“She’s been the office manager at the store for about two years now. She’s efficient, organized—”
“Married?” Autumn hated her own lack of tact, but she couldn’t stop the question.
“No,” he answered evenly, “she’s a widow.”
“Oh.” A dozen different reactions swirled through her mind, puzzling, unsettling reactions that culminated in another tactless question. “Is she the special woman in your life, Cade?” Autumn waited for his answer, her heartbeat a dull vibration in her chest, her gaze never leaving his unrevealing profile. She waited, afraid she would see that secret smile again.
An osprey called loudly as it skimmed across the cove, piercing the stillness with its brusque cry. Unwillingly Autumn turned to watch its flight, wishing that Cade had answered her, knowing that by his silence, he had. The osprey winged from sight and Autumn thought that auld lang syne sailed with it.
With determination and a ready smile she looked at Cade. “I suppose I should get back to the house. Lorna and the kids were gone when I arrived, but they should be back by now. It’s been so long since I saw my niece and nephew and my sister-in-law, too, for that matter, I’m really anxious to”—she lost the train of her vacant thoughts and paused—”to see them.”
Cade shifted to face her, his expression a study of friendly interest. “Lorna has always said she and Ross hoped you’d come back and live with them some day, but I don’t believe either of them thought it would ever happen. I’m not sure I believe it now.”
Autumn wasn’t sure she believed it either. This half-sad welcome certainly was not the homecoming she’d imagined. “Would it seem more real if I challenged you to a race?”
“I’m afraid to accept,” he said with a grin. “You may have been training all these years just so you can beat me to the float by a dozen strokes or more.”
“You’d win, Cade, just like always.” With a wry shrug she moved away from the boat house. “Don’t you know that heroes never lose?” She began walking toward the main path, expecting him to fall into step beside her. When he didn’t, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. He looked as if he had no intention of walking anywhere with her.
She pushed a reluctant laugh from her throat. “That was a setup, Cade. Didn’t you recognize my subtle effort to lull you into a sense of security? The next time I race you to the float, I fully intend to win.”
After what seemed a very long moment he winked at her. A wink that made her feel better and worse—better, because of its reassuring memories, worse, because it made her feel childishly young. She watched him lift a hand in good-bye before he moved to the boat and stepped aboard.
Following the path from the dock to the boxhedge that marked the official boundary of O’Connor-Tremayne property, Autumn slipped through an opening in the shrub. She had always considered the hedge a prickly nuisance that begrudged her entrance to the other side of the fence, but today it seemed appropriate. Something had definitely pricked her high spirits and, with a frown, she admitted that Cade, and only Cade, was responsible.
Ross had been glad to see her, eager to make her at home in the house that legally belonged to them both. Lorna would be pleased too. Autumn didn’t doubt the sincerity of their welcome or her place in their family circle. It was Cade’s lack of enthusiasm for her return, his whole puzzling attitude, that bothered her, left her feeling like an outsider.
The leather strap of her sandal tugged irritably at her heel and she reached down to strip the shoes from her feet. She would snag her nylons, of course, but it didn’t seem important. Dangling the sandals from her fingertips, Autumn remembered running barefoot across the lawn and wished that she hadn’t outgrown that carefree innocence. If she were still the child of yesterday, she would have been able to coax Cade into a real welcome, no matter what sort of mood he was in.
From almost the first moment of meeting him she had tagged his footsteps like a faithful puppy, incessantly chattering to him. Heaven alone knew why he’d put up with her then, or later, when she’d been so adolescently awkward. Perhaps he had thought of her as a pesky little sister, although she’d never considered him as an older brother. He had bullied her at times, encouraged her at others. He had teased her, flattered her, and often ignored her, but she’d always known she could depend on him. The friendship between them was something she’d never thought to question. She had simply accepted it as her right. Cade loved her and, with childish faith, she’d believed he always would.
