Four Weeks

by Melissa Ford

  Louise slowed to examine the red-roofed structure. Instead of the dread she experienced when she first laid eyes on Hawk's Riding Stable, the rooming house drew her. The narrow brick walkway beckoned and she pushed her way through the prim whitewashed gate, noting the budding shrubs and small trees that filled the surrounding yard.

  She followed the path as it curved around the building and climbed the wide steps to the back porch. A tiny painted sign nailed below a bell instructed her to ring for service. The pretty jingle pealed into the quiet.

  She turned from the closed door to admire the shoreline view. To her left she saw the piers where the ferryboats brought the hordes of tourists onto the island and further down she made out the smaller docks where people kept their private boats. The tall sailboats and low fishing boats clung to the docks. To her right the shoreline curved sharply around forming the bottom section of the steep craggy west side of the island.

  "Hello, Miss. Can I help you?"

  Louise turned to find a tall, gray-haired woman staring at her. The woman brushed away a few stray hairs as she studied Louise the way a small town citizen studies every newcomer, thoroughly and openly.

  The plain curiosity didn't bother her. After the treatment she'd gotten at the barn, she rather liked the fresh dose of honesty. Renewed with confidence, she offered her hand and introduced herself.

  A spark of surprise and something else flashed in the older woman's faded brown eyes.

  Uncertainty niggled at Louise. “I thought you might be expecting me.” She dropped one hand and lifted up the letter she held in the other. “Mr. Parker left me this note."

  "Yes, of course.” The woman paused, then went on more firmly, “I was expecting you."

  After another pause, a genuine smile appeared and brought her expression alive. “I'm Sally Lovell. I own this old place and I'm real happy to have you.” She pulled the door open wider, backed into the house and gestured for Louise to follow.

  The wooden screen door smacked behind them. Louise put down her duffel bag and scanned the huge parlor she'd entered. Inviting couches and tables stacked with magazines filled the room.

  "I'll get you a glass of lemonade."

  Louise opened her mouth to tell her hostess that wasn't necessary, but Mrs. Lovell had already scurried from the room. A huge floral rug silenced Louise's footsteps as she crossed the room to look out one of the wide picture windows offering a wonderful view of the waters surrounding the island. The wind had picked up and white caps striped the blue waters of Lake Huron. When she'd come across on the first ferry that morning the water had been smooth and calm.

  The waters were quickly changeable, just like Mr. Parker. The young, handsome, Mr. Parker. His easy going smile sure had disappeared fast enough after he'd figured out who she was. Had she embarrassed him or was it something else? Maybe he was disgusted his father hired someone so...

  Unprofessional. She winced. At least he wasn't the boss. After the way he'd looked her over, she doubted he'd say anything about her to his father. He wouldn't want to explain his own actions.

  But why the sudden personality change? More importantly, why did she care? She shouldn't, but something in the contemptuous way his gaze raked over her just before he'd dismissed her grated on her nerves. For all she knew, she'd never see him again.

  Oh, but she did want to see him again, if only to set the record straight that she was a hard-working career woman, and not some flake that walked around with her head in the clouds.

  Not that what he thought about her mattered.

  "Here we are."

  Mrs. Lovell strolled into the room carrying a tray. Her hair had been smoothed into place and her eyebrows had lost the tense, pulled together look.

  She laid the tray on a long table. “I've brought you a snack as well, dear. I have a feeling your day has been a long one already, even though it isn't even noon.” She seated herself in a low-backed rocker and pointed to the couch. “Sit down."

  Louise smiled despite the gentle command behind the words and tried not to drop herself onto the couch. “Thank you, Mrs. Lovell. I could use a snack."

  She picked up the tall glass of lemonade and took a long drink. It was delicious.

  "I make it with real lemons. I never got used to that powdered stuff.” Mrs. Lovell pushed the tray across the table. “Take some cookies, dear."

