by Judith Yates
“I need help with directions,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “The guy at the gas station got me all turned around.”
“That would be Edgar-his mind is all turned around.” The clerk took Jordan’s money. “Where you trying to get to?”
“Old Paget Road. Holly West’s place.”
“You looking for Holly? Heck of a lot easier to get her at the shop. It’s right across the common here.”
“I tried. It’s closed.”
“This early?” Rubbing the back of his neck, the man shrugged.
This nonanswer frustrated Jordan. But he wasn’t going to waste more time with more questions. He just wanted to check out Holly’s situation as he’d promised and then be on his way. Preferably by dinnertime.
To be on the safe side, Jordan jotted down the clerk’s directions. Taking the first right after the Arthur B. Paget Memorial Library, he drove, as directed, over the rickety Golden Creek bridge. Several miles later, he finally reached Old Paget Road. It was winding and narrow. Only the occasional rural mailbox signaled a residence. The homes were hidden by unruly woods full of maples, birches and pines.
Jordan spied the mailbox marked “West” just a few feet before the isolated road dead-ended at a small pond. He stopped the car for a moment, unable to fathom why Holly had chosen to live in the middle of nowhere. Then again, he didn’t know much about Holly anymore. He hadn’t seen her since that disastrous day at the church five years ago. He had wondered about her, though.
Because he’d been the messenger bearing the bad news back then, this meeting could prove awkward. Even his stomach was doing a nervous spin as he drove on. Not that Holly’s so-called driveway helped any. His car lurched and dipped slowly over the dirt path, while straggly branches from overgrown bushes and trees scraped against it. Jordan clenched his jaw as he steered the car around a blind bend.
“I should’ve known better,” he muttered. “This is the last favor I—What? Damn!”
A blur of pink and white dashed out right in front of him and he slammed the brakes. The car stopped with a screeching jolt. “Oh, God,” he gasped, his heart beating double-time.
Frantic, Jordan scrambled out of the car. He thought he’d stopped in time. He didn’t think he had hit her. Yet the little girl sat on her bottom at the edge of the driveway, the wheels of her fallen pink tricycle still spinning less than a foot away.
He rushed to the child’s side. “Kid, are you okay?”
The girl, more dazed than frightened, looked down at herself and nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes scoured her from head to toe. Besides a couple of raspberries on her knees, she appeared unhurt. Much to his everlasting relief. Jordan felt he could breathe free again.
“Dammit, honey, I almost ran over you.”
She stared up at him with a cool eye. “Ooh, you said a bad word.” No longer dazed, she got to her feet.
Jordan couldn’t help but grin. “Shouldn’t somebody be watching you? Where are your parents?”
The girl didn’t answer. Instead, she bit her lip and stared at the ground. Fear and guilt spread across her smudged face. She looked as if she’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
Or caught talking with a stranger, Jordan realized as the girl’s lip began to tremble. “Look, honey, I know you shouldn’t be talking to a stranger, but I’m not
Before he could finish, the child had run away in a swirl of dust. He called after her, but to no avail. Jordan felt bad about scaring her. Still, he was glad the kid had sense enough to fear strangers. Shaking his head, he moved the trike out of the way and returned to his car. This was turning into one hell of an endeavor, just one delay after another. Holly had better live at the end of this seemingly endless driveway. And she had better be home.
As his car snaked along the dirt road, he caught glimpses of a house through the trees. Finally, he reached a clearing of expansive green lawn surrounding what best could be called a large country cottage. He spotted the little girl just a few feet ahead of him. With one frightened glance over her shoulder, she ran furiously—as if the devil himself were after her.
“Wait, kid,” he called out his window. “I’m just here to see Holly West.”
“Gracie, Gracie,” the girl cried, stumbling up the front walkway to the wide-porched cottage.
A white-haired woman barreled out of the front screen door. “What is it, Stephanie? What’s happened?” she demanded, appearing as dour as a bulldog and as solidly built.
