“I’ll do it. Where’s her food?”
Dune came scampering when she heard the can opener. Cam fed her, and when she was finished, took her out the front door. Ellie searched for the cheese slicer and had just started to butter the bread when she heard the front door open and close a few minutes later. She prepared the sandwiches for the frying pan, but Cam hadn’t appeared back in the kitchen. She went into the living room to see what was what.
“Are you ready for me to start cooking the …” She paused in the doorway.
Cam was seated on the floor near the bookcase, returning the stacks of books to the shelves.
“You know, you always hear people talk about being instantly attracted to someone, but you don’t understand until it happens to you,” Cam said without looking up. “The first time I saw you, I got a jolt.”
His lips formed a half smile. “A first for me, by the way. And that was before I knew you’d bought this house.”
“What? Where was that?” She tried to remember if she’d seen him before he showed up in her backyard. She’d have remembered, if she had.
“You were coming out of the Crab Claw with a take-out bag when Jesse and I were waiting for a parking spot. You just sort of floated along that sidewalk. I liked the way you looked. I liked the way you moved.”
She sat behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “Tell me more.”
Her hair fell over her shoulders and he reached back to toy with a strand of it.
“I’d gone to Jesse’s office in a huff because I’d found out this house had been sold and I was pissed off because I’d waited so long to buy it and here it had been snatched out from under my nose. He told me how you’d bought the place from Lynley’s estate and that it had all been arranged through her lawyers in New York. After I calmed down, we went to lunch. Jesse saw me eyeing you while you walked by and told me who you were.”
Her hands played with the top button on his shirt because she needed to touch him. The flannel was soft and faded, a total turn-on.
“Well, I have a confession to make, too.” She moved closer and pressed her body against his. “I admit that the first time I saw you here, that first time you stopped over, I got a bit of a jolt myself.”
She smiled. “Actually, I think you were wearing this shirt.”
“You remember what I was wearing?”
Ellie nodded.
“That’s nice.” He turned her around and drew her into his arms.
“You weren’t happy I was here. I could tell that right away.” Her heart began to beat a little faster.
“I was happy you were here. I just wasn’t happy that you were in my house.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “But I was happy you were here. And you were even prettier close up.”
She edged closer, wanting nothing more at that moment than to feel his mouth on her, his hands on her skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips drawn to his and demanding that he kiss her with the same fervor. She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her palms on his chest, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Ellie …”
“Shut up, Cam.”
“Okay.”
He leaned back against the bookcase, knocking over the stack of books that had yet to be put away, and pulled her onto his lap. His thighs were rock hard beneath hers and his chest solid under her hands, and when she kissed him, she felt as if her lips were on fire. His tongue teased the inside of her mouth and she felt her body move against his as if it had a mind of its own, tension building inside her like the springs of an overwound clock. When his hands slid under her shirt, she eased back to give him access to her breasts, aching for his touch. Mouths and tongues still entwined, she reached back to unhook her bra, a moan from deep inside escaping when his hands found her skin. She sat back farther as his hands skimmed over her from her throat to her waist. His mouth moved to her neck, long slow kisses that fanned the fire that was growing out of control within her. Her clothes were suddenly too tight, too hot, too much in the way, and when he moved her onto her back, she pulled her sweatpants over her hips.
“Let me.…” he whispered, and she felt the smooth fabric glide over her hips and her thighs.
She pushed his shirt off over his shoulders and tugged on the waist of his jeans. She pulled her sweatshirt off over her head and tossed it … somewhere. Then he was covering her with his body, and when she opened to him, she felt him in every cell. He slid into her and she arched her back and barely heard the “ohhhh” that escaped her lips. Cam moved inside her slowly at first, his hips in concert with hers, the rhythm fogging her mind. He buried his face in her throat for a long moment, then moved his mouth to her breast, and she shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Want to move to the sofa?” Cam asked, his breath still ragged.
“No. I want to move upstairs to my room. Third door on the left …”
The house was quiet—too quiet—when Ellie opened her eyes. The sun was already up and peeking through the curtains, the open shade spilling light across the floor and onto the bed. She rolled over and put out a hand to touch Cameron … and found only empty space. She sat up and looked around the room. His clothes were gone, and so apparently was he.
He must have gotten up and left at some point, though she had a vague sense of him having been there earlier. Had he found that sleeping with her after having emptied his soul to her had overwhelmed him? Had he regretted the telling or the long night of sex or both? Still, she wouldn’t have picked him for the kind of guy who crept out in the middle of the night, and was disappointed to find that he had.
Reluctantly, Ellie got out of bed and went into the bathroom, where she showered, then towel-dried her hair. She started to get dressed, then stopped, tilting her head to one side, and sniffed the air much like Dune might have done.
She stepped into the hall and sniffed again. She smelled … bacon?
She finished dressing and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Cam stood in front of the stove, Dune at his feet, her tail wagging like crazy.
“Coffee’s ready,” he said without turning around. “I love these old percolating coffeepots, don’t you? Was this one here when you moved in?”
