All or Nothing (40 page)

He found that he was enjoying himself. His childhood did sound idyllic, now that he recalled it. They passed the forest where he and his friends had come to indulge in forbidden pleasures on Friday nights, once upon a time, and he told her about the Chief of Police hunting them down one summer night.

“Did he catch you?”

“No. There were too many mosquitoes for him to go the distance.”

“But he knew who you were?”

Zach nodded. “We had to hide deeper in the bush to get away from him. He came looking for us the next morning at our homes and had a serious talk with each of us, based on the evidence of our having zillions of mosquito bites ourselves.”

Jen laughed. “And did it make any difference?”

“We changed our locations, but were otherwise pretty indifferent. I suspect that he thought we were mostly harmless. He's a big picture kind of guy.”

“You must have loved being in such a small town,” she said with a sigh. “I would have loved it.”

Zach looked at her in astonishment. “Go on! It was a place I couldn't wait to leave.”

“Why?”

“It was boring. There was one movie theater and it played the same movie for weeks at a time. Do you know how many times I saw
Star Wars
?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. I stopped counting in the low sixties.”

“But it must have felt safe. Secure.”

“It was that. Confining and restrictive. Prisons are like that too, you know. We were all jockeying for position to run into the big wide world and never come back. Did you grow up in the city?”

Jen nodded. “My mother was always worried about something happening to Cin and I. We spent a lot of time together as kids, watching out for each other, and M.B. got stuck on guard duty even more.”

“It made you all pretty close.”

“There is that, but independence is important to kids, too. You must have known your neighbors, and been recognized in the shops because of whose son you were.”

Zach gave her a dark look. “And you think that was an advantage?”

“Yes.” Jen nodded firmly. “I think that's exactly the kind of security that kids need. You could have freedom in that town, because everybody knew everybody. You could be warned of who to avoid and your family wouldn't have to worry about you out riding around on your bike alone.”

It was true. “But that cuts both ways, Jen. There are people who could never shake their apparent reputation, even if they didn't actually fit it. Kids of men who were said to be trouble, for example, were assumed to be trouble themselves, even if they weren't.”

“But you didn't have that problem, did you?”

“No, just the opposite.” He grinned. “I was supposed to be upstanding, like everyone else in my family.”

“I'll bet there were people who refused to believe that you could be anything else.”

Zach chuckled, knowing it was true and that he had used it to advantage once or twice. “Probably.”

“I think it must have been wonderful to grow up in a small town, even if you saw the same movies over and over again.” Jen spoke with such resolve that Zach took her implicit dare.

“Oh, come on, you don't even know what it's like. I'll show you what a little hick town it is.” He turned onto the road that ultimately became Main Street, knowing that Jen's illusions would be lost when she saw just how little there was of greater metropolitan Rosemount. They passed the two old churches, the Episcopalian one on the left and the little Catholic one on the right, drove around the ancient maple that had been left in the middle of Main Street in front of the Town Hall, and emerged on what passed for downtown.

Zach was sure Jen would laugh. It looked so pathetic and dated to him.

But she was charmed. “Oh! It's like an old-fashioned Christmas! I didn't think anyone did this anymore. Zach, it's like a postcard from the past.”

He looked again, and saw that she was right. Beyond the old light standards and parking meters that gave you an hour of parking for a quarter, there was a certain charm.

There were cedar ropes hanging from the store fronts, fairy lights twinkling within the dark bows. The old two-story buildings that comprised main street, with the apartment for the shopkeeper over the shop itself, looked pretty well-tended when he looked at them instead of assuming he knew how they looked. The windows were joyously decorated for Christmas with ribbons and sleigh bells and angels and shepherds.

He slowed down, purportedly to let Jen have a better look and really looked himself. An automated Santa waved with a jerky gesture from the window of Chisholm's hardware store, where Zach knew for a fact that Mr. Chisholm could find any part that anyone needed, somewhere in the vast store. It was good to know a hardware store like that one.

