Laura Abbot (8 page)

“I’m not sure how much she enjoyed it, particularly after your grandfather died.”

“It’s true. She’s always loved Summer Haven. Maybe she put up with the Chicago scene all those years for Granddad’s sake. To see her now, she could be the Gray Power poster girl.” With a twinkle in his eye, Jay held up a fist and affected an oratorical tone. “Seniors of the world, unite. Live your own life!”

“That’s what Katherine is doing, and I think it’s great.” Ben had to admit her decision had been timely—throwing him business when he desperately needed some billable hours.

“Mom might have tried to stop her, but Granny was too quick for her. She and Dad’ll probably be over here a lot more now, checking on Granny.”

Ben raised his glass. “You, too, I’ll bet.”

Jay grinned. “You know me pretty well. I’ll do anything to keep my grandmother happy.”

He took a long swig of beer. “What’s happening about the improvements she wants to make on the cottage?”

“Arlo’s slated to begin on Summer Haven as soon as he finishes with The Gift Horse.”

“The
what?”

“The new gift shop opening in the village.”

“Who’s doing a crazy thing like that?”

Ben muffled a groan by taking a mouthful of beer. So he wasn’t the only one skeptical of the project. “Laurel Eden.”

“Who’s she?” Before Ben could answer, Jay snapped his fingers and said, “I remember now. Myron Fiedler at the Lake City Bank mentioned her. Small, good-looking woman with some big merchandising ideas.”

“That’s the one.”

“You know this Laurel?”

For some idiotic reason, he found himself clutching his knees and praying his voice wouldn’t crack. “In case you’ve forgotten, buddy, Belleporte isn’t that big a place.”

Ben felt his friend scrutinizing him. Then, as if making an important discovery, Jay shook his head and leaned back in the booth, laughing. “I never thought I’d see it. You’re holding out on me, Nolan.”

It took great effort for Ben to control his expression. “What are you talking about?”

“You, buddy. It’s plain as day. You always were the world’s worst poker player.” He clinked his mug against Ben’s. “Congratulations, hotshot.”

“What for?” Ben growled.

“Finding the one.”

“Now, wait a minute—”

“Give it up. You’re busted. So what’re you doing about this Laurel Eden?”

“You’re way off base, Kelley, but even if you weren’t, I’m in no position to pursue her or any woman.”

“Maybe that’ll change soon.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“This is confidential for now, but Dad’s getting ready to merge the Sullivan Company with Allied Tech. He wants you involved in the legal work on the tax implications. Could be a healthy retainer, my friend.”

“You must have counsel in Chicago—”

“Sure we do. But nobody we trust as much as we trust you. So quit trying to talk yourself out of work.”

Ben studied his beer. This was a big deal. A very big deal. He didn’t want to disappoint the Kelleys, but neither did he want to feel indebted to them for his success.

“We believe in you, Ben. And we need you.”

Jay’s eyes held his, and Ben knew he couldn’t let down his oldest and best friend. “Okay.”

“And while you’re at it, give yourself a break. Ask The Gift Horse lady out.”

He wanted to. He really did. But it wasn’t that simple.

P
AT STOOD
at the kitchen window and watched Noel finish loading the rocking horses and children’s cane-seated rocking chairs into the truck. He paused then and, as he always did in moments of repose, gazed around, taking in the mountain view before him. Even after all these years, her heart filled with love. Noel was a fine man, and they’d lived a good life. One very different from what might have been. Of course, she’d never know if that other life would have been better, but she doubted it.

Now she waited, knowing Noel would come into the house and force on her the question she’d been expecting from him ever since the phone call from Laurel last week, asking if they could deliver Noel’s pieces and her weavings to Belleporte. Laurel wanted them to see The Gift Horse.

Noel was leaving in the morning and would stop overnight in Ohio to pick up an order of jewelry made by a supplier of Laurel’s.

She heard his boots on the porch, then the door opened. He entered the house, followed by Dylan and Fonda.

“All set?” she asked.

