Out in the Country (18 page)

“In today’s market, you need to offer something different,” Sarah said. “Unique.” She tapped one manicured nail against her chin. “We’ll have to have a think about it. We can’t have this business venture of yours flop at the first gate!” Her gaze, humorous and yet also compassionate, met Lynne’s, and Lynne smiled back. She’d missed Sarah’s acerbic wit, and she was suddenly very glad indeed for her friend’s presence. Perhaps Sarah would come up with some ideas to boost business, and one thing was for certain, she wouldn’t let Lynne mope for a minute. And that, Lynne decided as they drove out of Rutland, was just what she needed.

Within a few days the house was full of guests, festive smells of evergreen and cinnamon, and laughter.

“This is just how we imagined it should be,” Kathy told Lynne as they mingled in the living room on Christmas Eve, a fire burning brightly in the hearth, the mantel decorated with fresh pine and holly boughs. Jess moved through the crowd, offering canapes, and Kathy’s silver punch bowl gleamed in the corner of the room, filled with the promised mulled wine.

“It’s lovely,” Lynne agreed with a sigh. Her heart felt full as she gazed around at her friends both new and old. Sarah was in a surprisingly deep conversation with Agnes MacCready, and Mark and Molly were trading quips, both of them wreathed in smiles.

“Sarah was telling me I have to think of something unique to offer the paying guest,” she confided to Kathy, “but I don’t know what more there is. What makes us
special and different from the dozens of other bed and breakfasts in Vermont?”

“There are plenty of quaint places,” Kathy agreed slowly. “I’ve been to many of them. And yet I’d rather be here any day.”

“Because it’s home, “Lynne finished, and knew in her heart that this was indeed home for her, always and forever. She sighed and smiled at Kathy. “I’m just not sure if that’s going to fill up our reservations book and guest rooms.”

Kathy patted her arm. “They’ll come. Word of mouth gets round up here eventually, and they’ll come.”

Lynne wished rather wearily that she could share her mother-in-law’s optimism. Despite the cheer and comfort of the Christmas party, she still felt the worry niggling at her contentment. A knock sounded at the front door, and she excused herself from Kathy, wondering who it could be--all the guests had already arrived.

She opened the door to see a man in his forties on the doorstep, tall and very handsome, his grey eyes almost silver and a few snowflakes dusting his dark hair.

“May I help you?” Lynne asked, and started a bit when he replied in a Scots accent.

“I’m looking for Jessica MacCready.”

Jessica appeared in the hallway, and Lynne turned to see her friend’s mouth drop open in shock, her face drained of all colour.

“Rob!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“What...?” Jess shook her head slowly, unable to believe her former fiancé was actually standing in front of her. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice coming out in more of a croak. She could barely distinguish the tangle of emotions snarled up inside of her: surprise, anger, even a treacherous little seed of hope.

Rob smiled, that familiar crooked grin that still made Jess’s heart turn over, much to her annoyance. “I came here to see you, of course.”

“How did you find--”

“Your boss told me.” He paused, and Jess saw his cheeks redden slightly. “I suppose you didn’t tell her about me?”

“What, that you’re a two-faced rat?” Jess retorted sharply, and felt a fierce stab of pride at her plain speaking.

“Jess,” Lynne began, and she turned to her friend, shock and anger fueling her words.

“What, are you actually telling me to be nice--”

“No,” Lynn replied calmly, “I want to know if I should shut the door in his face.”

Rob made a choking sound, and the anger and fight drained right out of Jess. “No,” she said quietly, “let him come in.”

“Thank you, Jess,” Rob murmured. Lynne gave him a hard stare, her lips pursed, before she stepped away from the door. Rob came inside, a gust of cold, frosty air blowing around them as he shut the door.

“Will you be--” Lynne began, and Jess smiled, grateful for her friend’s concern.