“I found it in the cabinet.”
“I remember Lilly making coffee for Mr. C. every morning and every evening after dinner. Lilly never drank it, she was strictly orange pekoe. Never had any use for herb teas, though. Said they tasted like boiled grass.”
Ellie stood for a moment, watching him, the flannel shirt unbuttoned, the mussed hair, and felt a wave of something inside her surge. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed the back of his neck.
He half turned and she could see the smile on his face. “Plant one here,” he said, and she did.
“Now make yourself useful and crack a few eggs,” he told her.
“Where’d the bacon come from?” She took a bowl from the cupboard and a fork from the drawer.
“I woke up early and hungry, remembered we never did get dinner last night. So I took Dune out for a walk, and then the two of us drove to the market and picked up a few things.” He turned the bacon over, then reached for his coffee.
“How do you like your eggs?” she asked.
“Scrambled, if you do.”
“I do.” She scrambled the eggs and looked through the cupboard for the small cast-iron frying pan. When she set it on the stove, Cam said, “I remember that pan, too.”
“You have a lot of memories here,” she observed.
“Good ones,” he assured her.
Now was the time to tell him, she decided. All she had to do was open her mouth and let it come out naturally. He’d trusted her with his secrets. She could trust him with hers.
She just hoped it wouldn’t sound as if she thought it was tit for tat. He showed me his, I should show him mine.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Cameron wouldn’t go running out the front door, horrified at her lineage.
But would he have told
her everything he had about himself if he’d known that she was Lynley’s daughter, that she was no lucky buyer of this house, but that it had been her inheritance? Would he be embarrassed at having poured his heart out to her only to find that she was related to the woman who’d saved his life?
Ellie watched butter sizzle in the bottom of the black pan, wondering how Cameron would take the news.
“Hey, unless you’re trying to brown the butter, you might want to turn the flame down.”
“Oh, crap.” She lowered the heat and poured the eggs in.
Over breakfast, she’d tell him. She’d say, Cam, I haven’t been completely honest with you.…
“Ellie.”
“What?”
“Your phone’s ringing.”
“Oh.” She found the phone where she’d left it the night before, on the kitchen table. “Hello?”
“Ellie, it’s Jesse Enright. Sorry to call so early …”
She glanced at the clock. It was almost eight.
“What’s up, Jesse?”
“You need to come down to my office. There’s something we need to talk about.”
“This morning?”
“The sooner the better.” Jesse’s voice was tense and hurried.
“Is something wrong?” Was the account out of money? Had the feds found a way to take what had belonged to Lynley in their zeal to punish her father?
Had her father found a way to get out of prison?
“I think it’s best if we discussed this in person.” Jesse cleared his throat. “I’m on my way into my office right now. I can meet you there.”
“All right.”
Ellie held the phone in her hand, her heart pounding like thunder.
“Something wrong?” Cameron asked.
“I don’t know. Jesse wants me to come into his office as soon as I can get there but he wouldn’t tell me why.”
“No clue?”
She shook her head. “None.”
She started out of the room and Cam grabbed her by the hand.
“No point in running out.” He steered her in the direction of the table. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Sit down and eat.”
While she was on the phone, he’d finished scrambling the eggs and divided them between two plates. He brought both coffee mugs to the table along with the bacon and a few slices of toast. He took the seat next to hers and handed her the plate of bacon.
“Thanks.” Her nerves were on edge and anxiety seeped through her. Jesse had sounded very somber, very disturbed. What the hell could it be?
“… and it’s a good thing she texted me early, because I forgot all about it. Can’t imagine what had distracted me, can you?”
“What were you saying about texting?” She frowned. “I’m sorry. My train of thought …”
“It’s going to be fine, whatever it is.” Cameron covered her hand with his.
She nodded and tried to smile. “What about a text?”
“Wendy. Wanted to know what time I’d get to her apartment. She’s moving today and I told her I’d help her.” He glanced at his watch.
“What time was she expecting you?”
“About a half hour ago.”
“Where is she?”
“Baltimore. She’s been living in a studio for the past four years but has finally decided to go for a little more space. Frankly, I don’t see how anyone could live in one of those tiny one-room places, but different strokes, I guess.”
Dune begged for bacon and Cam broke off a small piece for her. Ellie wanted to tell him she didn’t like feeding the dog from the table but the thought was lost inside her head and got mixed up with the resolve she’d made to tell him who she was and the fear that had risen inside her.
“What’s the worst thing it could be, Ellie?” Cameron pushed his plate aside and put an arm around her.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” She put down her fork, her appetite having been banished by the dread that had settled inside her.
“Look, whatever it is …” He seemed to search for words. “Understand that I’m here for you, whatever. Just … whatever.”
“Thank you.” Her hands shook slightly when she picked up her mug but she forced a smile. “Do you need to get going to Baltimore?”
“I do, but I—”
“I’m fine. Really. I’m just overreacting. I’m sure it’s nothing as bad as what I think.” She pushed back her chair and studied his face, and realized he was studying hers.
