Red Clover Inn--A Romance Novel

by Carla Neggers

  “His name’s Richard,” Megan said. “He’s really nice. We like him.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “Dad...” His daughter blinked back tears, her lashes sticking together as she sniffled. “We’re still your kids. Forever.”

  “Yep.” He brushed a tear away with his thumb. “No question. Ever.”

  “You don’t regret having kids, do you?” Andrew asked, blunt, awkward. “Marrying Mom in the first place?”

  For two cents, Greg would have rolled down the dam and risked a fine, scolding, arrest. What’d they do to dam rollers? He sucked in a breath. “It was easier when you two liked to try to bite each other and didn’t ask deep questions. Look, I don’t spend a lot of time on regret. It doesn’t get me anywhere. I regret not having two pieces of Elly O’Dunn’s strawberry roulade last night. I didn’t even know what a roulade was. But does regretting my masterful restraint help me get another piece of roulade? It doesn’t.”

  Andrew groaned. “Dad, we’re serious.”

  He sighed. “I know, guys. I don’t regret marrying your mother. I don’t regret we had kids. You two are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know Mom feels the same way.”

  “What if you have another baby?” Megan blurted.

  Greg managed not to choke. “Wait—what? Where’s this coming from?”

  “If you marry someone like Charlotte...” Megan paused, her eyes clearing of tears, their deep turquoise reminding Greg of his grandmother. “She’s young enough to have children.”

  “You married young, Dad,” Andrew said. “You have time to start another family.”

  “Add to the family I have, maybe, but that’s theoretical only. I’m not...” Greg broke off, reminding himself to breathe. Never mind rolling down Winsor Dam, he swore he’d rather face another ambush than have this conversation. “Why are you asking me about Charlotte?”

  “Are you two pretending you’re not together for our sake?” Andrew asked.

  “Yeah, Dad,” Megan said. “You don’t have to pretend with us.”

  Greg was sure he’d started to sweat. Bad enough he kept thinking about Charlotte. Now his kids were asking about her.

  Be strong, pal.

  He cleared his throat. “I haven’t known Charlotte long. It’s a coincidence that we both ended up at Red Clover Inn together.”

  Andrew stood, looking out at the reservoir, blue under the mostly clear sky. “We’re not in second grade anymore, Dad. We see how you and Charlotte look at each other.”

  Not a kid who minced words. Greg supposed it served him right since he’d never been subtle himself. “Right now I’m focused on our time together. Then I’ll focus on finding a place to live in Washington and starting my new job. I’m not thinking about relationships.”

  “Okay,” Andrew said. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.”

  Megan giggled. “Sure, Dad.”

  They took a scenic route back to Knights Bridge. Construction of the reservoir had changed the natural flow of the roads in the area and its economic development, but as a result, at least arguably, Knights Bridge had retained its rural character and quaintness, its out-of-the-way, time-stopped-here feel. When they arrived at the inn, Harry Bennett’s old Mercedes-Benz was in the driveway but there was no sign of Charlotte. The bicycle she’d ridden to the cider mill was in the shed. Had she gone on a walk? If so, Greg noted, she’d left her phone on the kitchen counter.

  Andrew and Megan offered to make dinner and set off to the country store together.

  Greg went upstairs to fetch his book. As he turned down the hall to his room, he heard footsteps behind a door. Too big to be mice. Then the door opened and Charlotte hopped into the hall. She saw him, gasped and then breathed, smiling. “You startled me. I was in the attic.”

  Cobwebs stuck to her. “Mission accomplished?” he asked.

  “I heard mice,” she said.

  “We checked the traps this morning and released the captives. I’ll set out more tonight.”

  “Great. More mice to catch.” She tugged on the cobweb in her hair. “I’m going to take a shower. How was Quabbin?”

  “Beautiful. Interesting.”

  “Nice,” she said, disappearing into her room.

