by Warren, Pat
From that day on, he’d made sure in all his relationships that permanence wasn’t what he was headed towards. If the women in his life could handle that—and there’d been plenty who could—he would see them from time to time. If not, he’d had nothing to do with them. Truth and honesty, that’s how he’d played it.
Until Megan.
From the beginning, he’d lied to her. Sitting down in his chair, Alex leaned back. He’d arrived at her home under false pretenses, at least partly. It didn’t matter that his motive was an honest concern for her welfare and that of her son. He’d been no better than her husband. He deceived her royally was what Grace had said about Neal’s behavior toward his wife. Motives be hanged. Alex, too, had deceived her royally.
So just say, for a minute, for the sake of argument, that perhaps she had somehow gotten under his skin. That he cared more for her than any woman he’d ever known. He supposed he could admit to that, to himself only, of course. Then what made him think, when he confessed his dark secret to her, as confess he must, that she’d have anything to do with him ever again? If he knew anything about Megan, he knew she’d despise duplicity.
So there you are, he told himself. Even if love was a factor—which it was not—the lady herself would stop the progress of their tenuous relationship before it ever really got off the ground once she heard his story. And that would be that. No use pondering what couldn’t be.
Leaning forward, Alex picked up his pen and reached for a stack of mail his secretary had opened for him earlier. He’d wait out the rest of the time limit he’d given the Parsons. If their answer was favorable, he’d finish the transaction by mail and phone. If it wasn’t, he’d forget all about Twin Oaks and everyone in it.
Except that he’d have to tell Megan about the list, the transplant operation, the switch. Confession was good for the soul, or so they said. Perhaps it would be kinder to do it by mail. Or was it that he couldn’t stand the thought of the usual warm welcome in her eyes turning to frosty rejection or worse when she learned the truth? He’d still set up the educational trust fund for Ryan, of course. He’d have the bank notify Megan of that and stay personally uninvolved. For the sake of her son, she couldn’t refuse him that much.
Yes, that’s how he’d handle things, Alex decided. The last thing in this world he needed was a doe-eyed woman with roots firmly entrenched in a small town and her charmingly mischievous son to divert him from his personal goals. Finally, he was back on track.
Coward! a small voice inside his head screamed.
“Oh, shut up!” Alex said aloud, then bent to his paperwork.
Megan knocked once on Ryan’s bedroom door, then opened it. Her son was sitting on his bed with the Austin Healy model car beside him, Alex’s printed note in his hand. Obviously, he’d been reading it yet again, trying to understand. His young face was a study in sadness.
She walked over and sat down, slipping her arm around him. She was certain his heart hurt almost as much as hers. Uncertain what to say, she waited for him to speak first.
“I just don’t understand why he couldn’t have waited to talk to me in person before he left,” Ryan got out finally, his voice wobbly. “He said he’d go on our field trip and chaperone and everything. It’s next week. What if he’s not back by then, Mom?”
Struggling with her own emotions, Megan chose her words carefully. “His note said something really important came up and he had to leave. Sometimes business problems have to be taken care of and chaperoning of field trips has to be canceled.” Lord, how many times had she had to make similar explanations to this boy for Neal’s many absences? More than she cared to count, and here she was, doing it again.
“Yeah, I guess.” Abject misery sat on his small shoulders as he hugged his Tasmanian devil pillow to his chest. “He did say he’d probably be back. Probably doesn’t mean for sure, right?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Perhaps she’d brought this unhappiness on her son by allowing him to get close to Alex Shephard. And herself, as well. But how could she have prevented it? He’d come storming into their lives like a runaway train. After the briefest resistance, they’d accepted him with open arms, even skeptical Grace. And Megan, who’d stopped believing, stopped hoping and dreaming, had begun to think maybe this time something good, something solid, would take place. And now they were left with the broken pieces of their hearts and shattered dreams. Hadn’t she learned long ago that wishing alone didn’t make it so? “I’m sorry, Ryan.”
