Stone Bridges

by Carla Neggers

  “No problem. I hear you’ve been busy.”

  “Flat out. I hired a cleaning service. Apparently you went to school with the owner?”

  “Lisa. She’s a few years younger. Chris graduated with her.”

  Adrienne grinned at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised you already know all about it.”

  “Justin and Samantha hired her to do some cleaning at Red Clover ahead of renovations. First thing she did was get them to rent a dumpster. It arrives next week. She mentioned she’s taken on Carriage Hill, too.”

  “She’s going to need to hire a bigger crew at the rate she’s going.”

  With a sudden burst of energy, Violet streaked past them to a pine tree on the side of the driveway. Adam sighed. “She’s about a half mile behind a red squirrel. She’s not as quick as she used to be, but she’s still got the fire.” He turned back to Adrienne. “Vic emailed me this morning.”

  “Did he say where he is?”

  “No. He told me he wants to build a proper firepit down by the water.”

  “Why on earth—”

  “His guests often like to have fires.”

  “Meaning you and your brothers,” Adrienne said.

  “Brody and his DSS buddies, too. It’s not a priority. He wants me to think about it and give him some options. I’ve got some big projects in the works but could fit it in at night, even if I’m not still at the guesthouse.”

  “Do you plan to move out?”

  “Not at the moment but it was never going to be forever.” He petted Violet as she returned to his side. “Justin and Samantha are coming up for a cookout tonight. Join us if you have time.”

  “Thank you.” Adrienne debated a moment before she smiled. “I have time.”

  “Great. Come down to the guesthouse whenever you’re ready.”

  He headed off with Violet trotting happily at his side.

  Adrienne ignored the tug of longing in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to belong here, and she didn’t. That was the truth of it. At least it was how she felt now, on a beautiful fall afternoon alone in Knights Bridge.

  She took the back steps into Vic’s kitchen. She wondered how many times he’d used it since he’d moved back into the house after renovations. He talked about taking cooking classes but never with much enthusiasm, and certainly never with a specific plan. Adrienne had no idea where he was. He’d mentioned in an email a few days ago he was on the way to the airport and would be in touch when he could but don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for a while.

  Since he’d retired by the time she’d come to know him, she didn’t know how to read between the lines of such messages, or even if she should bother to try.

  She checked the refrigerator. Cheese, three kinds of mustard, pickles. That sort of thing. Nothing moldy or due to get moldy anytime soon. She found a nearly empty bottle of a rosé she had not picked out for him. She uncorked it and took a sniff. Vinegar. She poured the last bit into the sink, rinsed the bottle and set it in the recycling bin.

  The mail took three seconds to sort.

  She walked through the large front room with its wall-to-wall windows overlooking the porch and lake. She’d enjoyed the view in the winter, but now, in the midst of foliage season, it was breathtaking. She stepped onto the porch, shutting the door softly behind her as she breathed in the cool air, tinged with the scents of evergreens. She hadn’t needed to check on anything. She knew that. Adam was here. She’d wanted to be here, she thought, and not just because of the views. Because of him, too, although she hadn’t known for sure he would be around.

  Was it risky to stay for dinner?

  Maybe, but she spotted Justin and Samantha on the stone walk to the guesthouse and waved, skipping down the porch steps to join them. They greeted her warmly. They’d brought a Waldorf salad to contribute to dinner. Adrienne didn’t have anything and offered to grab a bottle of wine from Vic’s wine cellar, but the Sloans were fine with Adam’s selection of beer and a pitcher of ice water.

  It was warm enough to grill chicken outside on the deck. Adam added potato salad and rolls he’d picked up at the country store. With the evening turning cool, they ate dinner inside, using dishes and utensils that came with the guesthouse. Adrienne didn’t detect any tension between Adam and his brother and sister-in-law. If they had issues with each other, they didn’t crop up. As intensely aware of Adam as she was, she forced herself not to give herself away when he glanced in her direction, laughed or brushed past her.

  Her seat at the table looked out at the lake. She couldn’t help but relive their kiss on the opposite shore. How they hadn’t fallen into the water was beyond her. But she knew why. Adam had kept it from happening. He’d had her up on his hips. In that position, there wasn’t much she could have done to keep them from tumbling into the lake. She’d had to rely on his strength.

  She put the image out of her mind and called upon her skill and considerable experience with small talk, honed during her time as a wine consultant. The conversation ranged from an update on the progress of Red Clover Inn renovations, leaf peepers wandering the back roads for the particularly brilliant foliage season and dogs—Violet, the Sloan family dogs, Rohan and, of course, Buster, who was becoming something of a legend in little Knights Bridge.

  For dessert, they shared most of a box of Lake Champlain chocolate truffles. Adam had purchased them on a trip up to Vermont to pick up a particular kind of stone he needed for one of his upcoming jobs. Justin and Samantha offered to help with dishes, but Adam sent them on their way—with a truffle each.

  Adrienne slipped out to the deck to collect the throw she’d brought out when they’d finished the grilling and opened the first beers of the evening. Before she could go back inside, Adam pushed open the glass door and joined her. “We’ll be turning the clocks back soon,” he said, standing at the rail looking out at the lake. “It’ll get dark even earlier.”

