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by Mary Sullivan


  “Except Uncle Gabe,” she amended. “He wants to do more. He wants to save the environment.”

  Saint freaking Gabe. Would Emily ever talk about her own father with that much admiration?

  “Come on,” he said, in a funk. “Let’s drive to town. We’re losing the light.”

  Dinner was steak and baked potatoes at a steak house across the street from Sweet Temptations.

  Despite his best efforts, Nick couldn’t stop staring at the bakery. Someone was working in the back because light spilled from the kitchen through the doorway to the café. Occasionally, a shadow crossed.

  Laura? Baking tomorrow’s treats?

  He didn’t care.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “I asked you a question three times.”

  “Sorry. I was thinking about something.”

  Emily’s glance flickered to the bakery and back to him, but something in his face must have warned her not to ask why he was preoccupied with it.

  “What were you asking me?”

  “How did your meeting with the Native Americans go?”

  She was showing an interest in his business? She never had before. But then, it had never been real to her, or immediate, as it was here.

  “I found a professor who’s going to work with elders to determine exactly where the migration routes were. Do you remember that young man I spoke to on Saturday? The protestor?”

  “The good-looking one? Yeah, I remember.”

  She was looking at men? At boys? And judging their looks? Was she old enough for that? Emily, I lost your childhood and already you’re showing signs of moving further along.

  “Anyway, his name is Salem Pearce. I asked him whether he wants a job once the resort is built.”

  He described his idea for honoring the dead and the local native heritage, and about building something on the land.

  “Oh, wow, Dad, that’s awesome. I love that idea.” The admiration Nick had heard in her voice earlier for Gabe now rang for him and it warmed him to a ridiculous degree. “The clearing where Uncle Gabe used to keep his dogs and the tent would be an awesome spot for the building. The trees are so tall and, when it’s quiet, it’s like a cathedral.”

  Nick smiled warmly at his daughter. “Good idea, Emily.” What other smart ideas did she have?

  “Fancy meeting you two here.”

  Tyler approached their table.

  Nick nodded. Emily jumped up to hug Ty. “You’ve met Ty?” he asked.

  “He came to Gabe and Callie’s for dinner on Saturday night.”

  “Dinner? There’s no house.”

  “We had it around the campfire.”

  Ty laughed. “With heavy jackets on. We started early, but it got cool toward the end of the night.”

  “Are you here for dinner?” Nick asked, actually considering inviting him to join them.

  “No. I saw you in the window when I passed.”

  He was in uniform. “You’re working?”

  “Yeah. I don’t usually work evenings, but one of my deputies called in sick. I’ve been on the job since eight this morning. If the night stays quiet, I’ll catch some z’s on the cot in the cell.”

  “In the jail cell?” Emily asked.

  Ty nodded and laughed. He’d always been the easygoing one, the peacekeeper between authoritarian Gabe and rebellious Nick.

  “We’ve finished dinner, but do you want to join us for dessert?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  They ordered apple pie and coffee.

  Nick brought him up to speed on the Native American issue. Ty nodded his approval. “Doesn’t sound like there’ll be any trouble I’ll be called out for once you start to build.”

  “Don’t think so. The talks have been civilized.” Nick finished his pie and asked, “What’s your impression of Salem Pearce?”

  “He’s a real good kid. A man of his word. What’s your impression?”

  “Same. I told him I want him to run the Native center once it’s up and running. In fact, I want him to get it going.”

  “Good choice. I’ve never had a speck of trouble with him.” He glanced at Emily. “How long are you staying in town?”

  “Probably just until the end of the week—just until I get this problem settled and construction headed in the right direction.”

  “Aw, Dad. It feels like we just got here.”

  “I know, but I left a lot of work behind and who knows what you’re missing at school.”

  Before Emily could get a real pout going, Ty said, “I’ve been thinking. My daughter, Ruby, is coming to stay with me for six weeks in the summer, starting end of June.”

  Nick had heard about Ruby. It seemed the girl’s mother had kept her existence a secret from Ty until the girl popped up on his doorstep in the middle of a blizzard in January.

  “I’d like for Emily and Ruby to meet. After all, they’re first cousins and the same age. As far as I know, Emily is Ruby’s only cousin.”

  Emily squealed and pumped the air with her fist. “Yes! Say yes, Dad. Pleeeease.”

  Until this weekend, Nick hadn’t known how much Emily craved an extended family. Marsha had been an only child so there were no cousins on that side. Now, there was Ruby.

  He hadn’t realized his girl had been starving for family, that he’d been depriving her of something valuable—another mark against him as a father.

  How on earth could Nick say no? But that would leave him alone in Seattle when he had finally decided to spend more time with her.

  She seemed to read his mind. “Can you take a holiday?” She turned to her uncle. “Can Dad stay with us, too?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can stay at the B and B.”

  “Why?” Ty asked.

  Good question. Nick didn’t have an answer.

  “Come on, Nick. Get your head out of your a—” He glanced at Emily and flushed. “Sorry. I mean, we’re family. I have bedrooms sitting empty. It’s embarrassing to have my brother visit and not stay with me.”

  He hadn’t realized Ty would feel that way.

