Down by the River (8 page)

As Margaret wept then, Jane gave Grace a glowing look of triumph. Jane had been trying to turn Margaret against Grace ever since the girl had shown the first spark of musical talent. This was simply another little victory for Jane.

Nevertheless, it hurt Grace to have her entire family angry with her. And as the weeks of preparation and packing went by, Margaret decided she would not move with Grace. Jane Conley had talked to Elaine and Frank, and they'd offered to let Margaret stay on with them over the summer until it was time for her senior year at college. Grace felt a little surprised Margaret agreed to this decision, since she and Elaine had never gotten along very well. Furthermore, Margaret didn't get along with Frank well, either. He was too outspoken to suit her, while Elaine was too quiet and practical to complement Margaret's artistic temperament. Plus Margaret got tired of Ava and Sophie quickly, both still so small and demanding. With some amusement, Grace had watched Margaret make a concentrated effort to entrench herself in Elaine's affections these last weeks—determined to stay behind with her and to not move away with Grace.

When moving day finally came, few in Grace's family were there to see her off. In fact, most of them had avoided her as much as possible after Margaret's birthday dinner in early May. When they did call or come by, they tried again to talk her out of moving. Their overall sentiment was that she was sure to fail in trying to run a bed-and-breakfast and that she would come crawling back to them all in Nashville then, repentant and embarrassed. It angered Grace and made her more determined than ever to succeed.

By the time she moved, Grace found herself quite ready to tell her children—and even the town of Nashville—good-bye. The last weeks had been stressful. Still, she cried half the way to Townsend, grieved that none of her family could be happy for her. And hurt, too, that they sent her off with so little love and affection.

T
rue to his resolve, Jack had successfully avoided any contact with Grace Conley after she moved into the Oakley Bed-and-Breakfast in June. Not that it was even called the Oakley anymore. Grace had erected a striking professional sign on the highway announcing the new name of the bed-and-breakfast as the Mimosa Inn. Now that the mimosa trees on the property were coming into full bloom, the name seemed especially appropriate.

Even Jack grudgingly admitted that the new sign, now swinging invitingly from a high, wrought-iron pole, was stunning—and that the changes going on at the bed-and-breakfast seemed to indicate Grace Conley did actually know how to work hard after all. The inn was newly painted, the yard neatly landscaped, and fresh sweeps of flowers now colorfully accented the property. Grace had quickly networked to discover local workers eager for extra money. They'd power-washed the walks and patio, cleared out brush on the property, carried off useless items from the Oakley's attics, storage closets, and outbuildings—and literally made the property sparkle.

Jack found himself a little proud of Grace Conley's moxie. As his mother had said, Grace had surprised him. Furthermore, everyone around the River Road liked her. She always had fresh coffee or iced tea, and a warm smile, ready for anyone who stopped by to visit her. Plus her home-baked goods were already becoming legendary. Jack knew the young minister of the Creekside Church, Vincent Westbrooke, stopped over every morning to have coffee and fresh muffins with Grace. If she had paying guests, Vince often joined them for a full breakfast.

Jack sat outside on the back patio of the realty office reviewing these thoughts one morning in late June. Jack's cousin, Roger Butler, was comfortably settled on the patio with him, drinking coffee and poring over the blueprints of a log cabin he was building for a new client. Jack looked at his cousin affectionately. He wore an aged, wrinkled, corduroy jacket he favored over a checked shirt, and his glasses drooped down his nose as he leaned over his work. Unlike Jack, Roger was round-faced and comfortable looking, his looks coming from his father's people, the Butlers, more than the Teagues.

Seeing that Roger was preoccupied, Jack let his gaze drift over the bank's parking lot next door and then across Creekside Lane into the front yard of the Mimosa Inn. Grace Conley was out walking in the yard. Every so often she leaned over, as if weeding or picking flowers or something. It was too far to see exactly. She wore a long pink skirt that exactly matched the color of the mimosa blossoms blooming all over the yard. Jack frowned. Did the woman plan that sort of thing?

Roger's voice interrupted Jack's thoughts. “You know, Jack, you can't continue to avoid Grace Conley forever.” Roger grinned at him, pushing his glasses up with one finger. “Besides, it's not like you to avoid an attractive woman anyway.”

Jack frowned. “Things didn't start off well with Grace Conley and myself. I've kept my distance for a reason, Roger.”

