Thomas Kinkade

by The Inn at Angel Island (v5)

“I’m sure he will. And you certainly don’t need the headaches of a new account right now,” Eve added.

  Perhaps she meant it kindly, out of concern. But Liza heard another message: You’re distracted and overwhelmed, letting your personal life interfere with your work and not doing a first-rate job around here anymore.

  “You just do what you have to do out there,” Eve continued. “Don’t worry about us. This is a vacation break, too, right?”

  “Not really,” Liza corrected her. “I’m basically working long distance for a few days. That’s all. I’m totally available to the office.”

  “All right. I’ll remember that. You take care. See you soon.”

  They said good-bye, and Liza ended the call. Her heart sank.

  Charlie had won this round. Was he angling to force her out entirely? The economy was awful, and Eve had said that the company had taken a hit. Liza had never thought her job was in jeopardy, but maybe she had been wrong.

  Or maybe it hadn’t been in jeopardy until she came out here.

  She was fair game now, unable to defend herself. Who knew what would happen by the time she got back?

  Eve had not mentioned the promotion, Liza noticed. Earlier, Eve had promised her that no decision would be made before she returned, and Liza trusted her. But she still worried. She had left a few days ago concerned about a promotion. Now she was wondering if she was losing her job.

  Liza sighed and heaved herself up from the kitchen table. She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, hoping a cool glass of water would calm her down.

  Back to battling the closets. At least that was a front she might win. There might even be some upside to all this anger if she could channel it productively. Maybe the closet question could calm her?

  “Save, discard, give away,” she chanted under her breath. “Save . . . discard . . . strangle Charlie Reiger . . .”

  “What did you say?”

  Liza spun around to find Daniel standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her. “Save, discard . . . strangle somebody?”

  She laughed self-consciously. “I was just . . . upset about . . . something. A phone call from my office,” she confessed.

  “That’s the problem right there.” He pointed to the BlackBerry still in her hand. “Don’t you know those things are bad for your health? They definitely raise your blood pressure—and put you in a bad mood.”

  “Well, it did today,” she admitted.

  “A problem at work?”

  “You might say that. A problematic person,” she clarified, not knowing how much she wanted to confide.

  “There usually is at least one of those in any office,” he said sympathetically. “What do you do for a living, Liza? I don’t think you mentioned it.”

  “I’m in advertising. An account executive.”

  His eyebrows rose a notch. “Nice. Very impressive.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not. He didn’t seem the type of guy who was impressed by fancy titles or big salaries. Was she trying to impress him? She wasn’t sure.

  How had he even snuck up on her like that? She heard the machine still running outside. But obviously, his helper was handling it alone right now. Daniel must have walked in the front door without her noticing.

  “Do you need something?” Liza stared up at him, trying to act more businesslike.

  “I just came in to tell you that a window on the third floor is open. Someone needs to go up and close it.”

  “All right. I’ll take care of it,” she said, hoping he would take the hint and leave her be. She just wanted to have a good sulk. Now she was getting all distracted by him again.

  He looked about to say something to her, something more serious. The BlackBerry buzzed. Liza tried to check the number but Daniel was faster, snatching it out of her hand.

  “Why don’t you just shut this thing off for a while? You’ll feel a lot better, honestly.”

  Liza tried to grab it from him. But he held it just out of her reach. Then he laughed at her. “I know it will be hard at first, but you can do it. I know you can.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Would you please give that back to me? It might be important—”

  “I doubt it. Probably just another annoying person.”

  Liza couldn’t argue with that. He was almost certainly right. But it was also annoying to be teased like this. “Fine,” she said, pretending to give up. She started to walk away, then quickly whirled around and reached for the phone.

  But he was quicker. “Whoa . . . nice move. You nearly got me.”

  “This is so . . . silly. And childish. Just give it back to me, Daniel.”

  He laughed at her again, and this time she started laughing, too, despite her efforts to look stern. This game was maddening! So why was she enjoying it?