Blinking against tears, Ryan looked up at his mother. “You liked him, too, didn’t you, Mom?”
She never lied to her son, not unless the truth would hurt him badly. “Yes,” she whispered, drawing his warm little body close to hers, “I liked him, too.”
A look of determination settled on his young face. “He’s going to come back. I just know he will.”
“Glad to meet you, Liz,” Alex said, shaking hands with the tall blond woman. He turned to Mitch’s wife, Jan. “I’ll bet you’re glad to have your sister visiting for a while.” He’d completely forgotten that Jan had a sister. He wouldn’t have accepted Mitch’s dinner invitation had he remembered. He’d fallen into yet another matchmaking trap, one his best friend was deviously clever at setting.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Alex?” Jan asked. “Dinner won’t be ready for another half an hour.”
“Sure, that’d be fine.” He followed Jan as she led the way out to their brick patio. Mitch enjoyed barbecuing and the coals were already glowing. Cushioned rattan furniture was informally arranged at one end of the roofed terrace where the soft light of overhead lanterns cast a yellow glow on the outdoor scene. Alex almost smiled at the way Jan maneuvered him to the only two-seater, then waved her sister over to join him. Not too obvious.
While Jan busied herself pouring wine and Mitch went inside for the platter of meat, Liz Trent smiled at Alex. “I understand you work closely with Mitch. Funny that we’ve never met before, I’ve been living in Boston. Just moved to California last week.”
“How do you like our state so far?” Alex asked, more to make polite conversation than because he really wanted to know. Liz was lovely, with warm brown eyes and a body a man wouldn’t easily forget. But he hated being thrust into these situations and had warned Mitch about this many times. Apparently, their little talk on Catalina had caused his friend to give it one more shot.
Liz crossed her long legs. “It’s wonderful. So much sun and sand and water. Do you like to sail, Alex?”
So she’d been briefed on his interests. Mitch, it seemed, had no shame. “I can take it or leave it,” he answered, feeling contrary.
Returning with the meat platter and overhearing the conversation, Mitch glared at him. “Don’t let him kid you. Alex is planning to prime his sailboat to compete in the America’s Cup race.”
“Oh, that sounds so exciting,” Liz purred.
Alex sipped his wine and wished the evening would end quickly.
“Grace, I want you to look at this,” Megan said, sitting down at the kitchen table and handing over a letter attached to another sheet of paper. “It just came in the mail.”
“What is it?” Grace asked, taking both in hand. Quickly, she read the brief official letter, then flipped the page over and studied the second sheet. “Your promissory note on the second mortgage has been satisfied, it seems.” Raising both brows, she glanced across the table where she’d been working on the books. “Did you come into an inheritance you forgot to mention to me?”
“Hardly.” Megan reached for the letter, read it again. “I don’t get it. There must be some error.”
“Like there was on the dryer that arrived day before yesterday marked paid in full?” Grace’s skepticism was being sorely tried.
“I’m going to call Mr. Williams. Something’s not right here.”
Grace watched her leave the kitchen on her way to the front desk. Her friend had one thing straight at least. Something truly wasn’t right here. Megan walked ar
ound the inn with dark shadows under her eyes, her temper frayed and her sense of humor almost totally absent. Ryan came racing into the parking lot after school every day, hope clearly stamped on his eager little face, only to be dashed when he saw no blue Porsche convertible parked there. They both looked as if they’d just lost their best friend.
And maybe they had. Neither had been this sad when they’d buried Neal, not that Grace blamed them for that. She’d warned that man with the devilish smile and the vagabond spirit not to hurt the two people in this world who mattered most to Grace, but he’d managed to do it anyhow. Even she had begun to believe, had dropped her guard.
But, true to form, he’d left them all in the lurch, sneaking out before dawn like a thief in the night.
