Out in the Country (17 page)

Finally she turned inside, forcing down that treacherous little seed of disappointment.

“Are you trying to steal my customers?”

“What?” Jess raised her eyebrows, lifting her coffee mug to hide her smile. For the last few weeks she’d taken to stopping by The Mountain Café, saying hello to the customers and popping into the kitchen to see what new, mouthwatering recipe Mark had concocted. That’s where they were now, during the slow part of the day between lunch and dinner. Mark swiped at the pristine kitchen counter and Jess leaned against it, her hands cradling her cup. “I just come for the coffee.”

He clutched his heart, pretending to stagger. “You wound me. And I thought you came for the company.

“Oh, that too.”

“So nonchalant! Even more wounding.”

A little gurgle of laughter escaped Jess. This was flirting, she supposed, and she liked it. She put down her mug. “Actually, I’m not trying to steal customers, just recipes. Your white chocolate waffles are divine.”

“My lips are sealed on those, lady.”

“Can’t you just give me a hint? I’ve tried to copy your raspberry sauce--”

“I have a secret ingredient.”

“There’s always a secret ingredient.” Jess rolled her eyes. “You’d keep a secret from me?”

“Actually,” Mark returned, his tone light yet still managing to convey something a bit more serious, “I think you’re the one keeping secrets from me.”

“Secrets? What secrets?”

“I have it from a reliable source you’re going on a date with Doug MacCready tonight.” Mark looked up, his gaze direct and yet also Jess thought--wondered at least--a little hurt.

“It’s not exactly a date,” she protested, and Mark simply raised his eyebrows and waited. “We’re just going out to dinner.” Doug had left a message on the phone several weeks ago, and with the burst pipes and frantic pace she and Lynne had set trying to get the inn ready, they hadn’t been able to agree to a time to meet until now. “Anyway,” she continued more robustly, “how do you know about it?”

“I wonder how anybody doesn’t know about it. I think Agnes MacCready would take an ad out in the
Hardiwick Times
if she could, or
The New York Times
for that matter. The uniting of the clans. Or clan, I should say.”

Jess groaned. “I had a feeling when I went to the Games she had something in mind.”

“So?” Mark said, his tone still light. “A big date.”

“Not exactly.”

“You’re a popular woman.”

Jess laughed. “That’s a novelty.”

Mark shook his head. “Why put yourself down? You’re a beautiful, intelligent, interesting woman. And you’ve got a great accent.”

“I had no idea men would find that attractive,” Jess joked.

“You have no idea,” Mark agreed, and the sincerity in his tone made her blush.

She found she was still thinking of Mark’s words--and the way they had made her tingle--as she had dinner with Doug at a restaurant on the way to Rutland. It was pleasant enough, and Doug was friendly, warm, and certainly handsome, yet Jess was honest enough to acknowledge she didn’t feel any of the excitement--the spark--that she felt with Mark Sheehan.

She gazed at Doug as they chatted and ate, wishing she could fall for someone like him... someone reliable, kind, funny, and most of all, safe.

Yet why wasn’t Mark safe? Why did that twinkle in his eye make her so nervous, so afraid? Because, Jess knew, it was the same kind of twinkle Rob had had in his eye. The same light banter, the same breezy confidence and urban polish. She’d fallen for it once. Was she going to be so foolish--so foolhardy--to fall for it again?

“A penny for your thoughts,” Doug asked lightly, and Jess realized she’d been sitting there stewing silently for too long.

“Trust me, they’re not worth that much,” she said firmly, and turned the conversation back to Doug, determined to listen and enjoy his company as much as she did Mark’s.
More.
He really was a much better--and safer--proposition, no matter what her wayward heart wanted.

Molly stared at the pile of essays on her desk with growing resentment. A few months ago she would have tackled the work of reading and grading them with a determined, if hard-won, optimism. Now she simply couldn’t summon the energy.

