The Inn at Eagle Point Read online

  Trace nodded.

  “Then the whole town knows by now,” she concluded. “That won’t help.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware of that.”

  “You really do need a plan,” she told him.

  “Not from you,” he said at once. “I think you and Abby have enough issues of your own to resolve without you trying to team up with me. She would not appreciate having you switch allegiance from her to me.”

  “I’m not taking sides. This is all about fixing things between you two. That’s all good. You’re happy. She’s happy. In fact, with any luck, she’ll be so happy, she’ll stay out of my hair at the inn.” She beamed at him. “If we do this right, this will definitely be a win-win all the way around.”

  She bounced up and headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch when I’ve formulated a plan.”

  Trace groaned. “Heaven help me.”

  “Heaven’s not the least bit interested in your love life,” she told him, then grinned. “But, lucky for you, I am.”

  9

  W hen Abby arrived home after her back-to-back confrontations with Trace and Jess, she found Carrie, the more intrepid of the twins, trying to scramble up onto the porch railing in an apparent attempt to walk it like a tightrope. Gram and Caitlyn were nowhere in sight.

  Watching Carrie wobble precariously made Abby’s blood run cold. She slammed on the brakes, cut the engine and bolted across the lawn just in time to grab her daughter before Carrie could release her grip on a post and stand upright on the narrow railing.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Abby demanded, setting Carrie on her feet on the porch floor, then hunkering down until their gazes were level. “You know better than to climb up on things, especially with no one around watching you. Where is Gram?”

  “She’s inside. Caitlyn got sick again, but I’m all well,” Carrie said proudly. She seemed clueless about how much trouble she was in.

  “You may feel better, but you’re not a hundred percent well.” Abby gave her a stern look. “And if I catch you trying to balance on this railing again, you’ll spend one whole day confined to your room.”

  Carrie regarded her with alarm. “But there’s nothing to do in that room. Everything in there is for boys. And there’s not even a TV.”

  Abby wasn’t about to relent on this one. Carrie and Caitlyn had a fairly firm grasp of big-city dangers—traffic, strangers, getting little fingers caught in elevator doors—but the dangers here were newer and obviously alluring. Cupping Carrie’s chin and looking at her directly, she said, “That is why the room is the perfect place for a little girl who’s being punished for breaking the rules. Do you understand me?”

  Storm clouds brewed in Carrie’s eyes. “I wanna go home! I like my room! I don’t wanna be here anymore!”

  Abby could relate. She wouldn’t mind being back in her own room, her own apartment, her own life, but for the moment that seemed to be out of the question. And the fact that Jess wasn’t even appreciative of the sacrifice she was making really exasperated her. The whole scene at the inn had been uncalled for. It wasn’t as if she’d created this situation. She’d merely rushed to her sister’s aid.

  On some level, she knew that Jess’s explosion had little to do with her. It was a reaction to her earlier battle with Mick. Add in Abby’s untimely criticism and the two incidents had combined to set her off.

  Suddenly she felt a tentative pat on her cheek.

  “Mommy, are you sad?” Carrie asked worriedly. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “It’s nothing you did, sweet pea. Mommy’s just had a very long day.”

  Carrie looked puzzled. “Longer than mine?”

  Abby laughed. “Just the same as yours. I’ve just had a lot more things going on.”

  “Do you think me and Caitlyn will be well enough to go for ice cream tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

  “More likely the next day,” Abby told her.

  “But I’m all well now,” Carrie protested. “It’s only Caitlyn who’s still sick. You can stay with her and I can go with Mr. Riley. I won, anyway. I had the most spots.”

  “When we go, we’ll all go together,” Abby said. “You’ll just have to be patient.”

  As for her, she would have to have nerves of steel, because the more time she spent around Trace, the more she learned about the mistakes and bad assumptions they’d both made, then the more tempted she was to put the past behind her and take another look at what the future might hold. And that, she knew with everything in her, was very dangerous thinking.

  Trace had been up all night. He’d gotten a call on his cell phone around four yesterday afternoon from one of his regular clients. There’d been an unexpected opening for an ad in a trade publication and they needed something designed within twenty-four hours in order to take advantage of it. He’d agreed to tackle the job.

  He’d worked nonstop through the night, using art he’d created for a previous consumer-oriented campaign, then blending that with the new slogan and copy that had been created for this particular professional audience.

  For whatever reason, it hadn’t come together the way he’d wanted it to. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it had to do with the words of his argument with Abby playing over and over in his head as if they’d been recorded on some mental tape deck. Or maybe it was because he’d been away from his design work for a couple of weeks. Sometimes a break that long was enough to ruin his concentration and his rhythm.