“Want me to stick around in case … I don’t know, in case—”
“No, no. Go help your sister.” Ellie leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you, though.”
“I’ll call you later.”
Ellie nodded.
“And you’ll tell me it was something ridiculously silly like the town’s building inspector forgot to file a U and O or forgot to get a termite inspection.” He held her face in his hands for a long moment, then kissed her.
“Could that happen?” she asked.
“All kinds of things can happen when a house is sold,” he assured her.
Ellie clung to that thought all the way to Old St. Mary’s Church Road.
Diary
Well, another Thanksgiving Day has come and gone and we’ve all survived it. Seems that every year we’re serving more and more folks at the inn, and that’s a good thing, of course, though so exhausting at my age to greet everyone and act the hostess. Yes, I know, it’s hard to believe but I’m no spring chicken anymore! Ha!
I joke, but the truth is that my advancing age is no laughing matter. By the time we were just getting into our evening seating for dinner, I was done. Fried, as my granddaughter would say—and she did. Thank God for Lucy. She sent me up to my room—I want to go on the record as having protested, but I admit it was merely to save face—and she took over for me. I had a lovely nap that lasted until six this morning. What can I say? I’m old and I was tired!
Before I pooped out, I had a chat with Ellie Chapman—that is, Ellie Ryder, as she prefers these days—and I’m afraid I may have said too much. But for heaven’s sake, no one ever told that girl what had gone on in her mother’s life and she was entitled to know. Why Lynley had never told her about Evelyn’s depression and the eventual suicide of both Evelyn and Peter, well, I can only speculate on that. All right, speculation combined with what I glean from Lilly from time to time. I must say that Lilly isn’t always forthcoming when it comes to sharing but she does occasionally permit me some insight through the portal, so to speak. It’s difficult for me to present as fact what I learn from Lilly via my Ouija board and the things that come to me in my dreams. So for me to tell Ellie that I know that Lynley hid the full story of her parents’ tragedy because she’d had so much conflict over the whole thing, well, surely she’d wonder how I knew. But here’s the truth of it: Lynley had been devastated by the loss of her sisters, but no one seemed to acknowledge her loss. Evelyn, that silly, self-absorbed woman, was only mindful of her pain, and none of the pain of others. She wallowed in her grief to the exclusion of everything else, including her living daughter. While Peter sending Lynley to live with Lilly and Ted may have broken Lynley’s heart at first, in the end, it was the best thing that could have happened, because they allowed her to grieve. They made her the center of their lives, and in doing so, helped her to heal from the trauma of losing her siblings. I speak from firsthand knowledge of that sort of pain, having lost a brother when I was nine. Steven’s death had shattered all of us, but none of us children ever were lost in the shuffle of our family’s sorrow. Anyway, it’s Ellie’s right to know the truth about her family. If I can help her to discover that truth, I’ll do so.
At least, until Lilly tells me to shut up.
Grace
Chapter 17
Jesse met Ellie at the door, his face grim.
“What’s happened?” Dread washed over her again, and she knew this had nothing to do with code violations.
“You need to sit down.” J
esse led her into his office and closed the door, even though Violet Finneran had the day off and no other clients were in sight. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.…”
“Tell me what?” Her legs shaking, Ellie sank into the first chair inside the door. “Just say it.”
“I got a phone call last night around nine thirty from your father’s personal attorney.”
“Max Forester?” Ellie frowned. “What was so important that he had to call you on Thanksgiving night? What did he want that couldn’t have waited until this morning?”
“He wanted to talk about your sister.”
“What sister? I don’t have a sister.”
“Apparently you do.”
“You’re not making any sense.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “I’m an only child.”
“Ellie … there’s just no other way to say this.”
Jesse sat in the chair next to her and turned it to face hers. “Your father began an affair with a woman in New Jersey about sixteen years ago. They had a child together.”
“That’s preposterous. The feds went over every second of his life for the past thirty years. If there’d been another woman there, they’d have found her and everyone would have known about it a year ago.”
“Does the name Marilyn Hansen ring any bells?”
“No. I’ve never heard it before. She’s the one?”
Jesse nodded.
“That’s crazy talk,” Ellie scoffed. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. She’s looking to get some sort of payoff from him by claiming that a child of hers is his. Ms. Hansen’s obviously way behind in her reading. Every newspaper and magazine in the country ran the stories of how everything he owned—everything I owned—was turned over to the FBI and the SEC to sell to repay his victims. Surely Max told her that.”
“I don’t know what Max told her but it hardly matters now, since she was killed in a car accident two weeks ago.”
“This woman’s dead?”
“She’s dead, but her daughter is alive.”
“Wait a minute, this supposed daughter—”
“Not supposed. There was a paternity test years ago. She’s definitely Clifford Chapman’s daughter. He acknowledged her a long time ago. That’s not in dispute, Ellie. I had Max fax over all the papers this morning. Her birth certificate, the results of the DNA testing, copies of the mother’s bank account.”
The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge Page 174