“Do you honestly think I’d come to you for approval to get on with my life? Seth? Damn you, answer me!”
He raised a hand and waggled it without looking back.
“Seth? Seth!”
From the corner of her eye, she saw the headlights on her mother’s car blink on and off. Wendy glared after Seth’s retreating figure. Then she started toward the Volvo, her pace quickening with each step.
She wasn’t looking back, either. Not anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLINT COOPER SQUATTED next to Seth, protected from the bite of the wind by the walls of the woodshed behind Twin Oaks. Firewood lay scattered all around them; above, snow fell lightly through what, until the evening before, Clint had thought was a perfectly good roof.
Seth ran his hand along the edge of a rafter that had supported the roof, and frowned. He poked at a couple of the logs and turned them over. Finally, he stood, took off his gloves and slapped them against his jeans-clad legs to rid them of snow.
“Well?” Clint got to his feet and tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. “What do you think?”
Seth heard the impatience in Clint’s voice. He’d called him a couple of hours ago, sounding upset. Maureen had gone out to the shed the night before for some wood, and a section of the roof had collapsed on top of her.
“Is Maureen okay?” Seth had asked.
Clint said she had a couple of bruises and that she’d been a little shaken by the accident.
“But she keeps insisting she’s fine,” he’d said wryly, and then he’d asked if Seth could stop by and see about repairing the shed. Seth had said he would, but ever since he’d gotten here, Clint’s questions had dealt more with how the accident could have occurred than with fixing the woodshed.
Seth decided it was time to confront that, head-on.
“Come spring, I can fix the shed easily enough,” he said, watching Clint closely. “But I get the feeling there’s more to your question than how long it’ll take me to get that roof back up.”
Clint hesitated. “You might say that, yes.” He looked up at the empty space. “The thing is, I can’t figure out why the roof would give way.”
“Snow can be really heavy, Clint. You know that as well as I do.”
“There wasn’t any more weight on that shed than usual. Less, maybe. I shoveled it off just a couple of days ago.”
“Still, stuff like this happens.”
Clint sighed. “Does it?”
“Sure. You’re dealing with wood. This shed was built a while ago, near as I can tell. There are termites and carpenter ants, hungry little buggers that can weaken a piece of wood over time. A building can go all to hell if it isn’t maintained properly, especially with lots of snow, icy rain... I’ve been working over near Williamstown. There’s a farm I pass each day. Old place, with lots of small outbuildings. Monday, this little structure that looks like it might have been a pumphouse was fine. Tuesday, I drove by, noticed that a section of it had collapsed.” Seth smiled. “Welcome to the country, pal.”
“Yeah.” Clint nodded. “I guess I feel guilty, that’s all.”
“About what?”
“About the roof coming down on Maureen instead of me. She always insists on bringing in the wood, but I’d noticed that there were only a few logs left by the fireplace in the gathering room and said I’d do it. Then the phone rang and I got sidetracked.” Clint’s mouth turned down at the corners. “If I’d only ignored that telephone...”
“You guys run a B and B.” Seth smiled. “Ignore that phone enough and there won’t be anything to run.”
“You’re right. I just feel...well, I’d rather this hadn’t happened at all, but to have it happen to my sister...”
“Did she notice anything wrong before the accident?”
“No. She just opened the door, stepped inside the way she’s done hundreds of times...” Clint looked up at the hole in the roof again “...and just like that, the roof came down and took the whole wall of logs with it.”
“But you said Maureen’s okay, right?”
“She’s got some bruises on her shoulder and a mild concussion. Nothing serious, thank goodness. Doc Dorn stopped by, checked her over, then convinced her to go for an X ray.” Clint rolled his eyes. “It took a lot of fast talking, but then, you know my sister.”
“She’s lucky. Damn lucky. Those logs are heavy.”
“I know.” Clint’s jaw tightened. “She could have been badly hurt. As it is, if she’d been trapped under the logs much longer...” His voice trailed off. “It was bitter cold last night.”
Seth nodded. “Yeah. It’s a good thing you found her when you did.”
“Tell me about it.” Clint rocked back on his heels and peered at the roof again. “So, you figure it was the weight of the snow, huh?”
Seth picked up a splintered piece of the two-by-four brace that had held up the logs. “I can’t think what else it could have been.”
“Just an accident, right?”
Seth looked at him. Clint’s expression was impassive, but something in his tone was troubling.
“Do you have reason to think it wasn’t?” he asked quietly.
Clint opened his mouth, then shut it again. “No. Of course not.”
The denial wasn’t convincing. “Because if you do,” Seth said, “you might want to contact the police.”
“There’s no reason. I’m sure this is just what you said it was. Too much snow on the roof.” Clint slapped his hand against one of the walls. “So, what do you think?” he said briskly. “Should we repair it or rebuild it? This shed’s got to be, what, almost as old as the house?”
“Darned close.”
“Uh-huh.” Clint clapped him on the back. “Tell you what. Come on up to the house. We’ll have some coffee and you can explain the pros and cons of repairing the roof as opposed to building a new shed.”