“That man—that man!”
The woman gazed past the girl and spotted Jordan in his car. Her gaze narrowed.
“Great, this is all I need.” Cursing under his breath, he climbed out of the car.
As he approached, the woman took a step back, drawing the girl behind her. “What exactly is going on here?”
“The kid misunderstood. I’m just looking for someone.”
She eyed him skeptically. “I’m sure we can’t help you.”
“Gracie.” The child tugged at her apron, but the woman shushed her.
“The guy at the general store gave me these directions,” Jordan replied, feeling fairly well fed up with Golden and everyone in it. “And the mailbox—”
“Gracie,” the child said again.
The woman paid no attention. “You’re the one who’s made a mistake,” she declared in a no-nonsense, clipped New England tone. “I wasn’t told to expect anybody today.”
“Gracie!”
The woman gasped in exasperation. “For heaven’s sake, what is it?”
“He wants Mommy.”
“No, I don’t,” Jordan snapped, his patience shot. “I don’t know her mother. This is all a big misunderstanding.”
“Well, then, who are you looking for?” Gracie asked.
“Holly West. I’m an old friend of hers.”
The woman’s suspicious glare deepened. “If that was true, you’d know Holly West is this child’s mother.”
Suddenly, his mouth was as dry as Holly’s dusty driveway. His eyes fell to the little pigtailed blonde clutching the woman’s leg. He studied the child from head to toe, the telltale brown-eyed gaze overwhelming him with a dizzying sense of déjà vu.
And, for only the second time in five years, Jordan Mason was stunned speechless.
The golden retriever rubbed happily against Holly’s leg as Dr. Gabe Sawyer handed her its leash. “Taffy’s shots are all in order for another year. Just make sure you keep up with the heartworm pills,” he advised. “Jess gave you a supply, didn’t she?”
“She did.” Holly smiled at the vet’s assistant sitting behind the clinic’s reception desk. “And thanks for keeping Taffy while I was at Harvey Kingston’s office. Sorry it took longer than expected.”
Gabe shot her a hopeful look. “Make any headway with him?”
“My dear landlord is still reluctant to remodel the building, and he absolutely refuses to enlarge the parking lot. Says it’ll upset the neighbors.”
“He has a point there, Holly.”
She couldn’t help wincing, although she suspected Gabe was right. As an elected town official, he had a good fix on what would fly with the residents of Golden. Holly sighed. “If I can’t expand, it’ll be the Randlestown Mall for me.”
“You’d really have to relocate the shop?”
“My franchise contract demands I meet all revised standards—including their increased square-footage requirement,” she explained as the clinic phone rang behind them. “The nearest available space is at the mall.”
Which was twenty miles from Golden and her daughter. She had invested in the franchise so she could live and work in the same community, and be within reach of Stephanie at all times. Her goal had been to make Golden her home in every possible way. With the success of her Bath and Body Essentials Boutique, Holly thought she had achieved it—until now.
“Holly, your baby-sitter’s on the line,” Jess announced from her desk. “Says it’s urgent.�
�
Tossing Gabe a worried glance, Holly took the phone receiver from the receptionist. “Gracie, is Stephanie all right?” she asked at once.
“She is now,” the older woman confirmed. “Some man followed her to the house, scared her half to death. I tried to get rid of him, but he claims he’s an old family friend from Boston. So I locked him out on the porch until I could call you.”
“What’s his name?”
“Mason.”
Shock clutched her heart. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Jordan Mason. Tall, dark, kinda good-looking,” Gracie said grudgingly. “His clothes look like they cost a pretty penny, too.”
It sounded like Jordan, all right. But what was he doing in Golden? “You’d better let him in, Gracie. Give him a cold drink, and I’ll be right there.”
Holly was flabbergasted by the news. She had had no contact with Jordan after those initial nightmare days following her ill-fated wedding. The rift between the two families had been painful and complete. Not even Scott’s death in a motorcycle accident two years later could bridge the wide chasm between the Masons and the Wests.