  “Next you’ll be warning me about snow.”

  “A hard frost tomorrow night.”

  She’d seen the forecast. “Maggie and Olivia put the gardens to bed for the winter. That’s how they describe it. They love that sort of work—Olivia in particular doesn’t want to give up her gardening.”

  “Parts of my job I wouldn’t want to give up,” he said. “Other parts—someone else is welcome to them.”

  “Any examples?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Bidding on a job. Once I’m into the work, I’m fine. Doesn’t matter if I’m working solo or with a crew. We’ve talked about creating a separate masonry business, but so far we haven’t.” He turned so that he was facing her. “What about you? Any sense yet of what you like and don’t like to do as an innkeeper?”

  “Well, there’s that cordwood all the way across the backyard.”

  He smiled. “We’ll have to work on that.”

  “I don’t mind filling the wood box, though. I’m not sure about staying on the premises when guests are there. It feels weird.”

  “Think you’ll get used to it?”

  “I think so. I don’t mind being there by myself, but I do hear every creak and groan in the house. And if an owl hoots, I’m wide awake. Vic’s house is different.”

  “It’s bigger and newer—”

  “A hundred years old instead of two hundred.”

  “A sprawling Arts and Crafts lake house versus a center-chimney farmhouse. Makes a difference. He’s not right up on the Quabbin woods, either. He has the lake, a guesthouse, a long driveway and extensive landscaping.”

  “I guess all that does make a difference. Lots of wildlife out here but it doesn’t feel like it’s about to crawl in bed with you.” Damn. She realized her mistake instantly. At least it was dark, not much light coming from the living room. She held the throw close to her chest. “I should go. I have a few things I need to do tonight. I’m trying to set a schedule for
myself, but fall’s busy. I was warned, at least.”

  “I can take that,” he said, touching the throw. “Vic left it when he moved back into the house. I try to keep Violet off it. He has expensive tastes. It’s probably cashmere or something.”

  Adrienne smiled, relaxing slightly since Adam hadn’t seized on her mention of crawling into bed. Never mind she was talking about bears and bobcats and owls and whatnot, it had fixed the thought in her mind...

  “How’s Olivia?” he asked.

  Adrienne breathed again. “She says she feels great.”

  “That’s good. I ran into Dylan in town this morning. He’s counting the days if not the hours until the baby comes. Grace can’t wait. She never got to hold his dad after he was born.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Adrienne said. Suddenly she could see Adam as a father, but she pushed the thought out of her mind before he could sense it. “I can help with the dishes.”

  “Nah. You’ve got work to do.”

  She really did. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “No problem. Do you need a flashlight?”

  “I can use my phone.”

  She was at the steps when he spoke again. “I enjoyed this evening, Adrienne. Thanks for joining us. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with your upcoming events. Besides moving the cordwood, that is.”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  She got out of there. She did end up using her phone as a flashlight on the walk to her car. She moved fast and was out of breath when she climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. But it wasn’t hustling up from the guesthouse that had her breathing rapidly.

  “It’s Adam.”

  Again with that effect on her.

  He didn’t have to touch her to light up her senses. Did he know that? Was he playing to it? Deliberately torturing her?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  Of course, if he’d touched her...

  Don’t go there.

  But she did. Just taking the throw from her had sent a rush of heat and awareness through her. By the time she arrived at Carriage Hill, she imagined him sneaking into her suite, crawling into bed with her. He could pass as Knights Bridge wildlife.

  She regretted she hadn’t insisted on staying to help with the dishes. Why was she being so cautious? But she knew why. She didn’t trust herself. She didn’t want to screw this up. In New York, no one had cared about her breakup with the wine-shop boyfriend. His circle of friends and her circle of friends barely intersected and encompassed multiple cities and even continents. Knights Bridge was different, and it was Adam’s turf, not hers.

  And there was Vic.

  Mercifully no one was at the inn. Maggie had stopped by earlier with the boys, who had done their homework on the kitchen table before Brandon picked them up to take them to soccer practice. Dylan had waved a hello as he’d walked Buster down the road. Olivia had spent the day at the barn updating the inn’s website.

  A comfortable, quiet, normal day.

  Adrienne made herself a mug of hot chocolate and took it into the living room just as her mother called to check in. “Vic’s still out of town?” she asked in surprise after Adrienne had filled her in on the highlights since their last conversation. “I thought he was only going to be away for a few days. What do you think he’s up to?”

  “He hasn’t said.”

  “It must be something to do with a past assignment, perhaps people he dealt with before he retired.”

  “He’s not used to sharing details with anyone even when he can.” Adrienne sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the unlit fireplace. She could use a fire tonight but she’d have to fetch wood, not her favorite chore in the dark with no one else around. “I hope having a secret daughter doesn’t mess things up for him, in case he’s up for a sensitive position.”

  “Does he want to come out of retirement?” her mother asked sharply.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, he wasn’t the one who kept you a secret. I was. I thought I was doing the right thing for everyone involved.”