White clouds scooted aimlessly in the late August sky. Autumn watched them, her thoughts drifting in the same disorderly pattern. You might as well face it, she told herself finally. Things aren’t the same anymore. Cade is different. You’re different. Nothing stays the same, you know that.
Of course she knew, but in her secret heart Autumn hadn’t thought it possible that his feelings for her could change. Always his friendship had been there to support her. He had been her confidant, her trusted advisor, the only one she had ever been able to really talk to—until now.
She had been starry-eyed when she’d left, determined to discover the end of the rainbow. She’d been too naively young to know that what she longed for was something she already possessed. It had taken a long time for her to realize that home was the best place to be. Had she selfishly expected everything and everyone she loved to remain the same? Frozen in time until she chose to return and appreciate what she’d once scorned?
She breathed deeply of the fragrant air. The sweet scent of home surrounded her, the smell of salt water and trees and fresh air. It was Cade’s scent, reminiscent of his smile. In her mind’s eye she saw him as he’d looked today, standing on the new sailboat, his body lean, muscular, and glistening wet in the sunlight.
Today, for the first time, she’d seen him as more than a friend. And today she’d heard him speak another woman’s name in a quiet, special way. A totally useless teardrop fell down her cheek and punctuated her melancholy sigh. “Welcome home, Autumn,” she said aloud to no one in particular.
* * * *
Cade sat back on his heels and frowned heavily at the sailboat’s forward deck. It gleamed with the furious and largely unnecessary polishing he’d just given it. He had rubbed it as if, by some miracle, he could also rub the image of Autumn Tremayne from his thoughts.
He had told himself dozens of times that she would never come back to stay. He’d promised himself a thousand times that even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. But when he’d seen her, heard the husky voice he remembered so well, he had known it still mattered.
It still mattered.
Cade pushed the rag over the deck once again and stared blindly at his hand, but he kept seeing her coppery-bronze hair, glinting gold in the sun, and her brown eyes that danced with her enthusiasm for life. Autumn.
He’d missed her. Until today he hadn’t let himself acknowledge it. When she’d left home he decided he’d wasted enough time waiting for her to grow up and into love with him. If it had been meant to happen, she would have stopped thinking of him as an older brother long ago. She wouldn’t have needed to leave home; she would have realized that she belonged with him.
Cade had never completely understood his feelings for Autumn. At first, she’d been simply a precocious child who, for some inexplicable reason, could coerce him into laughter when he least intended to laugh. With all the fierce devotion at her command she had loved him, looked up to him, believed he could do anything from bandaging a scraped knee to sailing to the farthest star.
He didn’t know when he’d first realized that her role in his life was changing. But somewhere along the way to becoming a beautiful, bewitching woman, Autumn had captured his heart and he’d waited patiently, foolishly, for her to give her heart to him in return.
He had never told her. At first she’d been too young, then as the age difference diminished in importance, he’d thought she wasn’t ready to accept more than his friendship. So he’d waited. He’d been the companion she wante
d, the hero of all her daydreams, and he’d asked nothing in return. Like a fool he’d loved her and he’d thought she would know it when the time was right. But that time had never come.
And now. Now that he’d finally convinced himself that there was no point, no future in loving her, she was back. He wondered what had precipitated the move. Autumn had always been impulsive, but he couldn’t quite believe this homecoming was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Something must have happened and the most likely “something” was a man.
Cade hated that idea, hated the very thought of Autumn in another man’s arms, but he couldn’t discount it as sheer speculation. She was more lovely than he’d ever imagined she would be, and she had the look of a woman who’d known love and lost it. And when he’d kissed her, with considerable self-restraint, he had recognized her trembling response, that tentative seeking of reassurance.
Flinging aside the rag, he stood and balanced himself against the sway of the sailboat. Damn you, Autumn, he thought. I can’t nurse you through a broken heart. I don’t want to be your hero anymore. I don’t even want you here.