“Well,” Megan said, returning to sit down again, “I don’t quite know what to think. Mr. Williams says that the second mortgage has been paid off in full and our primary mortgage brought current, all by someone he won’t name.” She glanced into the laundry room at the dryer that was industrial-size and top of the line. “Three guesses who’s done this, and the first two don’t count.”
“I thought so,” Grace commented, knowing exactly who Megan had in mind.
“How dare he!” Megan was too agitated to sit still, so she paced the kitchen. “Thinks he can whip out his checkbook and fix everything.”
Grace looked up over her reading glasses. “What is there to fix?”
The way he’d left her that night, weak with wanting, heart breaking as he walked away, not even looking back once, maybe. But how could she explain that to Grace? “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Conscience, do you think?”
Megan frowned. “Conscience over what?” Men didn’t have consciences about walking away from women. Her father had left without a backward glance. Neal had strolled off whenever he felt the urge, leaving when she’d been pregnant, home with a newborn or scrubbing floors. None of it had mattered. “Do you really think his conscience is bothering him because he stayed too long at the fair and let us all begin to like and trust him? So he writes a check for thousands because of that?”
“I imagine he can afford it.”
“That’s not the point, Grace.”
“Maybe he did it because he cares about you. And Ryan.”
That she didn’t believe. A man who cared for a woman didn’t walk away. Eyes on the letter again, Megan shook her head. “I can’t accept this. The dryer was one thing. But twenty-seven thousand plus three back payments? No.”
“It’s done, Megan. The bank’s not going to give back the money. They don’t care who pays as long as they get theirs.”
“Well, I care. I’m going to write Mr. Alex Shephard and tell him I’ll set up a payment schedule with him to pay back every cent.” That decision made, she rose. “I’m not ever going to be beholden to another man, not as long as I draw breath.” With that, she turned away. But at the doorway, she stopped, her head downcast, one arm braced along the frame. For a long moment, she was silent. When she spoke again, it was in barely a whisper. “How’d I get to this place in time, Grace? Again.” Slowly, she left the room.
Alone, Grace sighed as she turned to stare out the window, wishing she had a crystal ball.
“Thanks for calling, Ms. Parsons,” Alex said into the phone. “I’m glad the three of you have decided to accept our offer. I’ll contact Mr. Williams at the bank and have him finalize the paperwork.” He listened to her express her appreciation, as well. “You’re very welcome. I’ll be in touch.”
Alex hung up the phone and was staring at it when his father strolled into his office. Ron never knocked.
“Must be bad news the way you’re frowning,” Ron commented, dropping his lanky frame into the chair across from Alex’s desk.
“No, actually, it’s good news. The Parsons children have accepted our offer on the land in Twin Oaks at our original price.”
“Good, good.” Ron steepled his fingers, watching his son carefully. There was something bothering the boy. Alex hadn’t been the same since returning from that little town. And Ron had a feeling he knew exactly what that something was. Or rather someone. “Are you planning to go back to set it all in motion?”
“I don’t think so. The rest can be done by mail and phone.” Alex picked up his pen and made a notation on the Parsons file.
“What about the girl?”
“What girl?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Alex. The one at the bed-and-breakfast. Megan Delaney. What’s happening with her?”
Alex’s eyes slid to the letter he’d received that morning lying next to his desk blotter. A very formal letter stating that Ms. Megan Delaney would be paying him a sum of three hundred dollars a month at a fair interest rate until the debt he satisfied with the bank was paid off. Not a personal word anywhere in the two short paragraphs. “She has nothing to do with the Parsons transaction.”
Impatiently, Ron sat forward. “I know that. But you’ve got that woman on your mind, and there’s no use denying it. Did you and she...I mean, are the two of you...damn it, Alex. Are you involved with her?” Ron hoped not, had been willing to send his son to England or Timbuktu, anywhere else to forestall such a thing happening, but seeing him this distracted and obviously unhappy, he had to do something. Even Mitch thought so.
