by Kirk, Cindy
“Well, look who’s all grown up and gorgeous.”
Her sister whirled, dispensing a zillion-watt smile on the town’s mayor. “Jeremy Rakes. I swear you get more handsome every time I see you. My sister had to be crazy to let you get away.”
The flash of pain that flitted across Jeremy’s face was gone so quickly Ami wondered if she’d imagined it.
“How is Fin?” he asked in an almost too-casual tone.
“You’ll be able to see for yourself,” Marigold answered. “She’s flying in Tuesday.”
“Oh, there you are, Jeremy.” Eliza rushed up, not appearing to notice the mayor was already engaged in conversation. “I lost track of you in the crush of people.”
“Hey, Eliza.” Marigold turned a much more subdued smile on the Cherries’ executive director. “For some reason I thought you’d be at Hill House this evening.”
Eliza stared at Ami’s sister as if she were a stranger she was trying to place.
“Marigold Bloom.” With an impish smile, Marigold extended her hand, leaving Eliza no choice but to take it or look like a schmuck.
Ami concluded it had to be the briefest handshake in history.
“I remember.” Eliza offered a perfunctory smile. “And, to answer your question, I’m responsible for making sure everything is running smoothly on the tour.”
Her sister’s speculative gaze shifted between Jeremy and Eliza, who looked stunning—as usual—in a royal-blue sweaterdress and boots. “Are you and Jeremy dating now?”
“Eliza and I are here tonight in an official capacity,” Jeremy said smoothly, before Eliza had a chance to respond. “I’m here as mayor. She as executive director of the Cherries.”
“Oh.” Marigold nodded sagely. “It’s strictly business.”
Jeremy’s lips twitched slightly, as if remembering what a pain in the backside little Marigold had once been. “Eliza and I are also good friends.”
As if to illustrate, he looped an arm around the woman’s shoulders. A flush of pleasure spread across Eliza’s pretty face.
“Jeremy asked about my sister,” Marigold told Eliza. “I told him Fin is arriving Tuesday. It’s too bad there won’t be time for the three of you to get together. Seeing as you and Jeremy are good friends and Fin and he used to be really good friends.”
Eliza’s lips lifted in a tight smile. “Yes, that is too bad.”
Ami punched her sister in the side. While Marigold had disliked Eliza ever since the woman had turned on Ami after the accident, there was no need to be unkind.
Thankfully her sister got the message and shut up about Fin. She took Ami’s hands. “I have to leave.”
“You just got here.”
“Shannon is having a party at her place tonight.”
“I forgot you were coming in early for the wedding.” The last time Ami had spoken with Marigold, her sister hadn’t been certain she could get off work.
Shannon Tracy had been Marigold’s childhood buddy. While they hadn’t been as close in recent years, they’d stayed in contact through social media and Marigold’s occasional visits back to Good Hope.
“Good to see you, Marigold. Ami.” Jeremy rested his hand on Eliza’s arm. “Let’s check out the Chapin house next.”
Eliza’s expression gave nothing away. “I’ll meet you at the Dunleveys’.”
Marigold watched through slitted eyes as the two strolled off. “Looks like the Shaw-Chapin feud is alive and well.”
“Some things never change.” Impulsively, Ami gave her sister another hug. “I can’t wait to hear the latest on you and Daniel.”
Her sister’s boyfriend, Daniel Smithson, worked for the Chicago Board of Trade. Ami had met him briefly when she’d visited the Windy City last spring.
Marigold glanced around the beautifully appointed parlor. “We’ll get together before the open house and I’ll catch you up. You can do the same.”
Ami inclined her head.
“I can’t wait to hear all about you and the delectable Mr. Cross.” Marigold’s smile widened. “The way you’re blushing says there’s a lot to tell.”
By the time ten o’clock approached, Beck realized Ami hadn’t exaggerated. The people of Good Hope and the tourists that flocked to the township in droves loved the Victorian tour of homes. There’d been a steady stream through the house since the doors opened at six.
While he enjoyed greeting everyone and especially seeing customers he recognized from Muddy Boots, Beck was ready to reclaim his home. Still, having Ami at his side had made the evening not only bearable, but pleasurable.
A few times during the night, he’d found himself thinking of this as their home. That might be because she’d been spending so much time here, but Beck knew the connection went deeper. Somehow, over the course of the past few weeks, they’d become a couple. When he thought of the future, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to imagine her with him.
“The upstairs is clear.” Ami offered a tired smile as she descended the staircase, her hand sliding down the banister. “No stragglers.”
“It’s clear down here, too,” Beck reported.
Ami glanced around. “Where’s Dakota?”
“Lindsay picked her up a few minutes ago. She gave me the key to the room where we’re storing gifts and said she’d catch up with you later.” Beck smiled, remembering Dakota’s stunned look of pleasure at the fifty-dollar bonus he’d given her.
“I had a good time.” Ami’s gaze slid around the parlor and lingered on the star at the top of the magnificent tree. Her heart swelled with emotion. Home.
“It wasn’t nearly as bad as I envisioned,” Beck admitted.