She braced her elbows on her desk and laid her head on her arms. “Burned out at twenty-three,” she groaned to herself and closed her eyes. The last few weeks had been utter drudgery. There was no other word for it, really; she wished there was. She wished she was just tired, or a little down, or something. But she had a feeling it was much worse than that.

“You look like you need a nap.”

Molly lifted her head and saw Luke standing in the doorway. She waited for the usual jittery reaction, her heart skipping a beat or two, but nothing happened. Perhaps she was simply too tired.

“I do,” she answered. “For about eight hours.”

Luke smiled, remaining in the doorway, his expression friendly yet, Molly thought, a little troubled. They’d been avoiding each other since that disastrous conversation before Thanksgiving; Molly still squirmed inwardly when she thought of how she’d raced from the classroom like a madwoman, or worse, a disappointed little girl.

Now she rose from her chair, tidying her papers and slipping the bulky pile of essays into her bag.

“Molly...”

“Have you got plans for Christmas?” Molly asked brightly, cutting off any awkward appeal he might have been about to make. “It’s only two weeks away. Are you getting out of the city?”

“Ye-es,” Luke said after a moment. “Alyssa and I are going to her parents in Iowa.”

“Alyssa is from Iowa?” Molly said, thinking of that tall, lithe brunette who looked like she’d stepped from this week’s fashion pages. “I never would have guessed.”

“She’s lived in the city for ten years. She’s got used to it.”

Molly nodded, a jerky movement. “That happens.” Another pause, awkward and revealing.
She slung the bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to Vermont, to help my mother with this bed and breakfast she’s opening.”

“Lots of snow, then.”

“Here’s hoping. Although I’m not much of a skier.” What an inane conversation, Molly thought. Yet she
realized she didn’t want to tell Luke what she was feeling: the doubt, the fear, the utter weariness. She didn’t even want one of his pep talks, as much as she’d once missed them. Whatever they’d shared, it had gone, trickled away in light of the reality of their relationships. He had a serious girlfriend, and she had an almost-fiancé.

Almost...? She had spoken to Jason on the phone several times since his visit, but those conversations had been almost as strained as this one. She was, Molly reflected miserably, making a mess of just about everything.

“I should go. I have a lot of work to do.” She took a half-step towards the door Luke was still blocking, one shoulder propped against the frame.

“Right.” He didn’t move. Molly waited, longing to run out of the room as she had before. She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder.

“So...” she hinted, waiting, and to her surprise, Luke reached out to lightly touch her shoulder.

“Molly, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Molly swallowed, averting her gaze. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Luke.”

“Yes, there is.” Luke spoke in a steady, serious voice that was far removed from his usual sardonically bantering tone. “I realized--after we talked last--that I wasn’t honest with you. As honest as I should have been.” Molly waited, feeling a blush steal across her face and heat her cheeks. “I should have made it clear I had a girlfriend,” Luke continued. “I know you’d already told me you had a serious boyfriend, and we both seemed to have made it clear we’d only be friends, but I wasn’t always treating you like a friend.” He paused, and Molly was surprised to see a flush on his own face, making the freckles on his nose stand out. “I wasn’t always thinking of you as a friend. I suppose that’s why I never told you about Alyssa.”

“I didn’t mention Jason much either,” Molly replied. She forced herself to meet his gaze and saw he looked a little sad. “I’m not sure what I felt for you, Luke. I liked being around you--you’re fun and exciting.” She gave a little shrug. “But I know that’s not enough to base a relationship on, especially when we have other people in our lives. People who are important to us.”

“Yes,” Luke agreed, after a pause, his voice low.

“So it’s probably better if we just stick to the way things are now,” Molly continued, her heart beating painfully in her chest. “Instead of... muddying the water.”

Another pause, then Luke nodded slowly. “Right.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken words, and Molly felt as if they were saying goodbye. Then Luke stepped aside, and she walked slowly through the door, her heart heavy, not looking back as much even though she wanted to.