Ordinarily, Alex would have gotten angry at his father for delving into his personal life so boldly. After all, he was thirty-two years old, certainly past the age of needing parental permission for the things he did. But oddly enough, he just felt numb. “Depends on what you mean by involved.”
“Do you need me to spell it out for you? Are you sleeping with her? That I could understand. She’s a fine-looking woman. But it’s more than that, I suspect.” He drew in a breath, held it a moment before expelling it noisily. “Are you in love with her?”
For the first time since he’d entered his office, Alex met his father’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
Exactly what Ron had been afraid of. His objections centered around the fact that this had all happened too quickly. A man should get to know a woman, court her a while. They should come from the same background, the way he and his wife had. A man shouldn’t impulsively marry because his hormones were raging, like Alex had done with Cynthia. The bottom line was that he didn’t want his son hurt.
But no man could protect a grown son from everything. Ron pushed himself to his feet. “Then maybe you should find out.”
Alex sat staring at his father’s back as he walked out, his strides reflecting his displeasure with his only son. Yes, Alex thought, maybe it was time he did find out.
Chapter 9
Alex had known from an early age that timing was important. As a young boy, he’d soon discovered that catching his father as soon as he walked in from the office and asking permission to do something usually earned him a refusal. But if he waited until his father had had time to unwind and relax, he’d be all smiles and willing to grant most anything. That lesson also served him well in business in later years.
Which was why he’d carefully plotted out the time of his return to Twin Oaks the following day. Too early in the morning would mean that Megan would be busy serving breakfast to her guests. Right after and she’d be cleaning rooms and changing beds alongside Grace. Just before lunch would be good since that was when Megan wandered the hillside picking wildflowers for the tables or worked in her garden while Grace usually ran errands.
When he pulled his Porsche into Delaney’s parking lot, only three cars were there, one of them Megan’s old Mustang. Stepping out, he stretched, admitting he was a shade nervous. Although he’d timed his arrival carefully; what he hadn’t done was prepare what he wanted to say to her. Perhaps playing it by ear would be best, gauging her mood first.
After all, he’d been gone exactly a week without a call or a note of any kind. His reception was bound to be guarded or downright chilly.
The public rooms were deserted except for Mrs. Kettering dozing in an
armchair in the lounge with the television on. He found Grace in the kitchen, seated at the table strewn with papers, her fingers flying over the keys of an adding machine. She looked up as he walked in through the swinging doors, surprise registering on her expressive face before a look of concern moved into place.
Grace removed her half glasses. “So, you’ve come back. More business in the area?” She was aware her voice wasn’t particularly welcoming and even revealed a note of skepticism.
Alex pocketed his keys. “You have every right to be annoyed with me for leaving the way I did.”
“Go on.”
Grace wasn’t quite his father’s age, but old enough to make him feel as if he was being called on the carpet. She was also as protective of Megan as Ron was of him. “Let’s just say I had some thinking to do. Is Megan around?”
“And that’s all you’re going to tell me?”
“The rest of the explanation is for Megan’s ears only. Where is she?”
Grace drew in a thoughtful breath. What good would it do to delay the inevitable since he’d find her eventually? Besides, despite the fact that she disapproved of Alex’s abrupt departure, she had to admit his timely payment of some of Megan’s overpowering bills had kept the wolf at bay for now. How could she fault a man like that, one who’d also been good to Ryan?
Unless, of course, his return came with a lot of strings attached. That, only time would tell.
She stalled for just a minute. “I assume you know you’ve hurt her after I warned you not to.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry.”
“The boy, too.”
Despite his note, he’d guessed that Ryan wouldn’t understand. “I’ll make it up to him.” The mention of getting hurt reminded Alex of something that had been nagging at him. He could probably get a straight answer quicker from Grace. “I need to know something. The scar on Megan’s temple looks to be fairly recent. Can you tell me how she got that?”