  Louise picked up a few round wafers dipped in chocolate. An easy silence settled between them while she ate and her hostess rocked in her chair. Louise cast a glance at her duffel bag. There didn't seem to be any hurry finding her a room, but Mrs. Lovell hadn't sent her away either. With a contented sigh, she eased into the couch and let herself relax.

  A short while had passed when she heard heavy footsteps falling across the porch. The jingle of the bell prompted Mrs. Lovell to rise. “Excuse me, dear."

  "No need to get up, Sally."

  Even before the screen smacked shut Louise knew whose voice was interrupting the only peace she'd had all day. Trent Parker.

  "Nonsense, Trent.” A note of affection warmed the older woman's voice. “I have to get another glass of lemonade.” With that she left the two of them alone.

  Not ready to take whatever he had to dish out, Louise straightened. She braced herself against the power his presence seemed to have over her. Judging by the way he sat squarely in the rocker Sally vacated, she was sure he hadn't come to Lovell's Rooming House to welcome her to the island.

  Chapter Two

  TRENT TOOK HIS time meeting Louise's gaze. He wanted to be in control, and he wanted to be sure she saw what he wanted her to see: A man who wasn't impressed with work credentials or a professional attitude.

  No doubt she had those attributes in abundance. They had to be the reason his father had hired her. Only the old man wasn't here and that Mr. Parker, the one who valued a strong work ethic above everything else including family, wasn't coming.

  Not today or any that followed it.

  Trent moved his gaze over the antique furnishings Sally took such pride in. He'd seen it before, that first day on the island when she'd had him over, but to make Louise wait, and to get his thoughts together, he pretended to study it anew.

  He told himself he didn't care much about his father's new hire. Who she was, where she'd come from, those things didn't concern him. The only thing that mattered to Trent was systematically eliminating each reminder of his recently deceased father, starting by getting rid of the ridiculous rundown shed he'd called a riding stable.

  The first step in this plan was to get rid of the tempting Miss Louise Hart. He'd been expecting the new manager to arrive later in the day and he'd been anticipating a wide-shouldered sturdy-looking farm girl, so her appearance had been a surprise in more ways than one. Her sweet round face, wavy blonde hair, and wide blue eyes had caught his interest, but that was before he knew who she was. He should've sent her on her way home right from the barn, but after her long appraisal, he hadn't felt like it.

  Deciding that she'd waited long enough, he turned to her. She raised her shoulders—maybe to keep from looking so small nestled among Sally's oversized cushions. It didn't work. The fat cushions still swallowed her up. She brushed a tiny crumb from her lip then laid her arms over her lap, yet she didn't turn away.

  Trent clenched his jaw.

  All the way over to Sally's he'd been certain he would tell her outright that the job she'd come for was no longer available. He hadn't planned on getting into the whole story about his father buying that money pit for no good reason then dying suddenly. But for some reason, things didn't seem so simple anymore. Not with her bright eyes watching his every move and bringing to life that interest she'd awakened in him at the barn. The heavy pulsing of his heart made it difficult to think clearly. Unfortunately, gazing at her made him feel more alive than he had in a long time.

  So what? That was just a typical male reaction to a pretty face. Nothing he had to pay heed to. He knew what kind of woman his father would've h
ired to run a business and he didn't want any part of that sort of person.

  Trent sighed. He had to come out with it.

  Unfortunately, she broke the silence first. “Did you come here for a reason? Other than to stare at me?"

  He couldn't deny that he'd been staring, so he didn't. “I came about the job."

  "Do you work closely with your father?"

  The question jabbed at him. He'd handled more than his share of business transactions, but none of them had been with his father. Mr. Parker never had any use for his only son, especially when his son handled business with a light hand instead of the smashing fist his father preferred. In response to her question he shook his head.

  She lifted her fine eyebrows. “In that case I don't see what we have to talk about."

  He couldn't help himself. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “You seemed interested in talking to me at the stable."

  The red flush that spread up her neck and stained her cheeks told him what he wanted to know. The attraction went both ways.

