“I texted Brandon. He says she had a good night.”
“It could have been so much worse yesterday. I try not to think about that.”
“Yeah.” He unsnapped the golden retriever’s leash. “She won’t bother you, but if she does, let me know.”
Adrienne promised she would and returned to her laptop. Buster flopped on the terrace next to her. Violet collapsed into the grass by the addition where Adam was working. It was a perfect, lazy late-summer day to be a dog. Adam started to head in that direction but stopped when Maggie came out to the terrace from the mudroom.
Adrienne was surprised to see her this soon after her injury yesterday. “Maggie...you’re looking well.”
She groaned. “Better than I feel, I hope.”
Adam frowned at her. “Did someone drop you off?”
“I drove myself. You didn’t hear me? I parked behind your van. It’s okay—I’m cleared to drive. I don’t have a concussion. The gash looked scary because of the blood. Sorry about that. I hope you all left the mess for me.”
“We did no such thing,” Adrienne said.
“I’m so embarrassed. The boys feel guilty but it wasn’t their fault I fell. I shudder to think how far they’d have gone if you two hadn’t come along.”
“Damn right,” Adam said with a wink. “They found a good spot to hunker down. They’d have managed if they’d had to spend the night.”
“If they’d run into some dangerous creep instead of a moose—”
“Maggie, don’t,” Adam said. “You can drive yourself crazy with what could have happened.”
“I should know better, shouldn’t I?” She smiled, a spark in her turquoise eyes. “I’m an O’Dunn married to a Sloan.”
Adam turned to Adrienne. “Small towns. Our two families go way back.”
“That’s an understatement,” Maggie interjected with a wry smile.
“It’s special to have such connections,” Adrienne said. “You two have known each other since grade school.”
“Since forever,” Adam said. “I remember Maggie in pigtails.”
“Ha. I remember you pulling them. You were a cute little devil, though.”
Adrienne could imagine the two of them as children, here in their little hometown.
Maggie teetered slightly, and Adam swooped to her side and helped her into a chair. She mumbled a thank-you. Her jaw had discolored below the bandaged gash, and she looked stiff and achy—she had to have some decent bruises from her fall yesterday. “Everything is under control here, Maggie,” Adrienne said. “I have plenty to keep me busy before we need to put our heads together again. Why not just rest today?”
“The girlfriends’ weekend is coming up.”
Adrienne pointed at her laptop screen. “I’m going over the schedule now.”
“I need to meet with Felicity MacGregor to go over plans.”
Felicity was a local event planner who’d also grown up in Knights Bridge. “You have me now, Maggie,” Adrienne said. “I can meet with Felicity. I’m sure she’ll know what questions to ask if I don’t, and we’ll report back to you.”
Maggie hesitated. “Are you sure I’m not throwing too much at you at once?”
“Absolutely. It’s not too much.”
“Oh. Good, then. Thanks.”
Maggie seemed slightly taken aback. Adam grinned at her. “You’ll get used to having help.” Buster rolled onto his back with a dramatic yawn. Adam rubbed his foot on the big dog’s stomach. “Buster would have deterred that moose yesterday.”
“I don’t mind having him here,” Adrienne said.
“You could do worse than a big ugly dog.” Maggie started to lean over to pat Buster but grimaced in pain and sat back. “I’m not incapacitated, but I do have to remember I have stitches in my head. I’ll check on Olivia while I’m here and see how she’s doing.”
Olivia didn’t easily or naturally delegate, either, but she’d promised Adrienne she would give her space, especially with a baby on the way. Marrying a wealthy man had forced her to recognize she couldn’t do it all. Dylan was a regular guy in most ways, but he did have a lot going on.
Maggie couldn’t sit still and lurched to her feet too fast, swore, breathed, held up a hand to indicate she was okay and then headed back to the mudroom. “Don’t rat me out to Brandon,” she told Adam. “I’m fine.”
“Just don’t pass out,” Adam said. “I’m calling him if you do.”
“Deal.”
