by Irene Hannon
“Yet in the end, you overcame it and followed your heart. That’s all that counts.”
“But Beatrice hates me.”
“She doesn’t even know you yet.”
“She knows I gave her away.”
“Give her some time to adjust. She’s got a lot of stuff to deal with all at once. It has to be overwhelming for a little kid.”
“It’s overwhelming for a big kid, too. I’m not sure I’m equipped to deal with a childhood trauma of this magnitude.” She rose, her agitation evident in every jerky movement as she began to pace. “But the only other option was foster care. I have to believe that would have been worse.”
He stood more slowly. Kristen needed comforting as much as Beatrice did—but would she accept it from him?
Trusting his instincts, he caught her hand as she passed, linking her trembling fingers with his. “I have every confidence you’re equipped to give Beatrice all the love and care and compassion she needs. A woman who makes cookies for neighbors and takes in stray kittens must have a kind and tender heart.”
A slight flush restored some of the color to her cheeks. “About the kitten...I don’t let Clyde in, in case you’re worried. I know you have a no-pets policy, and I wouldn’t...”
“Kristen.” He stepped closer and took her upper arms in a firm but gentle grasp. “I’m not worried about the provisions of your lease. I’m worried about you.”
She scrutinized his face. “Why?”
“I like you. And even though you’re not in the market for a relationship, I want you to know I’m here if you need a helping hand with anything.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I appreciate that, but I think everything’s under control—except my relationship with Beatrice. I did arrange to have her bedroom furniture shipped here, though, so I can re-create a familiar environment for her. Maybe that will help.”
“Any pressure at work because of the emergency time off?”
“No. Louis Mattson has been more than understanding, probably because I’ve never taken more than half my vacation. And the assistant concierges are up to speed. Day care’s the big issue.”
“There’s a woman in town who’s watched children for other people on occasion. The stepson of the foreman on the inn construction project was one of her charges for a while. I can give you her name, if you like.”
“That would be great.”
“Are you certain there’s nothing else you need?”
Instead of responding in words, she closed her eyes and swayed toward him a fraction—as if she wanted to be held.
Without stopping to consider whether his actions were wise, he closed the space between them and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened, but he didn’t let her go.
“Relax.” Cheek against her hair, her unique fragrance enveloping him, he had to remind himself his gesture was meant to comfort, nothing more. “It’s just a hug. Hold on and breathe.”
For an instant she remained rigid. Then slowly, very slowly, she relaxed. Her arms crept around him, and she did hold on. Tight.
“Better?” He murmured the question against her temple.
“Yeah.” The word came out in a ragged whoosh of air. “But it’s also dangerous. I could get used to this.”
“Maybe that’s okay.”
Even as he said the words, he regretted them. Kristen had been through enough trauma in her life; he shouldn’t be suggesting a scenario he himself wasn’t yet certain was wise.
A few beats of silence passed, and then she eased away from him, regret pooling in those jade irises. “No, it’s not. Hugs can lead to more serious things, and I need to sort out all the other complications in my life before I even think about whether there’s a place in it for romance.”
This time he remained silent.
When he didn’t reply, she tucked her hair behind her ear and edged toward the door. “It’s been a long day. I’m about ready to fold. Thank you again for all your help—and for the pizza.”
“No problem.” He followed her to the door. “I’ll call you with a number for Ruth Watson, the babysitter I mentioned. She’s a great gal with a bunch of kids. I think you’ll like her. When are you going back to work?”
“Monday.” She twisted the knob and pulled the door open.
With no further reason to linger, he exited with a quiet good night and started down the steps.
At the bottom, he paused to take a few deep breaths of the clear, clean air and to send a silent request heavenward for the troubled duo occupying his second floor.
Just as the motion-sensitive light he’d activated above Kristen’s door went out, he heard the door open again. Staying in the shadows, he repositioned himself to get a view of the landing. Kristen exited, carton of milk in hand, and bent to fill the small, shallow bowl.
She was taking care of the stray kitten—just as she wanted to take care of the daughter who’d lost the only family she’d ever known.
Melting Beatrice’s heart wasn’t going to be as easy as winning the loyalty of a kitten. That would take a lot more than a bowl of two-percent milk. But the milk of human kindness should eventually convince the little girl that Kristen did, indeed, love her.
Until then, however, he suspected his tenant was in for a rocky ride.
Chapter Ten
Kristen smiled at the honeymooning couple across from her at the concierge desk. “Of course, breakfast here at the inn by the pool is always wonderful. But since you’d like to sample some local fare, I recommend the Orchid Café in town. The home cooking is terrific, and the cinnamon rolls are to die for.”
The phone on her desk in the lobby began to ring, and she cast a discreet glance at the ID. Mark Stephens’s number. She’d checked in with him as soon as she’d arrived two hours ago, to catch up on the opening week she’d missed. Why would he be calling her this soon?
