restaurant, sweetie?” her father inquired.

  Before she could tell them she had a rental car, Scott interjected. “She can ride with me.”r />
  Abby’s father arched his brows.

  “Actually, I have a car, but thank you both,” she said.

  Her parents started out of the church and Abby stood and reached for her purse.

  Scott remained stubbornly at the end of the pew. “You could ride with me and I could drive you back to the church after dinner,” he suggested, as they walked out of the sanctuary.

  “That seems like a lot of unnecessary driving.”

  “Maybe, but those few minutes alone with you would be worth having to backtrack.”

  Abby shook her head, both amused and flattered. “You really are a silver-tongued devil, aren’t you?”

  “You wound me,” he said, and pressed his palm over his heart. “Won’t you ride with me?”

  “I appreciate the offer, I do, but I might want to leave the dinner early.”

  His eyes brightened. “With me?”

  “No. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.”

  Scott released a long, exaggerated sigh. “If you must.”

  “I must,” she insisted.

  The two walked side by side toward the parking lot. Abby wasn’t fooled. Scott was a flirt and way too glib for her to take him seriously. Nevertheless, she couldn’t remember an evening she’d enjoyed more … and the festivities were just getting started.

  Chapter 19

  Michelle placed the last of the dirty dishes from their simple supper in the dishwasher while Josh wiped down the kitchen countertops. Richard had managed to swallow down a couple of spoonfuls of soup while Michelle and Josh had sat with him.

  Being with Michelle reminded Josh of working in the kitchen with his mother when he was young. She’d made even the most mundane tasks fun. They used to sing silly songs while washing the dinner dishes. She’d never had a dishwasher until she married Richard. Instead, Josh had washed the dishes, and he’d so enjoyed the songs and simply being with his mother that he hadn’t minded scrubbing pots and pans.