by Warren, Pat
Glancing over at her son stealthily reaching for another warm chocolate cookie, she smiled. His hair was as dark as hers, a lock falling onto his forehead. His eyes were a deeper blue than hers, large and round and inquisitive. An altogether handsome boy, Megan thought, as only a mother does. But she was also a mother who had to worry about cavities and dentist bills. “Hey, kid, I told you two was your limit.”
“Just one more, Mom? I promise I won’t ask again.” Ryan made the sign of the cross over his heart, his mischievous grin revealing a space where his two front teeth were missing.
How could she refuse that face? “All right, but that’s it.” Just to be sure, she removed temptation from the table and began stacking cookies in the tall jar shaped like a clown. From long experience, she knew that even out of sight didn’t necessarily mean out of mind for Ryan when it came to his favorite dessert.
“Is your project ready for tomorrow?” It was the third week of the new school semester and Ryan’s third-grade teacher had already assigned a project. Each student was to make a dinosaur of his choice from papier-mâché. Megan had helped Ryan with his before dinner, but he was to have added the finishing touches.
“Yeah, I glued it into the shoebox I decorated yesterday. I even made some hills out of clay and stuck them around him to look like rocks. You think I’ll win a prize, Mom?” Ryan washed down his last bite with milk, eyed the full-to-bursting cookie jar his mother finished filling and wondered if he dare push his luck and ask for one more. Nah, probably not. He didn’t want her to get upset ’cause he had a favor to ask her. A big favor.
“I think you’ve got an excellent chance of winning a prize.” Megan knew that all of the kids would probably receive some kind of prize. It was usually done that way in the lower grades to encourage participation.
“Mom,” Ryan began, climbing down and putting his dish and glass in the sink the way he’d been taught, “you know those kittens that Tommy’s cat had last month?”
Megan almost groaned aloud, knowing exactly what was coming. “Uh-huh.”
“Are you sure we can’t take one? I mean, we’d be doing Tommy’s mom a real favor ’cause she’s got the mama cat and three kittens left and four are just too much work. This one is really cute, black with white paws and all cuddly. He likes me, Mom.”
Megan steeled her heart and stood firm. “Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. You know with so many guests coming and going around here, we can’t have a kitten underfoot. He might get stepped on or maybe run away when someone leaves the door open. And some people are allergic to animals and can’t stay where cats live. I can’t afford to lose business because of a kitten, Ryan. Please try to understand.” Living in a bed-and-breakfast had its drawbacks if you were a young boy.
Ryan heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. “Okay. Only one day, can we, Mom? I mean one day when we don’t have to have all these people living with us, can I have a kitten or a puppy?”
Megan felt a lump form in her throat. How could she explain the necessities of life versus a boy’s desire for a pet to her son? “One day, Ryan, I promise.”
His face brightened immediately. Basically a happy child, he was seldom sad-faced long.
She pulled him to her, hugging him fiercely, blinking back tears. Why were her emotions still so close to the surface? Of course, Neal’s funeral with all its accompanying problems were part of the reason, but that had been weeks ago. For Ryan’s sake, she needed to get a grip.
She buried her face in the sweet little-boy curve of his neck. He allowed it for all of five seconds, then pulled away, his attention roaming. “I love you, punkin,” she whispered.
“Mom! You said you wouldn’t call me that anymore. I’m almost eight, you know.”
Megan smiled down at him. Too soon, Ryan was moving toward independence. Though in her head she knew that was as it should be, her heart wasn’t ready to let him start the journey. “You’re absolutely right. I forgot. But you won’t be eight for another three months.”
“Close enough. Can I go watch Looney Tunes?”
Glancing at the kitchen clock, she went back to packaging her remaining baked goods. “All right, but I’ll be up to run your bath right afterward. School tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Ryan’s white Nikes pounded up the uncarpeted back stairs leading to their third-floor living quarters.