His lips formed a tight line as he battled the impulse to shout his thoughts to the wind. Maybe if she heard, she would leave him to the peaceful, contented pattern of his life. Maybe he would forget her. Maybe in time he could love Marilynda.
Is she the special woman in your life? The memory of Autumn’s question was a soft hurt inside him. He’d let her believe it was true, let her walk away thinking that someone else had become more important to him than she. Why had he done that?
Hell, he wanted it to be true. He wanted a family; he needed a woman who could give him something in return, a woman who saw him as a man and not as the heroic answer to her every need.
He couldn’t blame Autumn for her attitude toward him. He’d spoiled her, taught her to depend on him, but he’d always expected that one day she would grow up. Maybe if he could go back, he would do things differently. He had loved her, he thought with a derisive frown, not wisely, but too well. If only she’d stayed away another year, maybe he could have welcomed her home with no lingering traces of regret.
But no matter. Autumn was back, but he wouldn’t let it make any difference.
“Welcome home, Sprite,” he said aloud before he forced his whole attention back to the boat.
Chapter Two
Plump cherries bubbled a deep, delectable red beneath the criss-cross pie crust. Autumn eased the oven door shut, wiped her palms on the seat of her jeans, and glanced at the kitchen sink. Dishes, rolling pin, pans, and measuring cups cluttered the view, but for some incomprehensible reason, she felt like humming.
Once she would have cringed at the sight and begun immediately to convince her mother that it was really Ross’s turn to clean up. Not that that tactic had always proved successful, but it had worked often enough to warrant a try.
Autumn pushed the sleeves of her blouse higher up her arms and advanced on the sink. Even if Ross were home today, she wouldn’t have allowed him anywhere near those dishes. It had been a long time since she’d had either the time or the inclination to run a sink full of hot, soapy water and wash dishes by hand.
She had been spoiled by the Colburns’ brand of luxury, she freely admitted that. But from the moment she met Lucinda Colburn and her son, Richard, Autumn had been swept into their lives and lifestyle like a leaf caught in a strong breeze. It had been another world for her. A world in which someone else was paid to do the dishes and the cooking and the cleaning and every other household chore. Of course, she, too, had been paid by the Colburns, but her position had placed her on a higher echelon and kept her thoughts from going anywhere near the kitchen.
Absently turning on the faucet, she remembered how easily she had adjusted. Too easily, perhaps. Already those years seemed unreal to her. This, the home of her childhood, was real. Autumn pursed her lips in a wry smile. The dishes were certainly real and adjustment to the “real” world was as simple as running water into the sink. At the moment, though, she couldn’t think of another thing she’d rather do. It had been too long since she’d felt so domestic, so contented, and so “at home.”
Ross and Lorna had felt guilty about going away for the weekend and nothing Autumn had said could persuade them that she honestly didn’t mind. She’d even insisted that they leave Beth and Brian at home with her, stating with perfect truth that she hardly knew her niece and nephew and this was a golden opportunity to remedy that.
As she turned off the water and reached for a dishrag, Autumn hoped that her brother and sister-in-law were enjoying their trip to Baltimore as much as she was enjoying being in charge of the house. She had found pleasure in the most simple tasks—making beds, cooking, washing dishes. Not that she thought the pleasure wouldn’t fade with repetition; she was certain it would. But for the moment it was satisfying to know that she hadn’t forgotten the basic how-to of homemaking.
Beth’s blond ponytail bobbed happily as she skipped through the doorway. Her nose wrinkled in an exaggerated effort to inhale the aroma of cherry pie. “Is it ready yet?”
“Not until the buzzer sounds,” Autumn answered. “Would you like to help wash dishes?”
Beth came closer to eye the sudsy sink. “You’re supposed to rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher,” she informed with six-year-old wisdom. “Didn’t you know that, Aunt Autumn?”
“I guess I forgot, but this is more fun anyway.” Autumn pulled a chair from the table and scooted it to the counter. “Here, now you can help.”