Mrs. Purdue was still selling twin sets at
Style For Ladies
, although the offerings in her shop window were in more punchy colors than he remembered them being before. Chartreuse and fuchsia had never been among the options, Zach was pretty sure.

The pole on Mack's Barber Shop was still turning, looking like the stick of a candy cane amidst the holiday decorations. Zach had had his first haircut in Mack's big old leather chair, which was still there in pride of place.

There had been changes, too. The diner had been repainted, and looked even more retro than it had before. The coffee shop with the all-day breakfast had become a bistro with a French awning; the five-and-dime store was gone and a home decor shop with a lot of wicker had taken its place. There was now a bulk food store and a chic little coffee shop that belonged to no chain Zach knew.

And there were vacancies. The movie theater was closed for the season, according to its sign. MacCauley's Bookstore that Matt had frequented was gone, its dark windows empty except for the For Sale sign.

“It's wonderful,” Jen said and Zach saw Rosemount through her eyes. He remembered a thousand lazy summer days, scoring a popsicle at the corner store, then riding his bike down to the wharf with his buddies. He turned down the street that went to the docks and rolled down his window, remembering the salty bite of the winter wind off the Atlantic. There was a nature trail and a dog park now, in precisely the location where people had always hiked and walked their dogs.

“Can we go back downtown?” Jen asked. “Is there time?”

“I've never been obsessed with being on time before,” Zach admitted, wanting only to make her happy. He drove back to Main Street, seeing its appeal for the first time in years. “It might frighten the locals if I showed up promptly for a family function.”

Jen laughed, then urged him to stop beside the empty shop that had been MacCauley's.

“Dinah Dishman,” he said, reading the Realtor's sign. “I wonder whether that's the Dinah Dishman that Phil used to baby-sit.”

“There can't be two people with that name.”

“True enough.”

“So, I guess someone stayed in Rosemount, after all,” Jen teased and Zach had to smile.

“I guess so.” He saw how hungrily she looked at the space and remembered something she had told him before. “There's no knitting shop in town,” he said, hazarding a guess.

Jen flashed him a smile. “I noticed that.”

He leaned across her, considering the building. “It's on the north side of the street,” he noted. “It would have that sunshine.”

Jen tightened her grip on the poinsettia as she looked. “I like the door. Does it have beveled glass?”

“Yes, I remember it. And the lock is heavy, brass I think. There used to be a little bell inside that rang when the door shut, and Mr. MacCauley would come out of the back. He was always carrying a cup of coffee, though I never saw him drink any of it.”

“Mr. MacCauley?”

“It was his bookstore. Matt will know why it closed: he spent entire weeks here when we were kids. We had a joke that if Matt was missing, we'd call Mr. MacCauley to check on him.”

Jen smiled. “See? That's what I mean. I like the sound of that. It's the kind of environment my mom tried to create for us, but she could only do it within our house.”

“Or when M.B. went with you.”

Jen nodded, her gaze clinging to the empty shop front. “We'll be late,” she said, showing a reluctance to go to Grey Gables that Zach could understand.

“It will only fulfill expectations,” he said, trying to be cheerful. He turned onto the road that climbed to the house, dreading their arrival more with every moment. Instead he focused on the glimmer of an idea he'd just had, a gift that Jen might like a whole lot more than a trip to New York and a Tiffany rock on her finger.

“Come on,” Jen teased. “What's the worst thing that can happen?”

“I don't think I want to envision that.”

“Don't worry: I'll protect you, no matter how mean they are.”

“You should know what you're getting into before you make promises like that,” Zach said. He reached over and squeezed her hand, not wanting her to feel as much trepidation as he did.

No doubt about it, he was very glad to have Jen with him.

And he didn't want his family to scare her off.

* * *

Grey Gables was like something out of a magazine. Jen felt her mouth drop open as Zach turned into the long curved driveway. The house sat at the end of the drive, imposing and elegant, exuding history and privilege from its every brick.