The world was encased in ice and snow, every branch of every tree glittering and incandescent. Lynne stood at the kitchen window and watched a squirrel dig determinedly for an acorn beneath the oak tree that had spread its generous leaves over them a few months ago. Now it was stark and beautiful.

She turned from the window to survey the kitchen, filled with smells of baking, festive Christmas napkins and crackers spread out on the table. She and Jess had decided to treat the holiday as a trial run for the inn; they were having a dozen guests over for Christmas dinner, including John, Mark, Agnes McCready, and Sarah.

Lynne smiled as she remembered Sarah’s shock at being invited to Vermont for Christmas.

“No shopping? No tree at Rockefeller Center? No Radio City Christmas Spectacular?”

“You can enjoy all of those things before December twenty-fourth,” Lynne reminded her. “And in Vermont you’ll have snow, sled rides, mulled cider...”

“It sounds positively charming,” Sarah replied. “I’ll come.” She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was both serious and sincere. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Aren’t you needing to leave for the train station?” Jess asked as she stuck another clove in an orange. She was attempting, Lynne knew, to make a festive centerpiece for the dining room table. “I thought Sarah’s train arrived at three.”

Lynne checked her watch. “Yes, I should go. And Molly comes in tomorrow... I’ll be to-ing and fro-in for days.”

“Better get on then,” Jess replied with a smile, and stuck another clove in.

As Lynne drove to the train station, she found herself falling into worry yet again. It was akin to picking at a loose thread, always there and ready to fray. The opening of The Hardiwick Bed and Breakfast was just a little more than six weeks away, and they had exactly two reservations for the entire month of February. Of course, February wasn’t the biggest holiday month of the year, and they were a little too far from the ski slopes to make
ski packages practical. Yet still, Lynne realised, she thought there would be more interest. More sales. It hurt to realise that just because she--and even most of Hardiwick--was enthusiastic about her enterprise, it didn’t mean the rest of the world would be.

“No wonder the Widlflower Inn closed,” she said morosely, and then shook her head, trying to shake off the worry and gloom, because really she had so very much to be thankful for.

As usual, the 3 o’clock train from New York was right on time, and in a matter of minutes Sarah was enveloping Lynne in a perfumed hug, shivering a bit in the frosty air on the platform. “It’s freezing here! A good thing I brought my thermals.”

“You’re not in New York anymore,” Lynne said cheerfully, and Sarah gave an elegant little shudder.

“No, indeed. I don’t suppose there’s a decent cup of coffee to be had within miles.”

“Jess grinds her own beans,” Lynne assured her.

Sarah arched an eyebrow. “What about bagels?”

“I’m afraid we can’t compete with New York bagels. We do scones instead.”

“Scones!” Sarah gave an elaborate sigh. “I suppose that will have to do.” Her eyes glinted with humor as she linked arms with Lynne. “You know I’m teasing, don’t you?” She glanced at Lynne in her heavy down parka and fleece-lined boots. “I just can’t believe how rustic you’ve gone on me.”

“I can’t believe it, either,” Lynne replied as she loaded Sarah’s case in the back of her car. “A few weeks ago I went out to dinner and was picked up in truck.”

“Dinner?” Sarah echoed. “As in a date?”

“Well, sort of.” Lynne blushed and shook her head. “and I really do mean sort of. I don’t know if
I’m ready to put myself on the market again.”

“Maybe only in select stores,” Sarah quipped. “How’s progress with your bed and breakfast going?”

“Fine--” Lynne began, only to stop abruptly. She thought of what John had said when he’d driven her home, how she needed to involve her city friends in her country life. Perhaps an invitation to visit wasn’t enough. “Actually, I’m not sure how it's going,” she said ruefully. “We’ve taken out
some ads, and so far we have only two reservations booked. I was always good at providing the party when Adam and I entertained, but we never seemed to lack for guests.”