  “I know you did, Mom.” It was well-plowed ground between them. Adrienne didn’t have to put herself in her mother’s shoes or understand her decision thirty years ago to accept it. “Vic and I are both fine. You are, too, aren’t you?”

  “Yes—yes, I am.”

  She sounded fine. Adrienne sipped some of her hot chocolate and set the mug on the hearth. “I hope you don’t think I’ve abandoned you by taking this job and moving east.”

  “What? No, of course not.” Her mother gave a short laugh. “Please. Don’t think twice about that. You know, maybe this move has freed me up to do my own thing. I don’t have to stay in California for your sake.”

  Adrienne frowned at the phone. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

  “No, but there are certain opportunities I’ve ruled out because of the distance from you.”

  “Like what?”

  Her mother laughed. “I do have a life, you know.”

  “I know. Sorry.”

  “Oh, I was the same at your age,” she said without any hint of criticism. She wasn’t one who took offense easily. “I’ve often thought I might like to spend a few months in Europe. Live in Paris, maybe. I didn’t have the chance to study abroad when I was in college. I didn’t have the money—I had to work. Well. One never knows.”

  “I’ve been an adult for a while, Mom.”

  “I know. I didn’t like the idea of being too far from you. I still don’t.”

  They were tight in their own way, a single mother and her only daughter. “I’d visit you in Paris,” Adrienne said lightly.

  “You’ve always loved to travel. A six-hour time difference is easier to manage than a nine-hour one. But I’ve thought about New Zealand, too.”

  New Zealand? She was on a roll. Adrienne smiled. “There are some great wineries in New Zealand.”

  “It’d be a jaunt for you to visit from New England.”

  “I’d manage.”

  “I bet you would. You’re making friends in Knights Bridge—building on the friendships you established last winter?”

  “Absolutely.”

  But she didn’t go into details, particularly about a certain Knights Bridge stonemason. They shifted to other topics, and when they disconnected, Adrienne felt settled in her own skin, happy, filled with possibilities. She didn’t know how long it would last, but she liked it.

  * * *

  After two intense days of back-to-back lunches for twenty and then thirty guests, Adrienne treated herself to a visit to the library. She wanted to investigate books on the area that she might want to buy for the inn, and get something to read for herself. She hadn’t had a chance to stop at the library since she’d returned to Knights Bridge. She’d spent many quiet hours here last winter. She loved its late-nineteenth-century atmosphere, complete with a marble fireplace, a small stage, ornately carved dark wood and a dour oil portrait of its founder and benefactor, a local manufacturer.

  Adam approached her with two dinosaur books under his arm. “I’m returning them for Tyler and Aidan,” he said, easing next to Adrienne at the circulation desk.

  “I figured they weren’t your bedtime reading.”

  “Despite their best efforts, no. I walked over with my grandmother. It’s her book club day. Eric will get her home. She insists she doesn’t need our help, but we tell her we use it as an excuse to visit.”

  “Does she believe you?”

  “She snorts and tells us not to patronize her. Right now her book club’s reading a World War II novel. Gran says she remembers the end of the war.”

  “Never mind Vic, she should write her memoirs.”

  “She’d make up half of it and hold back on the good stuff.”

  From what Adrienne had seen of Evelyn Sloan, Adam was
n’t exaggerating.

  “Are you here for anything in particular?” he asked her.

  “Taking a break. I’m looking into books for the inn, and I’ll pick out one or two for myself. It’s quiet when we don’t have guests. I don’t want to spend every dark, chilly evening working or watching television.”

  “Not diving into Knights Bridge’s nightlife?”

  “Such as?”

  There was the slightest pause before he answered. “You lived here last winter. You must have a pretty good idea. The library and historical society hold events. There are a variety of groups—book clubs, hiking, snowshoeing, knitting. My mother teaches a quilting class.”

  “I’ve never even thought about quilting,” Adrienne said.

  He grinned. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me? Maybe you could teach a wine class.”

  “That could be interesting.”

  There were college towns nearby and day trips to Boston were easily managed. “I know there are things to do in the area. I guess I’m feeling my way as I get into some routines. I’m trying to pace myself and rest up between bookings.”

  “Need time to regroup? I get that. I read, too. Vic brought a box of photographs down to the guesthouse for me to digitize for him. He’ll pick out a few for his memoirs.”

  Adrienne checked a cart of novels by the circulation desk. “Think he’ll ever really write his memoirs?”

  “Write, yes. Finish? Not for decades.” Adam nodded vaguely toward the main reading room. “Gran keeps shooting me looks. She’s going to guess there’s something between us.”

  Adrienne noticed he said guess not think but realized he probably hadn’t given his word choice much thought. “Grandmothers,” she said, figuring that was enough.

  Clare Morgan Farrell emerged from a back room. Widowed with a young son, Tyler and Aidan Sloan’s friend Owen, she’d fallen in love with the Boston ER doctor grandson of two beloved locals last Christmas, during her first months in Knights Bridge. She’d taken Owen’s moose adventure in stride, smiling and chatting briefly as she took the dinosaur books from Adam and set them to one side. He headed out, and Clare, fair-haired and in her early thirties, pointed Adrienne in the direction of the local history section.