“That sounds like fun, honey. Let’s give it a try.” The bride reached for her new husband’s hand.
“Your wish is my command.” He gave her a mock bow, then turned back to Kristen. “Thanks for the recommendation. They’re open on Monday, right?”
“Every day but Sunday. Let me know how you enjoy it.”
As they walked away, she grabbed the phone before it could roll to voice mail. “Hi, Mark.”
“Are you with a guest?”
“Just finished.”
“I’ve been on the phone with Mr. Mattson. He’d like you to call him ASAP about Starfish Bay’s Labor Day celebration.”
“What about it?”
“One of the sisters from the Orchid mentioned it to him at the open house. He thinks we should participate in some way, and he wants you to spearhead the effort.”
Kristen closed her eyes. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate the first day back on the job—not to mention a daughter who cried herself to sleep each night but rebuffed any consolation attempts, who continued to eat like a bird and who spoke only if spoken to...except yesterday, when she’d asked why they weren’t going to church.
Could things get any more complicated?
“Kristen? You there?”
“Yes. I’ll give him a call as soon as we hang up.”
“Look...I know you’re dealing with a bunch of personal stuff right now. We can pull other people in on this if we need to.”
“I appreciate that, Mark.” She bit her bottom lip, fighting back the temptation to take advantage of the man’s offer. But she’d always carried her weight at work, and she didn’t want to slack off now—especially when she might need other favors down the road. “I’ll let you know if I need help. For now, though, everything’s under control. I can handle the festival project.”
“Okay. If the situation changes, let me know.”
The man severed the connection, and
after giving herself a minute to psych herself up for the call, Kristen tapped in Louis Mattson’s number. His secretary put her through at once.
“Hello, Kristen. Everything okay on the home front? Your daughter settling in?”
“Thank you for asking. So far, so good.” Hardly. But the president of Mattson Properties didn’t need to hear the details of her depressing tale. She was just grateful he’d accepted her thirty-second, top-line explanation at face value after Connie called, and then told her to take as much time as she needed despite the opening. Thank You, God, for a considerate boss. “I understand you’d like us to participate in the town’s Labor Day festivities.”
“Yes. The sisters at the Orchid told me it’s a town tradition, and I’d like the inn to have a sponsorship presence. I believe the festival will be discussed in detail at the town council meeting tomorrow night.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. Plan on a budget similar to the one you had for the Starfish Bay open house, but if you need more, let me know. I want to maintain a friendly, cooperative relationship with the town.”
“That amount should be more than enough to give a nice boost to their celebration.”
“Excellent. Let me know how things progress. And good luck on the home front.”
As Kristen thanked him and put the handset back in its cradle, she studied the sea through the expansive wall of windows on the Pacific side of the inn. The sun was glistening on the water, a few lazy white clouds drifted across the deep blue sky and a ship on the distant horizon was moving steadily toward its destination.
The panorama was placid and calming—exactly the kind of get-away-from-it-all experience Mattson Properties’ guests were after. Most returned home refreshed, relaxed and reinvigorated.
But even the soothing ambience of an upscale Mattson inn couldn’t quell the churning that had started in Kristen’s stomach with Connie’s call and intensified with each passing day.
So far, her efforts to connect with Beatrice had yielded zero results. Now doubts were beginning to creep in. Maybe she hadn’t done the child any favors by taking her in. Perhaps Beatrice would have done better in a foster environment, where there was no baggage—and no birth mother to resent.
Her throat tightened, and she looked away from the serene view as she sent yet another silent prayer heavenward.
Please, Lord, show me how to reach her!
* * *
As Clint took his seat next to Lindsey at the head table reserved for town council members, he surveyed the hall. Since the contentious issue over development of The Point had erupted a year and a half ago, attendance at the meetings had picked up. At least fifty people were present on this Tuesday night, even though nothing momentous was on the agenda.
Halfway through his scan of the residents, he found himself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes.
Kristen was here? With Beatrice? What was going on?
As he settled into his seat, he did a quick assessment of his tenant. He’d seen little of her in the past few days, now that his summer schedule had kicked in and he was working more weekends. But she seemed wearier than she had at their last encounter—and more stressed.
The blonde girl beside her gave him a tentative smile, and he smiled back. When Kristen looked down at her daughter, however, the child’s smile faded and she scooted to the far edge of her seat, clutching her worn Raggedy Ann doll tighter. A flicker of distress tightened Kristen’s features.
Obviously things hadn’t improved between the two of them.
“All right...I think we’re ready to begin.” Mayor Susan Peroni stood, greeted everyone and called the meeting to order.
Clint only half listened to the secretary’s reading of the minutes from the last meeting as he tried to figure out why Kristen was here.
But he got his answer once the mayor introduced the topic of the town’s Labor Day festival. Susan ran through the schedule of events, pausing at the end to peruse the crowd over the top of her half-glasses. “Any comments or questions?”
Kristen raised her hand.