  The BlackBerry buzzed again and she pounced, grabbing his wrist so that she could finally see who was calling.

  “It’s Peter! Give it, give it . . . I have to speak to him. Right now!”

  Daniel finally heeded her excited tone, and his hold on the phone went slack. Liza snatched it back.

  “Who’s Peter? Your boss?” He seemed genuinely interested in knowing—or was that just her imagination?

  Liza quickly hit the Call Back button. “Peter’s my older brother.”

  “I’ll give you some privacy, then. I’ll just run upstairs and close that window if you don’t mind.”

  “Thanks. I don’t mind at all.” Liza met his dark glance a moment, then watched him leave the kitchen.

  Daniel was likely right. These instant-communication devices were probably bad for your health and your mood. Luckily, there was a handsome home repairman around to put it all in perspective. The perfect antidote.

  Peter’s phone rang several times. Liza hoped she hadn’t missed him. Finally, she heard him pick up and say hello.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Liza greeted him.

  Please don’t tell me you’re not coming. I’ ll just scream.

  “We’re at Logan. We caught a flight late last night with a connection in Atlanta and just got in. We’re waiting for the baggage to come down—”

  “You’re at Logan? That’s terrific!” Liza nearly hopped up and down, she was so relieved.

  “The car rental is set. We should be there in about two hours.”

  “Can’t wait to see you. Drive carefully, okay? . . . You remember the way?”

  “Couldn’t forget it. See you soon.” Her brother sounded tired but eager to get out to the island.

  Liza felt something deep inside her relax. Thank goodness he was on the way. There were still so many questions to be resolved, so many memories to be untangled. If she really had to say good-bye to the inn, at least she wouldn’t have to do it alone.

  Chapter Five

  ENERGIZED by the news of Peter’s arrival, Liza whipped through the rest of the foyer closet, then moved on to the dining room.

  Claire covered the long dining-room table with a soft old blanket, and they began sorting out china, piles of dinner plates, soup bowls, teacups, and saucers—placing them in three categories: save, discard, and give away. Liza had just finished one shelf of many when she heard a car pull up the gravel drive.

  “I think they’re here,” she said to Claire.

  Liza set down a flower-rimmed bowl and ran to a window that faced the drive. A small red hatchback pulled up next to her own car. Her brother, Peter, sat in the driver’s seat, and an absolutely huge teenage boy sat beside him.

  Was that her nephew, Will? She couldn’t believe it.

  She watched as they got out of the car and Peter opened the trunk. Will got out of his side and walked to the back of the car. He was as tall as his father now, maybe even taller; it was hard to tell with his thick pile of dark hair.

  “Look at Will. He’s so big, I didn’t even recognize him,” Liza said aloud. “I’ll go out and see if they need any help.”

  Claire met her gaze and nodded with a gentle s
mile. “Let me know if you need a hand,” she said simply, then continued working on the china.

  Liza ran out the front door and around to the drive. The cold air cut through the fine wool of her turtleneck, but she hardly missed a coat.

  “Hey, you made it.” She ran up to her brother and greeted him with a big hug.

  Peter hugged her back. “All the way from Tucson to Angel Island. It feels like we’ve landed on another planet,” he said.

  Liza hadn’t thought about that before, but her brother had been living out in the desert since he started college, almost twenty years now. It must feel strange to come back to this place surrounded by water.

  She was eager to say hello to Will, but he stood with his back to her, gazing out at the ocean.

  “Has Will ever seen the ocean before?” she asked Peter.

  “Once or twice. We took some trips to California. But not since he was much younger.”

  Liza walked over to Will and touched his shoulder. “Hi, Will. It’s good to see you.”

  “Hey, Aunt Liza.” Will glanced at her, then looked back at the water. He had plugs in his ears, which led down to an iPod in his T-shirt pocket.

  Liza wondered if he could even hear her but continued the conversation anyway. “You’ve gotten so tall. I hardly recognized you,” she said with amazement.