As Holly drove away from the center of town, apprehension tore at her. Why had Jordan come? Why now?
Within minutes, she pulled up next to the Mercedes parked in her driveway. It had Jordan Mason written all over it. His expensive tastes in cars, clothes, homes had always been testaments to the fantastic success of CompWare, the computer business his father had started more than two decades ago. She smiled. Oh, yes, Jordan had liked being rich. If the accounts she’d been reading in the Boston papers were accurate, he had just become a whole lot richer.
Holly unleashed Taffy, who scampered off into the yard. A fretful Gracie was waiting for her at the front door.
Holly peered into the living room. “Where is he?”
“I put him out in the backyard with a pitcher of lemonade. Then I sent Stephanie up to her room to play. I thought it safer that way.”
“Mr. Mason’s safe. I’ve known him all my life.”
“Maybe so. But I didn’t much care for the way he showed up here, scaring Steph and me like that-” Gracie shook her head. “It just wasn’t right.”
“He could have used better judgment, I agree.” Holly patted the older woman’s shoulder. “And I’ m glad you called me at Dr. Sawyer’s.”
“If you want me to, I’ll stay until he leaves.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve been here all day.”
“I am kind of tired. And I need to feed my cats.” Gracie gathered her belongings and donned the wide-brimmed straw hat she wore every May through September. “Oh, I finally got around to making the tuna noodle casserole Steph wanted. All you have to do is heat it up.”
After seeing Gracie off, Holly quickly checked on her daughter upstairs. She just needed to. As was becoming her habit, Stephanie had her nose buried in a picture book as she pretended to “read” the story she knew by heart. Then Holly stopped in the kitchen to collect an extra glass before joining Jordan in the backyard.
As she headed outdoors, Holly’s nerves began to fray. She felt off keel. Coming face-to-face with Jordan was much trickier than she would have thought. Funny how certain memories could be aroused in an instant, the emotions behind them springing back to life, as vivid as ever. It felt as if she’d been jilted at the altar just yesterday.
Holly spied Jordan sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs, seemingly mesmerized by the distant vista of Summer Pond. Unnoticed, she watched him. As always, his thick dark hair was brushed back and well-groomed. Although casual, his white polo shirt and tan slacks were pressed, crisp and impeccable. His profile was clean, strong, handsome. As always...
Holly had harbored a secret crush on Jordan until she’d turned fifteen. By then, his college sophistication—and the six-year age gap—had become too discouraging. Besides, he’d had a different girlfriend every week and partied all the time. He had never paid any attention to her.
She shook her head. What off-the-wall things to think about at a time like this. With a shrug, Holly took a deep breath and walked over to him. “Hello, Jordan.”
“Holly...hello,” he murmured.
He sounded hesitant as he got to his feet. Still, his dark-blue eyes gazed down at her, unwavering, direct.
“It’s been a long time.”
Finally face-to-face with him after all these years, Holly felt a tad off balance. She stepped back. “You’ve caused quite a stir here.”
“Apparently. Your housekeeper wouldn’t let me in the house—even after she called you.” A slight smile twitched his lips. “Don’t get many visitors, Hol?”
Now it was her turn to smile. “No one like you, Jordan. No one like you at all.”
He responded with a laugh that broke through the awkward tension between them. “Sorry about that. Next time I’ll call ahead and save us all trouble. This is not an easy town.”
“Golden? You can’t be serious.” Motioning him to sit, Holly pulled another chair up to the wooden table. “You just haven’t spent enough time in small towns,” she added, refilling his glass with more lemonade.
“Now I know why.” He sipped the lemonade, glancing about the yard and nodding back at the house. “I’ve got to say I’m impressed, Holly—with all this and with what I saw of your shop in town.”
“You sound surprised. Didn’t think I had it in me to make a life for myself?”
