by Gina Wilkins
“I have never regretted my decision for one moment,” his wife replied, sounding more like the confident, decisive Anna that Bailey had come to know. “I’ll see my brother again someday. And in the meantime, I’m very happy here with you. With our inn. And soon we’ll have a child. I’ve told you many times, Dean, and it’s still true—if I had it to do over, I would still choose you.”
There was a rustle of movement, followed by an unintelligible murmur. The significance was unmistakable. And suddenly Bailey realized that she’d been blatantly eavesdropping on an intimate conversation.
Her cheeks flamed as though she’d actually been caught in the act. How embarrassing.
She quickly hid her face behind her book, pretending great interest in the historical romance unfolding within its pages. Maybe if he spotted her like this, he would think she was too absorbed in her reading to have paid attention to his conversation.
To Bailey’s relief, Dean and Anna went back inside a few moments later, presumably without having realized that they’d had an audience. Her lip caught between her teeth, Bailey looked toward the inn, unable to stop thinking about what she’d overheard.
Why was Anna so reluctant to leave? It wasn’t as if she’d spent her entire life here, though the Cameron Inn had been built by her great-great uncle. As far as Bailey knew, Anna had visited the inn for the first time less than a year ago, to research her family history. That was when she had somehow met and fallen in love with Dean, though no one in the family had even known Dean was dating anyone until he’d announced his engagement.
Why had Anna told everyone she had no living family? Why had she never mentioned her brother? Why had Dean made it sound as though Anna had been forced to choose between him and her brother? Had her brother so opposed the match that he’d severed all ties with her because of it? Surely not. Couldn’t he see that Anna and Dean were perfect for each other?
Bailey only wished she could find someone who made her feel the way Dean obviously did when he looked at his beloved wife. After her last disastrous attempt at a relationship, she was beginning to believe it would never happen for her.
BAILEY WASN’T the only eavesdropper that afternoon. In one shadowy corner of the gazebo, Ian stood thoughtfully watching Bailey. He’d been there for some time.
Ian found her fascinating to watch. Her face seemed to mirror all her emotions, her expressions changing swiftly, revealingly.
She obviously appreciated the inn. She smiled when she looked at it, her blue eyes soft and dreamy. He liked that.
She frowned when her thoughts turned inward. Something was bothering her, making her unhappy. Occasionally, she scowled as though in self-castigation. Once or twice, she’d looked utterly disheartened.
He wondered who had hurt her. And why she seemed to blame herself.
He, too, overheard the conversation between Dean and Anna. He frowned when he heard the grief in Anna’s voice as she explained why she was reluctant to leave the inn. He didn’t want Anna to grieve. She had been given a chance to live, to love, to beloved. Ian was happy for her.
If only there was some way he could let her know. He’d tried, but to no avail. He simply couldn’t reach her.
Though he was usually able to accept his lonely fate with resignation, if not equanimity, there were times when he thought the overwhelming frustration with his lack of control would drive him insane. Whatever mistakes he’d made in his twenty-five years of life, whatever sins he’d committed, there could have been no worse punishment than to take away his uncompromising command of his own destiny.
He was relieved when Anna finally agreed to go on the trip with her husband. He hoped she would enjoy it. Something told him Dean would make sure that she did. From what Ian had seen, there was little Dean Gates would deny his bride. To be perfectly honest, he was spoiling her. Ian smiled indulgently, thinking that no one deserved to be spoiled more than Anna.
The couple went into the inn and Ian turned his attention back to Bailey. She had buried her nose in her book. Her cheeks were pink from embarrassment. Because she’d overheard a private conversation? It wasn’t as though she’d been sneaking around, trying to hear something not meant for her ears.
She really was a very attractive woman. Her hair was shorter than he might have liked, swinging in a soft bob just below her chin, but he liked the brown-shot-with-red color. Her eyes were blue, with long, dark lashes. Small nose, firm chin, sweetly curved mouth. She was of medium height and on the slender side. Her legs looked long and shapely in the dungarees she wore with an oversize green sweater. Hardly feminine garments, but she looked decidedly feminine in them.
He’d been watching her for almost a week now, since she’d arrived at the inn with the excuse to her family that she needed some time away from her work. A leave of absence, she’d called it. Nothing was wrong, she’d said too casually. She was just tired and needed a few weeks’ vacation.
Her brother had looked skeptical, but hadn’t pressed. Ian, too, had thought her excuses were patently flimsy, especially when combined with the forlorn look that occasionally crossed her face.
Bailey had made a valiant attempt at hiding her problems from the other residents of the inn. She’d smiled brightly at her aunt, Mae Harper, and at the housekeeper, Cara McAlister, and her young daughter, Casey. Her smiles faded only when she was alone—or when she thought she was alone.
She would have been startled to learn that she wasn’t alone quite as often as she believed.
Now, for instance.
Ian watched as Bailey glanced up from her book, looked cautiously around, then closed the book and stood.
She stretched, and the movement pulled her thin sweater tight across her nicely full breasts. He felt the tug of attraction and smiled grimly, thinking what a useless response that was from someone in his state.