  He stopped trying to figure out the problem around 9:00 a.m. and made himself another pot of coffee. His brain might not be functioning on all cylinders, but at least he was wide-awake. Since the only food in his refrigerator was a carton of eggs, a package of cheese and some margarine, he scrambled the eggs, threw in a slice of cheese and then ate while standing at the counter in the kitchen, his gaze fixed on the artwork propped up on the sofa across the room. Something was still off, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It was driving him crazy.

  Maybe it was the combination of colors, he concluded, running water over his plate and then heading back to his computer. He made a few adjustments, studied the results, then tweaked it again. It did look better, but it still didn’t jump off the page the way he knew it needed to. He could e-mail it to the client for a second opinion, but he hated to show him something that he wasn’t happy with himself.

  Sighing, he decided to take a shower. Maybe that would finish off the job started by the coffee and would give him a fresh perspective.

  Eventually, the hot water pounding down on his shoulders eased the tension in his muscles and a final burst of icy-cold water on his face revived him. He was back in his office in fresh jeans and a clean shirt, when someone pounded on the door.

  “Trace, are you in there?” his father demanded impatiently. “Answer the door or I’ll have someone come and break it down.”

  Alarmed, Trace yanked the door open and regarded his father with bewilderment. “What on earth are you so worked up about?”

  “It’s midmorning on a workday. You didn’t come in. You didn’t call. For all I knew, you’d been murdered in your bed.”

  Trace stared at him incredulously. “Have there been a lot of murders in Chesapeake Shores?”

  His father scowled at his attempt at humor. “There’s a first time for everything. You scared your mother to death.”

  “How? She wasn’t expecting me at work, was she?” />
  “No, but I called her when you didn’t show up. I thought maybe you’d stopped by the house.”

  “So, naturally, now she’s all worked up, too,” Trace concluded, realizing it was going to take some adjustments to get used to having to account for his time after years of answering to no one except himself. “Dad, I’m sorry I didn’t check in. A last-minute job came in yesterday afternoon, and I was up all night working on it. It’s due in a couple of hours.” Before his father could respond, Trace held up his hand. “No excuse. I should have called Mariah.”

  “Yes, you should have,” his father grumbled, but he was calmer. “I’d best call your mother and let her know.” He took out his cell phone, made the call, then handed the phone to Trace. “She wants to hear your voice for herself.”

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “You really must be more considerate,” she scolded. “Your father was in an absolute frenzy.”

  “I know. It won’t happen again.”

  “You really are okay? He’s not making that up for my benefit?”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Then I’ll expect to see you for dinner one night this weekend, so I can look you over and see for myself that you’re doing okay.”

  “Sure. I’ll call you later to set it up. Bye, Mother.” He cut off the call and turned to hand the phone to his father, but he was nowhere in sight. Trace found him in his studio, staring at the computer screen.

  “You did this?” he asked.

  “I did,” Trace acknowledged, waiting for the inevitable criticism.

  “It’s a good ad,” his father admitted, his tone grudging.

  “Thanks.”

  His father studied the ad more intently, then said, “It could use a little more contrast, though.”

  Trace was startled by the observation. He leaned over his father’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “Right here, this gray blends right into the background. It doesn’t pop enough, at least that’s how it seems to me. You’re the expert, though.”

  Trace studied the part of the design his father had indicated and realized he was exactly right. The words, in a muted shade of gray, simply didn’t pop enough against the sky-blue background. They should have been black, or maybe even navy-blue. Red would be even more bold.

  “You’ve got a good eye, Dad,” he said. “I’ve been staring at this thing for two hours, and I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t quite right.”

  “You were probably overanalyzing it,” his father suggested. “Well, now that I know you’re okay, I’ll get back to the bank. One of us needs to work today.”

  “I’ll come in later,” Trace promised. “As soon as this gets the client’s okay.”

  “Take the rest of the day off,” his father said. “If you want to do something, run by the inn and check on things, see how Abby’s coming along on getting all the bills in order.”

  “You’re as transparent as glass,” Trace accused. The innocent look on his father’s face was a nice effort, but Trace wasn’t buying it.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” his father claimed. “Following up with Abby is just part of your job. You want to turn it into something else, that’s up to you.”

  Trace grinned. “I’ll remind you of that next time you start trying to push us together.” He walked his father to the door. “Thanks for coming by, Dad, and I don’t mean just for checking on me. You really were a help just now.”

  Even as he spoke, he saw the spark of real pleasure that lit his father’s eyes and realized that Lawrence Riley, for all of his stuffy affinity for numbers and business success, needed the occasional pat on the back just like everyone else.

