The Inn at Eagle Point

by Sherryl Woods

  Beatrice Riley looked slightly flustered by her mistake. “Oh, sorry. But what does your gender have to do with anything?”

  “Ask Dad,” Laila said.

  “Not that again,” Beatrice said impatiently. “Your father offered you a job at the bank.”

  “About five rungs lower on the ladder than the one he’s given to Trace,” Laila reminded her. “Never mind. It’s old news. We’re here to celebrate the return of the prodigal son, so let’s do that.” She lifted her glass of wine in a mocking salute.

  “Laila, that’s enough,” Beatrice scolded. “I’m going to check on our meal. I trust you’ll be on better behavior when I return.”

  Trace sat down next to his sister and whispered in her ear, “You’re making it very hard for me to turn this around so you wind up with what you want.”

  She gave him a forced smile. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I have everything I want.”

  “Then why are you acting as if you’re about ten seconds away from imploding?”

  “I had a bad night, if you must know.”

  Trace took a closer look and saw the sadness lurking in her too-bright eyes. “What happened? Did you and Dave have a fight?”

  Laila had been dating the same man since college. Dave Fisher was likable enough, but he’d never struck Trace as the kind of man capable of strong passion. He realized it was an odd sort of thing for him to worry about, given that Dave was with his sister, but he thought Laila deserved a guy who could work up some enthusiasm over something. Instead, Dave was solid, nice and about as bland as the oatmeal he ate every morning for breakfast. The only time Trace had ever seen him stirred up was over a three-cent error in his bank statement.

  “Dave and I don’t fight,” she said with an air of resignation. “The man is going to bore me into an early grave.”

  Hallelujah! Trace thought. “Then end it,” he told her. “Find somebody else.”

  “In Chesapeake Shores? I’ve known every man in this town since we were toddlers. It’s not as if I’m going to wake up one day, take a fresh look at someone and say, ‘Oh, my gosh, he’s the one!’”

  “You won’t know that for sure until you break up with Dave. You have no idea who else might be out there. I know for a fact that this place fills up with people on weekends all summer long and that includes professional men from Washington and Baltimore. But you’re not going to meet them if you’re sitting at home on your sofa watching tapes from the History Channel with Dave.”

  She sighed heavily. “I suppose you have a point, but it’s hard to walk away when you’ve spent so many years with someone. He’s been my safety net. He’s a good guy. He really is.”

  Trace had heard the same thing about another man all too recently. Neither time had it sat well with him.

  “Break it off, Laila. You need a fresh start. You’ll never be happy if you just keep drifting along in this dead-end relationship.”

  “It’s not dead-end,” she said.

  He blinked in surprise. “It’s not?”

  “He’s asked me to marry him. Last night, in fact. He wrote it all out on paper, how practical and sensible it would be. The list was quite extensive.”

  Trace groaned. “Now there’s the proposal of any girl’s dreams. I’m sure your pulse absolutely raced.”

  Laila grinned. “It was pretty funny, actually. Or it would have been if it hadn’t been so horrifying. I sat there listening to him, and all I could think was that this would be my life until the day I died, looking at lists of pros and cons.”

  Trace regarded her with alarm. “You’re not seriously considering it, are you? I swear if you do, you can forget about the job at the bank. I’ll tell Dad to have you committed instead.”

  “No, I’m not considering it,” she said. “I told Dave no. In fact, I broke up with him.” Tears filled her eyes. She rubbed them away impatiently. “I hurt him, Trace. He looked so bewildered. It was like kicking a puppy that trusts you. I felt awful.”

  “Better to feel awful for a few hours or even a few weeks than to be miserable for the rest of your life,” he told her. “Dave will get over it. I guarantee you he’ll find a replacement in no time, someone who’s far better suited to him.”

  “Maybe I could fix him up,” she said, her expression thoughtful.

  Trace stared at her incredulously. “Are you crazy? Do you have any friends you dislike that much?”

  “Stop it! He’s a great guy. He just wasn’t right for me.”

  “Okay, I can leave it at that, but trust me, he won’t appreciate you trying to find a replacement for him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s a man. Not only do we not take rejection well, we certainly don’t want the woman involved to pop up a few days later offering a fresh alternative like some sort of human sacrifice. If Abby had sent one of her friends to console me after she took off, I would have been furious.”

  Laila gave him a considering look. “It might have been better if she had.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it might have proved to you that she was over you. Maybe then you could have moved on, instead of wasting all these years pining for her.”

  He didn’t like the way she’d summed up the past ten years of his life. “They weren’t wasted. I built up a very successful career.”

  She twirled a finger in the air. “Whoopee!”

  He scowled at her reaction. “And I dated.”

