The River House

by Carla Neggers

  “Good. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I wish we were going to the same college, but we’ll only be a couple of hours apart, and we’ll see each other when we come home.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be great. It’ll all work out.”

  He’d watched the flames flicker in her wide, luminous eyes, and for the first time, he’d thought about what it would be like to make love to her there in front of the fire—what their lives would be like if they were more than friends. Gabe Flanagan, son of a fun-loving pair of flakes, and Felicity MacGregor, daughter of a small-town banker and an accountant.

  He’d glanced at Felicity, who had been clearly annoyed with his sudden silence. He’d been so preoccupied with the sheer absurdity of the idea of making love to her. But then they had gotten carried away.

  Everything had changed that night.

  But nothing could happen between them.

  Nothing.

  That was what he needed to remember. No more kisses at the swimming hole. No more deluding himself that he could have it both ways—Felicity in his life, Knights Bridge out of his life. She lived here, and he needed to back off and let her go about her business. He’d made a success of himself and he’d gotten out of town, but in many ways he was that kid again, with his hand on fire and his plans for the future up in the air.

  * * *

  Gabe put out the fire and went inside, but he knew he wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. Lying on his back in his boxers, on top of the sheets, no blanket, he listened to the portable fan oscillate, appreciated the intervals when it hit his overheated skin. He and Mark had opted against air-conditioning, although it was easily added. They’d never had air-conditioning when they were growing up. It was expensive, and rarely needed, especially so close to the cooling waters of the river. But he could have used AC now.

  This place...

  He didn’t belong here, in the town of his chaotic boyhood. Did Felicity? She didn’t strike him as living in the past, but what if she was? What if she was stuck—couldn’t move on with a personal life?

  Not his concern. Not his business.

  Not his responsibility, either. Their tight friendship had ended several years ago. If it had deterred her from finding a guy, getting married, having kids—whatever—she’d had plenty of time to move on. He had.

  He winced in the darkness of the small room. Had he moved on?

  It wasn’t like him to think about such things, never mind overthink them.

  He shut his eyes, instead thinking about kissing Felicity. It was hot and humid tonight, but if they’d gone to bed together...

  He gritted his teeth. “Forget it, pal. Just forget it.”

  But as he felt himself drifting off to sleep, he couldn’t put the thought aside. He was a teenager again, making love to his pretty, eager best friend. He hadn’t done much thinking then, that was for damn sure. Then again, neither had she.

  He remembered how she’d cried out when he’d thrust into her.

  “You’re a virgin.”

  “What did you think I was?”

  And was had been a key word. That was all they’d said. Need, hormones, longing, desire—they’d been lost. He knew she’d orgasmed. He’d felt it, heard her soft moans of release. They hadn’t come to their senses quickly, not like today at the swimming hole. They’d made love again, exploring, experimenting. They’d made sure they were protected.

  He could still feel himself inside her. Feel her warm skin, her breath, her lips. He could hear her cries, her laughter. She’d relaxed her natural guard and enjoyed some real wild abandon that night. For those hours, he’d been a part of her inner world, sharing an intimacy—a union—that he’d felt more than could explain.

  Felicity had awakened first, slipped out of their sleeping bag, gotten dressed and greeted him as if nothing had happened. For a moment he’d wondered if she’d thought she’d dreamed their lovemaking. Then she’d said, “You’re my best friend, Gabe,” and he’d known. It was the summer after their high school graduation. They had their lives ahead of them. They couldn’t risk falling for each other. She’d needed him as a friend not as a lover—definitely not as an ex-lover.

  She’d decided that was what he’d needed, too, and they’d headed to Smith’s for breakfast and gone over their plans for college.

  Now, more than a decade later, he wondered where they would be tonight if he’d taken her by the hand that summer night and told her he wanted to marry her.

  He almost choked at the thought. It never would have happened. They’d have broken up within months. Weeks, even. Felicity had been right to put on the brakes between them that morning. He’d needed to get away from Knights Bridge and figure out who he was, and he’d have messed up her life in the process. On some level, maybe they’d both known that. Staying friends had kept them in each other’s lives, at least through college and their first jobs.

  They’d never talked about that night.

  His doing.

  But what was the point of talking now? They’d both moved on.

  Gabe got up and switched off the oscillating function on the fan. He needed the air to blow directly on him all the time.

  Only way he’d get any sleep.

  Eleven

  Felicity took a shower, got dressed for the day and tiptoed into the kitchen at six, certain she was up before Gabe, but he greeted her by the coffeemaker. “I see we’re both up with the crows,” he said.

  “I thought you’d sleep in a bit longer. You had a later night than I did.”

  “Did I?” He flipped on the coffeemaker switch. “Thought you might have stayed up late, with the boot camp today.”

  “There are often last-minute changes to accommodate, but so far, so good for today.”

  “That’s great to hear. My party and Nadia Ainsworth aren’t causing you trouble, then.”

  Felicity got mugs down from the cupboard. “Well, we’ll see. What about you? Any butterflies?”

  “Nope.”

  She smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because you know me. What about you?”

