by Judith Yates
After he was gone, Maura lifted her head from the menu. “To think I had a crush on him when I was eleven and he was the college lifeguard at the lake.” she muttered. “Mom thinks the world of him. Can you believe it?”
“He did defend you to that Todd Tully,” Amy reasoned.
Maura was having none of it, and turned her attention, instead, to her sister’s tardiness. Just as she was digging into her purse in search of change for the pay phone, Bridget arrived.
“Sorry I’m late.” Bridget slid into the seat next to Amy. “I had to stop in town and pick up the Santa suit for George.”
Amy was curious. “Santa suit?”
“For Safety Santa night,” replied Bridget. “That’s when one of the volunteer firemen dresses up as Santa a few nights before Christmas and visit families with small children to stress fireplace safety rules. He also delivers small gifts and checks the fireplaces to make sure they’re clear and safe for the real Santa.”
“The kids must love it.”
“They do, and so does George. Safety Santa night is practically sacred to him. He just can’t bear the thought of disappointing one single child.” Bridget reached for her menu. “So, have I missed anything?”
Maura looked at Amy. “Not much, sis,” she said with a breezy air. “Paul was here with Lynette Devroy and Dirk Campbell. Amy wanted to know if Lynette was Paul’s girlfriend.”
Bridget turned to Amy. “She’s not his type at all. I wouldn’t worry.”
“I’m not worrying,” she protested.
“Plus Dirk started putting the move on Amy,” Maura continued. “And then Todd Tully and I had a screaming match in front of the whole diner.”
“Shoot!” Bridget flopped against the cushioned seat back. “I always miss the good stuff.”
As their luncheon progressed, Amy grew increasingly relaxed with the two sisters. They gabbed, laughed and shared ideas, never failing to draw her into the conversation. By the time their apple pie A la mode was served, Amy felt comfortable enough to express her frustration about Bernadette’s unwillingness to discuss the will. They both urged her to give it more time.
“Mom may be dragging her feet on purpose,” Bridget volunteered. “Could be she wants you to really know the place before you make a final decision.”
“The inn is her lifeline now that Greg’s gone,” added Maura. “I think she’d wither on the vine without it.”
Although Amy reminded them that her business, family and home were firmly planted in Washington, the sisters stood their ground on the matter. One way or another, they wanted Amy to become an active co-owner of the inn—as her father had intended by his bequest.
“It would be great having you around here—even on a part-time basis,” Bridget assured her between bites of juicy pie. “And I bet Paul would like it.”
“I doubt that.” Amy shifted restlessly in her seat. Why did Bridget imply a more than casual interest between her and Paul? Had she somehow caught wind of what had happened the other night?
“Well, I admit it may be hard to tell with him sometimes. He keeps a lot to himself,” Bridget said, pushing her dessert plate aside.
When the waitress returned to refill their coffees, Amy decided to risk further speculation by asking about Paul’s marriage and divorce. That’s how much she wanted to know.
“It’s really sketchy,” Maura said. “He’s never talked about it to me. How about you, Bridget?”
Shaking her head, Bridget turned to Amy. “For a time—after he moved out West—Paul really wasn’t a part of our lives,” she explained. “He kept in touch with Mom, sending her money now and then, but we never saw him.”
“He was probably just too busy living it up,” interjected Maura with a laugh. “After Tremont, who could blame him?”
“He’s more than made up for it since he came back, though,” Bridget offered.
Maura agreed. “He’s been a rock for Mom.”
Amy sat back, mulling over this information. “You’ve never met his wife?”
The two sisters shook their heads.
“All I know is she worked at the TV station with him, and it was kind of sudden,” Maura told her. “I was about to go away to college when it happened, and I overheard Greg and Mom discussing it. I got the impression that a baby was on the way and Paul had to get married.”
Bridget scoffed at her sister. “You must have dreamed that one, Maura. If Paul had a child, where has it been the past four years?”
“I said it was just an impression.”
