by Nora Roberts
“Good plan. Why don’t you grab a roller?” Malory suggested. “We can finish in here, then start upstairs.”
“Can I just say you women are doing a hell of a job with this place?”
“There, see?” Delighted, Zoe walked over and gave Jordan a loud kiss on the cheek. “Here’s a secure man who has respect for a woman’s abilities.”
“Absolutely. Nothing sexier than a self-sufficient woman.”
“Lap it up, Hawke, lap it up.” Dana nudged him aside. “Now take your playmate and run along. We’ve got work to do.”
She waited until Jordan and Brad had gone out, then dashed to the window to spy on them. “What’s he up to? Yeah, yeah, Brad’s asking him what gives right now. I can tell. But he’s not saying. He’s not saying because he knows I’m standing here watching. Damn it!”
She jerked back with a laugh as Jordan looked straight at her through the glass. “You just can’t pull one over on Jordan. God, I love that about him.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Malory sighed. “And if we’re not careful, we’re going to start another weep-o-rama.”
“Since I’ve leaked more in this one day than I have the entire past year, let’s paint.” Dana turned, gave her biceps an exaggerated flex. “He’s right, you know. We’re doing a hell of a job with this place.”
THEY worked downstairs until the walls were done, then took a coffee break, sitting on the floor to admire them.
“The floors in Dana’s section need to be damp-mopped. You need a clean surface before they’re sealed.”
“I don’t know how the sealing part goes.”
“It’s easy,” Zoe told her. “I’ll show you. Once they’re sealed, dried good and hard, you can start moving stuff in.”
“Wow!” Since Dana’s stomach jumped, she pressed a hand to it. “It gets more real every day. I ordered the shelves. If they get here when they’re supposed to, along with the other stuff I ordered—and the first shipments of books—I should be setting up in a couple of weeks. Maybe less. And I have a potential employee.”
“You didn’t say anything about that.” Zoe punched her lightly on the arm. “Who is it?”
“It’s a woman I met when I was working in the library. I ran into her at the grocery store, and one thing led to another. She’s personable, presentable, likes to read, wants a job, and isn’t looking for a big salary. She’s going to come by sometime and get a look at the place. If she doesn’t run screaming, I think I’ve got myself a bookseller.”
“Zoe, how soon do you think I can start moving stock in?” Malory asked.
“I think next week.” Zoe sipped coffee, glanced around the room. “It’s all coming together so well, I don’t want to jinx it, but I really think next week. It’s going to take me a little longer. There’s more to set up in a salon. And we still have to replace some of these windows. Plus there’s going to be a good, long list of punch-out work.”
“I love it when she talks the manly talk,” Dana commented. “Now let’s go up and play with the sander like men.”
“First,” Zoe said in a fair imitation of Brad’s most clipped tone, “it’s not a toy.”
“Jeez.” Dana laughed her way to her feet. “You slay me.”
Chapter Seventeen
“YOU sure about this?” Brad studied Jordan, and the square-cut ruby ring in his hand.
“Yeah. I think. She’d like this better than the traditional diamond.”
“I don’t mean the ring. I mean what you’re buying the ring for.”
“I’m sure. A little queasy, but sure.”
“I’m not going to take offense,” Flynn decided. “I could take offense that asking my sister to marry you makes you queasy, but I won’t.”
Jordan smiled a little as he turned the ring under the light. He’d wanted them both with him when he took this step. A kind of circle, he supposed, just as the ring was a circle. He couldn’t say either of them had been thrilled to be hauled off to Pittsburgh and into a jewelry stone, but they’d come through.
They always did.
“I think this is the one. I know she is.” He offered the ring to Brad. “You know more about this stuff than either of us. Give me an opinion of the rock.”
Behind the counter, the jeweler began to make noises.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jordan waved him off. “I know the spiel. I’d rather hear what my pal here has to say.”
