The Return of Caine O'Halloran: Hard Choices

by JoAnn Ross

  Logan stepped more fully into the waiting area. “She’s past the age of consent.” He was damned if he’d let the old man make him feel defensive. “What happened to Caroline?”

  Hugo looked blank for a fraction of a second. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why are you interested? Now?”

  “Sara and Annie want the Castillo House.”

  “They want the land around Castillo House,” Hugo countered.

  “Since you know that, why not help your daughter acquire it?”

  “Lend her money?” Hugo’s lips twisted as he picked up one of the jars sitting on the desk. “S’pose I could start selling off Mabel Bellanova’s plum preserves.” He set the jar down with a soft thump.

  Logan wasn’t amused. “By telling her how to reach Caroline.”

  Hugo looked weary. He sat down on the top of the desk. “She left the isle long before Sara was born. You were an infant. It’s the last I saw of her.”

  “She was the love of your life.”

  Hugo’s gaze met Logan’s. “You telling or asking?”

  “Stating a fact,” Logan said flatly.

  “A fact according to your mother.”

  “Well, I guess she’d have known.”

  Hugo’s lips twisted. He said nothing.

  “Where did she go after she left Turnabout?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “And I can’t help that, any more than I could ever change what your mother thought.”

  “What she knew.”

  “You’re as pigheaded as she was,” Hugo said after a moment. “Only she had a better reason.”

  “She knew the truth about you. About you and Caroline. Why the hell didn’t you give her a divorce? Let her go?”

  “You think your mother would still be alive if I had.” It wasn’t a question. And Logan didn’t like the pitying look he saw in his father’s eyes. “You don’t know the truth, Logan, because you’ve never wanted to see it. It was easier to blame your old man. So, go ahead. Keep on believing what you want. You hated this island, and you hated me. Wouldn’t even take a dime from me when you went off to college.”

  “Like you had any dimes to spare?” Logan laughed humorlessly. But Hugo was right. Even if the old man had been able to provide financial assistance, Logan would have refused it. Instead, he’d found himself in a deal with a man who some called a saint and some called a devil.

  Even Logan wasn’t sure which term more aptly suited his boss.

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re still involved with Caroline, if you haven’t seen her in five years, or in fifteen. All I want to know is where she was last, or at the very least where she headed when she left the island for good.”

  “And I’m telling you that I don’t know.” Hugo’s voice was tight as he rose and stepped toward Logan. “Do you think I didn’t wonder? The only family she had were her parents, and she gave up her own existence to care for them until they died. She was a young woman. She’d rarely been off Turnabout.”

  “So you took advantage of her.”

  “I gave her a job here,” he said evenly.

  “And you drove my mother away because of Caroline.”

  “Your mother left me, Logan. Well before I hired Caroline. I didn’t even know she was pregnant with you when she left. I had to hire a private investigator to find her and it took nearly a year, at that. You were six months old by then.”

  The story was hardly a news flash. “And you dragged us both back to Turnabout where you kept Caroline right under my mother’s nose. Did you think she was an idiot? That she wouldn’t figure out what you and your little receptionist were doing back in exam room one?”

  Hugo eyed him, his face expressionless. “Why did you come back to Turnabout?”

  There was a pain deep inside his head and his jaw ached. His father was as tall as he. They stood eye to eye. Similar. Completely different.

  “Because I try to make up for my mistakes,” he said after a moment.

  Then he walked away.

  * * *

  Three days without power.

  Annie looked over at the boxes stacked neatly near the rear door of the workshop. All orders that needed to be shipped.

  Only there currently was no way to ship them.

  “This stuff smells disgusting.”

  She looked over at Riley, stifling a sigh. The girl had already made it quite clear she’d rather have been over at Maisy’s Place than helping Annie at Island Botanica. However, Annie knew the main appeal at the inn wasn’t helping Maisy, but hanging with Kenny Hobbes of the stranded Denver Hobbeses, and she’d deliberately kept her niece occupied well into the afternoon in hopes of staving off another episode of finding her niece and the boy locking lips. She’d already caught them at it once. “Fortunately, the people who buy those herbal teas don’t think so.”

  Riley made a face, but she continued slipping the small packages of dried herbs into the dark green envelopes with the silver script. She had already filled a large basket with finished envelopes. “Smells like licorice. Black licorice. I hate licorice.”

  Annie stretched a piece of packing tape across the last box. “Then I’ll try not to force it on you at dinner today,” she assured.

  Riley fell quiet.

  The only sounds were the rustle of the special envelopes, the crinkle of the raffia that Annie was using on the gift basket she was preparing, and the drip of water falling on the tin roof.

  Even with the irritation that seemed to roll off Riley’s shoulders in waves, Annie found the work as peaceful as she usually did.

  The peace continued for all of ten minutes. Until Kenny-of-Denver stuck his head through the rear door. “Hey, whoa, I found you.” His face seemed to hold a perpetually cocky sneer, and it was typically evident as he looked around the interior of the workroom. “Got some crazy-ass looking stuff hanging from your ceiling. Anything illegal up there?”

