by Marta Perry
“No. I’ll see if I can bring it up without upsetting her.” She shook her head. “I’m not looking forward to it.”
“Better to talk to her than let the suspicion affect your attitude toward him.”
“True enough. If I didn’t say it before, thank you, Cal. For last night, and for being willing to help. I appreciate it. And Grams would, if she knew.”
“Any time.”
He meant it, but he had to be careful. Andrea had broken through barriers he’d thought were completely secure, and trying to deny the attraction he felt was pointless.
But that attraction couldn’t go anywhere. The life Andrea prized was the kind of life that had nearly destroyed his soul.
The gold lettering on the plate glass window jolted the cool facade Andrea had meant to maintain for this visit. Unger and Bendick, Real Estate and Insurance. She hadn’t imagined that Grandfather’s name would still be on the business.
It was a name that stood for something in this quiet country village. Uncle Nick probably hadn’t been eager to give that up, and she couldn’t blame him.
Grams had assured her that Uncle Nick would be in the office on a Saturday morning. Fortunately she hadn’t asked why Andrea wanted to see him.
A bell tinkled when she opened the door. Clever of Uncle Nick to retain the old-fashioned flavor, even when he was dealing with visiting urbanites looking for a little piece of country to call their own. Or maybe especially then.
The woman behind the mission oak desk looked up inquiringly, and in an instant Andrea went from being the appreciative observer to being that ten-year-old trailing her grandfather around town. There was Betty Albertson, her grandfather’s faithful secretary, peering at her over the half-glasses she wore at her desk.
Those half-glasses had fascinated Andrea. Betty wore them so far down her pointed nose that they seemed in constant danger of sliding right off, like a sled down Miller’s Hill.
“Betty, how nice to see you. It’s been a long time.” Conventional words, giving her the moment she needed to remind herself that she was no longer ten, no longer interested in the stash of chocolate bars in Betty’s top right desk drawer.
Sharp gray eyes now matched gray hair, pulled smoothly back into the same sort of French twist Betty had worn when her hair had been a mousy brown. For a moment she thought the secretary didn’t recognize her, but then she smiled.
“Andrea Hampton. Land, it has been a while. You look as if life agrees with you.”
Did she? With everything she valued turned upside down in the past few days, it hardly seemed likely.
“I see you’re still running Unger and Bendick single-handedly.”
The joke had always been that Betty knew more about the business than both partners combined. She’d been so fiercely loyal to Grandfather that it occasionally seemed she resented even the distraction of his family.
Betty’s smile tightened. “Mr. Bendick offered to hire more help, but I prefer to handle things on my own.”
She’d given offense, even though it hadn’t been intended. “I’m sure no one could do it better. My grandfather often said you were worth more than a dozen assistants.”
“Did he?” A faint flush warmed Betty’s thin cheeks. “That was kind of him. He was always so thoughtful.”
Betty had her own memories of Grandfather. “Is Uncle Nick-Mr. Bendick—in? I’d like to see him for a moment.”
Betty’s gaze flicked toward the closed office door that bore his name, again in faded gold. “This isn’t a good time. We get swamped on Saturdays. Why don’t I ask him to stop by the house later?”
Andrea glanced around, half amused, half annoyed. “It doesn’t look that busy right now. Surely he can spare me a few minutes.”
Betty’s lips pressed together, nostrils flaring, but then she mustered an unconvincing smile. “He’s on the phone. If you want to wait, I’ll try to slip you in when he finishes.”
Plainly Betty had transferred the devotion she’d once had for Fredrick Unger to his junior partner. “I’ll wait.” She crossed the faded Oriental carpet to the row of wooden chairs against the far wall and sat.
Betty blinked, perhaps wondering if she’d gone too far. “Well, that’s fine. I didn’t mean anything, I’m sure.”
“I won’t take long, I promise.”
She couldn’t get into an argument with the woman, just because she was hyperprotective of her employer. If anything, she ought to feel sorry for Betty, leading such a narrow life. She probably didn’t get out of Churchville from one year to the next. Andrea vaguely remembered an elderly mother that Betty looked after.
The schoolhouse clock on the wall above the desk ticked audibly. As a child, sitting on this same chair, legs swinging, she’d been mesmerized by the jerky movement of the hands. Photos surrounded the clock, recording events from the early days of Churchville. Grandfather at the ground breaking for the school, at the dedication of the bank, at some long-ago Fourth of July celebration.
The door to the inner office opened. Uncle Nick blinked and then hurried toward her, hands outstretched.
“Andrea, this is a surprise. Betty, why didn’t you tell me Andrea was waiting?”
Betty slid the half-glasses down to look over them. “You were on the phone. And now you have an appointment to show the Barker place.”
“I certainly have a few minutes to talk with Andrea.”
“You know how interested those people are. You don’t want to be late.”
“Why not? They’ve kept me waiting at every appointment.” He took Andrea’s arm, winking at her once his back was turned to Betty. “We have time for a little chat.”
He led her into his office and closed the door, then gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry about that. The woman thinks I can’t do a thing unless she reminds me.”
“I don’t want to mess up a sale.”