“Was that the 101st Airborne Division marching upstairs?” Grace Romero asked as she came into the kitchen carrying an armload of clean dish towels and table linens.
“Sure sounded like that, didn’t it?” Megan turned to smile at her assistant. Chief cook and bottle washer might fit better. Grace helped out in everything from the front desk and bookkeeping to upstairs maid, running errands and keeping an eye on Ryan. But mostly, Grace was her friend, a woman who’d saved her sanity on more than one occasion. “Think you can drive Ryan to school tomorrow morning? He’s got a dinosaur project he has to take in, and I know if he rides the bus, he’ll smash it somehow. I’ve got two couples from Oregon checking in early and I probably won’t be finished with breakfast till late.”
“Sure, no problem.” Finished putting away the linens, Grace took a flat cardboard out of the cupboard and began shaping it into a box. “I can drop these at the Cornerstone on the way back.”
Megan set aside the last loaf and reached out to hug her friend. “You’re a godsend.” Grace had answered her help-wanted ad shortly after she and Neal had bought the big older house and set out to remodel it into a bed-and-breakfast. Childless and divorced twice, Grace had no family this side of the border and only a few cousins in Mexico. She’d pitched in from the start and become like a member of the family. Megan was certain she couldn’t manage without her and told her so.
“You got that right.” Grace grinned as she packed the box with baked goods.
Hurrying so she could spend a little time with Ryan before his bedtime, Megan quickly did a mental inventory, checking to make sure she had everything she needed for breakfast in the morning. When her Oregon guests arrived, all seven of her rooms, including the two larger suites, would be full. And three couples were staying a week. Maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to think about getting a new washer soon. The old one was on its last legs and small wonder since it struggled through at least ten loads daily.
Absently, she jerked open the cupboard to put away the cookie sheets and gasped as the door fell off into her hands, one of its hinges broken loose. Ruefully, she stared at the bent screws. “Not again. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”
“What we need around here is a handyman, if there is such a thing somewhere on God’s green earth. Or maybe just any man.” Grace moved over to hold the door for Megan. “If only—”
“Don’t! Don’t you dare say if only Neal were here, he’d fix it. You know better, and so do I.”
“You’re right about that. I kept hoping he’d grab hold.” Grace’s opinion of Neal Delaney had never been high, not even during the early days. She’d spotted his aversion to work, his champagne tastes on a beer budget and, unfortunately, his wandering eye long before Megan had.
She’d hoped he’d grab hold, too, Megan thought, but he never really had. “You and I can fix this. We don’t need a male around here except the one upstairs watching Looney Tunes.”
Megan walked to the laundry room and reached for her toolbox. Her toolbox. Neal had had trouble pounding a nail in straight. During his many absences, she’d slowly gathered a small assortment of tools for minor repairs and learned how to use them.
Back in the kitchen, she rummaged around and found the correct anchor, then shoved it into the hole left by the bent screw. While Grace held the cupboard door, Megan threw away the old screws, put a new one through the hinge and, using her automatic screwdriver, fixed the first hinge, then tightened the second. Pausing to look at the repair, she nodded satisfactorily. “Good as new. Until the next time.”
“Until you yank it too hard again, you mean. Honey, you move at
double time. You’ve got to slow down.” Grace nodded her russet head toward the window. “There’re roses out there you’ve never smelled. And snapdragons and peonies and all manner of growing things. You need to get out there and smell the flowers now and again. All work and no play makes Megan a pale and tired little innkeeper. You need to have some fun. You remember what that is?”
Megan frowned. Did she? Not really. “Fun for me is getting the bills paid, keeping the rooms filled, being with Ryan and you. I don’t need anything more than that.”
“The hell you say, sweetie. A woman needs a man. No child or girlfriend or full house can match that kind of fun.” Grace’s dark eyes danced with excitement, with memories.