He hung up his jacket, then approached her. Slowly he removed her glasses and set them on the counter. “Not quite.”

His eyes sought hers, but she couldn’t bear the recrimination she read there and twisted away. She knew what he was going to say. She didn’t want to hear it.

He held her loosely in his arms. “Please come with me tomorrow. Laurel wants you to come. I want you to come.”

A moan built inside her, but instead she rasped the words, “I can’t. You know that.”

“Oh, Pat, darlin’, I know no such thing. Let it go.”

She bit her lower lip. “Please, Noel. Don’t ask me. It’s too much. It’s not time.” Then more softly she added, “It may never be time.”

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, then, with a resigned sigh, stepped away. “I’ll tell Laurel you send your love.”

“Yes, do that,” Pat said, feeling ice penetrate every bone in her body. The same ice that had formed on that awful afternoon so many years ago.

W
RAPPED IN A CASHMERE THROW
, Katherine Sullivan sat on the sunporch in her favorite easy chair, surveying the lake, choppy on this blustery March Saturday. In her hands, warming her fingers, she cupped a mug of hot mulled cider. It felt so good to be here. Home. At last.

On the horizon a steamer made its way across the lake, like a tiny target in a midway shooting gallery. The endless motion of the water, the sunlight glinting on the frothy whitecaps, the wind whipping the flag flying outside were balm to her soul. Maybe this moment represented the silver lining of Frank’s death. Before, she couldn’t have considered living full-time at Summer Haven.

She and her family owed a great deal to Frank. Who knows? Except for him, there might have been no Summer Haven to come home to. Her father had been a gregarious man with a deep laugh and an endless supply of stories, and Katherine had adored him. But in retrospect, she recognized that besides being a born raconteur, he was also the ultimate wheeler-dealer. Making it big, losing it even bigger, then somehow miraculously landing on his feet. Until that last time.

Katherine pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders. She’d never forget the day he gathered the family to tell them he was putting Summer Haven on the market. Up to that point, no one, not even her mother, had known the extent of his losses. Despite his attempt to maintain a confident front, Katherine had recognized and been frightened by the fear in his eyes. If the cottage didn’t sell immediately, he told them, they would have one last season in Belleporte.

So began that summer. Katherine was twenty. For most, it was a time of beach parties, tennis tournaments and treks to Lake City dance halls. But for Katherine, it was an anxious succession of days and nights passing too swiftly, racing toward the end of Summer Haven.

Setting down her cider, she turned and gazed at the inked caricature of Frank hanging on the wall. The artist had captured his strong chin, high forehead and bushy brows—and the acquisitive gleam in his eyes. Katherine had first seen him at the Belleporte community Fourth of July celebration. He’d been leaning against a tree, a beer in his hand, talking earnestly with her father. After the two had shaken hands, her father had led Frank over to her and made the introduction. She’d immediately responded to the proprietary way Frank suggested a stroll on the beach, then took her by the arm and, in a manner that brooked no argument, led her away from the crowd.

Katherine sighed. Had it been love at first sight or something else? She was captivated by his take-charge attitude, a relief in the sea of uncertainty generated by her father’s business failures. Until Frank, she’d never realized a girl could literally be swept off her feet. Handsome and witty, he exuded power, and she needed the security he represented. They were engaged by Labor Day, married by Christmas.

Only in the last few years had she permitted herself to consider the ramifications of that summer. Frank had bought her father’s failing company, Summer Haven had miraculously been saved, and everyone had lived happily ever after. With one painful exception. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about that.

In the distance, she spotted two figures on the beach, walking toward Summer Haven. As they approached, she spun her tale to its conclusion. Had Frank genuinely loved her, or had she merely been part of a transaction?

She stood and folded the throw, then approached the window, idly observing the couple on the beach. No matter, she scolded herself. Frank had taken care of her, and she’d always acceded to his wishes like the dutiful wife she’d been brought up to be. Even when it had cost her so dearly. Yet surely he’d loved her, hadn’t he?

