He greeted Violet, his eight-year-old golden retriever. He usually took her with him on the job but hadn’t today. She’d woken up lazy and he’d let her have a day on her own. He got a beer out of the fridge and took her down to the lake. The rain had let up again, at least for the moment. She chased a few leaves and dug up a small stone while he drank his beer. He had a long list of things he should have gotten done today and hadn’t, but he was good with that.
He glanced back at the guesthouse, a perfect spot any time of year but particularly through summer and into fall. Vic had encouraged him to have friends and family visit. He’d figured he didn’t have to worry about wild parties with Adam. True enough. He’d had Brandon and Maggie out here with the boys to swim. He and his brothers had enjoyed a few beers by a fire on the beach, or what passed for a beach—a thirty-yard stretch of sand along the water’s edge.
A smattering of stars peeked out from the shifting clouds but Adam knew they wouldn’t last, not tonight. Although he’d lived in Knights Bridge most of his life, he’d never spent much time on Echo Lake. He’d heard an ambassador owned a place in town but hadn’t gotten to know Vic until the past year.
If Vic had known he had a daughter growing up in California, would he have been a part of her life? Adam wanted to think so, since he liked Vic, but it wasn’t any of his business. And his mind was on other matters—such as just how much he’d have enjoyed kissing Adrienne.
“Damn.”
She had proved more competent today than he’d have expected, not out of meanness, he thought, but because of her background and newness to her innkeeping job. He’d been pleased to hear Maggie and Olivia were hiring an innkeeper but surprised when he found out it was Adrienne Portale. But no one had asked his opinion and he hadn’t offered one. A good thing, since Adrienne had done well today. She’d been calm, focused and on her game despite her unfamiliarity with the woods or the missing boys themselves.
He and Violet returned to the guesthouse. A quiet evening was in order. The rain started up again, and he listened to it hitting the roof and deck as nightfall descended. He got another beer and threw together some dinner. Meaning he microwaved a burrito. He took it into the living room and went over his work for the next few days.
He had a lot to do before winter. Best he focus on that instead of the new innkeeper in town. He was relieved he hadn’t tried to kiss her. Between Vic, the guesthouse, the friends who owned Carriage Hill and his own history with women who weren’t suited to the kind of life he wanted—yeah, he thought. He wasn’t going to be kissing the new innkeeper anytime soon.
* * *
Vic Scarlatti returned to Echo Lake while Adam was drinking coffee and taking a look at the section of a stone wall, original to the property, that had taken a hit a few weeks ago. It’d be an easy fix, but he also noticed a section where the mortar was crumbling. New England was rough on mortar. Last night’s rain had ended. The grass, still wet, glistened in the morning sun.
He watched Vic climb out of the rear passenger seat of a sleek black sedan. The driver got Vic’s bag out of the trunk and set it on the stone walk. Vic thanked him and the driver got back behind the wheel. In a moment, the car eased down the driveway. Adam wasn’t surprised Vic had arranged for a car to drop him off. Vic wasn’t one to endure unnecessary trouble or discomfort. In his world, driving himself to and from the airport or even enlisting a friend to do it was out of the question. Frugality wasn’t his thing. He’d spend his last penny on his deathbed.
For all Adam knew, though, the private car was covered by whatever entity had whisked Vic off this past week. He hadn’t explained but Adam had deduced from the available evidence that this trip wasn’t a mini vacation. It had come up at the last minute, and Vic hadn’t exactly thrown golf clubs into the trunk of the car that picked him up. Whatever he’d been up to, it was likely related to his diplomatic experience.
He walked over to the stone wall and greeted Adam with a cheerful good-morning. He was wiry, with thick gray hair and dark eyes that reminded Adam of Adrienne. He hadn’t noticed a resemblance last winter. Vic wore lightly rumpled but expensive clothes. Sport coat, polo shirt, khakis, walking shoes. Given his decades of experience as a foreign service officer, he was accustomed to travel. He’d said he didn’t miss it. Adam wondered about that. “Morning, Vic,” he said. “How was the trip?”
“Fine but I missed the lake. I stopped by Elly’s place to see about Rohan.” Rohan being Vic’s rambunctious golden retriever, not yet a year old. “She said he’d been into the thistle. She was grooming him. I told her to have at it. I’d have begged her to tackle the thistles if he’d been here instead of with her. She’ll drop him off later.”
Adam had de-thistled a number of dogs in his day, including Violet. Rohan would have been a challenge. A puppy, but also Vic Scarlatti’s puppy—his first one. Training had been haphazard. “I don’t mind looking after him next time you’re out of town.”
“Violet wouldn’t mind?”
“She and Rohan get along fine.”
“Golden retrievers. They get along with everyone and everyone gets along with them. I’m not planning a ‘next time,’ at least not soon.” Vic glanced at the damaged stone wall before shifting back to Adam. “Elly told me her grandsons took off yesterday at Carriage Hill. Adrienne found Maggie injured.”
“It all worked out,” Adam said without elaborating.
“Yeah. That’s what Elly said. She’s on Maggie’s case about resting but doubts she’ll listen. Busy time of year with school starting and fall coming up. Did the boys really see a moose?”
