The Inn at Eagle Point

by Sherryl Woods

  T he panic and note of defeat Trace had heard in Abby’s voice the night before were almost his undoing. If she hadn’t been getting on a plane first thing this morning to return to Chesapeake Shores, he would have flown straight to New York last night, if only to hold and comfort her.

  Instead, he’d spent the night doing something far more constructive. He’d been digging around in Wes Winters’s finances. From what he could discern, they were in a bit of a mess, which might explain why he was so eager to have the girls with him. Not only would he not have to continue paying child support, there was a very good chance a court might rule that Abby should pay him for their care.

  The rotten bastard! Trace thought, as the picture became clearer. This wasn’t about a father’s great love for his two daughters. It was all about money. He’d bet everything he owned on that.

  Once he’d finished with his credit check, he’d put Wes’s name into the search engine to see what else might turn up. That led him to several photos on the New York and Long Island society pages linking Wes with Gabrielle Mitchell, a woman who apparently worked at the same firm as Abby. Trace wondered when and how that had come about, and right under Abby’s nose, at that. Yet another despicable action on Wes’s part, as far as Trace could tell.

  When he did yet another search of Gabrielle’s name, he found an interesting item buried in the financial pages of the Wall Street Journal. Apparently Wes’s new paramour had been questioned recently in connection with some dubious transactions at the brokerage firm. The report was dated just last week, while Abby had been in Maryland, so she wouldn’t necessarily have heard any office gossip about the situation. Details were sketchy, according to the brief item, but Gabrielle was among the six people regulators had called in.

  Wasn’t that interesting? Trace thought. Could it be that Ms. Mitchell had taken a walk on the wild side with investor money? Was it possible that Wes was scrambling for cash to bail her out? Or had she engaged in something shady to bail him out? Hard to say, but something was definitely fishy here. Trace didn’t believe in coincidences.

  The minute he thought Abby and the girls would be on the ground in Baltimore, he called her cell phone. It was still set to go to voice mail, so he left a message asking her to call him as soon as she got home or to come by the bank.

  He could do more digging, but he had a feeling Abby could fill in some of the missing pieces herself. She certainly knew all the players or could make calls to people at her firm who might have answers that the press hadn’t reported.

  He finally made it to the bank at midmorning, earning a disapproving scowl from Mariah on his way to his office.

  “I know,” he said to mollify her. “I should have called.”

  “Yes, you should have,” she said. “I’ll let your father know you’ve deigned to grace us with your presence. He’s been looking for you.”

  A few minutes later, he was pacing impatiently as he awaited Abby’s call when his father strode in looking grim.

  “You missed a loan-committee meeting this morning,” his father said.

  “Actually I didn’t,” Trace replied. “I sent Laila in my place. She was there, wasn’t she?”

  His father frowned. “Yes, but you can’t sneak around behind my back like this, Trace. Having Laila do your job is not going to convince me to give it to her.”

  “Did she give the reports?”

  “Of course she did.”

  “Were they acceptable?”

  “Actually she has a very astute eye,” he admitted grudgingly. “Her analyses made a lot of sense.”

  Trace leveled a look into his father’s eyes, which were still blazing with indignation. “Then I don’t see the problem. She was on time. She was astute. What more could you ask?”

  “That the man I’m paying to do this job be the one actually doing it,” he retorted heatedly.

  “Actually you haven’t been paying me. I haven’t cashed any of those checks Raymond’s been leaving on my desk. Don’t you pay attention to that sort of thing?”

  His father’s jaw went slack, but before he could speak, Trace added, “Wait, that’s not entirely accurate. I am endorsing this week’s check over to Laila, since she did the work.”

  His father dropped down into a chair in front of Trace’s desk. “You’re paying your sister to do your job?”

  “Yes. I’m her front man, since you seem to be more comfortable having a male in this office. Eventually, when you come around, I’ll vacate the premises.”

  “When did the two of you cook up this insane scheme?”

  “Actually we didn’t,” Trace told him. “I did. Laila doesn’t know what my intentions are. I just asked her to help me out of a jam this week. Told her I was on a tight deadline with a design and begged her to pitch in.”

  “And you made this plea when?”

  “Yesterday, as a matter of fact. Very last-minute.”

  Despite his bewilderment and annoyance, Lawrence Riley looked impressed. “She did all that work overnight?”

  “Pretty much,” Trace said. “She’s good, isn’t she?”

  Rather than answering directly, his father grumbled, “That was never the issue. Of course she’s good. Rileys understand numbers.”

  “Laila certainly does,” Trace agreed pointedly.

  His father sighed heavily. “You really hate the job that much?”

  “I don’t hate it,” Trace said. “I just have another career I love.” He met his father’s gaze. “But I’ve promised you a six-month trial and I’ll give it to you.”

