by Marta Perry
“I guess so.” She glanced down at her plate. “I know a lot of people have a stake in whatever decision I make about the property,” she said carefully. “But everything about the inheritance came as a complete surprise to me. I need time to figure out my course of action.”
“Of course you do.” Ellen’s voice was warm. “And if any of my family are pushing you for a decision, you just tell me and I’ll deal with them.”
She smiled. “I’ll do that.” She had the satisfaction of seeing Nick look uncomfortable. But maybe it was time to slip away from the subject of her plans.
“I was glad to have a chance to see the house where my father grew up,” she said, handing her plate to Ellen as the woman rose to clear the table. “And to see a photo of my grandmother. She had an interesting face.”
“You mean you’d never seen a photo of her before?” Ellen set the plates on the counter with a clatter.
Allison shook her head. “We never had any contact at all.”
“Evelyn could be a stubborn woman,” Jim observed.
“How she could do such a thing, I don’t know.” Ellen seized Jamie in a fierce hug. “Her own grandchild.”
“Ouch, Grammy, don’t squeeze my tummy.”
Ellen released him and dropped a kiss on his hair.
“If you’re that full, maybe you want to wait awhile before you have dessert. What do you think?”
Jamie nodded and spurted off his chair as if he were on springs. “Please, may I be excused? I’ll get my ball and glove. Do you want to play catch with me, Allison?”
“Allison’s not dressed for ball today,” Nick said firmly.
Jamie’s face fell.
“Another time, okay?” Allison said. “I had to pitch to my brothers a lot when they started playing baseball, so I’m not too bad.”
“Okay.” He slapped his leg to summon the dog. “Come on, Shep.” Boy and dog raced out the back door, with Ellen calling to him to take a jacket.
“Boys,” she said. “Never do anything quietly. Allison, will you have vanilla ice cream on your cherry pie?”
She felt about as full as Jamie, but Ellen would probably be hurt if she didn’t have dessert. “Just a small piece, please. And a little ice cream.”
“I’ll eat her extra,” Mac said. “So, who all did Brenda invite to meet you? Not us, obviously.”
“We’re not grand enough for her,” Nick said, grinning. “Allison met Julia Everly.”
“Oh, dear.” Ellen set what seemed a mammoth wedge of pie in front of Allison. “I hope she didn’t say anything too outrageous.”
“Not to me,” Allison said. “But she did scold Krysta about her manners and, by implication, Brenda for not correcting her.”
“Krysta was rude, I suppose.” Ellen slid into her chair. “She’s been through a difficult time. It can’t have been easy for a teenager, losing her father and having to move in with a great-aunt.”
“You always find excuses for people.” Jim glanced fondly at his wife. “The girl’s spoiled, that’s all, like too many teenagers these days.”
“You’re starting to sound like an old grump,” his wife informed him. “Who else did you meet, Allison?”
“Tommy Blackburn. The elder Mr. Blackburn wasn’t there, but I met Tommy and his son.”
“Don’t bother telling me Tommy didn’t make a pass at you, because I wouldn’t believe it,” Nick said, eyes challenging hers above a forkful of ruby-red pie cherries.
“Minor-league pass,” she said. Apparently these people really did know each other well.
“T.J.’s the one I feel sorry for,” Ellen said. “His father doesn’t set much of an example for him, and his grandfather expects too much, I’ve always thought.”
“His mother isn’t in the picture?” Allison asked, remembering T.J.’s reaction when she’d inadvertently walked in on him and Krysta. That certainly hadn’t made her feel sorry for him. As Jim said, Ellen seemed to have plenty of sympathy to go around.
“Poor Nina.” Ellen shook her head. “She passed away two years ago. Accidental overdose of sleeping pills or some such thing. Goodness knows what Dr. Walker was thinking to prescribe so much medication for her.”
“Walker’s getting past it,” Jim observed. “And he never was all that bright. A man should know when to retire.”
His sons exchanged glances at that sentiment.
“And you don’t need to look that way, either,” Jim said tartly. “I’m still sharp enough to outwork the two of you any day of the week.”
Allison suppressed a smile. “I’ll bet you are.”
“Welcome to family supper at the Whiting house,” Nick said. “You can’t say we put on any airs for you.” He gave her a smile of such amazing sweetness that her heart seemed to turn over in her chest.
Careful, she told herself, panicky. Careful. Unfortunately neither her emotions nor her body seemed to be listening.
* * *
DUSK HAD FALLEN by the time Allison slid into the passenger seat of Nick’s car. She’d said her goodbyes and her thanks, and she smiled as Jamie, sitting on his uncle’s shoulders, waved an energetic farewell.
She turned back, aware of how quiet it was alone in the car with Nick. To say nothing of how close he was. His hands were lean and capable on the wheel as he turned from the farm lane onto the blacktop.
She forced herself to look away. Keep it cool, light, superficial.
“That’s Sarah’s family farm,” Nick said, nodding to the white farmhouse set well back from the road. Maybe he was equally determined not to recognize the attraction that sparked between them. If so, it should be easier to do as she intended.
“You said you were neighbors. I guess I expected the houses to be closer.”