  “A few, I guess. I’ve managed big, high-profile events, so it’s not that.”

  “It’s because this one’s in Knights Bridge and involves friends and neighbors.” He opened up the bread box and pulled out whole-grain English muffins. “Am I right?”

  “In a nutshell, yes. People remember great content but they really remember late coffee, bad food, cold rooms, long lines, impenetrable programs, bathrooms without proper supplies—you get the idea.”

  “A lot of moving parts with an event like this.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you celebrate afterward?”

  His question caught her off guard. “Celebrate?”

  “You know. Kick back with a six-pack or a bottle of champagne.”

  “I have a Jane Austen tea tomorrow at Rivendell. I can’t—”

  “I was thinking you’d share the six-pack and bottle of champagne.” He popped two halves of the English muffin in the toaster. “It’s good to celebrate a job well done.”

  “Did you celebrate selling your company?”

  “I took off to New Zealand for a vacation.”

  “By yourself?” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer—I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes,” he said. “By myself. Alone. Just me, myself and I for a week seeing the sights and decompressing.”

  “It must have been intense, selling the company. Look, I’m going to wait and grab coffee and a bite to eat at the barn.”

  “Not going to drive over there with me?”

  Felicity shook her head. “I need to get there early.”

  “Okay.” He grabbed the carafe and poured coffee. “Do you have a to-go mug? I can send you off with coffee.”

  “In the cabinet,” she said,
pointing. “Top shelf. I still have it from when I went into an office. I hardly use it now.”

  He filled the mug, splashed in half-and-half from a bottle he already had on the counter. “I figure you must still take your coffee with half-and-half since it’s in the fridge. I’ll drink it if I jumped the gun.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He screwed on the top and handed her the to-go mug. “Need help carrying anything out to your Rover?”

  “No, all set, thanks.” She held up the mug. “And thanks for the coffee.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Help yourself to whatever you want here. I’ll see you later at the barn.”

  He nodded. “Looking forward to it.”

  “Good,” she said absently, heading outside.

  As she got in her old Land Rover, she saw she had a text message: Good luck tomorrow!

  Nadia Ainsworth. It’d come late last night, but Felicity hadn’t noticed it until now. Answer? Don’t answer?

  She deleted it without answering. Something was off about Nadia. Best not to encourage any level of friendship or intimacy. She was Gabe’s problem.

  Felicity took a few sips of coffee and backed out of her driveway, past Gabe’s BMW. She dismissed a few knots in her stomach. It’d been a while since she’d felt such pressure to make an event perfect. She always had perfection as a goal but seldom felt a small glitch here or there would sink an event—or her. Today wasn’t different on that score. She knew it, even if her stomach didn’t.

  By the time she reached Carriage Hill Road, she was focused on what she had to do for the day. Maggie Sloan’s good cheer and utterly relaxed attitude when she greeted Felicity in the kitchen didn’t hurt. “Do you ever get pre-event jitters?” Felicity asked as she downed the last of Gabe’s coffee.

  Maggie, red hair pulled back, apron on over a simple knee-length dress, shook her head. “Not since the food-poisoning incident in Boston.”

  “Food-poisoning? No way.”

  “Not buying it, are you?” Maggie grinned. “You’re right. There was no food-poisoning. It’s what I tell myself before an event. If I don’t poison anyone, anything else can be managed.”

  Not a bad way to manage any jitters, Felicity thought, and it fit Maggie’s personality.

  Her older sister, Phoebe, came into the kitchen, her fiancé, Noah Kendrick, a few steps behind her. They’d arrived last night from Noah’s winery on California’s Central Coast and had stayed at Phoebe’s former home in the village, a cottage around the corner from the library. She’d been the library director for several years and had always expected to stay on until she retired.

  Felicity had known Phoebe forever, but it was her first time meeting Noah, a lean, quiet man, a tech genius and a billionaire. “I’m not much on public speaking,” he said, as if he, too, had a few butterflies.

  “I imagine the attendees today will be interested in anything you have to say, even if you stumble here and there,” Maggie said.

  “Just don’t make any jokes,” Dylan said, joining them. “You’re the worst.”

  Noah grinned. “Now you tell me. All these years and you’ve never hinted I’m not funny.”

  “I hinted. You just didn’t take the hint.”

  The two longtime friends laughed, and Phoebe shook her head, smiling at her sister and Felicity. “I’m imagining bad jokes at board meetings.”

  “Many bad jokes,” Dylan said. He sipped coffee from a mug he’d brought with him.

  Noah winced, good-humored. “You’re not kidding.”

  “Best to stick to relevant anecdotes—like how you found me sleeping in my car and asked me to join you at NAK because you needed my instincts about people to offset your cluelessness.”

  “Utter cluelessness,” Noah added. “Except about Phoebe here.”

  Felicity left them to their friendly banter and went into the main room to check on the setup for the day. Maggie joined her, but everything for the coffee and muffins that would get the day started was laid out. Whatever she might say, Maggie was an experienced professional. She wanted everything to be perfect today, too.