  She shifted her gaze away from him to the slice of water visible out the window.

  "You said you came about the job.” Her tone softened the slightest bit. “Please say what you came to, so I can get settled.” She peered at him and he saw in her eyes something he never would have expected, a touch of vulnerability. He watched her mouth when she spoke again. “I've had a long morning."

  She looked so young, huddled in the cushions and waiting for his response. Strange as it was, he didn't want to tell her she couldn't have the job she'd come for. But he had to.

  Why couldn't he get the words past his lips? What did he care if she had to take the next ferry back home? She probably had her pick of jobs. She couldn't need this one. He'd seen young, vulnerable-looking women before and they weren't usually what they seemed. For all he knew Miss Hart had the act perfected.

  Unable to keep himself from learning what he could about her, he hedged around a bit. “My father won't be coming to the island.” He watched her closely, ready to study her response, knowing her reaction would reveal her character.

  She took a moment to consider his statement. “At all?"

  "Old Mr. Parker definitely won't be coming. Not at all.” He heard the pain in his voice and hated himself for letting out the emotion.

  She shifted on the couch and tucked her slender legs underneath her. “Are you taking his place?"

  He covered his true feelings by lifting one shoulder nonchalantly. “Lucky me, I own the place now. So I guess I'm taking his place whether I want to or not."

  "So I report to you."

  "That's right."

  She pressed her lips together as if in thought. Her chin jerked up. “Is that what you came to tell me?"

  "No.” She wanted more, but he was selfishly enjoying this cat and mouse game too much. Maybe he was taking the resentment he carried for his father out on Louise. If so, did he care? He had a lot of experience ignoring things like conflicting emotions.

  "Well then, Mr. Parker what is it? Is there a problem?"

  Time to see what she's made of. “I'm planning on selling Hawk's to a developer. He says it's a nice corner, big enough for a few cozy shops."

  "Your father hired me to run the stable two weeks ago, right after he bought it. When I spoke with him—"

  "A week ago my father had a heart attack and died."

  The hostility in her gaze vanished and she seemed to take in all of him, as if she was trying to see his pain. But there was no pain to see, only frustration at having to deal with this whole stable mess.

  "I'm sorry, Trent. I had no idea."

  For a moment he forgot about their oppositional situation and thought only of how his name sounded different when it came from her lips, not harsh and cold the way it usually did coming from a stranger's. Reality came crashing back. That didn't matter. “Of course you didn't know. How could you?"

  She leaned forward. “Maybe you'd like to talk about the stable later? His passing must have happened so suddenly, I'm sure you're still...” She paused, leaving the sentence half-spoken. She smoothed her hands over her legs. “I'm sure you don't want to talk business right now."

  With one quick motion she rose to her feet. She meant to leave him alone, with his supposed grief, but he didn't want her to go. To keep her from leaving, he stood to block her way.

  The sweet scent of pear blossoms filled his nose when he took his next breath. She stepped back, but the couch kept her from getting very far. The closeness of her body made him smile. The reaction didn't make sense, but he didn't care. He simply wasn't finished with her yet, even if he didn't know why.

  She tilted her head, maybe to put some distance between them. Maybe to see him better. “What is it Mr. Parker? Are you playing some game with me?"

  "Of course not, Miss Hart.” Even he knew his reply was a lie. The spirited expression brightening her pleasingly rounded face intrigued him and he took pleasure in her intelligent gaze.

  "Excuse me.” She reached out and placed her right palm across his arm.

  She planned to push him aside, but her hand stayed a split second too long and he took the opportunity to cover her hand with his. His nerves, rubbed raw ever since his father's death, pulled tightly and made it impossible to think straight. The need to be with her pressed hard. “I do want to talk later. I'll pick you up for dinner at six.” Inspiration struck. “Dress. We'll go to The Majestic."

  He'd do this his way. First he'd have the pleasure of her company, then he'd tell her she didn't have a job. Before she had a chance to reply, he released her hand and stepped back. He passed through Sally's door using his quick exit to prevent her from refusing.