“I’ll be fine, Lynne. Thank you.” She turned to Rob; he seemed to fill the front hall. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how blue his eyes were--

Jess turned away from Rob and walked briskly towards the kitchen. “We might as well go in here,” she called over her shoulder. “There are people everywhere else.”

Yet once in the kitchen, with its lingering smells of cinnamon and mulled cider, she found she couldn’t think of what to say, or even what she wanted to say. Half of her wanted to tell Rob to get on the next plane for Scotland, and the other half wanted to hug him. It was maddening. She straightened a few napkins left on the counter, and then ran a bit more hot water over the pots and pans soaking in the sink. She couldn’t quite look at Rob, and he noticed.

“Jess.” He spoke gently, too gently, and Jess felt her heart flip over again. She hated that after six months of silence, no explanations,
nothing
, Rob could walk back into her life and her heart still turned over at the sight and sound of him.

She turned around. “I meant what I said, Rob. Why are you here?” He opened his mouth, and she shook her head, impatient to clarify. “To see me, I know. Obviously. But why?”

He was silent for a long moment, his blue eyes looking steadily into hers before he dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.” He spoke so quietly she almost couldn’t hear the words.

“You’re what?” she asked, her voice sharpening. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

He looked up again, and Jess thought she saw a hint of sulkiness in the set of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Jess. I acted like a right--”

“And did you just come here to tell me that?” she cut him off. “Because you could have written me a letter. It would have done as well.”

“I miss you.” She didn’t reply and he continued, “I miss what we had together. It was good--”

“If it was so good, why did you scarper?” Jess asked. “With nothing more than an e-mail. That’s the coward’s way out, Rob.”

“I panicked.” He lifted his shoulder in a little half-shrug. “I panicked, all right? With the money gone, our dreams gone--I felt like my whole life had fallen apart.”

“So had mine. Especially when I realized you went along with the money.” Bitterness spiked her words.

“I said sorry--”

“And it’s taking me a little while to accept it,” Jess retorted. “Forgiveness isn’t easy, Rob, no matter how nicely you say sorry. You waited six months to find me--half a
year-
-”

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

“The longer you wait, the less likely it is.”

Rob sighed impatiently. “Look, Jess, we can stand here and bicker all night if you really want to, and God knows I deserve a tongue-lashing and more, but the truth is I am sorry and I do miss you.” He paused, his eyes turning soulful, his voice soft. “I love you.”

“Do you?” Jess asked, her words no more than a whisper.

“It was good between us, wasn’t it?” Rob asked softly. He took a step closer to her so Jess could smell a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy, she remembered. She’d always liked it.

“It
was
,” she agreed, but Rob didn’t seem to notice her emphasis on the past tense. He stepped closer and closer still, and then gently, as if she were some sort of wild creature that might buck or bolt, he put his arms around her. After a tense, stiff moment, Jess let herself relax a little bit into the embrace, and rested her cheek against the damp wool of his coat.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” he whispered. “So sorry. I panicked, I admit it, and I acted like the worst kind of cowardly idiot. I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but if you could
try
--” He broke off, and Jess felt his lips brush her hair. She couldn’t quite dismiss the feeling that the speech, while containing all the right sentiments, felt strangely rehearsed, and so she said nothing. Her silence, it seemed, Rob took as acceptance.

“Since this is an inn, may I stay the night?”

Jess stiffened and stepped back from his arms. “Rob, I don’t think that’s a good idea--”

“You obviously have some spare rooms,” he pointed out lightly. “Are there any other inns in this little town?”

“Hardiwick,” Jess told him, “and no, there are not.” She sighed, wearily accepting defeat. “Fine, you can stay here.” Rob grinned, all charm, and with a sinking feeling Jess realized that if he were staying here, he would also be sitting down to dinner with her and all of her friends. The prospect was, somewhat surprisingly, not appealing at all. She turned away as he shed his coat and called over her shoulder, her voice rather grim, “I’ll set an extra place.”

