She unlocked the door to her room, almost wishing she could start the day over, wiser and better prepared for the outing she’d taken. Now she wanted a shower, breakfast, and a few hours to get her head together for the rest of the day.
DAN STOOD TO one side of the narrow room that served as the front section of Book ’Em and watched Jamie with both admiration and curiosity. She’d been signing books steadily for well over three hours, yet she’d remained totally engaged with every reader who thrust a book into her hands with a request that it be signed. He’d lost count of the number of times she’d been asked to write Happy birthday! Right at that moment, a woman stood in front of Jamie, dictating what she wanted the book to say: To Norma: The truth shall set you free. Love, J.L.
How does she keep that smile on her face? he wondered. His patience would have fled after the first “No, sign it With love, J.L., like we’re friends.”
He watched the way she was with Diana, who’d appeared with several of her friends right before the signing began. Jamie had made Diana feel like a VIP by asking her to get the books to sign; she’d shown the girl what page to open to for the signature. Seeing the two of them together, watching them chat and laugh so easily, made Dan’s heart hurt. When was the last time he and his daughter had shared such a moment? These days it seemed all he did was nag her and all she did was roll her eyes at him. It took a few minutes for him to realize that Jamie saw Diana as a person, an interesting young person, while he had continued to see her as his little girl.
Time to face up to it, bud. She isn’t a little girl anymore. Maybe if he paid a little more attention, he’d find her as interesting a person as Jamie did.
As he continued to watch, something else occurred to Dan. There was something about the way Jamie seemed to study the faces of everyone who approached her, as if searching for something. So curious, he thought. It only reinforced his feelings that she was up to something. But even considering everything that seemed off, it added up to nothing he could put a finger on.
Wasn’t it enough that she was so genuinely nice to Diana? And that she’d been kind to Grace? Dan watched his mother holding court in one corner of the bookstore and smiled. Wheelchair-bound or not, Grace always seemed to draw a crowd. Even now, having staked out her turf, she was surrounded.
“Oh, yes, Dolores. We’ve all read J.L.’s books,” he heard her tell one of those gathered around her. “They’re just marvelous. I can’t recommend them enough.” And “She is staying at the inn. We’ve enjoyed getting to know her. If you haven’t gotten your book signed yet, just go on up there and get in line.”
No doubt about it. Grace would have been hell on wheels in marketing or public relations.
Dan took a few steps to one side to permit a shopper to pass, and in doing so, he was that much closer to the table where Jamie sat. After observing and listening for several moments, he began to see a pattern to her conversations.
“Are you from St. Dennis?” she asked everyone who approached her, almost by rote. “Is your family from here?”
Correction. She asked every woman. None of the men.
Was that just a coincidence? Dan wondered. Maybe the women readers were more chatty, more likely to enter into conversation. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall for the rest of the afternoon. By the time the last patron left the store, Dan had heard the questions—Are you from St. Dennis? Is your family from here?—roughly thirty-four times, each time asked of a woman. He’d started counting as a means of amusing himself, figuring he’d prove his own theory wrong. But he never heard Jamie ask any of the men those same two questions.
Why would it matter to her where her readers were from? Was it merely a pleasantry, like “How are you today?” In that case, why wouldn’t she have asked the guys as well?
“What are you hanging around for?” A poke in the back got Dan’s attention. He turned to find Lucy clutching her newly signed copy of Jamie’s newest book.
“I thought you already read that.” Dan hoped to deflect the question. He wasn’t really sure why he was still there.
“I did. This is for Clay’s mom.” Lucy slid the book under her arm, turning her wrist to look at her watch. “It’s later than I thought it would be. Want to join us for dinner? Mom said the chef is doing some new shrimp dish tonight, and it sounded divine. Clay’s going to meet us at the inn.”
“Not sure what I’m going to do.” He watched Jamie stand somewhat stiffly to chat with Barbara. “Would you mind taking Mom back to the inn with you? There’s something I want to do.”
“Sure. I’ll round her up and pay for this on my way out. See you later.” Lucy drifted to the cash register, where her mother was still chatting with her friends.
Dan waited until Barbara had herded the last of her customers to the front of the store before he approached Jamie. “So it looks like you had a successful afternoon,” he said.
“Very much so. When Barbara says she can get books, Barbara gets books.” Jamie laughed, then winced as she lifted her tote bag.
“You okay?” Dan asked.
“I’m a little stiff, I guess from sitting so long.” She made a face. “Actually, more than just a little.” She slung the tote over her shoulder, then winced again. “Ouch.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Sunburn.” Jamie lifted her hair from her neck. “My neck and the backs of my legs are on fire. You were right about that.” She took two steps forward and grimaced.
“How long a ride did you say you took this morning?” he asked.
“I don’t know, to Cannonball Island and back.”
“That’s twenty-some miles.”
“Give or take.”
“When was the last time you rode a bike twenty miles?”
She paused, shuffling her pens and making a show of tucking them into her purse. “Maybe never,” she mumbled.
