RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (80 page)

Just now he was busy talking to a couple of guys in Stetsons.
Jack looked around for Maura and Sage but couldn't spot them. He didn't see
anyone else he recognized either. It looked as if the Center of Hope was popular
with both locals and tourists, at least judging by the odd mix of high-dollar
ski gear and ranch coats.

He stood waiting to be seated for just a moment before Dermot
walked over, no trace of recognition in his gaze. No surprise there. Jack had
been gone twenty years. He probably looked markedly different than that kid who
used to come into the café to study after the library had closed for the
night.

It sure as hell had beat going home.

“Hello there and welcome to the Center of Hope Café.” Dermot
had a trace of Ireland in his voice. Jack could easily have pictured him running
a corner pub in a little town in County Galway somewhere, surrounded by
mossy-green fields and stone fences. “You've got a couple of choices this lovely
morning. You can find yourself a vacant spot at the counter, or I can fix you up
with a booth or a table. Your preference.”

“I'm actually waiting for two more. A booth would be fine.”

“I've got a prime spot right here by the window. Will that suit
you?”

“Perfectly. Thank you.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung
it on a convenient hook made from a portion of an elk antler on the wall beside
the booth. As he slid into the booth, Dermot set out a trio of menus and opened
one for him.

“Here. You can have a little sneak peek at the menu before the
rest of your party comes. We also have made-to-order omelets, if that suits your
fancy. The breakfast special this morning is our eggs Benedict, famous in three
counties. Can I get you some coffee or juice while you're waiting?”

Ordinarily, he would have liked to extend the courtesy of at
least ordering beverages for Sage and Maura. Since he had no idea what they
would like, he opted to play it safe and order only for himself. “I'll have
both. Regular coffee and a small grapefruit juice. Thank you.”

Dermot nodded. “Coming right up.” He paused for just a moment,
his blue eyes narrowed. “Have you been in before? I usually have a good eye for
my customers. I keep thinking I should know you, but I'm afraid my memory's not
what it once was and I can't quite place you. Sorry, I am, for that.”

“Don't apologize. I would have been surprised if you
had
recognized me. It's been twenty years. You used to
serve me chocolate malts from the fountain with extra whipped cream while I did
my homework in the corner.” It was a surprisingly pleasant memory, especially
considering he didn't think he had many of this town. That hadn't involved
Maura, anyway.

“Jackson Lange,” Dermot exclaimed. “Lordy, it's been an age, it
has. How have you been, son?”

How did a man encapsulate his journey over the past two
decades? Hard work, ambition, amazing good fortune in his chosen field and not
such good fortune in his painfully short-lived marriage. “I can't complain. How
about you? How's Mrs. Caine?”

His cheerful smile slipped a little. “I lost her some fifteen
years back. The cancer.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Aye. So am I. I miss her every single day. But we had seven
beautiful children together, and her memory lives on in them and our eight
grandchildren.”

He gestured to the other two menus. “And what about you? Are
you meeting your family here, then?”

He thought of Sage, the daughter he hadn't known existed a
handful of days ago. “Something like that.”

“I'll treat you right. Don't you worry. Our French toast is
still legendary around these parts. We still cover it in toasted almonds and
dust it with powdered sugar.”

He usually was a coffee-and-toast kind of guy, but he had fond
memories of that French toast. An indulgence once in a while probably wouldn't
kill him. “Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”

Dermot smiled at him and headed to the kitchen, probably for
his juice. Through the window, Jack watched Main Street bustle to life. The
woman who was trying to change the marquee on the little two-theater cinema up
the road had to stop about five times to return the wave of someone driving
past, and a couple of women in winter workout gear who had dogs on leashes
paused at just about every storefront to talk to somebody.

The scene reminded him of a small village outside Milan where
he had rented an apartment for two months during the construction of a hotel and
regional conference center a few miles from town. He used to love to grab a
cappuccino and sit on the square with a sketchbook and pencil, watching the town
wake up to greet the day.

In his career, Jack had worked on projects across the world,
from Riyadh to Rio de Janeiro. He loved the excitement and vitality of a large
city. The streets outside his loft in San Francisco bustled with life, and he
enjoyed sitting out on the terrace and watching it from time to time, but he had
to admit, he always found something appealing about the slower pace of a small
town, where neighbors took time to stop their own lives to chat and care about
each other.

Dermot walked out with his juice and a coffeepot. “Still
waiting?” he asked as he flipped a cup over and expertly poured.

“I'm sure they'll be here soon.”