Adrienne waited until Maggie shut the mudroom door behind her before returning to her laptop. “I’m chipping away at getting more help here. It’s been quite a year of changes in town.”
“That’s for sure. You’re okay after yesterday?”
“I am, thanks. No bug bites, cuts or scrapes.”
“Slept okay, then?”
“I made sure I locked all the doors. Obviously I wasn’t worried about a moose breaking in, but yesterday reminded me I’m alone out here on the edge of the woods. Olivia said Buster could stay here anytime. Of course, I was at Vic’s over the winter. Not exactly your metropolis.” She smiled up at Adam from her laptop. “At least bears hibernate during the winter.”
“Not something I’ve thought much about. I’ll be here about an hour. Give a shout if you need a hand with anything. As a friend. Off the clock.”
“Oh. Right.” Again getting tongue-tied with him. She beamed him a smile. “Thanks.” She hit a few keys on her laptop. “Hope the work goes well.”
“I’ll be up at Vic’s this afternoon.”
“He texted me a little while ago to let me know he’s home. What are you working on at his place?”
“A section of the driveway wall hit by a delivery truck.”
He didn’t elaborate. Adrienne noticed his golden retriever wag her tail. “Nice to meet Violet. There’s a story to go with her name, I assume?”
“A lot of Violet stories.”
He patted Buster and went on his way, moving with the ease and control of a man in good shape, accustomed to the kind of often technical, often heavy work he did. Violet had settled into a spot in the shade next to the pile of rocks he was turning back into a wall. She wagged her tail again. It took some effort, but Adrienne managed to turn back to her laptop and get to work.
* * *
Maggie inched her way onto the terrace as Adam finished up for the morning. He sighed at her. “You look miserable, Maggie.”
She plucked a spent purple blossom from a terra-cotta pot. “I had grand fantasies of harvesting herbs today.”
“They’ll keep.”
“Not for long. They’ll go to seed, there’ll be a frost—”
“And you can do without them,” Adam said.
She tossed the spent blossom—catmint, he thought—into a raised bed off the terrace. “I guess. How’s your hand today?”
He shrugged. “Hurts.”
She smiled at him, easing painfully toward the table. “You are a man of few words.”
“It’s not my first bruised hand and won’t be my last. How’s that?”
“Very stoic of you.” She eased into a chair. “Adrienne’s gone into the village to pick up a few things at the store. She’s a great self-starter. I hate to think what would have happened if she hadn’t come along yesterday when she did.”
“I’d have found you.”
Maggie gave him a feeble smile. “Lucky you.”
“I’m heading up to the lake for lunch. Why don’t I drop you off at home? Adrienne and I can get your car back to you.”
Her jaw set firmly. “I’m good to drive.”
Adam frowned at her. “You don’t look good to drive.”
“I look worse than I feel.”
He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism but he wasn’t going to argue with her, either. “Let me know if you change your mind. Vio
let and I will be taking off in about ten minutes.”
But Maggie didn’t linger on the terrace and headed inside by the time he finished work for the morning. He was climbing into his van when Adrienne returned from town in Vic’s old Ford. She parked under Olivia’s hand-painted The Farm at Carriage Hill sign, featuring a clump of chives. The homey sign and antique New England house didn’t coordinate that well with the woman who jumped out of the car. Dressed in black, dark hair pulled back, sleek, hip and tempting as hell.
Adam offered to help her with her bags but there was only one.
“Will you be back this afternoon?” she asked as she shut her car door with her hip.
“That’s the plan.”
“See you then.”
She didn’t so much as glance back at him as she glided up the walk to the kitchen door. She had no problem opening the door despite her groceries. It shut behind her as she disappeared. Adam started his van. He’d watched her from behind the wheel. He gritted his teeth and started up the quiet road. Adrienne Portale was a woman he had no business wanting to touch.
He found Vic down at the lake, throwing a stick in the water for Rohan. Violet sank into the sand on the strip of beachfront, panting, eager to jump into the water herself but holding back, as if she knew Rohan might overwhelm her in his excitement to get to the stick. Vic’s golden retriever puppy was obviously delighted to be home on Echo Lake. He swam eagerly out to the floating stick.