  Abby approached the inn with trepidation. She had no idea what kind of mood she’d find Jess in this afternoon and she wasn’t in any frame of mind herself for another fight. Fortunately Jess’s car was nowhere in sight. While that was a relief, Abby did find herself wondering why her sister wasn’t inside, hard at work.

  Using her key, she went in, poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot in the kitchen that Jess had apparently made earlier, then went into the office. An inch-thick pile of bills were stacked on the desk, unopened. Sighing, she went to work sorting through them, grimacing when she saw the bills for all those beautiful drapes and linens Jess had bought for the remaining rooms. Clearly her good taste came at a high price, and none of the conversations they had about cutting costs had sunk in. Abby knew she’d have to try again to get Jess to economize.

  She was in the middle of writing checks when her cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she recognized her ex-husband’s number and grimaced. She’d known this call was coming. Wes had been away when she’d first come down to Chesapeake Shores. She’d left several messages for him, so he’d know where the girls were, but he wasn’t going to be happy when he found out they wouldn’t be back in New York by the weekend.

  “Hey, Wes, how are you?” she said, injecting a note of enthusiasm into her voice. “How was your trip?”

  “Long,” he said. “I’m glad to be home.”

  “You got my messages?”

  “I did, but you weren’t making a lot of sense. I got the part about going to Chesapeake Shores for a visit, but why are you still there?”

  “It’s a long story, just some family business I have to deal with.” She really didn’t want to get into it with her ex. He’d never had much patience with Jess. He thought Abby was entirely too understanding of her mistakes. Like Mick, he’d believed tough love was the answer for something that Abby knew needed compassion instead.

  “But you’ll be back by Friday, right? I’ve missed the girls. I’m anxious to spend time with them.”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said. “I really can’t leave here.” She drew in a deep breath and offered an alternative. “You’re more than welcome to come down here, though. There’s plenty of room at the house.”

  “Come on, Abby. You know that’s a lousy idea. Your whole family blames me for the divorce.”

  “They do not,” she protested. “I’ve always told them that it was my fault, that I was the one who didn’t devote enough time and attention to our marriage.”

  “Which none of them believed for a minute,” he countered. “Mick certainly didn’t. I got an earful from him when he found out. I’d just as soon not be on the receiving end of another one of his lectures.”

  “Mick’s in California, and you know Gram would never say a bad word to you or about you. She adores you. And the girls would be over the moon to have you here. I’ll even make myself scarce, so it won’t be awkward for you. You’ll have the twins all to yourself. It’ll be like taking them on vacation. In fact, if you wanted to, you could drive up to Ocean City for the day.”

  She waited as he weighed the decision, but she knew what it would be. In the end, Wes was a terrific father who adored his daughters. He wasn’t going to let his annoyance with her or the situation interfere with seeing them.

  “I’ll be there first thing Saturday morning,” he said finally. “But I’d rather not stay at the house. What about that inn? I could stay there.”

  “Actually it’s not open at the moment. It’s being renovated, so it’s the house or you’ll have to find a hotel in one of the nearby towns. I could make some calls for you.”

  He sighed heavily. “No, that doesn’t make sense. I’ll stay with you and the girls. You will be back in New York before my next scheduled visit, though, won’t you?”

 
Abby winced. “I don’t think so. I’m going to be here at least for a few more weeks.”

  Silence fell and lasted for what seemed like an eternity as Abby waited for his reaction.

  “Then the girls will come back to New York with me,” he said with finality. “I’ll have the nanny come here during the week and I’ll handle evenings and weekends until you get back up here.”

  “Absolutely not,” Abby said at once. She didn’t intend to be denied time with the girls, either, and they were enjoying themselves here.

  “Well, I certainly can’t keep running down to Maryland every other weekend,” he said impatiently. “And you can’t send them up here alone on a plane.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you tell me how we should handle this,” he said. “So far, you and I have been able to keep the whole custody thing totally civil, but I’m not going to give up my time with my daughters.”

  “Wes, that’s not what this is about,” she argued. “I’m dealing with something here. I just need you to cooperate for a few more weeks, not an eternity. Can’t you do that much?”

  He was quiet for so long, she thought he might not answer, but eventually he said, “We’ll discuss this when I see you. I don’t want to be unreasonable.”

  Abby breathed a sigh of relief. That was the thing about Wes, he never wanted to be unreasonable. That’s why they’d finally divorced. She’d seen how miserable her long hours at work were making him, but he’d never demanded that things change. One day he’d simply hit a wall and asked for a divorce. The only surprise to her had been that he’d waited so long.

  “Thanks, Wes.”

  “I’ll plan to take an early flight, but I’ll call you if I get held up. Otherwise, expect me around ten.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then. Have a safe trip.”