by Liz Johnson
She hiccupped, and biting her lip didn’t do much to stem the trembling there.
“Come on in.” Caden swung open the door and held out her arm toward the living room of her quaint bungalow. She guided Marie into a fluffy chair and plopped down on the couch across from her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Marie rubbed her hands over her face, and they came away sticky with tears and streaks of leftover mud. She must look a mess.
Caden seemed to understand. “Why don’t you go wash up, and I’ll find us a snack. Something sweet.”
Nodding, Marie headed down the hall. In the little bathroom, she refused to look into the mirror. She didn’t need a firsthand view of her red, puffy eyes or mud-streaked cheeks. She scooped cool water into her hand and splashed it over her face, drops running down her neck, trailing the places that Seth had once touched with such tenderness.
Did he really think everything she’d done was an act? Or that she was anything like Reece?
As she wiped away the water, she tried to do the same to the memories. But they weren’t so easily dispatched. His caress. His embrace. His kiss. They swarmed in on her, surrounding her lungs until breathing became a distant memory. Dark spots danced in the corners of her eyes, and she sank to the floor, praying to be delivered. From what, she wasn’t quite sure.
After what felt like an hour on the cold tile floor, a soft knock at the door was followed by Caden’s voice. “Are you all right? Can I get you something?”
Marie snatched at whatever breath she could find. “Yes. I’ll be right there.” With all the strength she could muster, she pulled herself up by the lip of the sink onto shaking legs. After a long minute, she managed a shaky breath and a tentative step. As she slipped back into the hall to the smell of chocolate and peanut butter, her stomach rolled.
The chair and couch seemed to fill the entire living room, but Caden had made a small dinner tray appear and set two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of brownies on the server.
She smiled up from her seat on the couch, hugging a pillow close to her chest. “Feeling better?”
“A little.”
Caden motioned to the heaping dessert plate. “These are my specialty. Peanut butter fudge brownies. Have one. And then tell me what happened.”
With rolling insides, Marie didn’t really want it, but she couldn’t refuse. She broke off a corner and put it in her mouth, the moist treat melting on her tongue and shooting sugar to her whole system.
“You should make these sometime for the Red Door. For an afternoon snack on the buffet.”
“All right. I will.” Hugging the pillow again, Caden leaned forward. “Tell me what happened today.”
The backs of her eyelids felt like sandpaper as she blinked, but she had to fight off the burning behind her eyes. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Then start at the beginning.”
Wise words. Painful memories. But she nodded.
She hadn’t told a soul about Derek except her therapist and her dad. And that hadn’t turned out as well as she’d hoped. But it was time to be honest. If she ever hoped to be free of it, she had to speak the truth. “I was in Boston on New Year’s Eve. I was working at my father’s real estate company and had been traveling for the job. But my dad was after me to be home for the holidays. He was hosting a big party, and he wanted me to be there. And you know how we are with our dads. Always angling for their approval.”
Caden nodded, her eyes never leaving Marie’s face as she sipped her tea.
“The company’s New Year’s Eve party was an exclusive event for their friends and clients at a swanky hotel. I was introduced around, and I saw a man that I had gone to high school with. Derek and I hadn’t exactly run in the same crowds, but it was good to see a familiar face. He and his dad were business associates, and my dad encouraged me to dance with Derek. We did. It was harmless.
“And then he invited me up to his room. I wanted to see the city lights from the penthouse, see the partiers in the streets, and watch the midnight fireworks. So I went.” She stared at her hands, swallowing the urge to change topics or gloss over the facts.
“But we didn’t look at the lights. He threw me on his bed, held me down, and took what he wanted.” Her throat ached and her stomach burned. She pressed her hands over her face, wishing she could hide from the truth of the memories. “He took everything.”
Tears streamed down Caden’s cheeks. “I am so sorry.” She seemed to know there was nothing else she could say. There weren’t words deep enough for one woman to say to another when she’d been broken like that.
But somehow it hurt a little less to know she wasn’t crying alone.
“It took me a week to tell my dad.” She hiccupped on a sob but pushed forward. “And he told me not to tell anyone. He said it wouldn’t do any good, and it would hurt me more to have to testify. I let him talk me into staying silent for almost two months before I overheard him on the phone with Derek’s dad. My father threatened to have me swear out a warrant against Derek if his dad didn’t sell some land.”
“So you left?”
“I couldn’t be a pawn in a deal like that. I couldn’t let him use what had happened to me for his profit.”
When Marie didn’t pick back up with the story, Caden filled in a few holes. “And that’s when you met Jack, who took you to the Red Door and gave you a home.”
“And a family. I didn’t even know I didn’t have one until I met them.” She took a deep breath, the last vestiges of the bonds around her lungs that had given her countless panic attacks falling away.
“So what happened today?”
“Today I offered Jack the money from my trust fund.”
“Your what?”
She picked up the lukewarm mug of tea, sipping it more for something to do than because she wanted to drink it. “My mother left me money when she passed away. Not enough to put me in with the Boston elite on my own, but more than enough to fix the kitchen and get the inn open on time.”