Vic, on the other hand, hardly gave Adam a glance, just stared at Rohan and the rippling lake water.
Adam shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Hell, Vic, you haven’t been back here a full day and you’re already bored.”
“Not bored. Thinking.”
“About what?”
“Who to get to write the foreword for my memoirs.”
“Wouldn’t it make sense to write your memoirs first?”
Vic shrugged, still without looking at Adam. “I figure getting someone interesting to do the foreword would inspire me to dive into the writing. I’ve been fiddling.”
Adam had no idea if Vic was sincere about the foreword or rationalizing his procrastination. Either way, he still looked bored. “I guess that’s something to think about while you throw a stick for Rohan.”
“Rohan loves the water. I know I shouldn’t stand out here thinking about who can write my foreword. I should live in the present, not launch myself into the future or back to the past.” He kept his gaze on Rohan, who’d caught up with the stick. “That’s the problem with memoirs. Reliving the past. Thinking about what might have been if not for the mistakes, the betrayals, the distractions and the nonsense.”
“That’s life.” Adam pointed up toward the guesthouse. “I need to grab some lunch.”
Vic turned, grinning knowingly. “I would, too. I wouldn’t have wanted to talk about memoirs at your age, either. I don’t want to now. I’m probably wasting time. My life wasn’t that interesting.”
“Then why are you bothering with your memoirs?”
“It’s something to do besides play Scrabble on my iPad and throw sticks for Rohan.”
“And why say your life wasn’t that interesting? You’re still in your prime, Vic. Shouldn’t you wait another twenty years to make that judgment? Maybe you’re writing your memoirs too soon.”
Adam regretted his comment immediately. He absolutely didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Vic Scarlatti about his memoirs, his past, his future, any of it, especially not after lusting after his daughter most of the morning. Vic had friends who better understood him and the issues at hand. Let him talk to them.
“Fair points,” Vic said.
Adam watched Rohan swim toward shore with his stick. “I’ll be working on the wall this afternoon.”
Vic grinned at him. “Go on. You don’t need to listen to me. You have a living to make.”
Rohan emerged from the lake, ran to Vic and deposited the stick in the sand. The puppy shook off, water spraying everywhere. Vic didn’t seem to mind. He wouldn’t have been so easygoing six months ago, but life on Echo Lake seemed to be growing on him. Despite his bouts of boredom and restlessness, he was settling in. He and Adrienne had restlessness in common, Adam thought as he headed up to the guesthouse with a reluctant Violet. He didn’t know if Adrienne had picked up on Vic’s restlessness when she’d house-sat for him last winter or if it was somehow genetic, or just a coincidence.
Didn’t matter. He didn’t need to figure out Scarlatti father and daughter.
Violet settled in her spot by the glass doors out to the guesthouse deck while Adam microwaved another burrito. He wasn’t restless. He hadn’t been restless even when he’d signed up for a stint in the Marines. He’d returned home to his work as a stonemason. It and restlessness weren’t compatible, but he wasn’t wired for restlessness. He was patient, thorough, focused and outcome-oriented, and he tended to live in the present. He’d never stand on the lakefront thinking about something like who to get to write a foreword for his memoirs.
After lunch, he left Violet sleeping in the living room and walked up to the main house. He grabbed work gloves out of his wheelbarrow, which he’d left by the wall he was repairing, and pulled them on. Maybe Vic’s fantasies of retirement weren’t stacking up with the reality. He liked having people out to the lake, but summer was winding own. Fall kayaking was still possible, but he wasn’t much of a kayaker. Adam was. He’d go out whenever he could. Did Adrienne kayak?
He shoved such thoughts out of his mind. He glanced down through the trees. Vic and Rohan were walking up from the lake. They veered off to the porch. Vic kept a towel there for muddy paws. Knights Bridge was a good place to retire. It was barely two hours from Boston, and college towns were a short drive. It wasn’t necessarily the best place to be young and single. Adrienne had to have known that when she’d taken the innkeeping job. Did she have her eye on a guy in town?