“I can assure you that stone is an excellent quality. Burmese ruby at three carats, set in eighteen-karat gold. The craftsmanship of the—”
“Why don’t you get me a loupe?” Brad suggested pleasantly. “The guy’s buying an engagement ring. It’s a moment.”
He might not have been happy, but the potential sale had him producing a jeweler’s loupe and offering it to Brad.
Playing it out, Brad hemmed, hawed, and hmmmed before setting both the ring and the loupe on the black velvet pad. “You’re buying yourself a hell of a rock,” he said. “It hits the three C’s—color, cut, clarity, and at three substantial carats, rounds it out nicely. She’ll love it.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Wrap it up,” he told the jeweler.
“We should go get a beer now, right?” Flynn glanced warily at the other rings in the glass case. “And Jordan should buy, in a symbolic gesture of . . . oh, hell with all that. I just want a beer.”
“All in good time, my pretty.” Jordan pulled out his wallet, dug out his credit card. “We’ve got another stop to make on the way back.”
THE way he looked at it, he was going to make a clean sweep. A kind of romantic hat trick. He got the girl, he’d bought the ring. Now, he thought as they pulled through the gates of Warrior’s Peak, he was going to see if he could finesse the house.
“This is wild,” Flynn said from the backseat where Moe snored beside him, exhausted by the thrill of the car trip. “I think I’m in some sort of shock.”
“Pretty wild,” Jordan agreed. “But the fact is, I always wanted this place. Even when I was a kid.”
“Okay, before you go in there and make some sort of insane offer, let’s just take one more pass through the routine.” Brad shifted. “Let me point out, once again, that this place is enormous.”
“I like big.”
“It’s isolated.”
“I like isolated.”
“You haven’t asked Dana if she wants to live up here.”
“I don’t have to. I know how she’ll feel about it.”
“It’s like talking to a brick,” Brad muttered. “Okay, if you’re set on going through with this, at least take the I’m-a-big-sucker-with-a-lot-of-money sign off your ass.”
“They’re gods, son.” Jordan parked, pushed open the door. “I don’t think a poker face is going to make much difference.”
“I don’t know why you think they’ll consider selling the place to you,” Brad continued. “They only bought it a couple of months ago. Gods or not, there are the small matters of equity, taxes, capital gains.”
“Listen to the suit.” Flynn grinned as Moe leaped over him and out of the car.
“Shut up. You’re in shock, remember? Takes a good thirty minutes to get down to the Valley from here,” Brad continued.
“The way you drive, it does,” Jordan muttered under his breath.
“I heard that. Thirty minutes,” Brad repeated, “for a mature adult who has respect for the speed limit. And that’s in good weather. Fine for you, you can stay home and write in your underwear. Dana’s going to be running a business in town, six days a week.”
“Six?” Jordan turned from studying the house. “How do you know they’re planning on being open six days?”
“I got that from Zoe in between her sniping at me. The point is, she’s going to have to travel down there most every day. And in the winter—”
“I’ll buy her a four-wheel, a goddamn Humvee. Stop fretting, Mary.”
“Just for that, I hope—if they’re in the market for a buyer—they hose you.”
Rowena opened the door and was already laughing as she bent down to greet Moe. “Welcome! How lovely. Three handsome men and a handsome dog.”
“You call that dog handsome,” Jordan commented. “It must be love.”
“And so it is.” She straightened, smiled brilliantly as she looked into Jordan’s eyes. “So it is. Come in.”
Moe didn’t need a second invitation. He raced by her, skidded on the tiles, bumped into the archway on his turn into the parlor. When they caught up with him, he was curled into a chair, his chin resting on its velvet arm, his tail thumping.
“Hey! Off the furniture, you ingrate.”
Even as Flynn moved over to haul him down, Moe’s big brown eyes shifted to Rowena. His tail thumped harder.
“No, please. He’s perfectly welcome to sit there. After all.” She hurried over to intervene. “After all, he’s a guest.”
“He’s an operator.”