“Yeah, but it's starting to become too obvious.” Roger leveled him with a considering glance. “Word's gotten around about the little Ashleigh Layton episode. And now people are starting to say you're too embarrassed to confront Grace Conley again. Everybody's noticed that you never drop by the inn, when you always used to do so when Carl and Mavis lived there. Plus, you seldom walk to work anymore and cut through the Mimosa property. You've even avoided church since Grace started attending there. It's starting to amuse people that you seem to be downright scared of Grace Conley—especially since she's so nice.”

“That's ridiculous!” Jack jerked upright to glare at Roger and slopped his coffee on his slacks. “Who's saying that, anyway?”

Roger shrugged. “Oh, I've heard a few comments here and there.”

“Well, there's nothing to them.” Jack slumped back into his chair, still glaring, and studied Roger's deadpan expression. He and his cousin had been best friends since childhood. Few people knew him as Roger did.

“Do you think I'm being cowardly not going over to see Grace Conley?”

Roger scratched his chin. “Well, I can't help but wonder why you're avoiding her, Jack. It is odd, even knowing about the Ashleigh incident.”

Roger's gaze followed Jack's to where Grace was still walking in the yard. “The other thing that makes this even more peculiar is how much your girls love Grace Conley, Jack. Samantha says they are over there almost every day on one excuse or another. Grace feeds them and has them doing odd jobs for her around the house. She's organizing a Junior Scout troop for girls their age. Even my Daisy is thrilled about that. You know none of the mothers wanted the responsibility of having a troop. It's a dang lot of work. Yet, here Grace Conley has taken it on when she doesn't even have a child that age herself. It's making a big impression around here, that kind of thing. And it makes you seem even more churlish for avoiding her when she's been so good to your twins.”

Jack kicked a post on the deck. “Yeah, Meredith and Morgan talk about her all the time. It's ‘Grace this' and ‘Grace that'; it's enough to make me gag.”

Roger laughed. “Listen, Jack . . . why don't you let me in on why you're really avoiding the widow Conley?”

Frowning, Jack hedged the question. “We had a little misunderstanding, Miz Conley and I. She made it clear to my mother that she didn't even want me to get the commission on the sale of the Oakley. That seemed to imply to me that she wouldn't be eager to see me coming around.”

“Do you want to explain that little misunderstanding in more detail? It must have been a lulu to have caused her to cut you out of the commission on the Oakley.”

“It was just something silly.” Jack crossed his arms defensively. He didn't want to admit, even to Roger, that he'd kissed Grace Conley out by the gazebo. Or that she'd slapped his face for it. He at least owed her that secret. She'd obviously told no one about it herself.

Roger studied him. “I see. Meaning you're not going to confide in me, right? So be it, Jack. But you still need to be a big boy and walk over to the inn and make nice with Grace Conley. If only because your girls spend so much of their time there—if for no other reason.”

Jack scowled thinking about it.

“You can use the excuse of telling her about Crazy Man.” Roger straightened his blueprints out on the patio table to study them more closely. “The last time there was an incident with him, it was at the bed-and-breakfast. You can go over there and warn her to be careful. Look real chivalrous.”

“Yeah, maybe I'll do that some time.”

“How about now?” Roger pushed. “She's out walking in the yard. You don't have an appointment until later. This is an opportune time, Jack. Remember your dad always said not to put off until tomorrow what you can well take care of today.”

Jack blew out a breath. “Okay, okay. I'll walk over and see if I can make nice.”

Roger reached over to clap him on the back. “It's not like going to the guillotine, Cousin. The times I've seen Grace Conley over at our place visiting Samantha, I remember noting she's a right fine-looking woman.'

“I didn't know Grace Conley had been to your place visiting Samantha.” Jack looked up at Roger in surprise.

Roger shook his head. “Shoot, man, where have you been? Those two women have become as thick as thieves. Sam's been hungry for a woman friend, and she and Grace seem to get along like they've always known each other. Plus our girls, Daisy and Ruby, are about as crazy about Grace as your girls. The woman's a natural with children. And she seems to have a gift for getting along with everyone around here except for you.”

“Well, that's just great.” Annoyed, Jack banged his coffee cup down on the table in irritation, the coffee sloshing out over the side of the cup again.

“Hey, watch it, Jack. Those are my blueprints you're splashing your coffee over.” Roger picked up a napkin to wipe off the corner of his blueprints and then rolled them up to put them back in the carrier tube, out of harm's way.

He stood up and looked at Jack pointedly. “Man, you need to work this out. It's causing you to act
real
out of character. And it's causing people to talk.”

Roger started toward the back door to the realty office, but turned to give Jack a considering look. “Frankly, Jack, you don't really need much more negative talk circulating about you. There's been enough already of late, and it's bad for business.”