  Dinner went well. Charlotte insisted on doing the dishes and shooed Greg and the kids out of the kitchen.

  They retreated to the library. It was warm enough to leave the windows open. No fire tonight.

  While Andrew and Megan set up another game of Clue, Greg wandered back to the kitchen, where Charlotte was rubbing lotion into her hands, the dishes done.

  “Andrew and Megan are enjoying their time with you,” she said. “You’re their hero.”

  “I’m not. I’m the father who should have been there for them. You up for Clue?”

  “Let me sweep the floor and I’ll be in.”

  “I can help.”

  “One-person job.”

  He returned to the library. They waited for her, but she declined to join them for the game. Andrew dealt the Clue cards and Megan fiddled with the weapons while Charlotte said good-night.

  “You didn’t get bit by a spider up in the attic, did you?” Greg asked her as he glanced at his cards. Well, Colonel Mustard wasn’t the culprit. “Spider bites can knock you for a loop.”

  “I wasn’t bitten,” she said. “I’ll see you all in the morning. Have fun.”

  Greg sensed her reluctance to leave. “Want to guess the perpetrator, weapon and room?”

  “Mr. Green, conservatory, candlestick.”

  She smiled and retreated. He could hear her footfall on the stairs and turned back to the game. “Think she’s right?” he asked the kids.

  Not even close, as it turned out. It was Miss Scarlet in the drawing room with the knife. Andrew won and gloated, but Megan won the next game. They gave up on a third and headed upstairs.

  As he glanced at Charlotte’s room, Greg noticed a light under the door and wondered if she was up reading Jane Austen or staring out the window, thinking about the few minutes underwater in April that had changed her life.

  Sixteen

  Andrew and Megan cooked breakfast on what was turning out to be another pleasantly warm day in Knights Bridge. Blink, he told his kids, and they’d miss summer there altogether. “Just like Minnesota, Dad,” Andrew said, grinning.

  “I’ll get out there before school starts,” Greg said.

  “Even with the new job?”

  “Yes. Even with the new job.” No caveats, he thought. He’d do it. “We’ll figure out good dates for you to come to Washington.”

  The kids decided to eat on the front porch. Charlotte was already out there with her coffee and accepted Megan’s invitation to join them. Megan made Greg sit outside while she and Andrew brought out plates, silverware, napkins and the food—scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, yogurt and local strawberries.

  “A feast,” Charlotte said with a smile.

  Over breakfast, Greg threw out some ideas for the day, but Andrew and Megan wanted to stay in town and laze around. It was their last full day in Knights Bridge. “We can take turns riding the bike,” Megan said.

  “There’s a second bike in the shed. I don’t know what shape it’s in.” Charlotte plucked a fresh strawberry from a serving bowl. “I see a lazy day with the Rawlings clan includes physical activity.”

  Greg made no comment. Andrew and Megan insisted on doing the cleanup themselves, without adult supervision, but they managed to slide their father a knowing look as they gathered up dishes and went back inside. “They can see right through me,” he told Charlotte as he grabbed a couple of strawberries.

  “I’ve no doubt, but I think I probably missed something.”

  He sat back, his chair at
an angle from her. “Probably.”

  He didn’t think he’d communicated that much of what he was thinking to her, but he noticed spots of color appear in her cheeks. Maybe it was the warm day. She mumbled something about getting more coffee, asked him if he wanted any—he shook his head—and slipped inside, the screen door creaking shut behind her.

  No, not the warm day.

  Greg ate his strawberries. He was about to head inside when Vic Scarlatti called to invite them swimming. “The water won’t be any warmer than it was the other day, but we’re hitting eighty degrees today,” Vic said. “This is New England. We need to seize the moment. Get here when it suits you. I’m just sitting on the porch playing Scrabble on my iPad.”

  Greg found Charlotte out back, admiring newly blossoming flowers, and invited her to join them at Echo Lake, but she was reluctant. “I don’t want to intrude on your time with your kids. You’re starting a high-pressure job. You need a good break, too.”