  “Name two women you went out with more than twice,” his sister challenged. “Oh, wait, there was Rene. She lasted a few months, until you figured out that just because she was the spitting image of Abby didn’t mean she bore any resemblance to her otherwise. Anyone else?”

  Much to his chagrin, Trace was stymied. “Okay, so I didn’t have another lasting relationship, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. And Rene didn’t look anything like Abby.”

  “Auburn hair, blue eyes, slender figure,” his sister recited. “Sound familiar?”

  “Whatever,” he said, brushing the comparison aside and ready to drop the subject.

  Laila, however, clearly still had points she wanted to make. “Besides, brother dearest, casual sex is not the same as seriously looking,” she said, just as their mother returned.

  “Don’t you try to tell me this conversation was about gender,” Beatrice said, regarding them both with disapproval. “Dinner’s ready, and I don’t want to hear one single word about sex at the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Trace said, barely containing a grin. “You won’t hear that word come out of my mouth. Of course, I can’t speak for Laila. She seems a little obsessed with it today for some reason.”

  “You are so dead,” his sister muttered as she strode past them on her way to the dining room.

  His mother paused and frowned at him. “I don’t know what gets into you two. Aren’t you a little old for squabbling?”

  Trace draped an arm over her stiff shoulders. “What else are we supposed to do?” he teased. “You ruled out the one subject we both found interesting.”

  She rolled her eyes, then regarded him somberly. “What’s really going on with Laila? I can tell she’s upset about something. She’s been in an odd mood ever since she got here.”

  “Ask her,” he suggested. “It’s not my news to share.”

  Worry immediately creased her brow. “She and Dave aren’t getting married, are they?” />
  Trace was relieved he wasn’t the only one who’d thought it an unsuitable match. He felt he could reassure his mother that she needn’t worry about that. “No.”

  “Thank goodness!”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t seem quite so pleased when she tells you,” he said wryly.

  She scowled. “I know how to be diplomatic when it’s called for.”

  “Speaking of diplomatic, Mother, how are we going to get her the job she wants at the bank?” he asked. “You know she’s the one who ought to be there, not me, but she’s every bit as stubborn as Dad is.”

  “I’m very well aware of that. Haven’t I lived with your father for nearly forty years? And I made a decision years ago not to get involved in bank business.”

  She was about to step into the dining room when he stopped her. “Not even if it means your daughter’s happiness?”

  She looked up at him. “I thought her accounting company was doing well.”

  “It is. That’s not the point.”

  “You really think working for your father is that important to her?”

  “I know it is,” he said. “She needs to know he trusts her, that he believes in her.”

  His mother nodded decisively. “Then I’m quite sure if we put our heads together we can come up with a solution. I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Thank you.”

  She gave him a sad look. “Just promise me that you won’t stay away so long once you do go back to New York.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “Being back here this time has given me a new perspective on Chesapeake Shores.”

  “That has something to do with Abby’s presence, I’m sure,” she said, studying him closely as she awaited his reply.

  “It does.”

  She hesitated. “Do you think she’s feeling the same way? About the town, I mean?”

  “If you’re asking if we could settle here at some point, I have no idea. First I have to see if she’ll consider starting over with me. The logistics of our lives will fall into place after that.”

  She smiled. “That gives me room for hope, then. Nothing would please me more than to see the two of you together finally and to have you living close by.” Her eyes filled with excitement. “Oh, Trace, I know the perfect house for you.”

  He immediately put the brakes on her enthusiasm. “One thing at a time, Mother.”

  Unfortunately, she seemed to be on a roll. She ignored his warning. “Perhaps I should run over to the inn tomorrow and invite her to lunch,” she said, looking pleased with herself. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  “I don’t need you courting Abby for me,” he protested.

  She gave him a skeptical look that said otherwise. “You lost her before, didn’t you, so apparently you can use all the help you can get.”

  Trace laughed. “You’re right. Maybe I can.”

  His mother was known around town for her persuasiveness. If she could wheedle money out of everyone she knew for a good cause, then surely she could coax Abby into keeping an open mind where he was concerned. And an open mind was all he needed. He was reasonably confident he could take it from there.

  14

  A bby decided to call in the big guns to persuade her mother that she needed to visit Chesapeake Shores for the opening of Jess’s inn.

  “Carrie, Caitlyn, come in here. We’re going to call Grandma Megan.”

  The twins came running. They adored her mother, who indulged them with trips to art galleries, plays and regular visits to the Bronx Zoo. Abby doubted they grasped the importance of the art they saw, but being exposed to it was a wonderful thing. And they seemed to love having tea afterward. They were enchanted with the tiny sandwiches and cakes. Back home, they had tea parties with their favorite dolls for at least a week after each excursion. Abby couldn’t help wishing Jess had had those same kind of memories with their mother.