  Annie eyed him. “No, but it’d be pretty easy for me to poison someone.”

  His eyes flickered, then he grinned, certain she was joking. “Cool. So, Riley, you gotta keep doing the work thing, or is there any chance of parole?”

  Riley looked at her hopefully. “Can I?”

  And the fact that she asked made Annie weaken. “No sunsets,” she warned, knowing perfectly well that Riley would know what she meant.

  Riley’s cheeks colored. She nodded.

  “And be at the community center by dinnertime,” Annie called as the two teenagers headed out the door. They barely waved at her, ducking and laughing as they dodged the water that dripped from the eaves.

  “Sounding like the voice of mothers everywhere.” Logan stepped into the doorway.

  She jerked. The roll of raffia escaped her grasp and fell on the floor.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He caught the roll as it bounced across the floor toward him. “Here.” He walked over to the workbench and set it beside her.

  “Thanks.” She wasn’t going to ask what he’d been doing all day. He’d been gone that morning when she woke, leaving behind a pot of coffee warm on the stove and the bedding folded at one end of the couch. She realized he’d shaved. Maybe he’d done it last night and she hadn’t noticed. He was also wearing fresh clothes. Blue jeans that were faded nearly white, and a UCLA T-shirt that strained a little across his shoulders. And his face was positively grim. “You all right?”

  His brows drew together for a moment. “Same as ever.” Then he looked around at the pile of boxes ready to ship. “You’ve been busy.”

  She could take a hint. He didn’t want to talk. Not about himself, at any rate. What else was new? “Those were the last of the mail orders we’d received before the storm hit.” She looked over at the oven that she could
n’t use to aid the drying process. “Instead of playing catch-up on order processing like we usually do, Sara and I will be playing catch-up on production once things get back to normal.”

  “Except you’ll probably find out there are orders you’ve received in the past few days that you don’t even know about yet.”

  That was true enough. She quickly finished tying the raffia around the basket and placed it inside the shipping box she’d already made for it. She deftly added packing material to protect the basket and its variety of contents, slipped the paperwork on top, then sealed the box and stuck the label on it. “Ready to go.” She carried the box over to the pile.

  She looked around the workshop, brushing her hands down her apron as she sorted through her mind for some task to keep herself busy. But her mind seemed far too empty of ideas and her workroom far too full of Logan’s presence. “How does your arm feel today?” She picked up the large basket of teas that Riley had finished, only to have Logan pluck it away from her.

  “Where?”

  She pointed at the empty spot on the storage shelves.

  “It feels fine.” He easily positioned the basket in place. “How’s the scratch on your back?”

  She’d had Riley spread aloe on it that morning. “It’s fine.” The polite exchange made her head throb. “Any news on the phone lines or the electricity?”

  “No.” He picked up a sprig of rosemary and sniffed it.

  “You don’t look particularly bothered by that.” She drew off her apron and hung it on a wall hook.

  “I’m a patient man.”

  She lifted her eyebrows, unwillingly amused. “If you say so.” She retrieved a bottle of lotion from the shelf and stuck it in an Island Botanica gift bag, then picked up her keys and headed to the rear door. There had been no need to unlock the front entrance at all.

  “Where are you headed now?”

  She lifted the gift bag. “Drop this off to Darla Towers. Then go to the fields.”

  “They’re wet.”

  “They often are.” She closed the door after him and locked it.

  “When I lived here, nobody had to lock anything.”

  She dropped the keys in the side pocket of her jumper. “I thought you didn’t like Turnabout.” She glanced up and down the alley. For the moment, the drizzle had ceased.

  “I don’t.” He fell into step beside her as she walked.

  “Yet you just sounded like you miss it.”

  “I miss the days when people didn’t have to lock their doors.”

  “Well, I lock the shop because of the cash register and the computer and the inventory. There are just more tourists on Turnabout these days—even when they’re not stuck here like they are right now. Town’s had a few break-ins, and they are almost always committed by someone from off-island. But the only thing I’ve locked my door at home against was the storm. All things considered, I find it pretty comforting.” They rounded the side of her building and came out on the road in front of it. Darla lived in one of the bungalows that lined up straight as soldiers before the road curved and headed down to Maisy’s Place. “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Nowhere in particular.”

  She stopped in the road and looked up at him. The man was too cagey by far. “You know, Logan, if you don’t think it’s any of my business, just say so.”

  “I’m serious.”

  She clucked skeptically. “I don’t believe you’re homeless.”

  “Didn’t say I was.”

  She lifted her hands. Dropped them. Shook her head. “Fine. Whatever.” She would not indulge her curiosity where this man was concerned. She’d already indulged more than was safe for her peace of mind. He was only there in the first place at her brother’s request.

  She started walking again, steps brisk.

