At Any Cost

by Lauren Nichols

  She and Beau returned their greeting, then with her spirits dipping, Jenna watched the Killians head toward a new Dodge truck with crossed hammers on the door. A light breeze lifted Frank’s shoulder-length hair. Give it to God, and move on, she told herself silently. You did what had to be done.

  Beau spoke in an undertone as they approached their vehicles. “He started the work in the sitting room, didn’t he?”

  Jenna replied quietly, an apology in her tone. “Yes, but you need to know that you were our first choice. There were extenuating circumstances that I’d rather not go into.”

  He waved off her concerns. “Not a problem.”

  “Thanks. Would you like to join us for brunch?” She smiled. “Or are the Cowboys playing at one o’clock?”

  “Actually, they play tonight. But I promised to help a friend square up some walls. Thanks, though.” He opened the Liberty’s door for her. “Another time?”

  She liked the sound of that. “Yes, another time.”

  “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Three hours later, ten minutes after Aunt Molly left to visit a friend who’d moved to Holy Savior Elder Care, the doorbell chimed. Jenna felt a rush of uneasiness, then sighed. Killers didn’t ring doorbells. Abandoning her second thorough search of the Blue Room, she went downstairs, checked the security monitor and quickly unlocked the front door.

  “Hi,” she said, hoping she didn’t look as pleased as she felt. “Come in.”

  Grinning, Beau stepped inside. “Thanks. I’m a little early to start work, but if you’re busy, I could come back in seventeen or eighteen hours.”

  Some of that joy Reverend Landers had talked about bubbled up in her, and Jenna laughed. “Don’t go. I wasn’t busy. I was being obsessive.” He raised his eyebrows, but she ignored the question there. “Now that you’re here, though, it seems like a good time to take a break.” She motioned for him to follow her through the wide doorway and into the hall. “Coffee?”

  “Yeah, thanks. But only if you’re having some.”

  “I am.” They entered the kitchen. “So,” she said. “You were just in the neighborhood and decided to drop in?”

  “No, I’d just finished helping Randy Caruthers square up the bathroom walls in his new place, and was leaving the Quick Stop when Aunt Molly pulled up to the self-serve pumps.” He chuckled. “I’m still trying to figure out why a woman who’s barely big enough to fill the glove box drives a half ton Suburban.”

  “Join the club.”

  “Anyway, while I was gassing up her car, she mentioned that she was headed for the nursing home so I thought I’d see if you were as bored as I was.” He met her eyes and got serious. “Or worried.”

  Jenna’s uneasiness came back, coupled with disappointment. So this was a keep-an-eye-on-Jenna visit, probably prompted by her aunt? How flattering. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

  She filled two mugs from the carafe on the counter, handed Beau his black coffee then added cream and sugar to hers. He’d commandeered a tall stool from under the butcher-block work island; Jenna chose the stool across from him and reached for conversation. The topic she chose was just asking for more disappointment, but she couldn’t help herself. Yesterday he’d held her, and she’d felt safe and warm. But when evening came she’d found herself wondering if he was already holding someone else.

  “So how was your Saturday night?”

  “Not too bad,” he returned. “I got twelve cabinets ready for delivery to a customer over in McKean County, then put together a pretty fair gourmet dinner.”

  “Really? You cook?”

  His dark eyes twinkled. “Don’t look so shocked. I can do more than wreck a room.”

  “My apologies,” she said, laughing and liking this side of him. “What did you make?”

  He sent her a cheeky grin. “Milk and Oreos.”

  Jenna felt her smile stretch. “And was that for one or two, Chef Travis?”

  “Only one, but I had two helpings. What about you? What did you do last night while everyone else in town was out to dinner, bowling or seeing a movie?”

  She made a face. “I scattered a half dozen more ant traps around in the kitchen and Blue Room—although the ants seem to be gone now. I guess it wasn’t a typical date night for either of us.”

  “Guess not. Do you miss it?”

  “Do I miss…dating?”

  “Yeah.”