  * * * *

  LOUISE DROPPED ONTO the couch. When Sally bustled into the room at the exact moment the door slammed behind Trent, Louise had the distinct impression her hostess had overheard the entire conversation.

  Half-melted ice floated in the tall glass Sally held. “Did you two have a nice chat?” she asked.

  Instead of answering Sally's question, Louise asked one of her own. “Did you know Mr. Parker had died?"

  "Yes, I did.” She sighed and leaned against the wall. “That's why I called Trent after you arrived. I'm sorry if that seems underhanded, but honestly, I wasn't sure how to handle your arrangements. Seeing as the older Mr. Parker made them, and Trent doesn't want...” she let the words trail off and stepped back out of the room to put the unneeded glass of lemonade on the kitchen table. “Never mind that. I can see Trent means for you to stay, so let's get you settled shall we?"

  Louise balked at the phrase Trent means for you to stay, but the idea of getting settled sounded perfect. She desperately needed a few minutes to herself. In a heartbeat she was on her feet, across the floor, and reaching for her bag.

  "So ... did you and Trent have a nice talk?” Sally asked again as she led the way down a narrow hall.

  Louise decided to go ahead and answer the question. “He came to tell me something."

  "That his father passed on?"

  "No, I don't think that was it.” It couldn't be that he was selling the stable. He didn't really mean that, did he? The possibility was too awful to consider, so she wouldn't. “Anyway, we're meeting for dinner. I guess we'll talk business then."

  She followed Sally as they rounded a curving staircase. “I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time.” She noted the lack of surprise in the other woman's voice. “Did he mention where you'll be going?"

  Because her hostess already knew the answer, replying would be pointless, but not answering would be rude and she certainly didn't need any more enemies. “The Majestic."

  Sally stopped at the upper landing and turned. Her wide-eyed expression and surprised smile unnerved Louise.

  Okay, maybe she didn't eavesdrop after all. Something about the appraising look the older woman turned on her made her wonder what she'd gotten herself into.

  "You won't be talking business then, dear.” She lo
oked doubtfully at the overstuffed bag dangling from Louise's shoulder. “Wear the best thing you brought. Everyone dresses for dinner at The Majestic."

  Louise concentrated on not looking as anxious as she felt. “I'll do that."

  Sally nodded in approval and moved across the upstairs landing. Lightly colored floral wallpaper surrounded them as they stepped down the hall. The smell of fresh wax from the polished wood floors lingered in the air.

  Obviously her hostess was one of those ladies who always thought she knew what was happening with people before they did. But this time she was wrong because apparently the older woman was reading something into her business dinner with Trent that was not there.

  "Here you are.” Sally stopped and pushed open a door. Louise followed her into a small, tidy room. The roll of the waves called to her through an open window and the scent of fresh air eased her nerves.

  "I'll give you some time to yourself. Please don't hesitate to let me know what I can do to make your stay more comfortable.” With that, Mrs. Lovell left Louise to do the only thing she wanted to do now—throw herself onto the bed and stare out the window.

  The view offered her no answers, but it couldn't possibly produce any more questions.

  * * * *

  TRENT MARCHED THROUGH the aisle for the hundredth time and asked himself the same thing he'd been considering ever since he stepped foot on the island a few days ago. Why had his father, a hard charging and competitive businessman, bought an old, rundown stable on a secluded tourist island?

  Mr. Parker had never owned a small business. His father wasn't one to slow down, so retirement was out of the question. He'd worked ten-hour days right up until his last and Trent had no doubt that his father had wanted it that way.

  Some flies buzzed over Trent's head. He waved them away and resumed his pacing. He knew next to nothing about horses, but from what he could tell the horses were well cared for. He was thankful for that.

  The barn was another story. Boards nailed at odd angles barely kept the other half-rotten boards from falling down. The roof leaked. The floor sagged. Maybe if he got some skilled carpenters in he could...