Grace was still a very attractive woman, Megan thought, with her thick auburn hair that she usually wore in a twist during working hours and down around her shoulders when she went out. Which was far oftener than Megan did, even though Grace was on the far side of forty. Odd how the woman was still looking for Mr. Right after two disastrous marriages, the first to a man who robbed her blind and the second a drinker whose reckless antics nearly bankrupted her. Hope springs eternal for some, she supposed.
But not for her. “No, thanks. I’ve tried that kind of fun and the cost is too high.”
Grace sobered. “Honey, every man’s not like Neal. Or my exes, for that matter. Somewhere out there is a guy who’ll—”
“Sweep me off my feet? Whisk me away to paradise? Puhleeze. I’ll leave the romantic daydreams to you.”
Grace’s unlined face moved into a gentle smile. “I know how you feel, honey. I just don’t want life to pass you by. You’re young. You need something besides working all day. If not a date, then go shopping, take in a movie, get your hair done. You know I’ll watch over things here.”
Megan shook her head. “I don’t need time off. I need to know that this place is turning into a success, that we’re safe and secure.” A feeling she hadn’t experienced in far too long.
Grace knew the reasons Megan felt so strongly about hearth and home, so she didn’t argue anymore. “Okay, I give up. I’m going up to my room to watch ‘NYPD Blue.’ That Jimmy Smits makes my juices flow.”
Smiling, Megan turned out the kitchen light. “Grace, honestly.”
Grace’s lusty laugh preceded her up the stairs.
Chapter 2
Alex tossed down his pen and swiveled in his desk chair so he could look out at the sea. The corporate headquarters for Shephard Construction was on the fourth floor of a high-rise on the western shore of San Diego. It was a beautiful spring day, the 27th of April, the sun was beaming down on the breakers, and he could see over a dozen sailboats gliding through the water.
He ached like the devil to be out there with them, skimming along on his boat, Black Sheep, free as a bird. Alex sighed. Exactly nine months since he’d had his transplant surgery and he was bored out of his gourd.
He’d been back in his office since the first week of December, though only half days until mid-January. He’d done mostly desk work, leaving the scouting and traveling to Mitch, on doctor’s orders. Benson was as much of an old lady as his father.
Finally, by March, the good doctor had graciously agreed that he could gradually resume some of his former pursuits, though not too many until he had at least a year or more under his belt. Even so, he’d attached several caveats.
Don’t overdo, don’t get overtired. Don’t engage in strenuous physical activities. Just don’t do anything stupid. And above all, don’t get an infection.
He might as well have said don’t live, just exist, Alex thought. Hell, he wasn’t exactly planning to walk a tightrope across the Grand Canyon. He’d gone hiking on Cowles Mountain last month, even though those trails were nothing compared to most others he’d climbed in the past. And last weekend he’d gone exploring in Anza-Borrego Desert State Park and even slept out under the stars.
But he longed for something more challenging, like a week in Death Valley, horseback riding on an open stretch of hard-packed sand, maybe scuba diving in some remote lagoon. However, since none of his friends was available to go on any of these treks with him and he’d decided going alone might be pushing the envelope, he’d postponed any adventurous trips for now. One day, though, he’d hopefully be able to do those things again, and more. It was high time he resumed his life at full tilt. Past time.
Rising, he walked to the bank of windows and stared out at puffy white clouds. A Santa Ana was in the making, bringing hot, dry winds and unseasonably warm weather for late April. There were a few hardy souls in the water upshore, probably tourists. Except for a few surfers, the locals rarely wandered into cold ocean water even though the air temperature hovered around eighty.
Surfing. Something else he’d enjoyed once upon a time.
Alex rolled his shoulders, then patted his hard, flat stomach. His twice-daily walks that had gradually turned into jogs along the beach had paid off. He’d regained the weight he’d lost and was lean and trim. The scar had faded to a pinkish hue, no longer an angry red. He took his medications religiously and hadn’t experienced any of the side effects of bloating and increased hair growth he’d been warned of, not so far anyway. He wasn’t restricted to a special diet, nor did he feel he should be hampered by Benson’s limitations after all this time.