  Lowering her eyes, she ran a fingertip around the rim of her mug and answered truthfully. “Yes, but that ship has sailed—at least until my life gets less complicated. The attack left scars—emotional and physical. Every day I see them is a reminder that I have to be careful.” She forced a happy lilt into her voice. “You, on the other hand, can date to your heart’s content.”

  “And according to the grapevine, I do?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Beau blew out a dry laugh and took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t believe everything you hear. It’s been…” He thought for a moment. “Four months since I’ve seen anyone.”

  Four months? “Can I ask why?”

  “Sure. Because I wasn’t enjoying myself. After two serious relationships that didn’t work out, I felt like I was just going through the motions—conducting interviews.”

  The man was full of surprises. “Isn’t that what dating is?”

  “I suppose. But it has to be fun, too, and that wasn’t happening, so I’m on a break.” He flashed a smile. “Speaking of fun, when this is all over, you should take a vacation. Go on a cruise. Buy a cowboy hat and check into a dude ranch.”

  She smiled back. “People who run B and Bs don’t take vacations. We are the vacation.”

  “You could still get away for a short one—at least for a day. In fact, when the weather breaks, we should take an afternoon and go geocaching. Have you ever done that?”

  Jenna’s pulse quickened. Was he asking her for a date? Or was this another un-date to watch over her or get her out of the inn? “No, but I understand it’s like a treasure hunt. People hide boxes full of trinkets in scenic areas, then post the coordinates on an internet site, right? The outdoor club at the Michigan school where I taught went a few times. The kids liked it.”

  “You will, too. Well, if you decide to go. There’s a pretty nice cache called The Hideaway out near Payton’s Rocks. It’s fairly easy to get to—less than a mile walk from the road.”

  “And that’s why it’s ‘pretty nice’?” she teased.

  “No,” he replied with a patient smile, “it’s nice because it’s a historic site. In the late 1800s it was a railway depot. The tracks are gone—it’s a snowmobile trail now, and there’s not much left of the stone walls. But it’s still worth seeing. We can park nearby, then I’ll plug the coordinates into my GPS, and you can take it from there.”

  Unbidden, Jenna’s anxiety returned. For a few moments, the idea of trekking through the woods with him had been exciting. When she was in high school, she, Rachel and Margo had loved hiking the trails at Payton’s Rocks. But now that Beau seemed to think this outing was a sure thing, the thought of walking, unprotected, through tall stands of trees, huge rocks and thick laurels had her heart racing. There were too many places of concealment.

  When she didn’t reply, his smiled faltered and understanding seemed to dawn. Beau lowered his voice. “Jenna, you can’t stay holed up in here forever, missing out on everything life has to offer. If you do, Dane—or whoever’s doing this to you—wins. Is that what you want?”

  Of course not. She missed the freedom she’d had before the attack. But she’d been living in a well of fear and uncertainty for so long, the idea of stepping outside her comfort zone was almost terrifying.

  “Isolating yourself isn’t doing you any good. So say yes. Spring’s a long way off, so you’ll have plenty of time to get used to the idea.” Reaching across the butcher-block tabletop, he smiled and tugged a lock of her hair. “And there’s one more selling point I think bears repeating.”

>   She warmed at his touch. “What’s that?”

  “I’ll be with you.”

  He was right, she realized finally. She was still anxious. But she had to stop being so afraid of dying that she was afraid to live. What a terrible waste of a life that would be.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “For what?”

  “For the push. I’d love to go geocaching with you in the spring.”

  He smiled. “Good. Now if I can push a little harder…take a drive with me on Wednesday. I plan to work here until noon or so, then pick up the cabinets I mentioned and make a delivery. I wouldn’t mind having some company. I’ll even spring for supper.”

  She surprised both of them by accepting immediately. “What time would you like to leave?”