“A big one, apparently.”
“I’ve seen moose out here. I can understand mistaking one for a dinosaur.”
Adam couldn’t and the boys hadn’t mistaken their moose for the dinosaur. That had been their sense of drama in overdrive. He tossed the remains of his coffee in the grass. “The boys got away from the moose and got turned around in the process. It’s easy to do out there, even without a moose.”
“And Adrienne—she’s okay out there by herself?”
“No reason to think otherwise.” Adam kept his expression neutral. No point letting Vic start wondering about the local stonemason, too. “Olivia and Dylan are just up the road. Adrienne can always give them a shout if she needs to. She’s not as isolated as you are here.”
“That’s for damn sure.”
“How was your trip?”
“Interesting if only to me but no complaints. Good to be home.”
“I bet. No problems here while you were away.”
“Excellent.” He narrowed his eyes on Adam. “What’s on your mind?”
A perceptive man. “It can wait. I don’t want to spoil your reentry home.”
“Go ahead. Spit it out. I’ve had three cups of strong coffee since my flight landed in Boston and then I sat in a car for two hours with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs. I’m jittery. Might as well talk to me before my caffeine crash.”
“Okay. Did you tell Adrienne I’m living in your guesthouse?”
Vic rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “I haven’t gotten around to it.”
“She’s been in Knights Bridge for almost a week, Vic.”
“That’s correct.”
“Vic.”
“What?”
“Tell her. It’s not up to me to tell her. Why risk turning nothing into something? She’ll wonder why you kept it from her. The longer you wait, the worse it’ll get. I don’t want to get stuck in the middle.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you for that. She can be a hothead. Reminds me of my mother.” He blew out a breath and lowered his hand, looking tired and preoccupied. “I didn’t tell Adrienne about you because I had this trip come up and had to pull things together. She was busy getting ready to head east. Then she was getting settled at the inn. And I didn’t tell her because it is noth
ing. You’re living in my guesthouse while you look for a new place and help out here. Why should Adrienne care?”
“Not buying it, Vic. You know you should have told her.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”
Adam brushed loose dirt off his right thigh. He didn’t know much about Vic’s relationship with Adrienne, but it wasn’t any of his business. Now he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. That was his default. “Did you know she was returning to Knights Bridge to take the job at Carriage Hill before you offered me this place?”
“Yeah, but so what? I told her she could stay with me here at the house, but she wanted to go all in and decided to move into that brand-new innkeeper’s suite at Carriage Hill. I haven’t seen it yet. Have you?”
Adam nodded. “I helped paint the walls and woodwork and move in the furniture.”
“I hate painting,” Vic said with a shudder. “Bores the hell out of me. It’s a good thing I didn’t have to make a living in construction. I’d have starved. I’m all thumbs. I don’t even know how to hang a picture. What do you think about when you’re painting?”
“Painting.”
“Ha. Stay in the moment. Smart, I guess. Or just not going to tell me? Never mind. I warned you I’m jittery. Don’t you have a job out at Carriage Hill?”
“I’m reconstructing an exterior stone wall that was dismantled when they did the addition. That’s why I was out there yesterday when the boys took off.”
“You could have mentioned the guesthouse to Adrienne yourself.”
“Nope. That’s your job. Not taking you off the hook, Vic.”
“Think she was waiting for me to offer it to her instead of just a room up at the house?”
“Ask her.”
“I could do that.” Vic toed cracked mortar in the wall. “You don’t think she wanted to move into the guesthouse, do you? She’s not mad at me, is she?”
Jittery covered it, Adam thought as he watched Vic mess with the mortar. A good walk along the lake would help him settle down, but Adam wasn’t handing out advice. He glanced toward the lake, the water choppy, shimmering in the sunlight. He turned back to Vic. “I talked stonework with Adrienne when she was out here this past winter, and I spent a short time with her yesterday searching for the boys. I couldn’t say what she wants.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it? I don’t know, either. I didn’t ask.” Vic stood straight and blew out a breath. “Hell.”
“If she does want to stay at the guesthouse, I’ll move out. It’ll only take me a couple of hours to pack up. I don’t have much stuff.”
Vic rubbed the back of his neck again, as if he were in pain. “Then I’d have to pay cash for anything you do around here.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“You could stay at the house. There’s room. You can’t go back to your parents’ attic. How long were you there?”
“Two weeks. It was always a temporary arrangement. It’s my sister’s old room. She had it decorated to her taste at nine.”
“It still has her rosebud wallpaper.”
Adam grinned. “Elly told you that?”
“You did. You were grumbling about it one day when you were up here, and I overheard you. You weren’t sure you could cope.”
Adam remembered now. “Heather would have my head. She still likes those rosebuds. I probably could handle morning glories or ivy or something. I couldn’t deal with the rosebuds, though. But it’s the canopy bed that got to me. She painted it black when she turned thirteen. I feel like I’m at my own funeral.”
“A black canopy bed in an attic, and rosebud wallpaper.” Vic laughed in amazement. “Your parents must have kept the room as is to keep any of you from staying for too long, including Heather given how her tastes have matured. Air-conditioning?”