He shook his head. “Pair of uptight yuppies who think they want a country place but don’t like anything that’s in their price range.” He beamed at her. “I’m glad you stopped in for a visit before you head back to the city.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not going back for a while.”
“Now, Andrea, don’t tell me you let them talk you into doing something rash. Your job—”
“My job will wait. Right now my family needs me.”
His dismayed expression was almost comical. “My dear, I’m sorry. Is your boss all right with your taking time off?”
She shrugged. “He’s not happy, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” Her mind flickered to Cal, saying that maybe he’d learn to appreciate her more. “I have to stay, at least until the inn is up and running.”
The elderly swivel chair creaked when he sank down in it. His eyes were troubled, and he ran his hand along his jaw.
“I wish we could find some other way of dealing with this.”
“I appreciate your concern, Uncle Nick, but it’s all right. Really.” She took a breath. How to word this without alarming him or sending him running to Grams? “That’s actually not what I came to talk to you about.”
He blinked. “Is something wrong? Something else, I mean?”
“Not exactly. Well, you know about the prowler. We haven’t had any damage, but it made me wonder if there’s anyone who might have a grudge against the family.”
“Against Katherine?” He sat upright, outrage in his voice. “Your grandmother is universally respected. You know that.”
It was said with such vehemence that she couldn’t doubt it was true of him. “Has there been anything—someone who thought Grandfather had treated him unfairly, or some dispute about property lines?”
He was already shaking his head. “Nothing at all. I’m sure the prowler was simply an isolated incident. Those security lights you put up should do the trick.”
So he knew about the lights already. She’d forgotten how quickly the township grapevine worked.
“What about turning the house into a bed-and-breakfast? Have
there been any ill feelings about that?”
“Mostly from Margaret Allen, maybe a few other old-timers who hate change, don’t want to see any more tourists brought in.” He shook his head. “They’re fighting a losing battle on that one. But I’d say they’re not the type to prowl around in the dark, especially Margaret.”
He had a point. “She’s more likely to bury a person under a pile of platitudes.”
“That’s our Margaret.” He chuckled, then sobered again. “But I’m concerned about you. Your grandmother, dear woman that she is, doesn’t understand the sacrifice she’s asking you to make. Maybe I could hire someone to help out—”
“Thanks, Uncle Nick.” She was touched by his kindness. “I appreciate that, but no.”
“Really, my dear.” He rose, coming back around the desk. “I want to help. It’s the least I can do—”
The door opened and Betty marched in, holding out a briefcase. “Mr. Bendick, you must leave or you’ll keep those people waiting.” She sounded scandalized at the thought.
“Yes, yes, I’m going.” He snatched the case and sent Andrea an apologetic look. “Think about what I said. I’ll talk to you later.”
She nodded. “I will. Thank you, Uncle Nick.”
He hurried out, letting the front door slam behind him.
“He worries about your grandmother,” Betty said, her voice almost accusing.
Several annoyed retorts occurred to her, but she suppressed them. “There’s no need. I’m there with her, and Cal Burke has been very helpful.”
“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?”
Andrea blinked. “What do you mean?”
“It’s none of my business, of course.” Betty patted the smooth twist of gray hair. “But I’m the one who typed the lease, so I can’t help knowing, can I?”
She resisted the impulse to shake the woman. “Knowing what?”
“Why, about his lease on the barn. Mr. Bendick warned your grandmother, but she wouldn’t listen.”
She took a step toward Betty. “What?” she snapped.
“She’s renting that barn to him at a ridiculously low price. Almost nothing. It worried Mr. Bendick something awful. Cal Burke is bound to help out. He doesn’t want your grandmother to sell, because then he’d lose the nice deal he talked her into.”
The lease clutched in one hand, Andrea charged toward the barn, anger fueling her rush. When she found Cal, he wasn’t going to know what hit him. She held on to the anger, knowing at some level that if she let it slip, even more hurtful feelings would surface.
Betrayal. She’d already experienced enough betrayal in her life.
She hurried up the slope and shoved the heavy door aside. Her rush carried her several feet into the barn before she realized she was alone.
She stood for a moment, looking at the scattered pieces of furniture as if Cal might be hiding behind one of them. Nothing split the silence except her own labored breathing.
Instinct sent her outside again, where she looked around, frowning. The inn grounds and the surrounding farmland dozed in the Saturday-afternoon sunshine.
And already the anger was seeping away, leaving space for pain and regret. How could she have been so foolish as to trust the man? She knew better than to let herself be taken in by a plausible stranger, the way Grams undoubtedly had.
Maybe he was in the apartment he’d created for himself in the tack room. She followed the path around the corner of the barn. She’d find him and make him admit that he was taking advantage of her grandmother. If there was an explanation for this…
But there couldn’t be. She stifled that notion. There could be no logical reason for Cal to have talked Grams into renting him the barn at what anyone would consider a token amount. No wonder Uncle Nick had been upset.
Upset didn’t begin to cover it for her.
She rounded the corner and stopped. She’d been prepared to find the story-and-a-half tack room annex changed, but she hadn’t expected this.