  * * *

  It was nearly eight o’clock when Beau climbed out of the shower, toweled off, then slipped into sweatpants and a T-shirt and padded into his kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and frowned. If he didn’t shop for groceries soon, he’d starve to death. He wasn’t in the mood for eggs or hot dogs, and the leftover slices of ham he’d bought at the deli last week were headed south. Finally, he grabbed a can of soda, shut the fridge and opened his cupboards. Five minutes later, he was pouring boiling water over a foam cup of ramen noodles, jamming a spoon inside and sealing it up again to cook. He picked up his college-dorm supper and headed for the living room.

  He should’ve accepted Aunt Molly’s invitation to stay for an early dinner. But she’d looked tired when she came back from her visit, and he’d needed time to work on the new nativity stable he was making for the church’s Christmas display.

  Liar.

  Scowling, he put his soup and soda on the end table and dropped into his recliner. Okay. Neither of those were the reason he’d left when Molly came home. He’d suddenly regretted asking Jenna to make that delivery with him. He’d only wanted her to leave the inn once in a while—live life, not hide from it. Now he was getting caught up in something that could only end with another big, fat hole in his gut. Worse, he didn’t have the sense to step back.

  He turned on the TV—clicked through a zillion channels without finding anything interesting, then settled for the all-Elvis channel on Sirius radio until the Cowboys game came on at eight o’clock. A funny kind of loneliness slipped in, and he wondered if he should get a dog.

  That’s when it hit him.

  He was as much a prisoner of his brand of solitude as Jenna was.

  SEVEN

  At nine-fifteen on Tuesday morning, Jenna answered Aunt Molly’s call to come down to the foyer. She’d been trying to stay busy for two days, but no matter how much energy she’d put into cleaning and vacuuming, she’d failed to keep the memories at bay. Today was November seventeenth. Two years ago today, she’d been lying in a critical care unit, fighting for her life.

  Seeing Rachel Campbell standing at the bottom of the stairs was exactly the pick-me-up she needed. “Rachel,” she said, giving her friend a hug. “Nice to see you. Not that you need an excuse, but what brings you to our humble abode?”

  When Aunt Molly made a hasty departure, Jenna knew why Rachel was there. Her aunt had been on the telephone. “She told you about the ants.”

  “And the razor blades. I wish you’d called me. Did you tell Margo?”

  “No, and I hope you don’t, either.”

  “Jenna, she’d want to know.”

  “I realize that, but there’s nothing either of you can do about this. Besides, she and Cole need to focus on the case they’re working. Now take off your jacket and let’s talk about something fun.”

  With a patiently disgruntled look, Rachel shrugged out of her down-filled white parka and handed it over. “You’re wrong. I could have listened. It wasn’t that long ago that you were there for me.”

  Jenna hung the jacket in the closet. “I know. And I would’ve appreciated having your support. But you have a brand-new husband to spoil and a business to run.”

  “Not for long. The business part is winding down. The cabins will be empty after deer season, then we’re shutting down the campground and snuggling in until spring.”

  Snuggling in. That sounded absolutely sublime, and once again, the memory of Beau holding her made her miss his strength and his tenderness.

  Be careful, a tiny voice cautioned. You’re getting too attached, and there are at least three good reasons to keep your distance.

  Didn’t she know it.

  With a quick smile, Jenna linked her arm through Rachel’s. “Come on. Let’s grab something to drink from the kitchen, then find a soft place to sit and talk. I missed seeing you and Jake at services on Sunday.”

  “We’d planned to go, but something came up. I’ll tell you about it a little later. Right now, I’d rather talk about you. What’s being done to find this ‘Mrs. Bolton’?”

  Jenna gave her what little information she had while they filled a tray with tea and assorted cookies, then declared the subject off limits for the duration of Rachel’s visit. After placing the tray on the parlor’s dark oak coffee table, Jenna joined Rachel on the sofa. Despite its formal appearance, the turquoise-and-gold brocade settee was comfortable.

  She loved what Aunt Molly had done with this room. The turquoise-and-gold colors were repeated in the wallpaper and accented by deep greens and creams. Heavy damask draperies in hunter green were held back with gold braided tassels, letting in the sun’s rays, and lighting a wall of shelves filled with books, antique pieces and framed family photographs. Long Persian rugs lay scattered on the dark hardwood floor, everywhere but in front of the brick fireplace.