It was a mock-Tudor house, probably from the turn of the last century, and had been built with no care for expense. She didn't doubt that there was a huge rose garden in front of it in summer, or that the garage—which was a separate building—could comfortably accommodate half a dozen cars in lieu of the horses and carriages it had once held.

“It's huge,” she whispered in awe.

“Only seven bedrooms,” Zach said and she turned to look at him in shock. He grimaced. “They don't all have ensuites, although my mother will probably see that fixed one of these days.”

It could have been a hotel, but Jen guessed that Zach wouldn't appreciate that suggestion.

“How many people live here?” she asked instead. The place would be full of antiques, like a set in a movie, she was sure of it.

“Four. My brother Matt bought out the rest of us after my father died, so he lives here with his wife and daughter Annette. My mother also moved back here with them, as this was her family house.” Zach shrugged. “They originally built it as a summer cottage.”

Jen gaped despite herself. Cottages in her experience were little shacks, built by the hands of their owners, with no heating systems beyond a wood stove and no interior plumbing at all. You could see through the walls of cottages if you squinted at the corners.

A cottage.
Her mind stalled on the notion of anyone considering this to be a minor vacation residence.

Zach parked at the end of a line of cars which were more modest than Jen might have expected and heaved a sigh. “Well, I guess this is it,” he said, with no Christmas cheer at all.

Jen couldn't find her voice to assure him that it wouldn't be as bad as he feared.

He helped her out of the car, releasing Roxie with complete confidence that the dog was safe. It was so far to the road that his certainty was deserved. Roxie made a pit stop in the snow, then ran for the door, her tail wagging mightily in anticipation.

“See?” Jen said. “Roxie thinks it will be okay.”

“Roxie has never been here,” Zach said. “She has an innocent trust in the goodness of strangers.”

“Don't say that's undeserved.”

“It could be.” Zach smiled, looking a lot less Tigger-like than Jen expected of him. “We might as well get this over with,” he said and Jen knew one way to encourage him.

“Not yet,” she said, snagging his sleeve. He glanced down at her in confusion. “We're supposed to be crazy in love with each other, remember?”

Before he could make a joke, Jen reached up and kissed him. He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her closer, deepening their kiss just as she'd hoped he would. Jen wrapped one hand around his neck, not caring that the poinsettia was getting a bit crushed between them.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered when he eventually lifted his head.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “It's feeling a lot merrier all of a sudden,” he murmured then ducked his head to kiss her again.

* * *

“Hey, keep it legal out there!” someone shouted from the doorway. Roxie barked and dove into the house, almost sending the taller man flying into the snow. “Whoa!” he shouted cheerfully, but Roxie was gone.

It sounded like two other dogs began barking inside the house.

Zach turned to the taller man at the front door, who also wore a tie. He looked as if he'd left a suit jacket somewhere and had his shirt sleeves rolled up.

“Jealous, James?” Zach demanded in a teasing tone. “I see that you and Maralys haven't managed to melt all of the snow yet. Are you losing your touch?”

“Hey, give us a chance. We've been peeling potatoes since dawn, under orders of Leslie.” James wiped his brow with mock exhaustion. “She's quite the task maker, and you're here just in time to mash them. Tell you what: I'll find you an apron to match that suit.”

“I thought they didn't make dinner themselves,” Jen whispered, wondering whether Zach's brother was joking.

“So did I,” Zach replied, looking astonished. “Come on, let's see whether it's really true.” He took her hand in his and led her to the steps and his smiling brother.

Who didn't look that scary, after all.

“You must be Jen,” James said when Jen reached the front door. His smile was warm and welcoming. He offered his hand. “It's wonderful to meet you. I'm Zach's eldest brother, James. My wife, Maralys, talked to you on the phone.”

“Cornered you on the phone,” Zach corrected. “And conned you into agreeing to come today.”