“Does that coffee come with homemade scones?”
Clint laughed. “It does.”
“In that case, it’s a deal.”
The men walked slowly up the hill toward Twin Oaks. Seth craned his neck and looked back at the ice-bound river, then at the snow-covered hills surrounding them.
“One heck of a view,” he said.
“Yup. The Cooper that built here sure knew a nice piece of land when he saw it.”
“So did you and Maureen,” Seth said, smiling. “Took you, what, ten minutes to fall in love with the place and decide to move here?”
“Move back here, you mean.”
“Right. I keep forgetting you lived in Cooper’s Corner as a kid.”
“Yeah.” Clint opened the back door and motioned Seth to move ahead of him. “I was here till I was nine, and all those years, I don’t ever recall a woodshed roof collapsing because of the snow. But then, I was only a kid. I guess I didn’t pay much attention to those things.” He toed off his boots, shrugged off his coat and hung it on a peg beside the door. “Take off your jacket,” he said as he washed up at the utility sink, “and sit down.”
Seth glanced down at his feet. “My boots are going to leave tracks on the floor.”
Clint grinned. “That’s one of the benefits of a stone floor. Nothing ruins it. Go on. Take a load off while I pour us some coffee.”
“Sounds good.” Seth took his turn at the sink. “If you have some paper and a pencil, I’ll work up a rough estimate of building a new shed.”
Clint took a notepad and pencil from the counter and put them on the table. “What about fixing up the old one?”
“Well, I’ll give you a rough idea of that, too, but it probably makes sense to start from scratch.”
While Seth made his calculations, Clint poured coffee and piled scones on a plate.
“Okay. Here�
��s what I figure it’ll cost you, both ways.” Seth turned the pad toward Clint, who frowned as he read the numbers.
“So cheap?”
“Of course.” Seth reached for a scone from the plate Clint had placed on the kitchen table. “You’ll do it yourself. Zero labor costs.”
“Hey. I didn’t mean—”
“Come on, man. You know you’re just looking to put me out of work.” The men grinned at each other.
“Hey, Castleman,” Clint said in a Western drawl that would have made John Wayne proud, “are you tellin’ me this town ain’t big enough for the two of us?”
Both men laughed. They’d fallen into the friendly routine ever since Clint and his sister inherited Twin Oaks and decided to convert the old house to a bed-and-breakfast. Clint was an architect by training and had always gone in for hands-on participation in the projects he designed. He was a more than competent carpenter, but he cheerfully admitted he couldn’t hold a candle to Seth when it came to things like cabinetry or furniture making.
“Okay. Thanks for the estimate.”
“No problem. I can even give you a couple of recommendations to some lumberyards where you can buy well-seasoned wood.” Seth bit into the scone and rolled his eyes. “Did you ever think about opening a restaurant, adding a little class to the valley? I know, I know. Cooking’s just a hobby, but you’re damned good.”
“That’s just what we need, all right.” Clint smiled, amused. “A gourmet restaurant to compete with the ones in Lenox. I was surprised enough when that new place opened in Stockbridge. What’s it called? The Purple Panda?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
Clint looked at him. “What?”
“Nothing. I just...I was just remembering that I ate there the other night.”
“And? How was it?”
A sudden image of Wendy’s face, pale and distraught as she looked up at him in the darkness of the parking lot, flashed through Seth’s mind.
“It was—it was okay, I guess.”
“Not exactly what you hoped for, huh?” Clint shrugged. “Well, that’s life. Lots of things aren’t quite what you hope they’ll be.”
Seth nodded. “No,” he said softly, “they aren’t.” He looked up. Clint was eyeing him with concern. “Hey,” he said briskly, pointing his finger at a glass-fronted cabinet. “I just noticed—is that new?”
Clint smiled. “Maureen picked it up a couple of weeks ago. Nice, huh?”
“Very. You’ve done great things with this room.”
“Well, she gets all the credit. She was right. I mean, we both agreed to keep the stone floor, but pulling down the wallboard was Maureen’s suggestion.”
“Who knew we’d find that great fireplace, and all this old brick?”
“Our guests seem to like it, the feeling that you can step back in time without giving up twenty-first century comforts.”
“Bookings are good?”
“They’re great. First the leaf peepers, now the skiers. We’re off to a good start.” Clint pointed to Seth’s cup. “How’s the coffee?”
“Your one failing in the kitchen, right?” Seth teased. “It’s good enough so I figure it must be Maureen’s.”
“She insisted on making it,” Clint confessed. “I wanted her to stay in bed, but no way would she do that.”
“She’s feeling better today?”
“Yeah. Almost a hundred percent, she says. But she’ll need to get off her feet every now and then for a few days—when I can convince her to do it.” He hesitated. “Is there a way for me to build the new shed so the roof’s really tight?”
Seth studied his friend closely. “Clint, what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. I guess I was a city boy for a lot of years. You live in a big city, you learn to be suspicious of damn near everything. Besides, what do I know about snow on a roof?”
“A lot, I’d bet.” Seth kept his eyes on the other man’s face. “An architect would know about rafters and roofs and bearing loads.”