She noticed now that one of the figures below was a petite, dark-haired woman. The other, a lanky teenage boy. The teenager held a colorful kite with a dragon design, while the woman walked backward away from him, unspooling the kite string. Then, with a wave, the woman signaled the boy, who let the wind catch the kite. Off they went, running down the beach, the kite lofting high above the dunes. The sound of their laughter failed to penetrate the pane of glass, but Katherine could read it in their carefree expressions.

She ached to join them, to throw off her memories and exult in simply being on a windswept beach on an early spring day with nothing more pressing to do than fly a kite.

B
EN SAT
on the cedar bench Laurel had installed outside the main entrance of The Gift Horse and waited for his brother. He was fuming. The place was locked up tight. No Laurel. No Mike. Was the kid pulling another fast one? He was supposed to be working. Ben checked his watch. Four-thirty. He jerked to his feet and paced up and down the sidewalk.

Where were they? Mike had been grounded again, this time for coming in past his curfew after a friend’s party, and Ben was keeping close tabs on him.

Reversing his steps, he returned to the shop and peered inside. Boxes were stacked all over the floor and a few items were clustered on the counter, although some display areas were beginning to take shape. He frowned. Laurel was planning to open for business on April 15, but it looked to him as if she still had a long way to go.

Which brought him full circle. Why wasn’t she here working? And where was Mike?

As he pivoted away from the window, he saw them. Mike, his face raw with windburn, strode up the boardwalk from the beach, grinning and holding, of all things, a kite. To keep pace, Laurel literally skipped along beside him, both of them absorbed in an animated conversation.

What did they think they were doing? This didn’t look like work to him. He didn’t want to react to Laurel, but, he had no choice. Even though he was angry, his heart had kicked into overdrive. She looked so alive, so carefree.

When they spotted him, they both stopped in their tracks. “Ben? Hey, am I late or something?” Mike at least had the wits to look nonplussed.

“Half an hour,” Ben mumbled.

“But it’s such a glorious afternoon!” As if oblivious to the tension between the brothers, Laurel went on. “Spring is in the air and it was a perfect day to fly a kite, wasn’t it, Mike?”

Ben couldn’t enter into their shared glee. “What about work?”

“Work is always there,” Laurel responded airily. “But kite-flying weather isn’t. Besides, Mike’s been working hard. He deserved a break.”

“But what about your opening? Will you be ready?”

“Of course, but you know my motto.
Carpe diem.”

Oh, yeah. It figured.
Seize the day.
Apparently that was her answer to everything.

She took the kite from Mike and eyed Ben over the top of it. “You ought to try it sometime.”

Like that was practical. Between his workload and family obligations, he could hardly squeeze in an occasional game of racquet ball or a night at the Rathskeller with his buddies. “Maybe I’ll just do that.”

As he uttered those words, he could hear Jay’s taunting voice,
Ask The Gift Horse lady out.

Steeling himself against the temptation, he was reminded that right here was an example of their differing values. He’d never walk away from his responsibilities to fly a kite.

Laurel propped the kite against the door and finger-combed her unruly curls. “Thanks, Mike. I really enjoyed that. See you next Saturday?”

“Sure.” He eyed Ben sheepishly. “Let’s go.”

The idiotic thing was, Ben didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay, to gaze at the rosy color of her cheeks and her windblown curls. To spend time with her.

She pulled out her door key, but paused, looking back at Ben. “Come by soon and see how the shop’s shaping up now that some merchandise is in.”

“I will.” He gulped, then found words tripping off his tongue with an ease that surprised him. “How about tonight? I’ll pick up some pizza and be back in an hour.”

The smile she gave him chased any second thoughts right into left field. “Super. I love showing off our progress.”

“Later then.”

When Ben started for the car, Mike didn’t move. Instead he gaped at his brother. “No way,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “No way.”