In other words, he was about as healthy as he would ever be and it was time to stop acting like an invalid. And time to look into something that bothered him. A lot.
Turning, Alex strolled back to his desk and picked up the newspaper article he’d been reading. A parcel of land had become available for possible development either as a residential or a commercial building site. It was his job to scout out such parcels and ascertain if any would meet the requirements of Shephard Construction. The fact that this land was located in a small city twenty miles from Los Angeles made it appealing since Ron didn’t like to acquire too far from home base. But that wasn’t its greatest appeal.
The fact that the city was Twin Oaks was.
Twin Oaks where Neal Delaney had lived and died almost a year ago. The city where Neal’s family presumably still lived. The town where Delaney’s Bed & Breakfast was located.
Obviously, Alex needed a place to stay while scouting locations for his company. Most likely there were hotels and motels in and around Twin Oaks. But on the trips when he stayed for a week or so, he tried to book a room at places that had a cozy, home atmosphere. He’d never liked motel chains or formal hotels. A B and B would be perfect.
Sitting down, Alex sighed. Who was he kidding? The site inspection was a secondary reason for going. For months, as he’d recuperated at home and even after he’d returned to the office, not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought of the Delaneys. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish by visiting Twin Oaks, but he knew he had to go. He had to find some sort of closure to this whole thing before he went stark raving mad.
Both his father and Mitch would think he’d gone around the bend if he told them his plans. So he simply wouldn’t, saying only that he planned to drive up the coast on a scouting expedition and he’d check in from time to time. The two men had fallen into the habit of humoring him since his surgery, and while it often annoyed him, today he would use it.
Alex studied his calendar a moment, then picked up the phone, checked with Information and dialed the number before he could change his mind.
When he hung up four minutes later, he was frowning. The voice at the other end had been female with a definite hint of Spanish. A name like Megan Delaney didn’t sound Spanish. Of course, she could have sold the business by now, added the check to her insurance money and relocated to any number of places.
He should have asked for her directly, he thought, scowling at the phone. But what would he have said if she’d asked where he got her name? Maybe the woman was only the desk clerk. Oh well, it was only a two-hour drive. He’d made an open-ended reservation, so if the Delaneys were gone, he’d check out the parcel of land, th
en cut his visit short. But if she and her son were there...
What? What would he say, do? Nothing, Alex decided. It wouldn’t be wise to reveal who he was, how he knew of her. If she was aware of the list, she’d toss him out on his rear. Even if she didn’t, any explanation would sound lame. Best to play it by ear.
Quickly, Alex packed his briefcase, tossed in the newspaper article and snapped it closed. He’d pop into Dad’s office and let him know he was off on a scouting trip, drop by his condo to throw a few things in a bag and be on his way.
If nothing else, it was a great day for a drive.
Skimming along the coastal highway, Alex kept his mind firmly on the gorgeous scenery, the rocky cliffs, the black rocks slippery with dark green moss, the Pacific endlessly smashing onto the shore. He passed sunny beaches with white sand and cliffside homes with breathtaking views, the scent of the ocean teasing his nostrils. He had the top down on his blue Porsche, his hair blowing about in a stiff breeze and the sun warming his face.
Life was good.
It wasn’t until he had to veer east onto the inland road, following the sign toward Twin Oaks, that he allowed himself to focus on his undoubtedly misguided mission. And he still couldn’t figure out just why he wanted to meet Neal Delaney’s family.
Ostensibly, it likely was to make sure they were all right at least financially so he could appease his nagging conscience. What if they weren’t? Would he then drop anonymous check donations into the widow’s bank account monthly? Would that help him sleep better?
At a curve in the road, Alex spotted a roadside billboard advertising Delaney’s Bed & Breakfast two miles ahead. He followed the directions, his powerful car climbing the winding, hilly road with ease. Minutes later, he pulled into a circular driveway where a discreet sign read Welcome To Delaney’s Bed & Breakfast.