  “Okay, how about if Emily and I come for the Fourth of July? How about we arrive a couple of days before?”

  Ty grinned. “Sounds like a plan. Ruby will be here by then. We’ll have a barbecue at the ranch. I’ll have Gabe and Callie over, too.”

  Ty stood and left but not without another bear hug for Emily.

  “The architect and Salem and I are going to look over the land on Wednesday morning,” Nick said to his daughter. “We’ll discuss ideas for the museum. Want to come?”

  “Yes!”

  Nick smiled, so damn glad he’d brought his daughter with him to Accord.

  When they got back to their top-floor suite at the B and B, Nick had Emily call her grandfather. She was on the phone with Mort for a good half an hour. Nick listened to her describe every dog to Mort, as well as every feature of the prospector’s tent.

  Nick also heard Mort’s laugh on the other end of the phone. Emily’s call had perked him up. Mort and Emily usually spoke every night. He must be missing his granddaughter.

  When they returned to Seattle, Nick had to make a point of having Mort over for dinner, often.

  * * *

  LAURA WENT TO the house she had been raised in, two blocks behind Main, to pick up her mom for her birthday dinner.

  Coming here was still hard more than twenty years after Amber’s death.

  Laura’s teenage years had been difficult after that and nothing had brought her comfort until Gabe Jordan had shown her kindness. Missing her baby sister—and her mother and father’s attention—she had lapped up Gabe’s affection as though it were mother’s milk, sunshine and gold all wrapped into one.

  Throughout their friendship, though, there had been that mischievous, unruly, troubling attraction to a boy three years younger than her. Nick. Her boyfriend’s brother.

  She’d never forgotten Gabe’s kindness and love
. To this day, she couldn’t forgive herself for betraying him, even though he had forgiven her and had moved on. She hoped he was happy.

  She stepped into the house and called, “Mom, I’m here. Are you ready?”

  “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Laura stepped in only as far as the living room, noting that the flowers she and Noah had ordered had arrived—hot-pink gladioli splayed in a fan from a low flat dish.

  The style of the room was slightly dated, but elegant, perfect. Like her mother. Mom’s favorite pieces of artwork from the gallery, the ones she bought for herself—she did get first dibs, after all, because she saw the work before anyone else did—hung on the walls, everything from abstract to landscape.

  If Laura had eclectic taste in music, her mom did in art.

  When Olivia finally came downstairs, dressed in a cream-and-peach two-piece suit, exquisitely designed and perfectly tailored, her eyes and nose were red.

  She had obviously tried to hide it with makeup, but Laura knew she’d been crying.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Olivia’s cool, practiced smile couldn’t hide her sorrow. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  Laura put a hand on her hip. “Mom. Come on. You’ve been crying.”

  Mom’s hand shot to her cheek. “It shows?”

  “It shows.”

  “I can’t go out.”

  “Sure you can. Just give it a minute. We have time before the reservation. We have to wait for Noah, anyway.” She gestured toward the tasteful arrangement of furniture for her mother to sit. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Olivia peered into the antique federal mirror in the hall. “I can’t go out like this. We’ll have to order in.”

  She turned to mount the stairs. “I’ll change out of my suit.”

  Laura stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Mom, talk to me. What are you trying to avoid telling me?”

  Olivia stared at her hand on the banister and seemed to hold her breath, then said, “I don’t want to grow old. I don’t want to celebrate another birthday.”

  “We don’t have to go out, then,” Laura said softly. “We can eat in.”

  Mom released her breath. “Good. Let’s have pizza.”

  “Okay.” Laura watched her mother go upstairs and wondered where all of this worry about aging had come from. Mom had never had a problem with it before.

  Too bad. Laura had arrived a few minutes early because she’d wanted to talk to Mom about Saturday night’s disaster. She needed a shoulder to cry on, but it obviously wouldn’t be Olivia’s.

  * * *

  ON WEDNESDAY MORNING, Nick pulled into the yard at the Jordan house with his architect, Mike Canning, in the front seat and Emily in the back.

  Two cars were already there—a beat-up old junker and a late-model Honda Civic. Nick imagined the junker belonged to Salem, but who owned the Civic?

  Mike and Emily followed him to the veranda. He opened the unlocked door. No sense locking a house that had nothing in it.

  Salem’s voice rang out from the kitchen along with throaty feminine laughter that kicked Nick in the gut. What was Laura doing here?

  “Salem?” he called.

  The young man stepped out of the kitchen with Laura. He smiled. She didn’t.

  “I asked Laura to deliver some of her coffee and cinnamon buns. They’re here in the kitchen. My treat.”

  “That was generous of you.”

  Salem watched Mike with interest.

  Nick introduced the two of them. If it was rude to ignore Laura, so be it. She’d done a real number on him in trying to get pregnant without his permission. Sure, he understood revenge, but thirteen years later? That was a long time to hold on to old resentments.

  It was petty beyond belief to act on them so many years later, but worse, to act in a way that would alter a man’s life forever.

  Mike stepped forward, held out his hand and introduced himself. Laura smiled and took it.

  Emily said, “Hi.”