Bailey walked away, toward the inn, and Ian faded into the grayness, still wondering what it would take to put a smile into her melancholy blue eyes. And wondering what it was about her that made him wish he could try.
ALONG WITH BAILEY, the entire staff of the Cameron Inn gathered in the lobby the next morning to see the owner and his wife off on their belated honeymoon. Aunt Mae was the first to step forward for a farewell kiss. She had been with Dean at the inn from the beginning, helping him through renovations and the opening for business six months later, and now staying on as the inn’s hostess.
Short and plump, her hair dyed a bright coppery red, sixty-something Mae Harper looked like everyone’s idea of a favorite aunt—except for her rather eccentric taste in clothing and accessories. This morning, she wore a black sweater appliquéd with huge satin flowers and studded with multicolored stones, red stretch pants, half a dozen jangling bracelets and dangling red-and-black earrings. Her eyeglasses were also red, and accented with rhinestones. Beneath the color and glitter lay the warmest heart and purest soul Bailey had ever encountered.
“Now don’t you waste one minute of your vacation worrying about this place, you hear?” Mae demanded as she tugged her nephew’s head down for a smacking kiss that left a smear of crimson on his cheek. “We are perfectly capable of running the place without your supervision for a few weeks.”
“You have the telephone number of the resort?” Dean asked.
“I have the number of the resort,” she answered patiently. “And the number for the plumber. And the electrician. And anyone else I could possibly need during the next three weeks.”
Dean chuckled. “Sorry, Aunt Mae. Old habits die hard.”
Mae smiled and moved on to speak to Anna.
Still waiting her turn, Bailey watched as Cara and Casey McAlister stepped forward. Bailey was intrigued by the beautiful housekeeper and her shy, sweet daughter. Dean had told Bailey that the pair had arrived at the inn when renovations were barely under way, long before he was ready to hire staff. He had found himself unable to turn them away.
He’d told Bailey that he had never regretted his decision; Cara had p
roven to be a loyal and hardworking employee who fully earned her pay. Little Casey had caused no problems—just the opposite, in fact. Everyone doted on her.
Dean still knew very little about what he suspected was an unhappy history for the two, which had left them quiet and wary and slow to form outside bonds, but he said that everyone had noticed that they seemed happier and more secure with each passing week.
The cook, Elva Tippin, and the two other members of the kitchen staff all reiterated that the Cameron Inn and its dining room were in excellenthands for the next three weeks. Millie, the part-time maid, waved a quick salute as she hurried upstairs to make beds and vacuum. And then everyone went back to work, leaving Bailey alone in the beautifully decorated lobby with her brother and sister-in-law.
Dean took Bailey’s hands in his, looking searchingly into her face. “Will you still be here when we get back?”
He’d asked before, but she hadn’t been able to give him a firm answer. She was no closer to doing so now. As long as her past didn’t catch up with her… “Probably,” she hedged. “I really have no definite plans right now. Of course, if you need the cottage, I’ll…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean interrupted brusquely. “The cottage is yours for as long as you want it. Got that?”
She smiled and kissed the part of his cheek that wasn’t marked by their aunt’s lipstick. “Thanks, Dean.”
He hugged her. “You’ll be okay?” His gruff tone, and the concern behind it, let her know that he’d never really accepted the vague excuses she’d given when she’d arrived unexpectedly a week ago.
She’d told him that she’d simply been tired and in need of a break from work and routine. That she’d made the decision impulsively, almost whimsically. That he wasn’t to worry about her, she was fine. She’d lied, of course. She’d just hoped he wouldn’t realize it quite so quickly. She should have known better. Her older brother had always understood her better than anyone else in the world.
Anna moved closer, a smile in her dark eyes. “Stay as long as you like,” she told Bailey. “In fact, I wish you would stay on permanently. It’s so nice having family all together.”
There was a hint of a catch in her voice. Bailey now understood that Anna was thinking of her own brother—whatever the circumstances of their separation.
Dean pulled his bride away a moment later. “We’d better go,” he said gently. “We have a plane to catch.”
Anna shivered. “I still can’t believe I agreed to actually get on one of those things.”
Bailey was puzzled. Anna made it sound as though she’d never flown before. How had she gotten from London, where she said she’d been raised, to central Arkansas? Bailey still thought it odd that Anna’s only faintly British accent was notably stronger at some times more than others.
There seemed to be a lot of unanswered questions about Bailey’s charming sister-in-law.
Anna and Dean paused in the doorway. Anna looked around the lobby, her expression so torn that Bailey’s heart twisted in sympathy, even though she didn’t understand what was behind her sister-in-law’s distress.
“We’ll be back soon,” Anna said, apparently speaking to the inn, itself. “I’ll miss you every day.”
She turned abruptly, her voice thickening. “Letis go,” she said to Dean.
Dean wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and led her outside, leaving Bailey staring thoughtfully at the door they closed behind them.
She thought of the love she’d sensed between them, the almost palpable bond connecting them. And her heart twinged with longing. Again, she wished she could find someone with whom she could share that special closeness.
With little hope, she wished…
IN A FAR CORNER of the lobby, Ian stood with his hands in his pockets, his attention also focused on the front door. “Have a wonderful time, Anna,” he murmured, unheard. “I’ll miss you, too.”