  “I’m glad you came over today,” Jenna said, picking up the china teapot and pouring. “I’ve been thinking about those self-defense classes you mentioned last week, and if it’s not too late to sign up, let’s do it. We haven’t taken a class together since high school.”

  Rachel winced prettily because there was no other way for her to do it. Her friend was a natural beauty with a peaches-and-cream complexion, and a razor-cut sable shag that framed her cheekbones and called to attention the dark-lashed, sea-green of her eyes. Today she wore a soft, fuzzy, white cowl-neck sweater that made her features even more striking.

  “About those classes,” Rachel said with some reluctance. “I won’t be taking them after all. I’ll be doing something else.”

  Jenna smiled to hide her disappointment. “That’s okay. Are you and Jake taking a trip?”

  Rachel laughed softly. “Oh, it’s going to be a trip all right. But we’re not going anywhere.” Her eyes brimmed with happiness. “Jen, you didn’t see me at church yesterday because I was a little under the weather. We’re pregnant.”

  “Oh, Rachel, how wonderful!” She hugged her friend close. “Jake must be thrilled.”

  “He is. We both are.”

  “Do you know it it’s a boy or girl?”

  “No. We want to be surprised when the baby gets here.”

  Jenna hugged Rachel again, visions of tiny, sweet-smelling babies filling her mind. But then thoughts that had no place in this celebration intruded, reminding her that she might never know the joy Rachel was feeling. Her gynecologist had tried to reassure her that pregnancy was still possible since she continued to have regular periods—insisted that her remaining ovary and attached fallopian tube were healthy. But as she’d heard the heroine of a movie once say, bad news was easier to believe.

  “Time for a toast,” she said, purging that thought. “You call Aunt Molly downstairs, and I’ll fill the champagne flutes.”

  “Jen, I can’t have—”

  Jenna touched a fingertip to Rachel’s lips. “Hush. I know what I’m doing.”

  They were all laughing, talking and hugging when Beau walked into the parlor a few minutes later. “You ladies are having way too much fun this early in the morning. What’s going on?”

  “We’re celebrating life,” Aunt Molly answered, grinning from ear-to-ear as she moved past him. “Stay where you
are. I’ll be right back.”

  He looked blankly at Jenna. “You’re celebrating life?”

  Smiling, she indicated the three milk-filled flutes on the coffee table. “Not just life. New life.”

  He couldn’t have looked more pleased. Beau took Rachel’s hand. “Congratulations. How’s Jake feel about it?”

  “He’s delirious.”

  “I would be, too.” He began to chuckle then. “The two of you have come a long way since he asked me to hang that steel door on your camp store. He thought you’d serve him his head on a plate when you got back from Williamsburg.”

  Rachel laughed softly. “I nearly did. But that was May, this is November, and as you can see, I got over it.”

  Aunt Molly reappeared and put a flute in Beau’s hand. “Okay, Jenny. We’re ready. Do the honors.”

  Jenna smiled as they lifted their glasses, then proceeded with all the heartfelt sincerity she could express. “To Rachel, Jake and their sweet baby-to-be. No child will ever be loved more.”

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Beau went to the door across the hall from the sitting room and knocked lightly. Aunt Molly had taken the morning paper upstairs to her quarters, and the inn was strangely quiet. He waited for another moment, then decided that Jenna had opted for a little R&R, too. He was about to walk when he heard a sound that made his chest tighten. She was crying.

  He fought with himself for a long moment, weighing the wisdom of knocking again. Then he did it. This time she came to the door. She looked composed, but her red nose and the glassy shine in her eyes told him he hadn’t been mistaken.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I’m not sure. But you seemed fine when I got here, and now you’re not.” No one had phoned, the mail hadn’t arrived with bad news and the only person who’d visited was Rachel. And her news was as good as it got.