L
AUREL DIDN’T KNOW
what to make of Mike’s skeptical reaction to Ben’s suggestion, which surely was nothing more than friendly interest in her shop. Until today, Ben had kept a polite distance almost as if that night on the beach had never happened. His standoffishness would be amusing if it wasn’t such an obstacle to their friendship. In fairness, she acknowledged he had his own problems, his own prior relationships.

Perhaps that was just as well. She needed to focus on business, not on a man, even Ben. Just in case, though, she decided to freshen up, change her clothes and put on a little makeup.

After her shower, she ran a brush through her damp hair, pondering the fact that Ellen hadn’t mentioned Ben lately. Nor had Laurel seen the two of them together, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Laurel made a face at herself in the mirror.
Hypocrite.
She
did
care.

She was waiting in the shop, rearranging items on the counter, when Ben came to the door, looking way too handsome for indifference in khakis and a slate-blue pullover that accentuated the deep cobalt flecks in his eyes. She took his jacket and draped it over a chair.

He set down the pizza box, then, with hands shoved idly in his pockets, studied the interior of the shop—from the antique general-store counter she’d rescued from an old barn in Pennsylvania to the pie cabinets stacked with pottery, candles and dried flower arrangements, and then to the children’s nook, filled with an assortment of rag dolls and wooden toys and puzzles.

“Nice,” he said, stepping around a packing crate to examine a selection of intricately woven baskets.

“It’s coming along.” His monosyllabic reaction wasn’t exactly a vote of confidence. Couldn’t he see the possibilities? “Let me show you the kitchenware section.” She led him to the rear, where she stood aside for him to view the bakers’ racks, pot hangers and freshly installed cutting-board counters. Drawing her hand across a pile of cookbooks, she said, “This area’s where I’ll display the cookware, and over there—” she gestured to the large kitchen window “—I’ll hang stained glass suncatchers. And here—” she nearly tripped over a ceramic flower pot “—I’ll stock gourmet food items not available locally.”

He hadn’t moved. “Like what?”

“You know, herb vinegars, chutney, pickled baby corn.”

“People
eat
pickled corn?”

“All the time. You ought to try it.”

His lips twitched. Perhaps he was actually going to grin. “Maybe I will. Will you serve free samples to lure the wary?”

She looked up at him in surprise. “That’s not a bad idea. I could offer samples the first week I’m open, and then again for the grand opening—”

“Grand opening? Sounds fancy. When will that be?”

“I’m waiting until school is out so the summer people will be here. Of course, I’ll be in business before that, but I want the official opening to be a total community event.”

“As in ‘everyone who’s anyone’ will be here?”

“Exactly.”

He gestured at the mounds of boxes. “You really think you’ll be in business by April 15?”

“With Megan and Mike’s help, and putting in lots of hours myself, I’ll make it.”

“Mike working out okay?”

She tilted her head. “You sound dubious.”

“Well?”

“He’s a good worker. You can quit worrying.”

Laurel thought she heard him say under his breath, “I wish.”

She wandered back toward the counter where the pizza sat. “Honest verdict—what do you think of The Gift Horse now?”

He hesitated, then laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ve worked hard and deserve success.” He smiled. “And as soon as you offer those pickled corn samples, it’ll be in the bag.”

As they started upstairs to her apartment, he added, “Hey, have you thought about stocking those little fruit stick-candy things with the chocolate covering? They’d be a real draw for Belleporte hostesses.”

“Reception sticks,” she mumbled automatically, wondering if he was serious or putting her on. She hoped the latter. A sense of humor was an enormous asset in a man. Especially one in whom she had a particular interest. Like Ben.

Why couldn’t life be simple?

A
FTER A THIRD SLICE
of pizza, Ben sat listening to the soft dulcimer music playing on the stereo. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but Laurel had made an inviting home out of what, last time he’d seen it, had been an empty barnlike space. Now it was filled with comfortable, if worn, upholstered furniture, an oak rocker, braided rugs. Quilts and weavings decorated the walls, and wooden and ceramic bowls were strategically placed to hold magazines, pencils and fresh fruit. Homey without being too feminine or artsy. A man could get comfortable here. After all, he already had.