  “Sorry, I forgot,” Nick said. “Salem, this is my daughter, Emily.”

  “Dad told me all about what you want to do. I love the idea. Can’t wait to see what you and Mr. Canning come up with.”

  Salem smiled down at Emily and Nick saw something he couldn’t quite put his finger on—a bonding, maybe? A communion of like minds?

  Laura laughed at something Mike said, drawing his attention.

  She walked over to Salem. “I have to get back to the bakery.”

  “Thanks for bringing the stuff. I’ll come in later to settle the tab.”

  “Whenever. Don’t worry about it.”

  She kissed him and hugged him and left.

  Smiling, Salem turned to Nick, but the smile died on his face. “What?”

  “You always hug and kiss the caterer?”

  “She’s my cousin.”

  She was? “Oh.” He’d had no idea.

  “You weren’t friendly with her,” Mike said.

  Nick shrugged.

  “Is there something I should know?”

  “Why would you need to know anything?”

  “I’m taking her out to dinner tonight.”

  “What?”

  “I assume it’s okay for me to eat while I’m here.” Mike’s tone had taken on an edge. “She’s a beautiful woman. I wouldn’t mind her company.”

  “Do what you want.”

  “I usually do.”

  Salem jumped into the breach. “Come into the kitchen. Let’s eat then get out on the land.”

  They had coffee and cinnamon buns, both of which were excellent.

  Mike and Emily raved about the buns.

  “Dad, we so have to get more of these tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

  “O-kay. Why are you in a bad mood? You weren’t before we got here.”

  “It’s the house.”

  Mike watched him, his smile too knowing. He knew that Nick was having trouble dealing with Laura, even if he didn’t know why.

  “Let’s get out of here.” An itchiness pulsed in Nick’s limbs as though he needed to run a marathon or go a round in a boxing ring. He needed to get away from Laura’s cinnamon buns and out onto the land.

  “Emily had a great idea for a good spot for the museum.” He led them to the clearing where the morning sun slanted onto the forest floor.

  Salem’s face lit up. “Here?” he asked in his smooth soft voice. “She was right. It’s perfect.”

  “It feels like we’re in a church,” she said. “A cathedral.”

  “That has nothing to do with native culture,” he replied, “but I understand perfectly.”

  Mike roved the space. “This is beautiful. What do you think, Salem? Wood, brushed steel, plenty of glass so the beauty of the forest becomes a part of the interior space. Round corners. No sharp edges.”

  Salem couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah. How about making it tall, like the pines?”

  “Three stories? Okay. How about a column of steel up the center to house an elevator and washrooms, but we’ll cover it with wood so it blends into the forest.”

  “Reclaimed wood would be incredible.”

  Mike nodded. “I love it. How about self-sufficiency? Solar energy.”

  “Yeah. Make everything green. We need large empty spaces for showcasing the culture. It would be great if it was all glass. You know, have everything protected from the elements, but feel like you are outdoors. A full-size tepee in the lobby that we could light up at night would look awesome from both inside and outside.”

  Nick felt like a fifth wheel, as though looking in on lovers. He’d done his job. He’d paired the two best people to bring this off.

  “Do you two want to come back to Accord to talk ideas? I’ve got the library conference room booked for the week.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Do you want to ride back with me, Mike?” Salem asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s stop at the B
and B to get my drawing materials. I’m having ideas already. We can go through sketches together. Nick says you want to incorporate your culture into the design. Should be interesting.”

  They’d arrived at their cars.

  “See you there,” Nick called and started his rental. Emily climbed into the passenger seat.

  Before they’d even turned onto the small highway into town, Emily said, “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s going on between you and the woman from the bakery? You didn’t even introduce me to her.”

  He debated what to tell her.

  “She lost a baby a few months ago and is angry that I have you.”

  “Why should I matter to her?”

  “It isn’t something I can discuss with you except to say that it’s ancient history that neither of us seems to be able to get past.”

  “Okay.”

  She’d accepted the little he’d cared to tell her, but worried her bottom lip all the way into Accord.

  * * *

  NICK LOOKED FORWARD to another evening with Emily. There would only be one more and then it was back to Seattle and normal life.

  He would have to make sure he shaped a new definition of normal. This week was too good, his time with Emily too precious to ever go back to the way things used to be.

  Tonight, they were having supper at a family restaurant that catered to all ages, with food that ran to burgers, fries, chicken fingers and onion rings.

  They had only just ordered when Nick glanced up at the opening front door.

  Laura walked in with Mike. Of all the joints in town, they had to choose the same one as he and Emily? What were the chances?

  A slow burn started in his gut. She’d sure fooled him. When he was young, he’d thought her ethical, moral.

  When he’d seduced her—she’d been right about that; he believed she would have resisted her attraction to him if he hadn’t pushed it that night—and had Gabe find them, she’d been truly devastated.

  So, had she really changed so much over the years that she would use him to get pregnant? The temperature between them had been solar. Had she forced the sex that high that quickly? Or had she been as carried away as he?

  Four days later, he was still angry with her and no closer to answers.

  Neither of them saw Nick and Emily.

  When the waitress brought their food, Nick found Emily watching him.

 

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