  “You just don’t want to jump in that cold lake water.”

  “I’m not intimidated by a cold New England lake.”

  “Good. Did you bring a swimsuit?”

  “Always. You?”

  “Never but I have shorts that’ll do should I get brave enough to take a dip. Get your suit on and meet us in the driveway at noon if you want to ride with us, or at Vic’s if you want to ride your bike.”

  “Riding with you sounds good. Thanks.”

  He didn’t know what to make of her more subdued, cooperative mood. Thoughts of him in shorts? He grinned, going around front to find the kids. Megan was in the hammock and Andrew was arriving back from his turn on the bike. There had been another bike in the shed but it had a flat tire and rusted brakes.

  Echo Lake for a picnic and swimming was met with actual applause by the youngest two members of the Rawlings family.

  They kept the picnic simple by stopping at the country store for sandwiches, chips, fruit and drinks.

  Vic greeted them in the driveway. No shorts for him—Greg doubted Vic owned a pair. He motioned toward the lake. “I opened up the guesthouse. Figure you might like to have access to it for your swimming and picnic. Typical New England weather. We’re lighting fires one day, swimming the next.”

  “Going to jump in the lake with us, Vic?” Greg asked.

  “Not a chance. I have important work to do up at the house.”

  “Thought you were playing Scrabble.”

  “An assistant secretary of state is calling me at noon.”

  Greg supposed it could be true but he wouldn’t put a little posturing past Vic.

  “Have fun, guys,” Vic said as they trooped down to the lake.

  Rohan galloped down to the beach with them. The golden retriever was more eager to get in the water than Greg was. He’d put on the one pair of shorts he’d packed but was in no rush to get wet. They got beach chairs and towels out of the guesthouse and set them up, but Andrew and Megan weren’t into sunning themselves. They peeled off their outer layers and charged into the water.

  Charlotte had slipped into the bathroom at the guesthouse and emerged in a simple one-piece black suit that managed to take Greg’s breath away. He sat on a chair in the sun. Damn, she had long, fit legs. And the curve of her hips and breasts, the taut abdomen.

  “If you stare at me in my wet suit, your kids will notice,” she said.

  “I’m staring at you in your dry suit. Think they’ve noticed?”

  “As you pointed out earlier, they can see right through you. They notice everything.”

  “Yeah. Easy to think they’re just swimming but they’re plotting. They go home tomorrow, you know.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Great idea to have a quiet day. Are you going in the water?”

  “Someone’s got to set up the picnic.”

  “Sure, Agent Rawlings.”

  So much for subdued, he thought as he watched her ease into the water. No squeals and drama from her. She dived into the still lake, her strokes smooth and strong as she disappeared underwater. Greg didn’t detect any hesitation or obvious physical limitations from her diving accident, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t struggling with the aftereffects. He knew from personal experience about hiding the truth. During his recovery, he hadn’t wanted to tell the people closest to him about the emotional turmoil and pain he’d been in, not because he was in denial but because he didn’t want to make anyone else uncomfortable.

  Charlotte came up for air, dived again. After a few minutes, she flipped onto her back and floated in the sparkling water. “Coming in, Greg?” she called to him.

  “Sure, why not?”

  The air was warmer but the prospect of swimming next to her had a decisive appeal. He stood up from his chair and pulled off his shirt. He didn’t think about his scars until his daughter gasped. “Dad!”

  Andrew stopped still in the water. “Man, Dad, that’s a serious scar.”

  “What? That’s where I got shot. Rough day on the job. All patched up now.”

  He got close enough to the lake’s edge for the water to seep over his toes. It was cold but he’d steeled himself. Andrew and Megan cheered him on, and he decided against easing his way into the chilly lake inch by inch. Just go for it. Dive in. Do his kids proud by not being a wimp in front of Charlotte, a professional diver. Didn’t matter that she wore wet suits on the job.