“Yes.” She stroked one of his floppy ears. “And he . . . what’s the phrase? He has my number. No harm. Now what can I offer you? Coffee, tea?” The corner of her lips twitched as she looked at Flynn. “Perhaps a cold beer.”
“Did you read my mind or do I just look like a guy who wants a beer right now?”
“Perhaps a bit of both. Please, follow Moe’s lead, and sit. Be comfortable. I’ll just be a moment.”
“Is Pitte available?” Jordan asked.
“Certainly. I’ll ask him to join us.”
Brad waited until she’d left the room, then turned to Jordan. “Okay, I can’t stand it. Don’t just blurt out how you want this house and always have, or something lamebrained like that.”
“Do I look like I just fell out of the nest?”
“Ever bought a house before?”
“No, but—”
“I have. You’re a successful author with a string of bestsellers. They know you’ve got money. Add some sparkly childhood dream to that and you’re just asking to get taken.”
Jordan took a seat. “You know, I’m beginning to see why you irritate Zoe.”
Brad looked down his nose. “I don’t irritate her, I make her nervous. The irritation is merely a side effect of the nerves.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to get it, too,” Flynn put in, and flopped down in his chair, much like his dog. He perked up as Rowena came back, carrying a tray.
“Hey, let me give you a hand with that.” Flynn pushed to his feet, took the tray that held five pilsners of beer.
“Thank you. Please, help yourselves. Pitte will be right along.” She sat on the sofa, curled up her legs, and sent Flynn a silky smile when he offered her one of the glasses. “It’s an important day.”
He felt his stomach clutch when she looked at him. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
“You’re allowed to feel a bit off-center. It’s human. Ah, here’s Pitte.”
“Good afternoon. Rowena tells me we’ve things to talk about.” He sat on the sofa beside her, reached for a beer. “You’re well?”
“Seem to be,” Jordan answered. “Maybe I should start with what’s happened.”
He told them first of Kane’s taking Dana back into their past.
“It’s interesting.” Pitte studied his beer, considered. “More straightforward than one expects from him.”
“A method that matches his quarry,” Rowena said. “Clever of him. He doesn’t attempt to trick or deceive her. Rather he tells her precisely what he’s doing, allows her to see, and still experience. Yes, it was a very good strategy.”
“It might have worked. Nearly did. I don’t think we’d be where we are, at least not now, if Malory hadn’t given us both a push.”
“The six of you are part of one whole. Vital and individual,” Rowena added, “but stronger yet for your connection. How did you resolve this thing with Dana?”
“Do I have to tell you? I can just about see the little red hearts circling over my head myself.”
“I’d still like to hear what you say, and how you say it.”
As he complied, she nodded, slid her hand into Pitte’s. “It’s difficult,” she said, “to know what to let go of, what to hold. I’m happy for you both, that you held each other.”
“So am I, for purely personal reasons. But it plays into the rest, doesn’t it?” Jordan watched her face, wished he could read it. “It’s part of the quest.”
“In a tapestry, every thread matters. The length, the texture, the hue. He wished to separate you; you didn’t allow it. The thread between you is long, and rich, and strong.”
“Why is it so important that he separate us?”
“You’re more together than you are apart. You know that.”
“It’s not only that.” He leaned forward. “Help me help her.”
“You have. You will. I believe that.”
“She’s nearly out of time.”
“You’ve come farther than you think, so be careful. He’ll do whatever he can to break that thread.”
Jordan sat back. “He won’t break it. There’s another reason I’m here. I’m starting to wonder if it’s not part of the tapestry as well. I want to buy this house.”
Brad made a strangled sound in his throat that had Pitte shooting him a dryly amused glance. “Would you care for some water?”
“No. No.” With a sigh, Brad drank more beer. “No.”
“The big businessman over there figures I should tap-dance around, and we’ll play let’s negotiate for an hour or two. I don’t see the point. I don’t know what your plans are for the place once this is all done, but if you’re willing to sell, I’m ready to buy.”