  Satisfied things were in order, Felicity slipped out the kitchen door and to a pebbled path behind the barn. She followed it along the field and an old stone wall down to Olivia’s inn. She slipped through a gap in the stone wall and took her time walking up a mulched path among the lavender and mint.

  Russ Colton waved to her from the terrace, as if he’d been waiting impatiently for her to get there. “I heard you were on your way.” He pointed at a padded envelope on the wood table. “That arrived for you.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes. Here. It’s not something you’re expecting?”

  Felicity shook her head. “No, it’s not. How did it get here? Did someone drop it off?”

  “It was on the steps at the front door when I got here. I haven’t asked if anyone saw who delivered it. I wanted to talk to you first. If it’s nothing, great.” He fastened his gaze on her, a reminder that he was an experienced security consultant. “Who’s Nadia?”

  Felicity peered at the handwritten label:

  For Felicity MacGregor.

  From Nadia.

  “Gad, Russ,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  “Told me what? Is she helping you today? What’s going on, Felicity? This woman’s name isn’t on any of my lists. Am I overreacting? I’d rather overreact than underreact.”

  “Her name is Nadia Ainsworth. She used to work with Gabe Flanagan. She was in town yesterday. We met for lunch.”

  Russ’s eyes narrowed. “Your body language suggests she’s a problem. Is she?”

  “I don’t know if she is or she isn’t. Is it okay if I open the package?”

  He nodded, standing to one side as Felicity picked up the padded envelope. It was soft, as if it held fabric. She pried it open and, under Russ’s watchful eye, withdrew a folded tea towel depicting Knights Bridge’s one-and-only covered bridge.

  “There’s a note,” Russ said.

  It was tucked in a red ribbon tied around the towel. She lifted it out and opened the small, folded white card. The note was handwritten in deep red ink, perhaps to match the towel and ribbon.

  Dear Felicity,

  Have a wonderful time today! I’m sure everything will go well. A pleasure meeting you yesterday. Look me up if you’re ever in Malibu. We’ll do lunch again.

  Best wishes,

  Nadia

  Felicity handed the note to Russ. He read it quickly and tucked it back into the ribbon. “Seems innocuous,” he said, some of his tension visibly easing. He paused, studying her. “Not to you?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “What’s your gut say?”

  “That she’s got a hidden agenda, but that’s only my gut take on her. I only met her briefly yesterday. Gabe’s the one to ask about her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “I have no idea. She mentioned she’s settling her grandmother’s estate somewhere in the area.”

  “I’ll ask Gabe. You focus on the boot camp and let me handle this, okay?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Felicity said.

  And that was that. Russ stuffed the towel and note back into the envelope, not taking any particular care, and held on to it. “In other news, how are the badgers coming along for Kylie’s launch party?”

  Felicity knew Russ wasn’t looking for an actual answer—he just wanted to change the subject and lighten the mood. “Coming along great.” She motioned toward the kitchen. “I should get to work.”

  “Take care today,” Russ said. “Give me a shout if you need me. Don’t hesitate.”

  She smiled. “Overreact rather than underreact.”

  “You got it,” he said, almost smiling back at her.

  Russ stay
ed out on the terrace while Felicity went through the mudroom into the old house’s spacious country kitchen. It was quiet now, but that wouldn’t last. She pushed a hand through her hair, realizing she hadn’t pulled it back yet. She dug a clip from her bag and headed through the dining room and living room in the original part of the house. Mark Flanagan hadn’t been involved in the house’s first major contemporary renovation, several years before Olivia had bought the property, but he’d designed the addition that was in progress.

  She ducked into a powder room off the main hall and, using Olivia and Maggie’s goat’s milk liquid soap, washed her hands and dabbed water on the back of her neck to cool off from her walk and the tension of finding Nadia’s package. She felt awkward more than upset or angry. She’d let Russ and Gabe deal with her, should any problems arise.

  Maybe the covered-bridge towel had been a genuine, well-intentioned gift.

  Best, Felicity decided, drying her hands, to let it be and not read anything into it. She hoped Nadia had dropped the package off on her way out of town.

  A glance in the mirror told Felicity that her tension was showing in her face. She practiced a few cheerful smiles and did thirty seconds of deep breathing, then clipped her hair back, freshened up her makeup and returned to the kitchen.

  Her phone rang. She expected it was Maggie but recognized Nadia’s number on the screen. She almost let the call go to voice mail but decided to answer. “Hello, this is—”

  “Felicity MacGregor. Hi, there. It’s Nadia Ainsworth. I wanted to call before you got too busy. Did you get my package?”

  “I did—I just opened it. Lovely. Thank you.”

  “I know what it’s like to be in your position with so much going on. Dylan McCaffrey, Noah Kendrick and Gabriel Flanagan all speaking today. That’s pressure. And that’s just for starters. It’s a diverse group of men and women for a relatively small event. These boot camps are going to be special, I think.”

  “I think so, too,” Felicity said. “Can I call you back later? I really can’t talk right now.”

  “Of course. I understand.” Nadia didn’t sound the least bit put out. “You need to focus. You don’t want to screw up this event. Believe me, I know.”