Ami pulled her attention back to the man at her side. Her lips quirked in a smile. “Now there’s a ringing endorsement for the home tour.”
He grinned and she went warm all over.
“Your cookies were a hit.”
“They were, weren’t they?” She gave a satisfied nod. “We’ll—I mean you’ll—have to consider serving treats again next year.”
If he noticed her almost faux pas, it didn’t show. He took her hand and tugged her to the parlor, the sweet scent of roses even more apparent with the house empty.
When they reached the sectional, Ami dropped down and slipped off her shoes. She wiggled her toes and sighed with pleasure. “Now the party can really begin.”
“Your wish is my command.” Beck returned moments later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “You look comfortable.”
“Removing the shoes helped,” she told him, taking the glass he offered. “But these dresses are heavier—and more restrictive—than they look.”
“I’ve got the solution. Take it off.”
His innocent expression didn’t fool her.
She tapped her temple with her index finger. “You’re always thinking.”
Beck grinned. “About some things, anyway.”
After removing his coat and laying it across the top of a nearby chair, he settled beside her on the sofa. “I’m glad the house is ours again.”
Ami tamped down the surge of pleasure and reminded herself that, regardless of what he said, they both knew this was his house, not theirs.
“My sister stopped by.” Realizing her throat was parched from so much talking, Ami took another sip of wine. “I didn’t get a chance to ask if she’d introduced herself to you.”
Beck shook his head. “Which one?”
“Marigold. The youngest.”
“The hair stylist. From Chicago.”
“That’s her. Perky, charming, and gorgeous as ever.” Ami smiled. “Things have been so hectic I forgot she was hoping to arrive early.”
“Do you need to leave?” Beck asked. “I can easily wrap those last few gifts before Floyd swings by to pick them up tomorrow.”
“Marigold won’t be around anyway.” Ami waved a dismissive hand. “She came early to attend a friend’s wedding.”
“Was the wedding this evening?”
“I
t’s tomorrow.” Ami wiggled her toes a few more times. “The bride is having a party at her home in Egg Harbor tonight. Since she’s here, I assume Marigold will be doing the bridal party hair.”
“Hopefully I’ll have a chance to meet her while she’s in town.”
Ami shot him a glance under lowered lashes. “If you come for Christmas lunch, you can meet all my sisters.”
“I appreciate the invitation.” Beck pulled her close, and with a contented sigh, Ami rested her head against his chest. “But Christmas dinner at the café is taking on a life of its own. I never realized there were so many people who spent the holidays alone.”
“I wish I could join you.”
“You have your family.”
You feel like my family.
“Then you’re just going to have to make time to come to my father’s open house on Tuesday.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get away from the café.”
“It’s an open house,” she said pointedly. “From four to eight. Drop in for five minutes. Cory and Jackie will be there.”
Beck smiled. “I saw them tonight.”
Ami’s eyes turned misty. “That anonymous gift changed their lives, and the lives of their kids.”
Beck splashed more wine into his glass, then looked up at her. “That’s seems a bit of an exaggeration.”
Something in his eyes had Ami’s Spidey senses tingling.
“It was you.” She straightened so quickly wine in her glass sloshed. “You made the donation.”
He hesitated. Then, as if realizing it would be pointless to deny it, he shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“I disagree.” Her voice rose and cracked. “You gave them a second chance.”
“I caught them up on their mortgage. That’s all.”
She took his hand, gave it a squeeze, her heart overflowing with love. “I’m so proud of you.”
Beck shook his head, looking baffled by the praise. “I just wanted them to be able to stay in their home.”
They sat silently staring into the fire for a long moment, lost in thought.
“Never alone,” Ami murmured.
“What did you say?” His soft words lulled her into responding.
“It was something my mother told me once.” Ami set her glass of wine aside. “That when you’re surrounded by people you love, you have the strength to face anything.”
Beck stilled. When Lisette had died, his family and friends had rallied around him. He’d still felt alone, as if he were an island surrounded by stormy seas. Any effort to bring him comfort didn’t, couldn’t, reach him. “Do you believe that?”
“I do believe it.” Ami met his gaze. “But only if you let people in. There was a time when I tried to shut out the support and the love. If you ever met my mother, you’d know no one shuts out Sarah Bloom for long.”
“When the pain is intense, it’s easy to shut out everything and everyone.”
“Is that what you did when your wife died?”
There were a dozen ways Beck could have responded to the question that would answer it without saying anything at all. Ami deserved better than pat answers.
“Lisette’s death came out of the blue.”
He abruptly straightened, and suddenly his arm was no longer around her. Yet when she reached over and grasped his hand, he didn’t pull away.
“You said it was a car accident.”
“I was heading into court when I got the call.” His fingers tightened around hers. “They said my wife had been in an accident. An ambulance had taken her to the local hospital.”
Ami said nothing.
His breathing turned shallow.
“She’d died at the scene but they didn’t want to tell me.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Didn’t want me having that in my head on my way to the hospital. Instead I raced there, hoping to comfort her. She was already dead. She’d been gone when they’d called.”