“What did Jack say?”
Marie shrugged. “It wasn’t what Jack said, it was what Seth did. He accused me of trying to worm my way in so that I could steal the inn. He said I was lying to them and had waited until they needed my money to offer it so I’d have the upper hand.”
“He what?” Caden’s quiet vehemence filled the room as she slammed her mug on the tray, warming Marie from the inside out. Family got indignant for each other.
She couldn’t help the half smile that worked its way across her face. “I don’t want to take the inn. I just want to see it open.”
“I know. And so would any man with half a brain.”
Seth’s words repeated in her mind, striking a blow with each replay. “He’s been hurt before, and he thinks I set out to do the same.”
Caden mumbled something behind her mug about men who don’t know how to treat a lady. It was true. And some women didn’t treat men well.
Seth had been hurt just enough to leave him too wounded to try again. Marie had been hurt too. One too many times.
It was better for everyone if she left. It would save both her and Seth from wondering if they could try again.
She’d face her dad, and then she’d find a new home.
Finding a new family, though . . . That would be more difficult.
“Aretha’s hinted that Jack’s been having money trouble for a while. She’d never tell us something he said in confidence, but she’s been worried about him. Why did you wait until now to offer him the money?”
“Because Derek’s dad is refusing to sell the land that my father wants. And my father’s name is on my bank account. Accessing that money meant revealing my location.”
Caden’s jaw dropped. “How long until he’s here?”
“Knowing my dad, I’d say tomorrow.”
For the first time in six weeks, Marie knocked on the red door. The morning sun had nearly crested, but the paint was cool and clean beneath her knuckles. Pride swelled within her. She’d
done a good job on this home.
And she’d done a good thing giving Jack the money.
Butterflies assaulted her stomach, diving and swooping as she waited for someone to answer the door. She couldn’t tell if they anticipated Seth’s greeting or her father’s imminent arrival. Either way, she’d be thankful when they were gone and she could move on.
The footfalls on the other side of the door didn’t belong to Seth, and she let out a quick sigh.
Jack’s face registered surprise and then a glowing smile. “Marie, girl. Come in. You don’t have to knock.”
She stepped inside and he closed the door behind her. “Thank you.”
His smile faded as he reached for her hands and squeezed them. “I’m so sorry about the other day. Seth shouldn’t have said any of those things. He feels awful. And he doesn’t really believe any of what he said.”
She looked down and to the side. “Yes, he does. But that’s all right. I didn’t come here looking for an apology.”
“He cares for you. I know he does.” The wrinkles around his mouth grew more pronounced as he frowned. “He’s scared.”
Bitterness rose in her throat like a wave of bile, but she pushed it down, refusing to cling to past memories. This day was about facing her present and figuring out her future. She couldn’t do that and be angry at what Seth had said.
“It could never work between us.”
“Why not? It’s not too late.”
“Because he can’t ever see past my lie. I’ll always be another Reece to him. Just someone else who lied to him.” The truth sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach, but she ignored the pain. She squeezed his hands, giving him a tremulous smile. “Now. Did you go to the bank? Did you get your check?”
The corners of his eyes angled down. “It’s too much. Fifty thousand. I can’t accept it.”
“It’s enough to get your doors open, and I have more left over.”
“Leaving the island?”
A memory from the first time she met Caden popped into her mind. “Caden warned me that the island gets under your skin so that you never want to leave. I don’t know where I’m going yet. But I hope not far. I can’t imagine never coming back here.”
“Don’t go. You could stay. You have a job here as long as you want it.”
“I appreciate that, but I just came back to pick up a few things I left in the basement. I’m staying with Caden for a few days.”
“Won’t leave before the grand opening party, will you?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. I’ll stay at least that long.”
Three sharp taps sounded on the door, followed immediately by the pathetic thunk of the doorbell. Her stomach dropped to her toes.
“Who could that be? Haven’t had so many visitors in months.”
He twisted the handle of the door and opened it to reveal a fit man in his fifties. A Burberry leather jacket matched his stylishly cut brown hair and blazing blue eyes.
Marie pinched her eyes closed, squared her shoulders, and asked for some sort of help from above. “Hello, Dad.”
22
Marie.” Elliot Carrington’s voice never changed, always cold, always businesslike.
“It didn’t take you long to get here.”
His gaze swept over Jack, his frown announcing that he’d clearly found something lacking in the other man’s mild manner and relaxed attire. “Are we going to talk on the porch, or is there somewhere private”—again he stared at Jack—“we can speak?”
“Can use the parlor if you like. We moved in the furniture last night. It’s just missing the finishing touches you already picked out.”
“Thank you.” Marie touched his arm, wishing for all she was worth that this man, with his wrinkled features and wide smile, had been her real dad.