“No AC, Vic. Come on. It’s New England.”
“I had AC added here when I redid the house. I can’t deal with heat and humidity. I know you’d managed in Heather’s old room in the attic, but living out here while you repair the stonework makes sense. Enjoy the lake before cold weather sets in. Figure out what’s next for you. Let me worry about Adrienne.”
“Works for me,” Adam said.
From what he’d heard and had witnessed himself, Vic liked playing the benevolent country gentleman. Before he retired, he’d blow into Knights Bridge for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks in summer and over Christmas, and then blow out again, back to wherever he’d been assigned. He’d admitted having difficulty adjusting to retirement. He was only in his early sixties and could have continued working, but he’d passed up assignments, given up his apartment in New York and moved to the country full-time.
Adam set his mug on the stone wall and squatted down for a closer look, aware of Vic not moving on to the house. Adam glanced up at him. “You’re hopelessly bored, Vic.”
“I’ve only been back here five minutes.”
“You’re used to more drama in your life. Only so much drama beating iPad Scrabble.”
“That’s why I’m writing my memoirs.”
“Ha. Right.”
Adam wasn’t about to ask Vic for details on his memoirs—or his latest Scrabble game, either. He’d already dodged questions about this trip he’d been on. “I have to run out to Carriage Hill.” Adam flicked a chunk of loose mortar off the wall and stood straight. “I won’t volunteer anything about the guesthouse to Adrienne, but I’m not keeping secrets.”
“Didn’t ask you to,” Vic said.
“Just so we’re clear.”
“You might be the quiet Sloan brother, but you’re as hardheaded as the rest of them. I’ll tell Adrienne you’re in the guesthouse next time I see her—probably later today. Okay? I don’t think she’s going to care one way or the other. She’s doing well, getting settled, learning the job. She’s never been an innkeeper. I didn’t want to distract her, but at the same time, I don’t know why you living here would be a distraction.”
Adam wasn’t going there. “You look guilty, Vic, just for not telling her in the first place.”
“I look oblivious. There’s a difference.”
“Fair enough.” Adam figured he’d made his point. He didn’t want to be a source of tension between Vic and his daughter. “Honesty is always the best policy. Isn’t that what you diplomats say, or is that too simplistic?”
“It’s a decent cliché. Discretion is sometimes the better part of valor. That’s another good one.”
“We could go on all day.” Adam grabbed his jacket off the wall. He would need it today. “I’ll see you later.”
“Have the whiskey ready if Adrienne chews me out and I need a drink.”
“I only have beer.”
“Beer will do,” Vic said, stretching and then heading up to his lake house, walking as if he dreaded every step.
Drama, Adam thought. Vic was used to more going on in his life than he’d had in Knights Bridge, even with discovering he had a daughter from a thirty-year-old fling in Paris.
Adam roused Violet and headed back to the guesthouse. He’d take her with him today. She was all perked up with the sunshine and cooler temperatures, and he could use the company. Maybe it’d help him keep his hands to himself with his old golden retriever watching him.
Six
Adrienne was at her laptop on the terrace when Adam arrived with a golden retriever at his side. Not what she’d expected. Olivia and Dylan had dropped off their dog, Buster, earlier that morning. He was part German shepherd and had adopted Olivia during her first weeks living on her own at Carriage Hill, which meant he predated Dylan. He leaped up from his spot in the shade and bounded off the terrace, but he and the golden retriever were obviously not strangers. Adam petted the big dog. “Hey, Buster. You do love it here, don’t you, buddy.”
“Who’s your friend?” Adrienne asked, nodding to
the golden retriever.
“This is Violet,” he said. “Violet, meet Adrienne. Adrienne, meet Violet.”
She got up from her laptop and stepped off the terrace, kneeling down to pet Violet. She was an older dog, not a puppy like Vic’s golden retriever, Rohan. “Hello, Violet. Do you help carry rocks, or do you leave that to Adam?” She looked up at him. “She’s your dog?”
“She is.”
“I don’t remember meeting her last winter.”
“I didn’t have her with me that much when I was up at Vic’s place then. He and Rohan were new to each other. Violet’s used to a quieter life.”
Adrienne stood straight. “She’s lovely.”
Violet strained on her leash to follow Buster back to the terrace, but Adam held her tight. “Settle down, girl.” He eased up and smiled at Adrienne. “She and Buster can get each other worked up, but they’ll be fine.”
“I’ve no doubt.”
He nodded to her spot on the terrace. “Keeping up with your wine blog?”
“Inn work. My blog’s still on hiatus. I might resurrect it occasionally when I have something to say. Maggie, Olivia and I want to come up with a wine list for the inn. Simple, good wines.”
“Doesn’t have to be expensive to be good?”
“Not at all.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He paused, glancing at the garden, where so much commotion had happened yesterday. He had on another canvas shirt, this one a deep maroon that echoed the first tints of color in the surrounding landscape. “Has Maggie been in touch today?”
“Not with me. Have you heard from her or your brother? How’s she doing?”
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