Trying to make sense out of their vagueness, Amy looked to Bridget. “How long was he married?”
“Maybe three years.” Bridget replied. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice. “I think another man might have been involved in the breakup. Mom knows, but she won’t talk about it.”
“And he’s said nothing himself?” Amy asked, alarmed and puzzled by what she was hearing.
“I asked him about it once,” admitted Maura. “He said it was over and done with, and he saw no point in dredging up the past.”
“That’s Paul,” Bridget claimed with a knowing nod.
Yet Amy was bewildered. Paul was even more of a mystery to her now. Fuzzy speculations about a probably nonexistent child and a marriage broken by a third party just didn’t fit with her image of the man. The possibility that he could desert a child was too abhorrent for her to imagine, never mind accept. Paul had listened to her talk about her father’s abandonment without any indication of discomfort or distress. He’d been much too kind and sympathetic to be guilty of a similar sin. Clearly Maura’s “impression” was way off base.
Yet she couldn’t shake the implications inherent in Bridget’s and Maura’s hazy remarks about Paul. They nagged at her for days afterward until Amy decided enough was enough. She was thinking about the man too much. His continued absence from the inn heightened her curiosity about him and aggravated her concern about the reason behind his distance. She had to resolve the questions and her feelings.
Realizing how much she wanted to see him again, Amy finally tried calling Paul on Friday morning. Unable to reach him, she left a message on his answering machine at the Valley News Group office and on the one at his home.
When Paul hadn’t returned her calls by the next day, Amy couldn’t help feeling hurt. She was also feeling at odds with herself. Why was she wasting her valuable time moping about Paul Hanley when she hadn’t even begun settling her business with Bernadette? After all, she had a life to get back to. She couldn’t afford to lose focus or to be distracted by an inopportune attraction.
And she couldn’t afford to be put off by Bernadette any longer, either. Wasn’t her preoccupation with Paul pure proof of that?
Armed with renewed purpose, Amy cornered Bernadette after breakfast and insisted they sit to discuss the future of the inn today.
“Of course, dear, you’re right. We shouldn’t put it off any longer,” Bernadette concurred without hesitation. “Right now I’m up to my eyeballs getting ready for tonight’s dinner crowd. Saturdays are always booked solid. But I’ll set aside some time before the first sitting so we can have a good talk.”
They agreed to meet in the front office at five o’clock.
“Paul the conqueror is back at last,” Dirk Campbell declared as Mr. Snead barked and yelped with excitement. “With a big fat check in hand, I hope.”
Paul dropped his overnight bag on the table, not surprised to find his colleague in his kitchen in the middle of the afternoon. Dirk had looked after the dog while Paul was away in Richmond attempting to drum up short-term business loans.
“We’re getting the money. But I had to put the house up as collateral this time.”
“I was afraid of that.” Dirk shook his head. “It is going to be tight. Just try not to worry—we’ll make the payments.”
“We have to. I can’t lose this house.” It was the one solid thing in life, the one and only home that had ever been completely his. Planning and building
the house had been a merciful distraction when he had most needed one. Living here in splendid isolation between the rolling hills and breathtaking valley vistas had long been his solace.
The panting golden retriever pressed against Paul’s leg in a play for attention. “Did Snead behave?” he asked, ruffling his pet’s long, reddish coat.
“He did his usual moping each time I walked through the door instead of you. And he didn’t eat very much.”
He gazed down into his dog’s golden brown eyes with affection. “Poor Snead. Alone all day while I’m working. You lead a lonesome life out here, don’t you, boy?”
“He’s very playful for a dog his age,” Dirk noted. “Too bad there aren’t any kids living around here. A couple of little boys to help him run off all that energy would make Snead a happy fella.”
Paul winced at his friend’s comment. Snead did indeed love children, and had since he was a puppy. Snead was also the only remnant left from his life in San Francisco. Because Shelly’s new mate had allergies, there had been no place for Mr. Snead in her new life. Paul had tried to locate a good home for the dog before moving East, but found the prospects unacceptable. And turning such a great pet over to the animal shelter was out of the question. So Snead came with him to Virginia.