“Theory isn’t the same as reality.”
“That’s true. These scones, for instance.” Seth reached for another buttery biscuit. “They don’t taste anything like the ones I buy at the supermarket.”
“Yeah, well, don’t buy ’em there. Stop by here and take home a doggy bag whenever you like.” The men ate and drank in silence for a couple of minutes. Clint got up, went to the stove, got the coffeepot and topped off their mugs. “You know, when Maureen and I first talked about opening this B and B, if anybody had asked me how to keep a houseful of guests happy, I’d have said, ‘Give ’em comfortable rooms and good food.’”
“Why do I hear a ‘but’ coming?”
“But,” Clint said, “I’d have been wrong. Nice rooms, homemade breakfasts are part of it, but there’s more. People are on vacation. They want to feel as if they’ve gotten away from their real lives.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they need TLC. Tender loving care.”
“Ah. A piece of chocolate on the pillow at night.”
“More than that. A pot of coffee on the sideboard in the gathering room. An urn of tea, maybe another one filled with hot water and some packets of hot cocoa, especially in the evening when they feel like sitting around and winding down. A glass of wine, some crackers...”
“Yeah. I heard. The license came through, huh?”
“Yup. And it’s worked out just fine. All we’re serving is wine, brandy and cognac, but that’s what folks want when the fire’s going in the gathering room.”
“Well,” Seth said, crumpling his napkin and putting it on his plate, “it sounds as if you’ve got the TLC thing under control.”
Clint grinned. “We’ve just got one problem. We’re making our guests feel comfortable, but we’re shorthanded. I want Maureen to take it easy for a while—and if you quote me to her, I’ll deny everything.”
Seth laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Actually, I’ve hired someone to come in evenings. You know, take phone calls, pour some vino, make sure the coffee’s hot, chat with guests who feel like chatting—”
“And leave alone the ones who don’t.”
“Uh-huh. Like Rod Pommier. The guy sure keeps to himself.”
“Well, I can understand it,” Seth said “The media drove him crazy in New York. Anyway, he’s not around now, is he? He told me he was going to spend a few days in Vermont.”
“Right. I forgot, you’re doing that chalet he bought. How’s it going?”
“Terrific. Pommier’s the best kind of client.”
Clint laughed. “An absent one.”
“No, seriously. The guy knows what he wants and what he doesn’t want. He trusts my judgment and he can afford to make that chalet into something special.” Seth took a swallow of his coffee. “So, did you run an ad in the paper for help?”
“Didn’t have to. You know how it is in this town. Say something to someone, the wind picks it up and it spreads. Matter of fact, she starts tonight.”
“Well, that should help smooth things for you.”
“Oh, it will. Now, if I could just find a way to keep Randi and Robin occupied for more than five minutes at a clip....”
“Maureen’s twins?” Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Those little girls have more energy than a tornado.”
“That they do, and here’s another reality bite. It’s tough to say ‘no’ or ‘in a minute, sweetheart’ to three-year-olds.”
“In other words, you need a baby-sitter.” Seth thought about Clint’s twelve-year-old son. “What about Keegan?”
Clint shook his head. “Keegan already helps out with the girls, and he’s got homework. The thing is, the girls are late-to-bed types. Always have been. From six to seven o’c
lock is when their energy levels are highest. I just need a breather once in a while. You know, find some way to keep one eye on them and one eye on business.”
“And a hell of a picture that makes, Cooper.” Both men chuckled. Seth lifted his mug and drank the last of the coffee. “How about if I lend a hand?”
“You?”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m great with kids. I volunteer an afternoon each weekend at Ski Wee—the ski program for kids, up on the mountain. And Randi and Robin know me. They like me.”
“Like you? They worship you. They’re out with Maureen or they’d be doing everything but climbing inside your toolbox.”
“Wrong. Randi did climb into it last time I was here. So, what do you think about me coming by to help out for a while?”
“I don’t know, Seth. That’s an awful lot to ask.”
“Okay. You’re right. It is too much to ask.” Seth’s lips twitched. “You’ll just have to pay me...say, a couple of scones a night.”
Clint tried to look serious. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t always have scones on hand. Could we negotiate? Would you settle for blueberry muffins? Or banana bread? That’s what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
Seth stood up and put out his hand. “You drive a tough bargain, Cooper.”
“Yeah,” Clint said, clasping Seth’s hand in his, “so do you, Castleman. Seriously, though, this is great. But don’t feel you have to come by all the time. Two evenings...” He grinned. “Three evenings a week would be terrific.”
“No problem.”
“I mean, I know you have other things to do with your nights.”
Seth’s smile faded. “Not really.”
“What about Jo Cabot?”
“That’s over.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. I thought you and she—”
“So did I, for a while, but then I realized I wasn’t...she wasn’t...” He cleared his throat and reached for the toolbox he’d brought with him. “Got to run. I promised a guy over in New Ashford I’d stop by and give him an estimate on an extension.”
“Sure.”
The men walked to the back door. Seth took his jacket from a wooden peg and slipped it on.
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