  He turned again and met her glance. “Everybody says that. Like I’m a giant freak or something.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said quickly. “You just look all grown-up, that’s all.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He sighed and looked over at his father. “Dad, I’m really hungry. Can we get something to eat?”

  “Can you help with these bags, Will?” Peter ignored his son’s question, his voice flat and tired. Liza didn’t blame him. It was a long trip, and it sounded as if they had been traveling all night. Will rolled his eyes and walked back to the car.

  Liza followed. “I can help,” she offered. She grabbed a duffel out of the trunk right after Will did and gave her nephew a smile. Finally, he smiled back.

  Peter took the last duffel and slung a backpack over his shoulder, then shut the trunk. Liza noticed his care with the pack and guessed he had camera equipment in there. Peter rarely traveled without a camera or three.

  As they marched into the inn, Claire stood in the foyer near the staircase, her hands folded primly in front of her. She might have been a statue, Liza thought, except for the warm sparkle in her blue eyes.

  “Welcome, Peter and . . . Will. Is that right?”

  Peter put his bags down and extended a hand. “You must be Claire North. It’s nice to meet you. Liza’s told me a lot about you.”

  A lot? She hadn’t said a lot. Just a few significant details, Liza thought.

  “It’s good to meet you, Peter.” Claire’s voice was warm and sincere. She turned to greet Will, but he was fiddling with his iPod and seemed to be purposely ignoring the housekeeper.

  “Why don’t we just leave the bags down here for now?” Liza suggested. “Are you guys hungry? We’ll make you some sandwiches or something—”

  “I’ll take a sandwich,” Will cut in quickly.

  “Please.” his father suggested.

  Will just stared at him, then shook his head and stomped toward the kitchen.

  Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ve embarrassed him now. Gail says he’s too old to be corrected in front of other people, but he doesn’t have any manners.”

  Liza didn’t have any kids and wasn’t about to take sides, but she could see how Will wouldn’t want to be corrected in front of her and Claire.

  “Children that age will get embarrassed about anything,” Claire put in. “Even the way you breathe annoys them.”

  Peter turned to Claire, looking validated. “He did say that to me once; I’m not kidding.” Then he suddenly looked alarmed. “I’d better catch up to him,” he said, “before he cleans out the refrigerator.”

  Liza and Claire followed Peter to the kitchen, where they found Will standing at the counter, polishing off the remains of the chicken pot pie.

  “Will, what are you doing? We’re guests here.” Peter’s voice was low and tense. He stepped over to Will and took the pie dish from his hand.

  Will looked surprised, a bit of carrot hanging from his lip. “Dad, just chill. I’m just getting something to eat. You’re, like, flipping out on me.”

  “It’s all right,” Liza said quickly. “We’re family. He can help himself to anything he likes.”

  “I’m, like, starving here, and you’re standing out there talking. I thought you said you owned half of this place,” Will added in an accusing tone. “Doesn’t that include the food?”

  “It certainly does,” Claire told Will. “But you really want to eat this warmed up. It has no flavor otherwise.”

  She stepped forward, took the pie dish, placed a piece of paper towel on top, and stuck it in the microwave. “Just wash your hands and take a seat over there.” She pointed to the long table. “I’ll bring this over to you when it’s ready.”

  Will scowled at her, but her expression remained smooth and calm. “There’s chocolate pudding pie for dessert. Interested?”

  Will finally nodded. “Okay, I guess,” he said, as if she had been working hard to persuade him.

  He walked over to the sink and washed up. Peter watched, then glanced at Liza. Liza didn’t say anything, relieved that the conflict had been so easily smoothed over. By Claire, of course.

  If this is a preview of the next ten days, I’ d better fasten my seat belt, Liza thought.

  It was going to be a bumpy ride.