The dinner, which she’d once looked forward to with much joyful anticipation, was an exercise in endurance. Rob, Jess quickly saw, didn’t fit in her new friends. It was strange, for he was of a similar age to Mark, and possessing the same slightly sharp, cosmopolitan edge, yet Rob’s remarks came across as insincere while Mark simply sounded wry.

Or was she just imagining that, because she was so surprised and unsure, confused and wrong-footed?

She found her emotions seesawing from one extreme to the next, from anger that Rob thought he could just slink--or really, stroll--back into her life, to joy that he’d actually come and found her. And then she’d find Mark’s clear, thoughtful gaze resting on her, and even more discomfited, she blushed and turned away, too confused to consider what Rob’s entry into the party--and her life--might mean for Mark.

Lynne sat at the head of the table, elegant and poised, chatting easily with her friend Sarah on her right, and crotchety old Agnes MacCready on her left. Yet even so Jess knew her friend was furious with Rob; she could see it in the set of Lynne’s brows, and the way her gaze would occasionally rest on him as he was chatting with such obvious ease, coolly disapproving of his instant jocularity.

After the first course Jess was relieved to escape into the kitchen to clear away the plates and prepare for the main course.

“Need any help?”

She looked up from the glistening turkey she’d just taken out of the oven, the kitchen filled with its succulent scent, and nearly groaned aloud. Mark stood in the doorway, and while his voice had been light, his countenance was not. He looked, Jess thought, all too determined. Yet about what? She wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever conversation he seemed intent on having.

“Actually, I’m fine.”

“What about these potatoes?” Mark moved to the oven where a pan of crisply roasted potatoes waited to be removed.

“I can handle it--”

“Avoiding me already?” Mark asked, his tone still light, but even Jess could hear the hurt underneath.

She sighed as she reached for a pot of parsnips. “Oh, Mark, no, of course not--”

He grabbed a tea towel and took out the pan of roasted potatoes, dumping them neatly into the waiting serving bowl. “I knew I had competition, but I didn’t think he’d actually make it over the ocean.”

Jess stilled, the pot in her hand. “What do you mean?”

He jerked a shoulder towards the dining room. “I knew he’d broken your heart, and his memory might prove too much for me. But now he’s Sir Galahad, rushing to your rescue? How can I compete with that?”

“I don’t want it to be a competition--”

“But it is, you know. “Mark smiled at her, dropping the tea towel to touch a thumb to her lips. “I’m falling in love with you, Jess, and while I said I was a patient man, I’m not going to wait around while you make up your mind which one of us you want.”

She gave a little laugh, her mouth still tingling from his touch. “I never thought, at my age, I’d have two men fighting over me--”

“Well, you do. And I’m not going to give up. But you’re the one who needs to decide.” Smiling a little sadly, he hoisted the bowl of roasted potatoes and left the kitchen, Jess standing still, her mind spinning with a thousand new thoughts.

Lynne woke early on Christmas morning. Outside
the world was still cloaked in darkness, the trees and bushes no more than ghostly shapes under a pall of fading moonlight.

She hadn’t slept as well as she’d expected or wanted to; worry had crept up on her as she lay there, concerns about the inn, about the guests currently under her care... including one unwanted one. Rob.

Why had he come? Lynne couldn’t shake the feeling that Rob’s arrival could mean nothing good for Jess. She remembered the look of shock and more alarmingly, hope cross her friend’s face when she’d seen who was at the door. Was Rob going to break her friend’s heart yet again?

Lynne swung herself out of bed and quickly dressed. Despite the early hour of the day, she knew sleep would continue to elude her. Better to get a start on the day and have coffee ready for everyone stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, ready to celebrate Christmas. A smile came to her lips despite the worries that still niggled at her mind and heart. Her first Christmas at The Hardiwick Inn--a Christmas with all of her loved ones. Even John--although Lynne wasn’t quite ready to call him a loved one--promised to stop by later in the morning, for brunch.