“Not out here in the country.” Nick grinned at her. “City girl,” he teased.
“That’s me. The closest to country I ever got was the suburbs of Chicago.” She glanced at the farms that lined either side of the road. Fields sloped gently up at the far edges, like a very shallow bowl. The slopes led upward to the ridges on either side. For the most part the trees were still brown and bare, but pale green touched a few here and there.
Nick followed the direction of her gaze. “In a few more weeks, the valley will be filled with color. The Amish are already plowing. That farm belongs to Sarah’s uncle.”
“You’re surrounded by the Amish,” she said. “No wonder you seem so comfortable with Sarah.”
Nick shrugged. “Amish aren’t much different from anyone else. You looked like you were getting along pretty well with Sarah yourself.”
“She’s a good person.” Allison stared blankly at the two-lane road unrolling in front of them. She didn’t want to disappoint Sarah, but she couldn’t determine her whole future on that fact.
“Yes, she is.” Nick’s lips quirked. “As someone who’s known her since she was four, I’m in a position to say.”
“I guess you are. I can understand why Sarah grew up on a farm. That’s a very Amish thing to do. But why you? What do your parents want with a farm when your dad’s business is in town?”
Nick’s smiling glance caught hers. “Blame it on the era they grew up in. I wouldn’t go so far as to say they were hippies, but they had a lot of ideas about living close to the land and being self-sufficient. Mix that up with a determination to raise their kids to respect the value of work, and you’ve got our life.”
“You like it.” She hoped that wasn’t wonderment in her voice.
“I do, yeah. Oh, Mac and I both did our share of complaining when we were teens. Why couldn’t we live in town like everybody else? None of our friends had to get up early to milk the cows or miss playing a game to help get the hay in before it rained.” He paused, shaking his head. “I’m not sure we meant it all even
then. Now...well, I can’t imagine a better life for my son.”
He seemed to mean it. It must be nice, to be so sure of what you wanted from life. But where did ambition come in?
“I can see that you’re satisfied,” she said slowly. “But you’re obviously smart and educated. So, why are you content to make a living working with your hands in a place like this when you could be doing something more, well, important?”
His lips twisted. “Maybe I think what I do is important. I figure I have two jobs, and raising my son is the most important one. I don’t want to settle for less than the best in quality in each of them.” He darted a look at her. “You don’t get it, do you? I guess we value different things.”
“I suppose so.” She felt somehow disappointed. He might have tried to sway her, but he probably didn’t think it was worthwhile.
They were approaching the bed-and-breakfast, and Allison gave herself a mental shake. She was trying not to get involved, remember? So why was she disappointed?
Nick pulled up at the curb and got out. “I’ll see you to the door.”
“Not necessary,” Allison said firmly. “Thank you for driving me. And thanks again for supper. I enjoyed it.”
She glanced at Blackburn House to assure herself that all was well. The windows of the various businesses were dark, but a glow came from the pole lamp in the front lawn, illuminating a patch of grass and shining on the sidewalk. It was set on a timer so that it stayed on all night. The bushes on either side cast a pool of shadow where the lamplight didn’t reach.
“Thanks for accepting Mom’s invitation. She’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t.” Nick stood very close as she reached the sidewalk, looking down at her. “And I’m glad you came, too.” His voice lowered on the words, and her breath caught. “You—”
He stopped, his attention apparently captured by something he saw over her shoulder.
“Now what is going on?” he muttered.
Allison spun around. Blackburn House lay in the deepest darkness. The lamp she’d noticed only a moment ago had gone out.
“I don’t understand. I thought that pole lamp was supposed to stay on until dawn.”
“It is.” He took a step toward the building. “I’d better see what’s going on. Maybe a circuit blew.”
Or maybe someone flipped it. That was what he was thinking, she realized. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, you won’t.”
Her temper flared, as he must have expected. “Give me one good reason why not.”
“I’ll give you two,” he said. “I know where the circuit breakers are. You don’t. And in those shoes, you’d probably break an ankle trying to get down the stone steps to the cellar.”
It was a great thing to know when you were outflanked. Allison leaned against the car with as much dignity as she could muster.
“If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m calling the police.”
“Make it ten.” His smile flashed. “It’ll take a little time.” He was gone before she could argue the point.
Allison checked the time on her cell phone and kept it in her hand. It was probably foolish to think there was anything wrong, but she hadn’t forgotten the presence of someone in Blackburn House or the open door that led to the attics. Someone had certainly been prowling around the place then, whether Mac thought she was imagining things or not. Still, she didn’t see any good reason for anyone to shut off the lights.
Waiting in the dark wasn’t conducive to happy thoughts. She checked the time again. Only four minutes had passed.
The chill April air crept up her legs, but at least she didn’t feel trapped in the car. If anything frightened her, she could call out and someone would hear.
The seconds ticked by. Her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, and she could make out the line of the porch railing and the walk that skirted the building and ran back toward the workshop. That was the direction Nick had gone. Presumably he’d come back the same way.