  His father’s brows climbed. “Don’t you mean your sister will, hiding behind your coattails?”

  Trace grinned. “If I can pull it off without her figuring out what I’m up to, yes.”

  His father continued to look unconvinced. “How about this instead? I’ll offer her the same position, keep you both on staff for the next few months and we’ll see how it goes. She’ll have her chance to prove herself.”

  “No way.” Trace shook his head at the absurdity of the suggestion. “Dad, you can’t hedge your bets with Laila. It’s insulting. Either give her your full support now or resign yourself to the fact that neither one of us will take over the bank.”

  “When did you get to be so manipulative and sneaky?”

  Trace laughed. “Some say I’m a chip off the old block.”

  His father smiled for the first time since entering the room. “You could be at that. Okay, I’ll give this some more thought. Laila did do a damn fine job this morning, especially on short notice. Even Raymond was impressed, and he doesn’t think anyone in this building is as capable as he is, me included. He’s probably right about that, too.”

  His father rose to leave, then gave him a hard look. “You got something else on your mind?”

  “I’m just worried about Abby. It seems her ex-husband may be about to make her life difficult.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Trace thought of the financial tangle that might be behind everything that was happening. Abby most likely had the expertise to make sense of it, but another sharp mind might not hurt. “There may be,” he said. “I’ll let you know after I’ve spoken to Abby.”

  He just wished she’d hurry up and get in touch. Sitting around and waiting was starting to get on his nerves.

  Abby listened
to Trace’s message right after she and the girls got into the rental car at the Baltimore airport. As anxious as she was to speak to him, she decided to wait until she got to Chesapeake Shores so she could see him in person. Besides, she didn’t want the twins to overhear her talking about their father.

  In addition, if she was being totally honest, she wanted more than the sound of Trace’s voice. She needed his arms around her. She had no idea when she’d started to feel so strongly that he was important to her again, but there it was. She couldn’t deny it. He was the first one she’d thought of when this crisis had come to a head in New York last night. Not Mick or Gram or anyone else in her family. Just Trace. As she turned into the driveway at home, all she could think about was getting the girls settled and heading straight into town to find him.

  No sooner had she pulled to a stop than she saw Gram emerge from the house with the portable phone in hand. She beckoned to Abby. “It’s your father,” she called out.

  Abby cut across the lawn, her gaze on the girls to make sure they weren’t heading straight for the beach. Instead, they bolted for Gram.

  “Are you surprised to see us? Did you know we were coming?” Carrie asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

  Gram chuckled. “I did indeed.”

  “Did you bake cookies?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Do you even have to ask?” Gram replied, leading them inside and winking at Abby.

  When they were gone, Abby spoke to her father. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Your grandmother said you had something to say to me,” he said, sounding distant and irritated.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Mom,” she said, trying to feel her way through the minefield. She didn’t want to make him any angrier. She just wanted him home.

  “I’m not discussing your mother with you,” he said flatly. “If that’s all, I need to be going.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me,” she said, her determination to remain cool and calm snapping. “Mom is going to be here for the opening of the inn. You need to be here, too. This is about Jess, not the two of you. It was one thing for you to take off every time she came to visit when we were kids, but this is different. It’s about our family. You’re both our parents and, for better or worse, that makes you part of our lives. I’m sure you can deal with each other for a couple of days. You managed to be civil at my wedding. This opening is as important to Jess as that day was to me.”

  “Your wedding was one thing. She stayed at the inn for that. We managed to steer clear of each other. Now, though, you’re telling me I’m supposed to welcome the woman who walked out on me back under my roof?” he demanded incredulously. “Hell will freeze over first.”

  “She’ll stay at the inn again,” Abby said to pacify him. “Any other issues?”

  “I don’t want her anywhere near my town,” he grumbled. “I built the place.”

  Abby nearly laughed at his possessive tone. “Even Chesapeake Shores, small as it is, is big enough for both of you. No, Dad, you don’t want her near you. You’re afraid if you see her, you might have a conversation, and who knows where that might lead. You’re behaving like a coward, Dad, and that’s the last thing I ever expected of you.”

  “You have a lot of nerve calling me that, young lady.”

  “Just calling it like I see it.” She thought of the one surefire way to get him home without further arguments. “There’s something else you should know, another reason you need to be here.”

  “Oh?” he said suspiciously.

  “Caitlyn let something slip last night before we left New York. It seems Wes may be thinking of asking the court for full custody of the girls.”

  Mick sucked in an audible breath. “Over my dead body! What the hell is he thinking?”

  “I’ve already spoken to Stella this morning. This could amount to nothing, but she’s ready to fight him in court if he actually tries anything. Trace is digging into Wes’s credit history to see if there’s anything going on there that would explain this sudden desire to be a full-time father. But, Dad, I need you here in case anything comes of this. We’re going to have to present a united front.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there,” he said grimly. “I’ll take that man apart limb by limb myself if need be.”