“Maybe Bridget might like him now that Willy is older,” he mused. “Snead would adore that kid.”
After Dirk went home, Paul dialed his office answering machine. He was startled to hear a message from Amy Riordan. He was even more surprised to hear her message repeated on his home machine. But the sound of her voice brought back the sense of excited anticipation that had bedeviled him since the day she had arrived in Tremont. Hoping to suppress this very feeling, he had tried to keep his distance from her.
Lord, how he’d tried.
Yet the enticing possibilities of their passionate kiss had kept Amy in his thoughts, tempting him to seek her out no matter what the costs. He wanted her to acknowledge the electrifying desire they had ignited out on the gazebo. He wanted to know why she had run away from him that night. He wanted her to tell him she was as astounded about their evolving fascination as he was. He wanted&h;
He wanted too damn much.
Which is why—after seeing her at the Blossom Diner— he’d taken off for Richmond. Sure, his company needed cash. But more than anything else, he needed space to think. This was hitting him too hard to be just a passing attraction, yet the answers to why her and why now were elusive, even from miles away.
Amy Riordan didn’t belong in a mountain backwater town like Tremont, Virginia. She couldn’t possibly have any interest in the kind of life he’d come home to find. And he doubted she would maintain a permanent connection with the inn—not with all the emotional dynamite it held for her. Although Amy was not the spoiled, rich brat he had expected, her life seemed to be very much wrapped up in the whirl of Washington, D.C. He was not part of that, nor did he want to be.
No question about it, he’d be asking for trouble if he pursued the attraction further. He felt it in his soul.
His marriage to Shelly had proven his gut feelings were worth heeding. Maybe everything would be hearts and flowers at first. Then, two, three, four years down the road, conflicts and complications would float to the surface—there would be hell to pay. But he had already paid his pound of flesh. He’d lost more than most could imagine. He’d be crazy to get caught up in another tangled mess. Perhaps Amy had similar trepidations, and that was why she’d pushed him away the other night. Perhaps she had a hell of a lot more sense than he.
But why did she want to talk to him now?
Snead barked once and paced restlessly, showing he was ready for his dinner. Filling the dog’s food and water bowls, Paul glanced at the kitchen clock. It was just past five o’clock. Should he call Amy now? he wondered. Or should he go over to the Blue Sky and speak with her face-to-face?
“Brilliant idea,” he muttered with derision as he placed the two dog bowls on the floor.
His strategy had been to keep his distance from Ms. Riordan for his own good. It was the smart thing to do. But damn, what he really wanted was to hightail it over to the inn to see her. And, at this point, desire had a definite edge over straight thinking.
The telephone rang, interrupting his deliberations.
“Oh, Paul, thank goodness you’re back from Richmond,” Bernadette declared in a breathless rush. “You’ve got to come to the inn right away. We need your help desperately.”
Chapter Seven
Amy waited in the front office for Bernadette, nervous, yet anxious to be done with it all. This crucial discussion about the inn was overdue. The time had finally come.
Actually, the time had come and gone. Bernadette was late.
True, she was just a few minutes late, but Amy couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Bernadette had been so slippery about the entire matter Amy wouldn’t put anything past her at this point.
“Amy, Amy, I’m so sorry,” Bernadette exclaimed when she dashed into the office at last. She was out of breath and clearly agitated. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, but I’m in a jam.”
“Good heavens, what happened?” Amy was regretting her suspicions already.
“Bud had a family emergency. He called in not more than twenty minutes ago—something about his motherin-law taking ill.” Bernadette revealed, gasping to catch her breath. “I can’t find anybody to fill in, so I’ve been stuck behind the bar fixing drinks. I even tried calling Paul, but he’s not back from Richmond yet.”
“Paul went to Richmond?” Amy’s mind reeled with surprise. That must have been why he hadn’t returned her calls.