“Not so.” He shot her a wry smile. “I always figured you were tougher than anyone gave you credit for.”
“Thanks. I could’ve used that vote of confidence five years ago.” As soon as she said it, she bit her lip. She hadn’t planned on bringing up the subject.
Jordan’s expression changed. “I tried to speak with you after that—several times. You would never take my calls.”
“I know.” Holly stared down at her glass. “Everything was just so hard then. I was in no shape to talk to anyone.”
Truth was, Jordan had been the last person with whom she wanted to talk. An oh-so-independent take-charge guy like him—who had always known exactly where he was headed—would have been clueless. He couldn’t have understood how lost she felt after his brother had walked out, or how wounded she’d been when Scott had refused her calls months later.
“That was all a long time ago,” Jordan offered gently.
Holly gave a nervous laugh. “Doesn’t feel that way right now.”
When she looked up, she found his gaze on her. She’d never realized how deeply blue Jordan’s eyes were. Perhaps the intriguing crinkles and lines of the past years had intensified the color. Perhaps she had simply forgotten. Now, however, their smoky remoteness stirred her in an elusive, undefinable way.
Feeling her skin grow hot, Holly racked her brain for a snappy comment to break the almost intimate silence. But Jordan beat her to it with a wily smile she remembered from long ago. “You’ve certainly proven you can make it on your own.”
“I wasn’t aiming to prove anything.”
“Really?” His dark brow rose in doubt.
This skepticism was pure Jordan Mason. She remembered that, too. “Jordan, what are you doing here? You haven’t said.”
“I ran into your father last weekend—on a golf course at Hilton Head. Quite by accident. I had no idea he lived there now.”
“He retired there after my mother passed away last year.”
“So he told me.”
Holly eyed Jordan. “What else did he tell you?”
“Not enough, that’s for sure.” He leaned back into the wooden chair. “But he kept after me until I finally agreed to come out here and see how you’re doing.”
“You mean check up on me?”
“Ted’s very worried about you. And, frankly, I was surprised to hear he’s barely seen you since your mother died.”
“That’s his choice,” Holly said, trying not to sound defensive. “I’ve left the door open. He can come anytime.”
; “But you don’t go see him?”
She stiffened. After all this time, what was her father playing at by sending Jordan Mason around?
“Did he happen to mention why I don’t visit?”
“Your father didn’t mention a lot of things.” His voice rose. “Like the tiny fact that you have a five-year-old child.”
“Stephanie is only four.”
Again, skepticism glinted in his eyes. “He didn’t bother to let me know that you’ve been married, either.”
“Because I haven’t been.” She looked away.
“Then tell me, Holly, why would Ted beg me to come see you, yet not say a word about your daughter?”
“He must have his reasons.” Holly plunked her glass down and started out of the chair. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“No, Holly. Now that I’ve come this far, I’ll ask you.” Jordan clamped his hand over her arm, his vivid blue eyes pinning her back down. “Is it my brother? Is Scott Stephanie’s father?”
She stared back at Jordan, each breath barely escaping her tight throat.
“Well?”
Holly heard the back screen door slam. Yanking her arm from Jordan’s grasp, she turned toward the house. Oh, Steph. not now.
Yet, as she watched her daughter skip across the lawn, the most tender of loves welled up in her heart—as it always did. Since before Stephanie’s birth, this love, with its inherent fears and protectiveness, had influenced every choice Holly made. As Steph drew closer, small and sweet and laughing, Holly realized more was at stake than a secret. Right or wrong, this love overrode everything—even honesty.
“Mommy!” her gleeful daughter called, mere steps away from leaping onto her lap.
Quickly, Holly looked at Jordan. “Don’t fool yourself,” she said in an urgent whisper. “Scott’s not her father.”
Chapter Two
Jordan glared at Holly as the kid pounced on her lap. Fool himself? It was not something he tended to do. In this case, he flat-out didn’t believe her, and only the little girl’s presence kept him from saying so.