Adam sighed. Another thought to put out of his mind as he got to work.
Seven
Adrienne swore it took a full hour after Adam left before she could breathe normally. It wasn’t as if he’d touched her when she’d climbed out of Vic’s old car, or when he’d introduced her to Violet, worked on the stone wall. She hadn’t spent that much time with him. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. She wasn’t like that. She was used to being around men of all kinds and didn’t let herself spool up into...whatever it was she’d spooled herself into. Hyperawareness was as good a description as any. She didn’t need to take it further.
The dust, the dirt, the sweat, the piercing blue eyes coupled with the quiet manner.
The hard muscles.
She moaned to herself. Of all the issues she’d anticipated she would encounter upon her return to Knights Bridge, a sexy Adam Sloan hadn’t been one of them. She hadn’t even considered him.
She filled Buster’s water bowl. Maggie hadn’t needed much persuading to go home, and she’d seemed okay to drive. She’d texted a few times about the upcoming girlfriends’ weekend. She’d assured Adrienne she would be fine to do the catering. Adrienne had promised she’d get in touch if she had any questions. She understood it wasn’t easy for Maggie to throttle back control. Her mother was like that, but not as much fun as Maggie O’Dunn Sloan.
And her mother couldn’t cook for a damn.
Adrienne smiled, thinking of her generous, energetic, hard-driving mom. If Sophia Portale ever organized a girlfriends’ weekend—an unlikely prospect on its own—it wouldn’t be at a place like the Farm at Carriage Hill. Adrienne appreciated that her mother hadn’t thrown obstacles and objections at her about her move east to take an innkeeping job and spend time with Vic. If there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know, okay, Adrienne? I don’t know much about innkeeping but I do know marketing and business.
What would her mother say about the sheet Adrienn
e was drafting for guests on what to do if they encountered wildlife? Moose, bears, wild turkeys...
She laughed and set the water bowl in the mudroom. At least she’d stopped thinking about Knights Bridge’s favorite stonemason. Probably its only stonemason.
Buster lapped up the water, and Adrienne walked him up to the McCaffreys’ barn. It was a beautiful afternoon, neither too hot nor too humid. Olivia and Dylan weren’t around, but Russ Colton, a security consultant with California roots, was in the front garden and welcomed Buster back home. Adrienne had met him when she’d first arrived at the inn, and they’d gone over various security procedures. He was on Vic’s Knights Bridge cheat sheet. He’d landed in town after she’d left for Kendrick Winery and had promptly fallen for Kylie Shaw, a popular author and illustrator of children’s books who’d been living anonymously out on the river.
Another of those Knights Bridge stories with myriad tentacles, Adrienne thought. Russ was ex-navy and no-nonsense, and she was happy to have him on the case with everything from stray hikers to stray moose.
“Never hesitate to get in touch with me if you have any concerns,” Russ said.
Adrienne promised she wouldn’t. “Fortunately Knights Bridge is a low-crime town,” she added.
“Fortunately.”
It was the best she was going to get from him.
As she walked back down the road, she breathed in the woodsy smells and listened to the stream that ran mostly out of sight along the road, and she smiled at what a fish out of water she was here. When she arrived at the inn, she couldn’t resist taking a peek behind the garden shed. All was well. No fresh signs of a moose. She smelled a hint of mint in the garden. She was accustomed to city life and was aware of how isolated she was on the dead-end country road, but that was part of its appeal. And it wasn’t that isolated. It was quiet right now, but soon there would be a constant stream of contractors, guests and Maggie and Olivia’s family and friends. Sloans, O’Dunns, McCaffreys, Flanagans, Frosts. It was quite a list.
She wasn’t worried about intruders—human or animal—but she was feeling agitated and restless. She couldn’t put her finger on why. Getting used to her surroundings, maybe. Her role, the number of people she was trying to keep straight but who all knew each other and her story.
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