Why doesn’t he just give them a blank check? Brad thought to himself. Access to his brokerage account, the deed to his condo in New York?
“Your business-minded friend has some excellent points.” Sending Brad a nod of acknowledgment, Pitte swirled his beer. “I’ve developed a number of business interests over time. I enjoy . . .” He gave Rowena a questioning glance.
“Wheeling and dealing.”
“Yes. It’s an entertaining hobby. This property, beyond suiting our needs during this period, is quite desirable. A house of this size and material, with its history and its location—which includes twenty-five point three acres, both cleared and wooded, a six-car garage, an indoor swimming pool, with steam room and . . .”
“Whirlpool tub,” Rowena supplied on a bubble of laughter. “We quite enjoy the whirlpool tub.”
“Yes.” He lifted her hand, nipped her knuckles. “As well as a number of other details and amenities—”
“Please.” Unable to hold back, Brad lifted a hand. “This place is an enormous white elephant. Amenities and history are one thing, but it’s twenty miles away from the Valley—”
“Eighteen point six,” Pitte corrected blandly.
“On a narrow road that twists straight up the mountain,” Brad continued. “It’s bound to cost a fortune to heat and cool. You put it on the market tomorrow, you’d be lucky to get a serious offer within the next decade.”
Pitte stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles. It occurred to Jordan that this was the most relaxed he’d seen Pitte in the weeks of their acquaintance.
“I would enjoy doing business with you,” he told Brad. “Perhaps, at some point, there will be an opportunity. I believe it would be very stimulating.”
“Right now you’re doing business with me,” Jordan reminded him.
“Yes, that’s true.” Pitte’s gaze shifted to Jordan.
“I have a question first.” Rowena patted Pitte’s arm to hold him off, then looked at Jordan. “Why do you want this house?”
“I’ve always wanted it.”
Brad rolled his eyes toward heaven. “Have pity on him.”
“The question is why.”
“It . . . spoke to me. I don’t mean that literally.”
“No.” Rowena nodded. “I understand you. Go on.”
“When I was a kid, I would look up here and I’d think: That’s my hous
e. It’s just waiting for me to grow up. I remember telling my mother that I was going to buy it for her one day, and she’d be able to stand up here, on the top of the world.”
He shrugged. “When I was older, I would drive up here sometimes, look at the place and tell myself that one day I’d drive through the gates and walk right in the front door. It’s beautiful, and it’s strong, and it may be all the way up here, but it’s part of what makes the Valley what it is. I couldn’t give it to my mother. I want to give it to Dana. I want to build a life with her here, raise children with her here. I want to be able to look down at the Valley and know we’re all a part of something solid and real and important.”
“You can have the house.”
The gleam in Pitte’s eyes winked out. “Rowena!”
“For its appraised value,” she continued, wagging a finger at her lover. “And not a penny more.”
“You wound me, a ghra.”
“You won’t charge him for the legal business of it, the settlement, the transfer, whatever it is. You will pay the fees and the . . . what are they called?” she asked Brad.
“Points.” He had to swallow a laugh. “I think you mean points.”
“Yes, all of that sort of business.” She thought for a moment. “I think that’s everything.”
Pitte hissed out a breath. “Women are a trial to a man. Why don’t I just wrap bows around the place and gift it to him?”
“Because he wouldn’t accept.” She leaned over to kiss Pitte’s cheek while he scowled. “It’s always been his,” she said. “You know that as well as I.”
“Be that as it may.” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “You and I,” he said to Jordan, “will work out the details of the thing without the female buzzing about.”
“At your convenience.”
“Shake hands on it, Pitte.” Rowena gave him a nudge. “Shake hands on the terms just set.”
“Bloody hell.” He shoved himself to his feet, held out a hand. “Might as well do it, then, or she’ll nag me hairless.”
Jordan clasped Pitte’s hand, felt a quick jolt. It might have been power, he mused, or simple frustration. It was hard to tell when you were closing a deal with a god. “Thank you.”