The older woman nodded. “Both of Bridget’s kids are sick with the flu, so she can’t come. George is on duty at the station, and heaven knows where Maura has gone off to tonight. I can’t find her. Anyway,” she continued, “I’ve got to get back to the Pub Room. We’ll have to postpone that talk we planned because I’ll be running back and forth between the dining room and the bar all night.”
By now Amy knew the inn was a zoo on Saturday nights. Bernadette couldn’t cover both areas. “I’ll man the bar tonight.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Do you have any other experienced bartenders hanging around here?”
“Why, that’s right. You used to tend bar, didn’t you?” the older woman recalled. “But are you sure you can handle it? We’ll be very busy tonight.”
“I’ll handle it,” she said, halfway out the office door. “Don’t worry.”
“I’ll try Paul again, anyway,” Bernadette called after her. “You might need an extra hand.”
Amy hurried into the Pub Room and took up station behind the bar. Finding a clean, white apron hanging on a hook near the sink, she wrapped it over her white, silk blouse and black stirrup pants. She rolled up her sleeves and took a quick survey of the lounge. Most of the patrons were still nursing the drinks Bernadette had served them, allowing Amy to take a few minutes to familiarize herself with the bar’s layout and the cash register. Luckily she had seen Bud tabulate a few bills the other night, so she had some idea of how the system worked.
The first half hour was frenetic as she tended the bar, waited on tables and filled drink orders for the dining room when it opened. Juggling these tasks was a challenge, yet gradually the work became routine.
The steady stream of customers in and out of the pub kept her hopping. Several were townspeople she’d met in previous days, who now greeted her with friendly hellos and inquiries about how she was doing. They were also patient about delays. Some even helped by delivering drinks to tables, refilling nut dishes and fetching extra napkins and swizzle sticks from the storeroom.
In the midst of this chaos and cooperation, it dawned on Amy that few people knew or cared that she was the stepdaughter of one of Washington’s most powerful private citizens. In this tiny Shenandoah hamlet, the Windom name and wealth held no significance. To some townspeople she was Greg Ri
ordan’s girl, to others she was just Amy. She’d been sensing this acceptance all week long, but now the reality of it hit her with a liberating force. Her spirit soared.
Buoyed by this new realization, she picked up some speed and really began enjoying the job. She was catching up with another round of dining-room orders, when Paul entered the room. Bernadette had reached him after all, Amy thought with inexplicable relief.
She drank him in with her eyes. He headed her way, tall and lanky, longish blond hair blown askew by the night wind, vital and handsome as all get out. Excitement rippled through her. Yet Amy wasn’t sure what to expect from him. They had barely spoken since she had run from his kiss that night on the gazebo.
“Your reinforcement has arrived,” he said, taking a look around the room. “Although it seems you’re doing just fine on your own. Bernadette was sure you’d need rescuing.”
“I’ve managed to hold on. But believe me, I need all the help I can get.”
Amy’s heart thrummed madly as Paul joined her behind the bar. Her awareness was at high voltage now that he stood so close. A gray-blue crew-neck sweater hugged his broad, muscled shoulders, his tight, flat waist tapered into charcoal wool slacks. He smelted of sandalwood soap and the cold evening air—an earthy combination that made her feel weak in the knees.
“You’re in charge, ma’am. What do you want me to do?”
“Would you mind waiting on the tables?”
He scanned the array of tables surrounding the bar. “I worked a lot of different jobs to support myself after I left the army. In college, too. But I have to admit I’ve never been a cocktail waitress.”
“Call me an equal-opportunity employer.”
“Just don’t expect me to split my tips,” he said, his tone wry. Then, grabbing a tray and throwing a clean dish towel over his shoulder, Paul wove his way among the tables.
Although he said little, his presence eased the pressure considerably. Not only did Paul wait on tables, but he got behind the bar to help her pour beers and mix drinks whenever time permitted. For Amy, the hectic hours flew by as they worked around each other.