“Hello, Kristen. Nice to see you. You, too, Beatrice.” Susan smiled at the little girl, who burrowed deeper in her doll. “Did you have a question?”
“No.” Kristen stood. “I have an offer. Mr. Mattson would like the inn to be part of the festival, perhaps in some sort of sponsorship capacity. I’d be happy to work with someone on the council to see how we might contribute to the event.”
Susan smiled at her. “Now isn’t that fine? I knew the inn would be a blessing for this town.” She sent an I-told-you-so look toward Lindsey, who rolled her eyes, then turned her attention to him. “Clint, would you like to get together with Kristen to discuss this, since you’re taking the lead on this year’s festival?”
“I’ll be happy to.”
“Excellent. We have sponsors for the parade and craft fair, but we’re always open to new suggestions. And we can add some events on Sunday if we have a new sponsor, make a whole weekend out of it.” She smiled at Kristen again. “We’re very grateful for any assistance Mattson Properties is willing to provide.”
“I’ll talk with you after the meeting.” Clint directed his comment to Kristen, who acknowledged it with a dip of her head as she retook her seat.
Susan wrapped things up quickly after that, and as the crowd dispersed, Clint wove through several chatting clusters of townspeople toward Kristen.
“This is a surprise.” He smiled at her, then at Beatrice.
“For me, too.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. “Mr. Mattson called yesterday. The sisters mentioned the festival to him at the open house.” She inspected the emptying room. “Would you like to talk here or at the house? Or is another time better?”
He checked his watch, formulating a plan as he spoke. “Now is fine. Why don’t we go to the Orchid? If we hurry, we should be able to squeeze in before they shut down for the night. And I’d be willing to bet we could rustle up a piece of Lillian’s chocolate Oreo pie—if anyone happens to like chocolate.”
He glanced down at Beatrice, whose expression brightened.
Bingo.
“I hate to impose on your time.”
He transferred his attention back to his tenant and gave a subtle tip of his head toward her daughter. “I don’t mind, and I have a hankering for one of the Orchid’s desserts myself.”
She checked on her daughter, who still wore an interested look, and capitulated. “Okay. We’ll meet you there in five minutes.”
“Sounds great. I’ll gather up my things.”
As he rejoined Lindsey at the head table, his fellow council member tucked her notes into a small satchel and gestured toward the departing duo. “Nice woman.”
“Very.” He busied himself collecting his own papers.
“That was a short meeting, though.”
“We’re going to continue it at the Orchid.” He tapped his notes into a neat pile and slid them into a folder.
“Ah.” Lindsey picked up her purse and wiggled her eyebrows. “Have fun.”
He frowned. “This isn’t a date.”
“Isn’t it?” She grinned at him.
“We’re going to talk about the Labor Day celebration.”
“You could do that here.”
As he struggled to come up with a response, her grin broadened. “Hey, it’s okay. More power to you. But watch out for Lillian and Genevieve. They’ll be matching you two up in no time. Take it from one who knows—although I have to say in my case things turned out fine.” She leaned past him to smile and wave at the tall man who’d entered the back of the room, lowering her voice. “The sisters had Nate and me pegged from the get-go.”
Giving his arm a sympathetic pat, she skirted past him an
d hurried toward the back of the room to join her husband.
Clint followed more slowly. He knew all about the sisters’ propensity for matchmaking. And truth be told, he wasn’t averse to some prodding on their part when it came to a certain concierge.
But he had a discouraging feeling said concierge was going to be a hard sell.
* * *
“My! Isn’t this cozy?” Genevieve beamed at the threesome as she settled them into a booth at the Orchid. “I haven’t seen enough of any of you lately. You all must be keeping very busy. But I’m glad you found a few minutes for a social engagement.”
Kristen opened her mouth to correct the older woman’s assumption, but before she could speak Genevieve addressed Beatrice.
“And how are you liking your new home, young lady?”
Beatrice buried her face in the doll, muffling her response. “Okay.”
A flicker of compassion softened Genevieve’s eyes. “It’s hard to move to a new place, but I have a feeling you’ll like it here fine once you get used to it and make some friends.”
Her daughter didn’t respond.
To Kristen’s relief, Clint broke the awkward silence.
“I was telling the ladies about Lillian’s chocolate Oreo pie. I think Beatrice might like it.”
“I’ve never met a youngster who didn’t.” Genevieve smiled at Beatrice. “And I happen to know we have two pieces left. What would you folks like?”
“Coffee for me.” Kristen folded her hands on the table.
“Is that all?” Genevieve gave her a disappointed look.
“Why don’t we split that second piece of pie?” Clint suggested.
Rather than debate the matter, she nodded. “That’s fine.”
“I’ll have some coffee, too,” he told Genevieve. “Beatrice, what would you like to drink?”
“Milk.”
“Milk, pie and coffee.” Genevieve ticked off their orders. “Got it. I’ll be back with everything in a jiffy.”