He glanced at Bailey, who still stood in the center of the lobby, looking so sad and wistful. So alone.
He understood loneliness, all too well. And now, he was painfully aware of the uselessness and meaninglessness of his present existence.
If only there was something worthwhile he could do. Anything that would relieve the boredom. The grayness. The soul-numbing solitude.
Though he hadn’t been known as a particularly empathetic or sensitive man during his lifetime, Ian suddenly wished he could somehow ease this woman’s obvious pain. Make her smile. Preferably at him.
He desperately needed something to make him remember how it had felt to be alive.
Seething with frustration and futility, he wished…
ON THE THIRD AFTERNOON after Dean and Anna’s departure, Bailey went out to the gazebo with her book, as had become her habit after lunch. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being inside the beautifully restored old inn with its comfortable antique and reproduction furnishings, many of which she’d located for her brother through the shop she’d worked for in Chicago. And she’d certainly been made welcome by everyone. It was just that she still felt like an outsider, particularly at this time of day, when everyone was busy with chores and routine responsibilities.
The few other guests were off sightseeing or shopping. The kitchen staff was cleaning up after lunch and preparing for the evening meal, when the dining room would again open for local business. Cara and the part-time maid were cleaning, Aunt Mae was busy with paperwork, little Casey was in school. Everyone seemed to have something productive to do. Everyone but Bailey.
She’d offered to help—cleaning, cooking, bookkeeping. She’d been politely refused. She wasn’t really needed, she thought. Here—or anywhere. But she was getting maudlin. Again.
Just because her career had fallen to pieces and her latest romance had seemed more like the movie Fatal Attraction, there was no reason to sit around moping, feeling sorry for herself. She had more spirit than that. Or at least, she’d always believed she did.
With her book unopened in her lap, she leaned her head wearily against the back of the built-in bench and wondered if she would ever get her life back together.
When she opened her eyes again, there was a man standing in one corner of the gazebo, watching her.
Catching her breath in surprise, she cocked her head to study him. She didn’t remember seeing him around the inn before—and if she’d seen him, she certainly would have remembered. The man was extraordinary. Dark hair, worn a bit long on top and in the back, with neat sideburns. Glittering dark eyes, framed with black lashes. Strong face, lean build. Age—somewhere between twenty-five and thirty, she’d guess. Gorgeous.
He could have stepped straight from her fantasies.
“Hello,” she said, feeling ridiculously shy as she tried to conceal her startled reaction to him. “Where did you come from?”
2
February 14, 1898
Today is the children’s second birthday. Quite an occasion, with all the staff helping us celebrate. Cook made Ian’s favorite dish—baked chicken with rice—and a chocolate cake for dessert. The children were covered with chocolate when they’d finished!
Two years old. They grow so quickly. They are good children, though spirited. Ian will be a heartbreaker someday, with his large dark eyes and his rare, mischievous smiles. So like his father. He is very affectionate with me, a bit serious in nature and already quite protective of his sister. We shall have to watch that temper of his, though.
Mary Anna is the impulsive one. She dashes in without fear of consequence. I hope she will outgrow that reckless trait. So stubborn. So sweet. We all adore her—and she knows it, the little imp.
They seem happy, and secure. Though the inn keeps me busy, I spend as much time with them as I can, and the staff is good to help me with them. Still, it isn’t easy raising them on my own, with all the responsibilities of the inn in addition to their needs. If only James—
I mustn’t think that way. I have the children’s future to consider, and dreaming
of the past is no help to them. I have had several gentleman callers during the past months. Mr. Carpenter, the owner of the Destiny Diner, is among the more persistent. I do not attribute my popularity to my personal charms, whatever they might be. I’m afraid the inn is my most seductive asset. Mr. Carpenter makes little secret of his interest in the business. He tells me that I shouldn’t be bothering myself with the details of running an inn, that under his guidance, the establishment could become quite successful. He must think I am not at all bright. The Cameron Inn is quite successful now, without benefit of his assistance. My James taught me well.
Oh, James. It is difficult to consider giving even a small part of myself to another man. But I am only twenty-five. And our children need a father.
If only you could have stayed with us.
CAUGHT OFF GUARD by Bailey’s-friendly greeting, Ian blinked, then looked over his shoulder. No one stood behind him. She was looking directly at him. Could it be?
“Were you talking to me?” he asked warily, almost certain she wouldn’t be able to hear him.
Her soft mouth curved into a smile. “Of course. You’re the only one here, aren’t you?”
She could see him.
Ian sagged against the gazebo post behind him. He didn’t feel it, but he needed the symbolic support. “I, er—”
“I haven’t seen you at the inn before. You must have just arrived.”
He nodded, wondering what, exactly, he should say. Wondering what the hell was going on.
She chuckled. “You really startled me. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them, there you were. Almost as if you appeared out of thin air.”
His answering smile felt strained. “Not likely.”
Her too-perceptive blue eyes searched his face. He wondered exactly what she saw. Could she tell that he was… different? When her eyes suddenly narrowed, he tensed, prepared to try to explain what defied explanation.