Without a moment’s hesitation Beth scrambled onto the chair and stuck her fingers into the mound of suds. She looked so blissfully disbelieving that Autumn couldn’t resist a smile. “Where’s your brother?” she asked.
Blue eyes took on a glimmer of self-protection. “He’s watching cartoons. Don’t call him in here, Aunt Autumn. He’ll just make a mess.”
With a nod of understanding, Autumn determinedly kept her gaze from the suds that were even now dripping down the front of the cabinet. After all she, too, knew what it meant to be an older sister, and Brian was probably happier watching cartoons anyway.
When the telephone rang Beth jumped from the chair like a coiled spring, splattering soapy water across the floor as she ran to answer it. The phone jangled again and the oven timer buzzed loudly just as Cade, followed by an incessantly talkative Brian, walked into the kitchen.
Autumn glanced from the oven to the phone to her niece to her nephew to Cade, lingered just long enough to see him lift his shoulder in a don’t-look-at-me-I-just-got-here shrug, before she stepped forward and clicked off the timer. Grabbing a pot-holder, she opened the oven door and slid the pie out. With a tiny smile of triumph she placed it on the counter and turned, thinking that at the very least, she would receive a round of applause.
There wasn’t even a single handclap. Only the high-pitched voices of Beth, talking into the phone, and of Brian, talking to anyone who might be listening. Cade’s blue eyes made a casual sweep of the confusion before settling on Autumn with ill-concealed amusement. “Busy day at the Betty Crocker kitchen?” he asked.
She returned his amusement with a pointedly sweet smile. “No one likes a smart aleck,” she said. “And don’t try to deny that you came over only because you thought I’d be wandering aimlessly from room to room, not knowing where to begin.”
“This looks like a good place to start,” he said.
“Be my guest.” Autumn tossed a dishrag in his direction and watched him catch it with one hand. Had he always been so agile? Her gaze wandered along the muscled curve of his arm to the white knit pullover to the crisp fit of new jeans to the leather ties of his Topsider shoes and back to the laughter in his eyes. The breath in her lungs became painfully tight and she released it softly. Had he always been so attractive?
“You have a warped sense of hospitality, Miss Tremayne.” He tossed the rag into the sink before he slipped the watch from his wrist and handed it to Autumn. “Whatever happ
ened to ‘Hello, Cade. How nice to see you. Can I get you something to drink?’“
Autumn smiled as she accepted his watch and laid it safely on the table. “Hello, Cade. How nice to—”
“Aunt Autumn,” Beth interrupted with magnified impatience. “It’s for you.”
Reluctantly Autumn turned from Cade to the telephone receiver that dangled in Beth’s hand. As she reached for it, Beth whispered clearly, “It’s a man.”
Feeling suddenly and unaccountably guilty, Autumn put the receiver to her ear and turned her back to Cade, as if she had something to feel guilty about. “Hello,” she murmured hoarsely, then she made herself turn again and face the reason for her discomfort. Cade seemed oblivious, though, his total attention on Beth, Brian, and the dishes.
“Hello,” Autumn repeated, more loudly than she’d intended.
“Ah! Sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you.”
With a helpless sigh, Autumn smiled. “Please, Richard, don’t sing.” Cade looked up at that, she noticed, and she silently willed him not to listen.
“I can’t sing,” Richard said cheerfully. “Without you my heart is broken into a thousand fragments.” He paused to give a dramatic sigh. “But the parade marches on, you know. How are things back at the marina?”
“I don’t know.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. That was one of the things she did feel guilty about. “I haven’t been to the marina.”
“Been spending your days outfitting the local yachtsmen at the store, have you?”
She could feel Cade listening as if he could hear everything Richard was saying, as if he, too, was wondering why she hadn’t made even a brief appearance at the store. “No, I haven’t been to the store—yet.” She tacked on the last word purposefully and watched Cade’s brow rise.
Richard murmured a hum of speculation. “All right, I give. Where have you been?”
Ever a Song Page 2