But wouldn’t the lamp come on first? Well, only if it really was just a flipped circuit breaker. If it was something more complicated, Nick wouldn’t try to fix it, would he? He’d come back to report the issue, and she’d have to call an electrician tomorrow. Was there money set aside for repairs of that sort? She should have found out more specifically what the fund the attorney mentioned would cover.
Another check of her cell phone told her seven minutes had passed. She stared into the dense shadows cast by the porch. Movement. Yes, that was definitely movement. Relief swept through her. Nick was coming. Apparently he—
No, it wasn’t Nick. She didn’t know why she was so sure, but she was. The figure wasn’t the right size or shape, somehow. Holding her breath, she shrank back against the car.
Whoever he was, he didn’t seem to be headed out the walk. Instead, the silhouette crossed the lawn, stepping over the daffodils, and jumped the low wrought-iron fence at the side. A moment later he emerged on to the sidewalk farther down the street. His stride took him directly under the next streetlight, and she knew him. It was T. J. Blackburn.
T.J. She pressed against the car, thoughts focused on the threat that had been in his eyes when she’d interrupted him with Krysta. Was this some kind of payback?
And where was Nick? If Nick had encountered T.J....
Not stopping to think any further, she pushed open the gate and hurried the way Nick had gone, using her cell as a flashlight. She rounded the corner, her steps hurrying. A shadow loomed in front of her, and someone grabbed her hands.
Nick. She recognized him before she lifted the light to his face.
“I thought you were going to wait by the car,” he said, his voice resigned. His fingers clasped her wrists lightly.
“I saw someone coming from this direction.” The words spilled out in her relief. “It was T. J. Blackburn. I thought he might have been in the house, and if you surprised him—”
“He would have attacked me? Your imagination is getting ahead of you. Why would T.J. want to vandalize Blackburn House, given the way his grandfather feels about it?”
“I didn’t think of that,” she admitted. “But it could have been payback against me.” She caught his questioning look. “I walked in on a petting party between him and Krysta. He didn’t like it.”
“I can imagine.” Nick’s face was a frowning mask in the dim light, all lines and shadows. “Well, the circuit breaker was tripped, but I couldn’t get it to go back into the on position. I guess you’d better have an electrician take a look at it. Do you want me to call someone?”
“Thanks.” A breeze hit her, and she shivered. “And thanks for checking it out for me.”
“No problem. As for T.J....” He hesitated. “He could have been taking a shortcut from the alley to the street. I didn’t see any obvious signs of break-in. I’ll mention it to Mac.”
“Maybe you’d better wait until I see what the electrician says.” She could imagine that no one would be eager to accuse Thomas Blackburn’s grandson without proof.
Nick nodded, looking dissatisfied. He was probably wishing she’d never shown up to complicate life in Laurel Ridge.
She shivered again. “I should go in.”
“Right.” He put his arm around her shoulders, as if to warm her. But he didn’t move toward the inn. Instead, he stood, looking into her face.
There it was again—that hitch in her breath, the thump of her heart in her chest, as if something important had just happened. Or was going to happen.
His face lowered to hers. Slowly, giving her time to pull back. She should. But she didn’t.
His lips found hers, and the chill she’d felt was replaced by heat that spread through her. She wasn’t going to respond, but she couldn’t seem to keep herself from clutching the front of his jacket, from leaning into him. His arms tig
htened around her, pressing her against his chest, and she didn’t know whether it was her own heartbeat she heard or his.
Nick yanked away from her, and the cool air struck her like a splash of cold water.
“Sorry,” he muttered. Grabbing her elbow as if she were an old lady he was helping across the street, he piloted her toward the bed-and-breakfast.
When they reached the porch steps she pulled her arm free. “I can make it from here.” She gave him a meaningless smile, not sure whether she was gratified, humiliated or just embarrassed. “Good night.”
* * *
“NOPE, NOT AS SIMPLE as flipping a circuit breaker, that’s for sure.” The electrician Nick had contacted was probably about Nick’s age, with faded jeans, a Penn State T-shirt and a baseball cap worn backward.
“I appreciate your getting here so early. Can you fix it before the offices open?” Allison stood on the bottom cellar step, careful not to touch anything. Nick had been right—she’d never have made it down these uneven stone stairs in the dark wearing heels. Ahead of her, a corridor stretched dimly into the distance, fading from view as it went. It was intersected every few yards by massive stone pillars that presumably held up the rest of Blackburn House.
“Sure, I can do a temporary fix.” Tim Elliott of Elliott’s Electric shone his work light on a section of wire leading from the circuit box. “You can see where the insulation is worn away from the wires. I’ll get you back in business in half an hour or so.”
She studied the cable. It looked as if something had been chewing at it. “Did it just break through? Or could something or someone cause it?”
He shot her a quick, intelligent glance. “Vandalism? Nick asked me to keep a lookout for anything like that.”
Nick seemed to have been sharing a bit too much. Still, how else would she know the cause?
“And what do you think?”
He shrugged. “It’s almost impossible to say. The cable was in bad shape, anyway, and there’s no obvious sign of tampering. But it could be done. Stick something under the cable where it’s attached to the wall and give a good yank, and you’d get the same effect.”