  Abby knew he meant it, too. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  “You need me there now?”

  “No, I think Trace and I can handle it on this end, and Stella’s on the scene in New York. Maybe Caitlyn got it all wrong, anyway,” she said, not mentioning that Carrie had in essence backed her up. “I’m just trying to be prepared.”

  “Those girls of yours are too smart to make a mistake about something like this,” he said, confirming her own opinion. “Either he told them what he planned or someone else did.”

  He paused, then added, “I’ll be back at the end of next week, just in case you need me. If anything comes up and you want me there sooner, call, okay? This takes precedence over anything going on between your mother and me,” he said, then continued wryly, “Which, of course, you knew it would before you told me.”

  “Maybe,” she said, smiling. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be in touch if I need you here sooner than next week.”

  “You sure Trace can do the kind of investigating you need? I can hire somebody in New York.”

  “I’ll let you know if we need that,” she assured him. “Just knowing you’ll be here soon is all I need for right now.”

  She was pleased by this evidence that he considered Carrie and Caitlyn his top priority. She thought back to all those years when work would have taken precedence, no matter the crisis at home, including the disintegration of his own marriage. If she could see that he was changing, perhaps her mother would finally start to believe it, too.

  Jess had taken off first thing on Tuesday morning to shop for rugs. Abby had said flatly that they couldn’t afford to put down new carpeting, but that wasn’t the same as saying they couldn’t add a few rugs here and there to brighten things up. She’d seen an ad in the weekend paper and started envisioning how beautiful a brightly woven rug would look under the table in the foyer. There were half a dozen other places where new rugs would add a touch of color to the otherwise boring carpeting. Shampooing had made a difference, but nothing could enliven the dull beige color. If there’d been time, she would even have ripped it all up and refinished the wood floors she’d discovered underneath.

  She spent the whole morning trying to choose the perfect accents for each of the rooms, then scheduled the delivery for the end of the week. When she realized the time, she raced back to Chesapeake Shores, hoping to be back at the inn before Abby returned from her trip.

  Only as she was making the turn into town did Jess recall that this morning was when the range had been scheduled for delivery. She hit the steering wheel in frustration. What was wrong with her? She’d done everything to make sure the stove would be in place before Abby’s return, and now she’d blown it. How had she let herself forget about it? It was because she’d started thinking about those rugs, and everything else had been pushed to the back of her mind.

  Parking behind the inn, she prayed that she wasn’t too late. Maybe the delivery had been delayed.

  “Please, please, let them be running late,” she murmured as she crossed the lawn. But even before she reached the porch she could see the yellow delivery attempt notice hanging from the knob. She cursed herself every which way for not checking her calendar before she left, then realized she’d never even made a note of the delivery on her calendar. The date had been on one of the slips
of paper she’d passed along to Gail with all of their menu ideas. After that, it obviously had slipped her mind completely, just like so many other vital things over the years.

  Because of her ADD, she’d learned a whole slew of techniques for staying on task, and they’d served her well, for the most part. But stressed and overwhelmed as she’d been lately, she obviously hadn’t employed them as she should have.

  She tried not to get down on herself, but when things like this happened, it filled her with self-derision. She really was a screwup. What had ever made her think she could successfully operate something as complex as an inn?

  Jess sank down on the porch step and stared out toward the bay. It wasn’t just the stupid delivery. She could reschedule that. It was facing the fact—yet again—that she was in over her head. At moments like this she was swamped with remorse for even trying to handle a project this big. She should have stuck to working at Ethel’s Emporium, even if she had been bored to tears. At least there, she wouldn’t have had a fortune of her money and Abby’s on the line.

  Then she glanced around at all the changes she’d made to the inn. Even though a lot of the work had been done inside, there was evidence of her efforts out here, too. The place looked rejuvenated. She’d done work she could be proud of. Even Mick had said that, and he wasn’t one to hand out idle compliments.

  “Come on, get over yourself,” she muttered under her breath. “This is going to be good. It’s been your dream forever, and nobody’s going to take it away. Not Trace and the bank. Not Abby. And you’re certainly not giving up.”

  The pep talk was enough to get her on her feet. Inside, she called and rescheduled the delivery of the stove, then went on the computer to check for reservations. There were four new ones. See, she told herself. The inn was going to be a huge success. She simply had to stop taking every slip as an omen that bad things lay ahead. For once in her life, she was going to grab her dream and hold on for dear life.

  Trace finally gave up on hanging around his office waiting for Abby’s call. It was making him stir-crazy, so he walked down to Sally’s and ordered a burger and fries. At two in the afternoon, the café was virtually empty, so Sally brought his drink and slid into the booth opposite him. With her ample hips and bosom, it was a tight fit.