Jack winced as Roger let himself in the back door. Roger had every right to care about the business. He was a partner, after all. His specialty was architecture, but he held a real estate license, too. Like Jack, he'd worked in the family business since he was a kid—sweeping up, putting out or taking down signs, running errands, and, eventually, selling property. When they were younger, Jack and Roger had been a bit of a handful. Even into their young adult years. But then Roger met Samantha, when she'd moved here to teach kindergarten at the elementary school in Townsend. And Jack had watched Roger change.

Those years afterward had been bittersweet ones. Jack had thought he and Roger would always be bachelors together, both nearly in their forties when Roger fell for Samantha. Jack tried, at first, not to like Sam because she 'd broken up their bond. But he couldn't hold out for long against Samantha Morrow's comfortable goodness. Over time, as he watched Roger and Samantha marry and find happiness, he began to think he might like to find the same. Instead, he'd gotten involved with Celine Rosen. It was probably because he'd subconsciously wanted to fall in love and settle down that he'd been so taken in by Celine. Jack shook his head. Marriage was never a place he wanted to go again. It was entirely too painful.

He stood up then, resolved to action. It was time to pay his respects to Grace Conley. He might have played the field hard and fast in the years since Celine had left, but he knew how to behave himself when he needed to. He could handle the widow Conley.

His mind made up, Jack strode across the parking lot, crossed the road to cut between two big maples on the inn's property line, and started across the driveway toward Grace. The sound of his footsteps on the drive caused her to turn and watch him walk toward her across the yard.

God, she was so beautiful, thought Jack. She still impacted him like a punch in the breadbasket. She was incredible. The skirt she wore was a soft fuchsia pink, floating around her calves. She had on a simple white T-shirt with it and some sort of white slip-on sandals. Her legs were bare today, her toenails painted a glittery shell pink to match her lipstick. Jack studied her mouth as he came closer, her lips full and lush. Inviting. Jack well remembered how they tasted and how Grace's body had felt on top of his. He shook his head a little to try to clear his thoughts.

“I thought I saw you out in the yard,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“I was deadheading the flowers.” She opened her hand to reveal the dead flowers she'd clipped from a clump of coral and white periwinkles.

Jack looked around. “The place looks nice.”

“Thank you.”

She wasn't making this easier. “Look, I thought I should stop by for a few minutes to talk since my girls are spending so much time over here.”

“Of course.” She smiled graciously. “Would you like to come up on the porch and have a cup of coffee? I can run in and get some. It seems too nice a day not to be outside while it's so pleasant.”

“Yeah, that would be good.”

Jack followed her up the steps, trying not to focus on the sway of her full hips underneath her skirt as she walked. He wondered if she knew what an incredibly sexual appeal she put out. Perhaps her husband had been smart to keep her close to home.

“I'll be right back,” she told him, letting herself in the front door.

Jack had time to regain his composure and settle himself into one of the newly upholstered wicker chairs before she returned. She carried a wooden tray, and Jack stood up immediately to help her with the door as she negotiated her way onto the porch with it. The tray held a cruet of coffee, two colorful mugs, and a plate of small muffins. Hustling around her feet wiggled two small corgis who made a dash for the yard as Jack shut the door.

Grace, catching a glimpse of them out of the corner of her eye, set the tray down and clapped her hands twice. “Sadie and Dooley, you two get back up here right this minute.”

The two small dogs turned and obediently came up the porch steps.

She gave them a stern look. “Did you ask me if you could go out in the yard?”

They hung their heads like chastised children.

“Well, then, you'll have to wait for a while before you can go out in the yard again. Besides, you know I don't like you to be in the front yard, anyway. The highway is too near.”

She seemed to remember Jack was there then.

“We have a guest,” she told the dogs. “Go and say hello and then go lie down.”

The dogs dutifully came over to sit in front of Jack and offer him a paw.

Grace looked at Jack pointedly. “They want to shake hands with you if it's all right. That's how they greet guests.”

“Oh. Sure.” Jack shook each paw in turn and marveled to see the small dogs then go over to lie down on the porch right where Grace had indicated.

Jack watched them, impressed. “They're very well-behaved little dogs.”

“They
were
better behaved. It's been a challenge teaching them so many new rules in a new setting since we moved here. We're still working on it.” She leaned over to scratch the dogs' ears affectionately and gave each a small treat from out of her skirt pocket.

Then she poured out two cups of hot coffee. “I'll let you fix your coffee the way you like it.” She gestured to packets of sugar and a small pot of cream on the tray.