“No wonder your legs are sore.” Dan grabbed her tote and took her by the arm, his heart melting. She might be a busybody—okay, she was, that was an established fact—but she’d understood his daughter when he hadn’t and had helped him to see Diana in a new light, and she was helping his mother with something important to her.
And if that wasn’t enough, she was pretty hot.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the inn, where we can do something about the sunburn and the stiffness.”
They paused at the front of the store, where Jamie said goodbye to Barbara and thanked her for a great afternoon.
“Totally my pleasure,” Barbara told her.
“Not to mention the pleasure of all those happy readers today.” Nita from the antique store leaned on the counter. “I daresay there will be lights burning late all over town tonight as everyone digs into your books. ‘The truth can be a shining beacon in your life, if you let that light in,’ ” Nita quoted from Jamie’s epilogue. “Truer words, and all that.”
Jamie smiled and left the store on Dan’s arm, leaving behind some of the local ladies, who surely would be digesting this fact for the next hour or so. Dan knew his mother’s friends liked nothing better than a good bit of gossip, and Dan Sinclair escorting J. L. Valentine from the store on Saturday—and seeming to be a bit smitten—would do nicely in the absence of anything better.
“How ’bout dinner?” Dan asked, slowing his pace to her snail-like crawl. “You have to be starving, and it’s after five.”
“I am, but I can barely move.” She bit her bottom lip.
“We’ll get some aloe on your burns, and you’ll feel better,” he assured her.
“I think it’s going to take a little more than that,” she muttered.
“Got any better ideas?” They approached the Jeep, and he unlocked the doors with the remote.
“Actually, I do not.” Jamie tried to lift one leg to get into the car but was having a problem with that. Dan placed her tote on the
floor, then helped her into the seat. “Sorry,” she said, obviously embarrassed by her plight. “I can’t believe how stupid I was this morning.”
“Hey, it happens.” He slammed the door and went around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. “You wouldn’t have known how hot it gets here early. And if you don’t bike a lot, you don’t realize how sore your muscles can get when you overdo it the first time out.”
“You’re just being nice.” She rested her head back against the seat. “And I really appreciate it.”
He grinned and started the engine. “No point in beating yourself up. We’ll do what we can to help you feel better tonight, then we’ll get you a great dinner, and I guarantee you’ll feel better by the time you turn in.”
There was little conversation on the way back to the inn, and when they pulled up in front of the back entrance, Dan sat for a long moment. He’d planned on having dinner alone in the crow’s nest, but hadn’t he just promised her dinner? He never shared that space with anyone. It was his private sanctuary—the only place that was just his—and here he was, offering to share it. What was wrong with him?
He got out of the car, still wondering, when he remembered that Jamie needed help walking. He didn’t mind carrying her, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that through the main lobby. “Not sure how this is going to work,” he murmured. He thought for a moment longer, then got back into the car and put the Jeep into gear. “Got an idea.” He drove around to the far back and parked near a metal door.
“What are we doing?” Jamie asked.
“Going in the least obtrusive way.” He unhooked his seat belt, jumped out, and walked around the vehicle. “The kitchen staff uses this door.” Dan opened the passenger door and helped Jamie out. When he saw she was having trouble walking, he lifted her.
“Is this a bit extreme?” she asked.
“You feel like walking?” He made his way back around the car and opened the metal door.
“I would if I could.”
He swung her through the open door and let it slam behind them. A few of the prep cooks looked up, barely suppressing smiles at the sight of their boss carrying a woman across the room.
“Gentlemen. Ladies.” Dan nodded as he passed the staff and went straight to the back wall.
“Where are we going?” Jamie asked.
“Freight elevator.” He was getting out of breath. She weighed a little more than he’d figured. He hit the button for the elevator and waited for the doors to open. He stood Jamie up inside the cab and stepped in next to her. He hit the button for the third floor.
“I’m on two,” Jamie reminded him.
“Yes, but we’re going to three.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
The elevator ended its crawl and came to a stop, the doors opening slowly. Dan picked Jamie up again and carried her down the hall, stopping before French doors at the very end.
“Where are we?” Jamie shifted somewhat uneasily in his arms.
“The crow’s nest.” Dan opened the doors and carried her through. “On the roof.” He lowered her to the floor in front of a cushioned wicker chair, one of four, that sat around a matching table. “Great view of the bay from here.”
Jamie peered over the waist-high railing. “It’s beautiful.”
“I thought you’d like it.” He watched her for a moment. She looked very beautiful and very vulnerable. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in a few with some aloe for your legs. If you don’t mind sitting here for a little while, we’ll get you set up.”
“Set up for what?”
“That dinner I promised you.”
Chapter 14
WITH one foot, Jamie dragged a nearby chair closer, then raised her right leg and rested it on the seat. Who knew that a few hours of bike riding could cause such pain in her thighs and her back? It had never occurred to her that a twenty-mile ride was something she’d have to work up to.
Add that to the pain across her shoulders from hours of signing books and the morning spent hunching over the bike—not to mention the sunburn—and she had an urge to dive headfirst into the bottle of wine that a smiling server had just retrieved from a cooler placed on the table.