  WHILE Will was fed—and calmly tolerated—by Claire in the kitchen, Peter and Liza took some coffee out to the front porch. Liza had unwrapped a few chairs from their plastic coverings and set them near the front door. Peter settled down in one of the big Adirondack chairs, but Liza stood at the railing a moment and looked out at the patch of blue ocean and sky.

  It felt good to get some fresh air after being in the house all day, dealing with dusty china—and her own chipped and cracked ambitions.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Mostly,” she answered, not wanting to go into her problems. “How about you?”

  Peter zipped up his fleece pullover and stretched out his legs. The wooden Adirondack chair suited him. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

  She turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

  Peter gave her a wry grin. “I’m telling myself it’s not the end of the world. I mean, I’m healthy and Will is—well, a teenage boy. It’s just that business has been awful lately, Liza. I know everyone is hurting these days, but I’m really limping along. Any cash reserves I had tucked away were eaten up by the divorce. I’m more or less winging it,” he admitted. “I really do need the money from this house. I hope that real estate lady was telling the truth.”

  Liza had known her brother was eager to receive his share of the profits from the sale of the inn, but she hadn’t realized money was so tight for him right now. And he had a kid to worry about, too.

  “I don’t think Fran Tulley was exaggerating,” she said carefully. “People around here are pretty excited about the changes on the island. Though there’s definitely a faction who don’t want the changes,” she added, thinking of Daniel.

  Peter shrugged. “There will always be people like that, but they usually don’t win.”

  “No, they don’t,” Liza agreed. Though she secretly thought that in some cases it would be better if the naysayers did win out and progress wasn’t so inevitable.

  “How soon can she bring buyers around?”

  “Fran’s coming by in a little while with a contract for us to sign,” Liza told him, “an agreement with her agency for the right to sell the property. We can ask her then.”

  “Okay, I will. Good work setting all this up, Liza,” he added. “I know I haven’t been any help so far.”

  No, you haven’t, Liza nearly answered.
And I definitely have more important things going on than dealing with this old place.

  But she didn’t want to snipe at him. The delay in his arrival hadn’t been his fault. Now that he was here, she knew he would pull his share of the weight. Maybe even Will would help.

  “So, was it hard to get Will to come? How did you persuade him to give up the camping trip?”

  Peter gave her an embarrassed look. “I had to bribe him.”

  “You bribed him? How?”

  Peter shrugged. “He wants a new phone. An iPhone or something like that. It does everything but floss your teeth. I told him I’d get it for him, but he had to chip in part of the money,” Peter hurried to add. “I know it’s wrong to pay him off like that with material gifts, but I didn’t know what else to do . . . You think I’m an awful father now, don’t you?”

  Liza shook her head. “Of course not. I think you’re just caught in a tough situation. I’m not judging you, Peter. I don’t have any children. What do I know?”

  He didn’t answer, just gazed out at the ocean beyond the open land across the road. “It’s been difficult since the divorce. I hardly ever get to see him anymore. One night a week and alternate weekends. It’s not enough time. He just starts letting down his guard and warming up to me, and it’s time to go. We used to have a good relationship. Now everything I do is wrong. Or stupid. Or embarrassing.”

  “Isn’t that pretty much expected for kids his age? Teenage angst and all that?”

  Peter turned to her. “It’s more than that. The problem is . . . well, it’s really Gail,” he said, finally mentioning his ex-wife. “She’s brain-washed Will against me. I don’t know who he thinks I am anymore. I’ve gone back to court for shared custody,” he added. “I want Will to live with me half of the time so we won’t have this threadbare, fractured relationship. He’s going into high school next fall. Four short years and he’ll be on his own. This is my last chance to be a real father to him, you know?”

  “What are your chances to win shared custody?” Liza asked.

  “Pretty good,” he said hopefully. “Fathers have more rights in court these days. But Will has a lot of say in the situation now. He isn’t a baby. So far . . . well, he just shrugs when I ask how he feels about living with me half of the time. Either he hasn’t made up his mind, or he’s afraid to give me the bad news.”