The rough-hewn door had been replaced by a paneled one with nine-pane beveled glass. A bow window curved out at the front of the building, with a flagstone path leading to the entry.
Irritation prickled along her skin. He’d probably talked Grams into paying for all this, creating a cozy nest for himself at someone else’s expense.
Her feet flew over the stones, and she gave a peremptory rap on the door.
The door swung open before she had a chance to raise her hand for another knock.
Cal stood there, smiling. Welcoming.
“Good, you’re here. How did you make out with Bendick?”
For a moment she could only stare at him. They’d become partners. She’d agreed to investigate with him.
Before she’d known he was a cheat.
She stalked inside. The old tack room had certainly been transformed. Wooden built-ins lined the walls on either side of a fieldstone fireplace. The wide plank floors were dotted with colorful Navajo rugs that contrasted with the solid Pennsylvania Dutch furniture. The open space was living room, dining room, and kitchen combined, with an eating bar separating the kitchen section. An open stairway led up to a loft that must be the bedroom.
Cal closed the door. “Do you like it?”
Anger danced along her nerves. “Yes. Did my grandmother pay for this?”
He blinked. Then his face tightened, brown eyes turning cold. “Maybe you should ask your grandmother that.”
“I’m asking you.” Small wonder Grams hadn’t confided in her about this dubious rental. She’d have known how Andrea would react. If Grams planned to run the inn on these lines, she’d be bankrupt in a month.
Cal looked at her steadily. “You’d better tell me what this is about, Andrea. I’m not good at guessing games.”
He leaned against the bar between kitchen and living room, elbows propped on it. The pose might have looked casual, if not for the muscle that twitched in his jaw, belying his outward calm.
“This.” She thrust the lease at him, appalled to see that her hand was shaking. “How did you talk my grandmother into this? She might be naive about business, but surely she realized how ridiculous the rent is. And for both your home and your business—you really got a great deal, didn’t you?”
He made no move to take the paper, but his hands curled into fists. “Did you talk to your grandmother?”
“I’m talking to you. The person who’s cheating her.” The person who lied to me and made me let my guard down. The person I thought I could trust.
Cal thrust himself away from the counter, taking a step toward her. “You don’t believe that.” He stopped, shaking his head. “My mistake. I guess you do.”
“I was the one who made the mistake. I trusted you.” She would not let her voice break. “How could you do this to an old woman?”
His face might have been carved from a block of wood. “That lease is between your grandmother and me. You don’t come into it at all.”
“My grandmother asked me to help her with her business.”
He raised an eyebrow. “As far as I know, Katherine didn’t sign a power of attorney, turning her affairs over to you. If she wants to talk to you about my rental, she will. Are you worried that she’s squandering away your inheritance?”
Fury boiled over, threatening to scald anyone in its path. “I’m trying to protect my grandmother from people who would take advantage of her.”
Like you, Cal. It wouldn’t have been hard to get her to trust you. I did, and I’m a much tougher case than Grams. Something twisted and hurt under the anger.
“I see.” Nothing changed in his expression, but he seemed suddenly more distant. “I can’t help you, Andrea. The details of my lease are between me and Katherine.”
“Anyone who knows the rent you’re paying would know you’re cheating her.”
“That’s for Katherine to decide. You’re not the owner. And even if you were, you can’t throw me out.” He nodded toward the paper in her hand. “I have a lease,
remember?”
She stared at him, baffled and furious. Then she turned and slammed her way out.
EIGHT
“I don’t know what you thought you were doing.” The glare Grams directed at Andrea left no doubt about what Grams considered her actions. Interfering.
“I’m trying to help you. That’s all.” Andrea sat up a bit straighter. Being called onto the library carpet made her feel about eight.
“Going to my tenant behind my back in not helpful, Andrea Katherine.”
When Grams resorted to using both names, the situation was serious. “I’m sorry, but I’m worried about you. If you’d let me know how bad the financial situation is—”
“You’d have told me I should sell the place.” Grams finished the thought for her. Her face tightened, and she suddenly looked her age. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to argue about it.”
That was more or less what Rachel had said, but how could Andrea keep silent when the people she loved best in the world seemed bent on the wrong course?
“Are you so sure selling wouldn’t have been for the best?” She kept her tone soft.
Grams shook her head. “You’re more like your grandfather than you want to admit. That’s what he would have said, too, even though this place has been in his family for close to two hundred years.”
Grams was right about one thing. She didn’t care to be told she was like her grandfather.
If saving Unger House meant enough to Grams that she’d go against what she believed Grandfather would have wanted, then no argument of Andrea’s would sway her.
“I’ve already agreed that I’ll do all I can to help you. But if you want to involve me in the business, I have to understand what’s going on. When Betty told me—”
“Betty!” Grams’s nostrils flared. “What right does she have to talk about my concerns, I’d like to know.”
“I’m sure she was just reflecting Uncle Nick’s feelings.” She shouldn’t have mentioned Betty. Relations had always been strained between Grandfather’s wife and his secretary.
“Nick is a good friend.” Grams’s face softened. “He worries too much, but he means well.”