With swift, efficient movements, Laurel was rinsing the dinner plates. He loved to watch her move. She was so…graceful.
Jay, old buddy, what were you thinking, putting these notions in my head?
Right, like he hadn’t coveted Laurel Eden long before Jay knew anything about her. He needed to come back to earth, and there was one guaranteed way.

“Laurel, about Mike…”

She wrung out the sponge with which she’d been wiping the counters, set it down and turned toward him. “Yes?”

“He’s having some problems you need to be aware of.”

“Do I?” she said, settling at the other end of the sofa from him. “He’s been a perfect gentleman. Why prejudice me?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” He fumbled to explain himself. “It’s just—”

“You thought it was frivolous of me to take him to the beach today for something as unproductive as kite-flying.”

Her neutral tone put him on guard. “Well, yeah. I mean, he was supposed to be working. He’s irresponsible enough without encouragement. The reason I had to pick him up today is that he’s grounded.”

“So you’ve been elected to keep his nose to the grind stone?”

She made it sound like a bad thing to be a caring older brother. “I think there are some things you don’t understand.”

“And I think there are some things
you
don’t under stand.”

“Like?”

She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, studying him. “Oh, Ben, I don’t mean to be confrontational. It’s just that Mike is a good kid who seems kind of, well, lost. He works hard, and this afternoon we’d accomplished a lot. I had an urge to see him smile, which he doesn’t do very often, and it was a perfect day for kites.” As if seeking his agreement, she raised her eyebrows and quirked her mouth in a tiny smile. “Don’t you agree?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is?”

He raked a hand through his hair. What
was
the point? How could a man concentrate when she was looking at him with those depthless eyes of hers? He drew a deep breath. “When our dad died last spring, it really threw Mike. It was hard on the rest of us, of course, Mom in particular, but Mike’s turned into a different kid. Rebellious, defiant. He’s started hanging out with some guys that aren’t exactly stellar performers. Mom can’t handle him all by herself, so I do my best to keep him on the straight and narrow, but—”

“He’s angry. You’re the punching bag. He resents you.”

Boy, she’d gotten that right. “Big time.”

“And it hurts.”

Now her eyes were swimming with concern. He felt something in him loosen. “That goes with the territory.”

“It must be tough being the one others depend on.”

“I’m the oldest. It’s my responsibility.”

“And you take it very seriously.”

“Sure.”

“He’s a teenager, Ben. He’s going to make mistakes. But here at work? We get along great. He’s polite, follows directions. Maybe the job is just what he needs.” She paused. “But if there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” And he did. He hadn’t realized quite how alone—or helpless—he had felt. Except for Jay, he couldn’t have talked about this stuff with anyone else.

She pulled her legs under her and laid an arm across the back of the sofa. “We’ve both been through some rough times and talking about them helps. At least, talking with you about Curt helped me. It’s funny, but without that relationship, miserable as it was, I wouldn’t be where I am tonight.”

She seemed both vulnerable and determined. “Where’s that?” he asked.

“Starting a new life. Confident, for the first time, in my own instincts and abilities. Making new friends.” She paused, then looked up at him. “Ben, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize those friendships.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Ellen. I mean, should you really be here this evening?”

His first instinct was to laugh, then he realized what she was saying. She’d assumed he and Ellen were… “Excuse me?”

She drew her hand back into her lap and fidgeted with the crease of her slacks. “Aren’t you…a couple?”

“A couple of friends, that’s all.” Like most men, he wasn’t a great student of feminine nonverbals, but he could swear she was relieved.

“So…” She smiled. “Being here tonight, you’re not compromising yourself?”

He moved beside her and put his arm around her. “No,” he murmured, “I’m not.”

She raised her chin, her lips barely a breath from his. He realized he was in real danger here. More than anything he wanted to kiss her. Holding back, remembering his resolve, was tough. “You know that night on the beach?” she asked.

Know it? He’d only relived it a record-setting number of times. “Yeah?”