Instead she walked into the parlor off the entryway. The antique burgundy love seat she’d found at Aretha’s sat along one wall. Adjacent to it was a gray wingback chair and matching ottoman. The end tables and hutches were all in place. What the room needed were those personal touches. The lamps and antique books she’d so carefully selected.
And, of course, guests to enjoy the space.
She sat in the chair, but immediately stood back up when her dad began to pace the room. He towered over her, nearly as tall as Seth, and she wasn’t going to give up any more height than she had to.
“I hope you’ve had fun. I’ve been worried to death about you.”
“Were you?” The tone of her voice matched his, so cold that it could have burst a few pipes on its own.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I was. You ran off without a note or any way to contact you. I called your cell and filled up the voice mail. You never returned my calls.”
“That’s because I dropped the phone in a trash can at the bus terminal in Bangor. But I’m sure you already knew that. You probably had it tracked within hours.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and stared at her tennis shoes. They weren’t the only piece of her clothing stained with paint and dirt. She was surprised he’d even recognized her without her designer labels.
“Of course I knew,” he snapped, pausing to glower at her. “I did everything I could to track you down, but instead I had almost two months of silence. Two months of worrying about you. If your mother were alive she’d be horrified.”
“Maybe. But she never would have let you try to use me to get a better deal with Derek Summerville.”
“I never!” His voice rose. “Where did you come up with such a ridiculous story? Is that why you ran away? Well, forget it. It’s a lie.”
“I didn’t run away. Twenty-eight-year-olds don’t run away. I left when I overheard you trying to use me to make your deal.”
His stony exterior cracked but went back up almost immediately. He resumed his marching, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but it was never cause for this. I’m not even trying to do a deal with Summerville.”
Had she misheard him? Was it possible that this was all a misunderstanding and she’d left Boston for no good reason?
No.
This was his ploy and his plan. Always, always, he made her doubt her decisions.
“Then what about the Times article?”
He snapped to attention, his eyes narrowed and turned hard as steel. “What article?”
“I read it.” The words felt like acid on her tongue. “It said you were still looking for an expert for your case against the historical significance of whatever’s on his property. That expert was me. You were looking for me. Because when I left, you couldn’t lord me over his head and force him to sell. And you couldn’t promise him that I wouldn’t press charges if you didn’t have me under your thumb.”
Her stomach ached, and she would have given the entire sum of her trust fund to have Seth standing by her side. Facing her father had seemed so much more manageable when she’d pictured Seth’s broad shoulders to lean on.
She hadn’t known it when she left Boston, but what she’d needed was more than an escape from her father. What she’d needed—what she’d been missing for most of her life—was family. All she’d wanted was family. Someone to love and someone who loved her.
The man standing on the other side of the room didn’t know how to love her. She wouldn’t let him talk her into thinking he did.
Elliot waved off her comment like it was a bad call in baseball. “Don’t be silly. Our company does hundreds of deals in a year. Anyone at the firm could be working with Summerville.”
“You were quoted in the article.”
Another dismissive wave and toss of his head. His perfectly styled hair didn’t budge. “It could have been about anything.”
“But it wasn’t.” She ran her hands down the front of her shirt.
At a stalemate, they stared at each other, neither willing to give up the high ground. He glowered at her, apparently expecting her to back down. Clearly she’d learned stubbornness from him. And he wasn’t ple
ased that she was using it against him now.
“What do you want, Dad? Why did you come here?”
With furrowed eyebrows he shook his head. “What do I want? I want my only daughter to come home. I want to have my family close.”
“We’re not a family.” Prickles along her scalp made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the following chills.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His roar, while not louder than normal, was lethal. “Of course we are a family.”
“Not since Mom died. And maybe not really before then.”
He spun around and walked to the door, his hand resting on the handle. “You’re coming with me. Don’t argue anymore. You sound like a child.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of fresh paint and antique furniture. “Maybe so, but I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not going back to Boston.”
“And I suppose you’re going to make this rinky-dink town your home? Is that it?” He spit the words out like they tasted bad. “You’re going to find a use for your Wharton MBA here?”
“Probably not.” It hurt to say the words more than she expected. Not that she couldn’t find a use for her degree, but that she wouldn’t be in North Rustico to look for one. “I’ll go where I need to. And I can do that now. I needed a safe place, and I found it here. Now I can face whatever I need to. But I’m not going back to Boston with you.”
He cursed low and long, finally yanking on the hem of his jacket and straightening the lapels. “Obviously we need some time to relax. You’ve been thinking something terrible for a long time, and it’s gotten to your head. I’ll take a room here for the night, and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“You can’t. The inn’s not open yet.”
“Fine. I’ll find another in town.”
“Don’t bother looking. There aren’t any other bed-and-breakfasts in North Rustico.”
His eyes flashed as his face turned red. “What kind of place is this?”
“It’s my kind of place.” A little smile worked its way across her lips, and she pressed her fingers over her mouth. This was her kind of town. With people like Jack and Aretha and Caden. Even Father Chuck and Caden’s slew of nieces and nephews. They were her kind of people. And that made this home.