The pain in his voice had her wanting to hold him tight and never let go. Instead, Ami kept her voice calm and her gaze level. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”
“Imagine the worst day of your life, then multiply it by ten.” He set down his glass of wine and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s in the past.”
“She’s part of you. She always will be.”
“Lisette was pregnant. I don’t think I told you that before. Actually, I know I didn’t. Even now, it’s painful to speak about.”
“How far along was she?”
“Seven months. A baby boy.” He swallowed once, then again, his hand gripping hers so tightly it hurt. Then abruptly he released her and picked up the glass, downing the rest of the contents in one gulp. “It was a woman who killed her. She was a marketing exec, heading back to work after downing a couple of margaritas at lunch. Minor injuries for her.”
Tears leaked from Ami’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said in a flat tone. “It’s mine.”
Startled, Ami swiped at her eyes. “How do you figure?”
“Because I was the attorney who’d gone all out to make sure she didn’t lose her license after a previous DUI.”
Chapter Twenty
Ami opened her eyes before the sun had a chance to rise in the sky, her heart overflowing with love for the man who slept beside her. The fact that Beck had shared something so intensely personal with her last night told her he trusted her fully.
His face looked so peaceful in sleep, but her heart ached for the loss he’d suffered and the pain and guilt he still carried. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like for him to not only lose his wife but his baby, too; a little boy who would never have the chance to laugh or cry or love the father who’d already loved him.
Ami blinked back sudden tears.
She’d gone numb when she’d heard the driver had been a woman who’d been drinking. It was clear he hadn’t forgiven the woman, nor himself for defending her and getting her earlier DUI charge reduced to reckless driving.
Ami wished she could tell Beck how much it had meant to her when Lindsay forgave her. But she’d remained silent, knowing Beck didn’t intend to forgive the woman. He’d later admitted she’d written him several times, apologizing and asking for his forgiveness.
What had Beck said . . . sometimes sorry isn’t enough?
That one comment told Ami he’d never see himself having a future with someone like her. In fact, he’d probably hate himself for ever getting involved with her.
That thought had been pinging around in her brain when Beck had begun to unbutton her dress with a desperation that told her he wanted to forget everything that had happened in the past and everything he’d just told her and lose himself in the moment.
She could have refused him. Perhaps should have refused him. But she loved Beck. If she couldn’t have him for eternity, she would give him comfort and hold him close one last time.
Later that morning, after he and Ami had eaten and she’d helped him wrap the last of the presents, Ami announced she needed to get to the café for the Saturday rush. Normally he’d have been disappointed she had to hurry off. This time, Beck felt only relief.
“I’m going to hang around here and catch up on some paperwork.” He walked her to the door and couldn’t resist brushing a kiss across her lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
The fact that her smile seemed hesitant didn’t surprise him. He’d laid a lot on her last night.
Once he closed the door, Beck returned to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. He took it with him to the parlor and sat for several minutes in silence, staring at the festively decorated tree.
While Beck hadn’t lied—he did have paperwork demanding his attention—the truth was he needed to regroup. He’d bared his soul to Ami last night.
It was no longer possible to deny how important she was to him.
Oddly, sharing what had happe
ned—and his guilt over his part—had been cathartic.
When she’d spoken of her mother, he’d thought of his parents and brothers and the way he’d shut them out. Little doors closing one at a time until he stood alone, isolated, determined to fight his grief alone.
Ami had reminded him it didn’t have to be that way.
Beck pulled his phone from his pocket. Before he could change his mind, he pressed a familiar key.
“Cross residence.” The feminine voice, with its soft southern drawl, soothed a raw place deep inside him.
“Mom. It’s Beck. I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. I realize it’s early, but I know you’ll be busy so—”
“JW, your son is on the phone,” his mother called out, interrupting him. The joy in her voice had guilt sluicing through his veins. “Pick up the other line.”
“I thought Dad would be at the courthouse.”
“It’s Saturday.” His mother gave a little laugh. “But you’ll be pleased to know the old workhorse not only took last week off, he’s taking the upcoming week as well. Anders is spending two weeks with us. Elliott and his family arrived last night. Jefferson, well, that little boy has his granddad wrapped around his little finger.”
His mother’s chatter abruptly ceased.
Jefferson and Beck’s son had been due within weeks of each other. Since the accident, the family had tacitly agreed to avoid speaking of the boy in Beck’s presence.
“If he’s like Elliott, I bet he’s into everything.” Beck kept his tone light. To his surprise, he found he could speak of his nephew without being overwhelmed by his own grief.
“He’s very precocious,” Margot said hesitantly, “and extremely active.”
“James,” his father’s voice boomed over the phone. While in the past Beck had reserved James for his professional life, his father insisted on using his legal name at home also. “Good to hear from you, son. How’s life in the frozen tundra? Do you have snow on the ground?”
Beck laughed and relaxed his grip around the phone. “It’s December. In northern Wisconsin. Of course there’s snow on the ground.”
“Are you ready to come home?” The hopeful edge to his mother’s question came through loud and clear. “Move back to the civilized South?”