  He fell in step beside her, shortening his pace to match hers. “Do you always deliver personally?”

  “No, but I don’t think there’s any point in opening the shop these days. If somebody needs something, they’ll let me know. Like Darla did.”

  “The only reason Darla stopped by the table last night was to flash her implants at me.”

  Annie glared at him. “She’s a perfectly nice woman, Logan. Just because she’s having a hard time right now—”

  “Hey, okay. Didn’t know you were now the champion of the lost-and-seeking.”

  She huffed. “Would you prefer I was still good ol’ Easy A?”

  “You probably started that nickname yourself to piss off your parents.”

  She wasn’t altogether certain that he was wrong.

  “It was all an act, anyway. You told me so yourself,” he added when she shot him a look. “And I think you’re more interesting now.”

  That comment thoroughly disconcerted her. “I’m not trying to be interesting to anyone.”

  “Some things can’t be helped.”

  “Well, there’s interesting as in ‘oh, look at that fascinating bug with five legs,’ and there’s interesting as in ‘wonder if she’s good in bed.’” Her face went hot. She clamped her lips together, but her runaway tongue had already done the damage.

  His lips twitched. He deliberately looked at her legs. Her tan jumper nearly reached her ankles, and she wore short white socks with her canvas shoes. Hardly seductive trappings.

  She still felt scorched by the time he looked up at her face again.

  “I only see two,” he murmured.

  Studiously ignoring him, she hurriedly walked on to Darla’s place, made her delivery, collected her cash and continued down the road.

  “Your fields are the opposite direction, Annie.”

  “We’re almost to Maisy’s Place, and I’m pretty sure that’s where Riley is. I should check on her. Make sure she’s okay.”

  “That kid she was with reminds me of someone.”

  Ivan Mondrago, Annie thought before she could stop herself. Trouble with a capital T.

  “I’m not sure you should let her hang around with him.”

  She stopped dead in the road. “I am not Riley’s parent, Logan. I don’t know the first thing about being a good one. It would be stupid to pretend otherwise.”

  He looked impatient. “You’re the closest thing she’s got to a parent right now. That kid is a creep. You should be locking her away from him.”

  “The only thing that’s accomplished by locking a kid away from something is turning that very kid into a picklock.”

  “I guess you’d know.”

  Her stomach suddenly felt tight. She knew nothing about Logan’s life, now. Which was probably just as well, since nothing would be served with her increasing fascination. But he’d once been Will’s friend until life had apparently taken them in separate directions. He’d known all about the troublesome antics from which her brother had faithfully plucked her.

  “I guess I would,” she agreed. She started walking again, only to stop a moment later and look up at him. “Adults aren’t the only ones who face hard choices, Logan. Kids, teenagers. They face them, too.”

  “You’re bending over backward to trust Riley because your parents never trusted you.”

  “My parents trusted me to screw up. And I did. Over and over again, so in that, they were correct. It’s not Riley I don’t trust. It’s—” Drago, her mind whispered “—Kenny,” she finished carefully.

  “The only thing your parents were correct about was what fork to use for the shrimp course.”

  Despite herself, she laughed. But nothing about the situation—her past or Riley running away—was laughable. “I’m going to Maisy’s. Are you...are you coming?”

  “I’ll pass.”

  She knew why. He didn’t want to run into Dr. Hugo who was often at Maisy’s Place. It was sad. She didn’t spea
k with her own parents for a number of reasons. But she’d never heard Dr. Hugo speak badly of his son. “All right. Well, I guess I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  It was a promise. It was a curse.

  Her stomach felt that odd little curl in it as his gaze held hers.

  And just then, the drizzling rain started to fall again.

  His lips tilted. The breathless moment passed.

  She shook her head and lifted her hands to feel the moisture collect on her palms. “Somebody up there must really think Turnabout needs a good, long bath.”

  “Maybe so.” Moisture gleamed like diamonds in his thick, dark hair. “But whatever the reason, you do look good in raindrops.”

  She went stock-still as he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Then, with a faint smile, he strode away.

  Her fingers touched her lips.

  “Annie?”

  At the voice, she whirled around to see Sara standing on the raised porch of Maisy’s Place. “Sara! How did you get here?”

  Sara slowly came down the steps. “Never mind that. Was that my brother you were kissing?”

  Chapter 12

  Dinner at the community center was over.

  Now that the initial shock of the storm had worn off, the islanders were obviously heading right back into fine form. The generator was humming, the fireplace in the domed pit was burning brightly. There was even a group of people dancing to the enthusiastic—if not professional quality—music being played by some impromptu band.

  And there was a smile on Riley’s face. “It’s like a party,” she said. “You’re gonna let me stay here tonight, right? There’s nothing to do at your house.”

  “You’re gonna stay here, right?” Annie eyed Riley right back. “I’m not going to find you and Kenny together the way I did before we had dinner, am I?” She’d found the teens in yet another clinch that had only served to underscore her unease where the boy was concerned.