  He grinned at her. “Never should have let you go in first.”

  He didn’t wait for her response. He dived into the lake. He’d been sitting in the sun and the shock of the cool water on his warm skin had him stifling a yell when he surfaced. Andrew and Megan noticed, of course, and were highly amused.

  Charlotte appeared next to him, up to her shoulders in the water. “I’m standing on a nice, flat rock,” she said. “No lake-bottom gunk.”

  “Is gunk a professional-diver word?”

  “It gets the point across. The water here is beautiful. There aren’t any other houses on the lake?”

  “Brody grew up over there,” Greg said, pointing up the lake, out past Vic’s place. “The house was razed after he moved out at eighteen. He and Heather plan to build a house there.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Some of the land across the lake is protected.”

  Her gaze drifted to his scar. “You’re healed?”

  “A hundred percent.”

  “That’s good,” she said softly.

  “No scars from your accident?”

  “Not visible, no.”

  She slipped underwater and glided toward shore. In a moment, she raced out of the water, the breeze striking her wet body as she grabbed a towel and pulled it around her. Greg tried to be subtle sneaking a look at her in her wet bathing suit, but she noticed. Probably Andrew and Megan did, too. They were old enough. He watched them laughing, throwing sticks for Rohan, getting the puppy worked up. He liked to see their independence, their self-confidence, their hope in their futures. He liked the young adults they were becoming. He just didn’t want them to grow up too fast.

  He got out of the water before Andrew and Megan did. He grinned at Charlotte, stretched out on a towel in a sunny spot in the grass. “I could shake off like Rohan.”

  “That would be something to see.” She tossed a towel to him. “Is there anything about you that’s subtle?”

  “Not much.” He caught the towel and dried off, chest first. “You’re straightforward yourself, you know.”

  She nodded out toward Megan and Andrew in the water. “They don’t seem to miss their screens as much as they thought they would.”

  “I wish we could have a longer visit but they have a packed schedule at home,” Greg said, watching his kids in the quiet New England lake. “We’ll see each other again soon. It’ll be easier now that I’ll be in Washington.”<
br />
  He went inside to change into dry clothes. When he came out of a downstairs bathroom, Charlotte was coming out of a bedroom, also in dry clothes. “Your lips are blue,” he said. “That tells me the water’s as cold as I think it is.”

  “I hit that same spring again as the other day.”

  “Ah. That must be it. Not just missing your wet suit. Come on. Let’s unpack lunch.”

  They found an old quilt and spread it out in the grass a few yards from the water for their picnic. Vic wandered down from the main house, without his iPad, and happily accepted Charlotte’s invitation to join them. “There’s plenty of food,” she said.

  “I knew you’d bum lunch off us,” Greg added.

  Vic directed his attention to Charlotte. “You’re far too nice to be influenced by him. Ignore him.”

  Greg grinned, handing Vic a drink. “It’s half lemonade, half tea, and reasonably cold. You could use a picnic table out here.”

  “I’ll put it on the never-ending list of things this place needs,” Vic said.

  He and Greg sat in chairs, but Charlotte stayed on her towel. Andrew and Megan emerged from the water, followed reluctantly by Rohan, who shook off without spraying the food. He settled down next to Vic, a sign, Greg thought, that life wasn’t as chaotic on Echo Lake as it had been that winter.

  Charlotte passed out sandwiches, and the first lakeside picnic of the season was on.

  The kids wandered along the edge of the lake while Greg gathered up the remains of the picnic. Charlotte helped but they both told Vic to relax and enjoy himself—the least they could do since he’d opened up his place to them. Rohan lay sprawled next to Vic in the shade. They looked content, but Greg couldn’t help but feel that Vic was isolated and alone out here, the consequences of his life dedicated to his career instead of to his relationships. Projecting, maybe, given the state of his own relationships.