“Mr. Sinclair said he’d be delayed a few minutes, but he thought you might enjoy a glass of something,” the cheery young girl had chirped. “Would you like me to pour a glass for you? Or would you prefer beer?”
Jamie hesitated. “Which is coldest?”
“The beer. Definitely.”
“I’ll go with the beer.”
“Great choice.” The server opened the cooler, peered in, then asked, “Summer brew or regular?”
“What’s the difference?”
“The summer is specially brewed and is only available for a limited time,” she explained. “Made with scents and flavors of summer. This early one has hints of strawberry and rose hips.”
“In a beer?”
The young woman nodded. “It’s MadMac Brews’ seasonal specialty.” She held up a bottle with a pretty label that promised “the subtle taste of early summer.” “MadMac is a local brewery.”
“Lucy Sinclair’s husband’s company?” Jamie tried to recall what Dan had said.
“Right.”
“I’ll try that.”
“I think you’ll enjoy it.” The server opened the bottle and poured into a frosted glass that had been inside the cooler, then handed the glass to Jamie. “Cheers.”
“Thanks.” Jamie took a first thirsty icy-cold sip. “Oh, it’s . . . different. But good.”
“Glad you like it.” The server reached into the cooler and brought out a plate holding crackers, several different cheeses, and some fruit. She removed the plastic wrap that had been pulled tautly across the plate. “Mr. Sinclair said he might be a while, but he wanted you to be comfortable.”
“Please tell Mr. Sinclair, if you see him, that I am.” Jamie returned the smile. “And that I said thank you.”
“Will do. Enjoy.” The young woman returned the wine to the cooler, closed the top, and disappeared through the French doors.
Jamie sipped the cold beer and, within moments, felt the tension begin to leave her neck and shoulders. She sampled several of the cheeses and thought about the man who’d pulled this together for her on the spur of the moment. I guess it’s true what they say, she mused. It’s good to be the boss. The little bit of food went a long way to revive her. Even her sunburn didn’t seem to hurt quite as much.
It had been such an odd day, she reflected. The morning’s excursion aside, the book signing had made her head spin. She’d signed books for large numbers of readers in the past, but since this signing was in this place, at a time she was seeking, each face took on an air of possibility. She’d tried to weed out the locals from the tourists by asking where people were from, had even made check marks next to their names on the newsletter list, but it had done no good. There’d been no one who “felt” familiar, whose touch or voice reached something in her core. And much to her disappointment, no one had commented on her resemblance to anyone else, no “Hey, Annie, doesn’t J.L. remind you of Cousin Lynne?” There’d been no tug of recognition, no instinctual bonding, no ping, no zing. So much for blood recognizing blood. If her birth mother, or someone related to her, had been in the room, Jamie’s instincts had failed her miserably.
It had been nice of Grace to encourage the guests at the inn to attend and to talk Jamie up to all her friends, which, from their showing that afternoon, appeared to be legion. Jamie had heard snips of Grace’s conversations throughout the day: Grace had sung the praises of Jamie’s latest book and chatted about what a “lovely young woman” Jamie was, as if the success of the signing lay upon Grace’s shoulders alone.
And there was that one conversation between Grace and a friend that Jamie had overheard
and found encouraging.
“Hey, Gracie,” her friend had called to her. “I ran into Ray at the drugstore yesterday, and he tells me you’re trying to archive all the back issues of the Gazette.”
“Ray’s right. I am,” Grace had replied.
“I told Ray, long as the Gazette’s been around, it’s going to take you until judgment day to go through all that mess.”
“You think so, do you, now?” Grace’s back went ramrod-straight. “I admit I’ve had a setback, but I will get all those back issues organized if it’s the last damned thing I do. You know that nothing has happened in St. Dennis in the past hundred years that wasn’t reported in the Gazette.”
“We always said if you didn’t see it in the St. Dennis Gazette, it didn’t happen. Who got married, who died, who was born,” Nita said.
“Who went on vacation, who went to college, who joined the military,” Eleanor from the flower shop had added in passing. “Nita’s right. If it happened in St. Dennis, you read about it in the Gazette.”
“Well, you wouldn’t know that from the sorry state of affairs that office is in. I really wanted to go through the boxes and put every issue in order, going back to the very first.”
Nita had nodded sympathetically. “You’ll get it done, Gracie. We all know how you are when you get your mind set on something. And you know that any one of us would be happy to help.”
“You all have your own things to do,” Grace had said, “but I do appreciate the offer.”
“I’m here if you need me,” Nita had promised.
Hours later, the words still rang in Jamie’s ears. If it happened in St. Dennis, you read about it in the Gazette.
That was exactly what Jamie had been counting on.
“So how are we doing?” Dan stepped onto the rooftop balcony.
“I feel so much better. Thank you so much for all this.”
“Great. The chef was in a good mood, and it’s early for the dinner crowd, so he had a little time to throw something together for us.” He took the seat next to her. “I see you went for the beer.”
That Chesapeake Summer (Chesapeake Diaries Book 9) Page 21