  Regarding the twins seriously, she said, “Now before I call, I want to explain that I’m going to try to convince her she needs to come down here for the opening of Aunt Jess’s inn. You have to help me talk her into it. Tell her you miss her, okay?” she requested, unashamed of her attempt at manipulation. It was, after all, for a good cause.

  “We do miss her,” Caitlyn said, even as Carrie nodded, then added, “Lots and lots.”

  Satisfied, Abby dialed Megan’s number. When her mother answered, she handed the phone to Carrie.

  “Hi, Grandma Megan, it’s me, Carrie. Caitlyn’s here, too.”

  Abby hit the button for speakerphone. “I’m also here, Mom.”

  “Well, my goodness, I was beginning to wonder what happened to my favorite girls,” Megan said warmly. “It’s been ages since I heard from you.”

  “We’re at the beach,” Carrie told her excitedly. “With Gram and Aunt Jess. And Grandpa Mick was here, too.”

  “I see,” Megan said, her voice losing some of its warmth and enthusiasm.

  Abby stepped in. “Actually that’s why we’re calling, Mom. We’re hoping you’ll join us.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said emphatically, leaving no room for argument.

  Fortunately the girls were oblivious to the finality in her response.

  “But, Grandma Megan, we really, really miss you and there’s going to be a big party, so you should be here,” Carrie said.

  “Please, Grandma Megan,” Caitlyn begged. “It’s going to be a really big party. We’re going to get new dresses and new shoes. Mommy says we can pick them out ourselves when we come to New York to see Daddy. Maybe you can help us.”

  Her mother’s hesitation told Abby that her scheme was working. Megan had never been able to deny the twins anything, especially not a shopping spree. Their closets were crammed with dresses and outfits from some of the top designers of children’s clothes. They had more shoes than Abby did, eighty percent of them courtesy of their indulgent grandmother.

  “Okay, so tell me, what’s this about a party?” Megan asked, her voice cautious, giving away nothing about her intentions.

  It was a tiny opening, but Abby seized it. “Jess has bought the old inn up the road from our house. That’s why I came down here, to help her deal with the remodeling.” She saw no point in mentioning the financial difficulties or the role those had played in her continued presence. “The party’s on June thirtieth, right before it officially opens. It really should be a family affair, Mom. Please do this for Jess.”

  “Will your father be there?”

  “He’s promised to come back from California for it,” she said.

  “Then you know it’s a bad idea, Abby. We can’t even be in the same room without having an argument. It’s been that way ever since the divorce. There was an unbelievable amount of tension every time I came down there to visit you kids. I doubt your father’s suddenly mellowed. If I’m right, we would spoil this for Jess and everyone else. The focus would wind up being on us, when it should be on your sister.”

  “What makes you think that you and Dad are destined to argue? My wedding was the last time you even saw each other.” She winced as she recalled what a stiff and awkward encounter that had been. For most of the day they’d done everything humanly possible to avoid each other. Surely, though, time would have eased the tension. “Don’t you think you could at least manage to be civil for Jess’s sake? You owe her this, Mom. You know you do. Think ab
out how many other big events in her life you missed.”

  “Only because she made it plain she didn’t want me there,” Megan said wearily.

  Abby couldn’t deny that of all of them, Jess had made it the hardest for her mother to remain in her life. She’d openly rebelled against visiting her in New York, and Mick had never insisted she make the trip. On Megan’s visits to Chesapeake Shores, Jess had thrown tantrums when she was young, then pulled convenient vanishing acts as she got older. Abby knew it was because she was hurt and that Megan should have fought harder to bridge the ever-widening gap between them, but it wasn’t too late for her to start doing that.

  “Well, I want you here now,” Abby said firmly. “And Jess needs you here, whether she admits it or not.”

  “Please, Grandma Megan,” Caitlyn cajoled again.

  “I’ll think about it,” Megan said at last.

  “Really think about it?” Abby prodded. “Or will you dismiss it the second I hang up?”

  “I’ll really think about it,” Megan assured her. “Will Bree and your brothers be there?” There was a trace of wistfulness in her voice as she asked.

  “I haven’t spoken to them yet. I doubt Kevin will be home from Iraq. His tour lasts a few more months. I imagine Bree and Connor will try to make it, though. It will be a real O’Brien family reunion, Mom, and it won’t be the same if you’re not here.”

  “I’ll give it some thought and get back to you in a day or two,” Megan promised.

  “If you don’t agree, the girls and I will badger you when we get up to New York. You might as well give in now.”

  “I said I’d think about it. That’s the most I can promise.”

  “Okay, then,” Abby said, backing down for the moment.

  “Love you, girls,” her mother said.

  “Love you,” the twins shouted back, then scampered from the room to get back outdoors.

  “I love you, too,” Abby said. “And I’ll call you to make plans for that shopping trip with the girls. Bye, Mom.”