“Did it mean anything or were you merely being nice?”

“Why?”

“I just wondered.”

What was he supposed to say to that? He wasn’t in a position to encourage her, but she deserved the truth. “I’m never ‘merely nice.’”

“Good,” she said with a contented sigh.

Then, unbelievably, she didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, she suggested they play a board game, which turned out to be a lot of fun. It wasn’t until he was standing at the door, ready to leave, that he became aware of a longing in her eyes that matched the thud of his own heart. All he had to do was make the first move, but he found himself paralyzed.

Apparently sensing his hesitation, Laurel stepped back, offered him her hand and said softly, “Thanks for the pizza.”

He was almost blindsided by the letdown, except for the fact that she’d saved him from making the mistake he’d worried about all the way over here tonight—letting this relationship get out of control.

But he couldn’t deny it—he’d wanted to kiss her. More than anything.

S
O CLOSE
, Laurel thought the next morning as she unpacked a shipping box full of Appalachian jams, jellies and fruit butters. She’d been so sure that Ben was going to kiss her. She’d wanted him to, but since that time on the beach, she’d known it had to be his initiative, not hers. Then he’d stiffened, loosened his grip on her hand, and the moment passed.

Glancing at the clock, Laurel realized she still needed to make room for the horses, rockers and other items her parents were bringing. She set aside the rest of the jam order, quickly cleared a spot near the front door and had just enough time to grab a quick lunch before she heard a horn toot in the driveway.

Noel was halfway up the walk when she flung herself into his arms. “Daddy, I’m so glad you’re here!” Until she saw him, she hadn’t realized how eager she was for her folks to visit The Gift Horse. Over his shoulder she noticed the empty truck cab. Pulling back, she studied her father, his kindly gray eyes full of love and approval. “Where’s Mother? Didn’t she come?”

When he answered, his voice was calm, but his smile faded. “It’s a long trip. She didn’t want to leave the chores, the dogs. Maybe another time, posie.”

Laurel choked back her disappointment. She had naturally assumed her mother would come. “Daddy?” Laurel paused before opening the door. “Is Mom all right? She’s not sick or anything?”

“She’s fine. She sent her love, and I have strict orders to return with a detailed report.” He gestured toward the red door. “So are you going to show me or not?”

Just as she’d hoped, her father was blown away by the cottage, the different thematic areas and the obvious quality of her merchandise. “Certain you can sell all this stuff?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Pretty sure. I’ve checked out the competition around here, but I haven’t seen many handcrafted items as skillfully done as what you, Mother and the others in the co-op do.”

After the complete tour, including her apartment, they spent the better part of an hour unloading. They were nearly finished when Laurel noticed right behind the cab a large item covered with a tarp. “What’s that?”

Her father looked at her fondly. “A surprise. I hope you’ll like it.” He lifted the object to the ground. “Are you ready for the grand unveiling?”

“I’m ready.”

“Close your eyes.”

She dutifully obeyed, enjoying his playfulness.

“Now you’re official. Open your eyes.”

Laurel stared dumbfounded at the one thing, unbelievably, she hadn’t thought of.

“It’s to go outside your door during business hours,” Noel said.

“Oh, Daddy, it’s perfect.” She laid her hand on the head of the giant oak rocking horse he’d made, complete with mane and tail of thick strands of rope. Woodburned on the flank was the name of the shop. In his mouth the horse held an oak bucket.

“I thought you could put seasonal items in the bucket—kind of an advertisement.”

She could already see it—the bucket overflowing with bunny hand puppets or Fourth of July napkins and flags or gaily wrapped Christmas gift boxes…

“Hey, posie. You with me?”

She chuckled. “Oh, I’m with you.” She left the horse and put her arms around her father. “Thank you. I’ll think of you every day when I put him outside.” As she kissed his cheek, another thought came to her. She stepped back, thunking her forehead with her hand. “A logo. I can use him for my business cards and ads, maybe have a stamp made to put on my gift bags, and—”