“I'll keep an eye out, unless you would like me to take your
order now.”

“No. I'll wait.”

A few moments later, while he was watching the dog walkers grab
a shovel out of an elderly man's hands in front of a jewelry store and start
clearing snow off his store entrance, Maura and Sage came in. Their faces were
both flushed from the cold, but he was struck for the first time how alike they
looked. Sage was an interesting mix of the both of them, but in the morning
light and with her darker, curlier hair covered by a beanie, she looked very
much like her mother.

The women spotted him instantly and hurried over to the
booth.

“Sorry we're late,” Maura said without explanation, but Sage
gave a heavy sigh.

“It's my fault,” Sage said. “I was
so
tired and had a hard time getting moving this morning.”

“You're here now. That's the important thing.” He rose and
helped them out of their coats. Sage wore a bulky red sweater under hers, while
Maura wore a pale blue turtleneck and a long spill of silver-and-blue beads that
reminded him of a waterfall.

He was struck by how thin she appeared. The shirt bagged at her
wrists, and he wondered if she had lost weight in the months since her daughter
died.

“I've been enjoying the café,” he said after they slid into the
other side of the booth together, with Sage on the inside. “It hasn't changed
much in twenty years.”

“The food's still just as good,” Maura said. “Unfortunately,
the tourists have figured that out too.”

“I noticed that. It's been hopping since I got here.”

The conversation lagged, and to cover the awkwardness, he
picked up their menus from the table and opened them, then handed them to the
women. He hadn't worked his way through college tending bar at a little dive
near the Gourmet Ghetto for nothing.

“So Mr. Caine recommended the French toast.”

“That's what I always get when we come here for breakfast,”
Sage told him. “It's
sooo
good. Like having dessert
for breakfast. Mom usually has a poached egg and whole wheat toast. That's like
driving all the way to Disneyland and not riding Space Mountain!”

“Maybe I'll try the French toast this morning too,” Maura said,
a hint of rebellion in her tone.

She seemed to be in a prickly mood, probably unhappy at the
prospect of sharing a booth and a meal with him.

“Sorry I didn't order coffee for either of you. I wasn't sure
of your preferences.”

“I usually like coffee in the morning,” Sage told him, “but I'm
not sure my stomach can handle it today. I'd better go for tea.”

As if on cue, Dermot Caine headed toward their booth and did an
almost comical double take when he saw Maura and Sage sitting with him. Jack
wondered at it, until he remembered his comment about waiting for his family, in
a manner of speaking.

Well, if the word wasn't out around town that he was Sage's
father after the scene at the bookstore the night before, he imagined it
wouldn't take long for the Hope's Crossing grapevine to start humming.

“Sage, my darlin'. Home for the holidays, are you?”

“That's the plan, Mr. C.” She beamed at the older man, who
plainly adored her.

“And how is school going for you?”

Sage made a face. “Meh. I had a chemistry
and
biology class in the same semester. I don't know what I was
thinking.”

“Well, you're such a smarty, I'm sure you'll do fine.” He
turned to face Maura. Somehow Jack wasn't surprised when he reached out and
covered her hand with his. “And how are you, my dear?”

“I'm fine, Dermot. Thanks.” She gave him a smile, but Jack
didn't miss the way she moved her hand back to her lap as soon as Dermot lifted
his away, as if she couldn't bear to hold even a trace of sympathy.

“I'm guessing you'll be wanting water for tea.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Make that two,” Sage said.

“Sure thing. And what else can I bring you? Have you had time
to decide?”

They all settled on French toast, which seemed to delight
Dermot Caine to no end. “I'll add an extra dollop of fresh cream on the side for
you. No charge,” he promised.

After he left, awkwardness returned to the booth. What strange
dynamics between the three of them, he thought. Twenty years ago, Maura had been
his best friend. They could never seem to stop talking—about politics, about
religion, about their hopes and dreams for the future.

Over the past few days, he had seen Sage several times, and
their conversation had been easy and wide-changing. He had years of her life to
catch up on, and she seemed fascinated with his career, asking him questions
nonstop about his life since he'd left Hope's Crossing and about some of the
projects he had designed.

Maura and Sage seemed very close as mother and daughter, and he
would have expected them to have plenty to talk about.

So why did these jerky silences seem to strangle the
conversation when the three of them were together?

“I guess you found a hotel room,” Sage finally said after
Dermot returned with cups of hot water and the two women busied themselves
selecting their tea bags.

“It wasn't easy,” he admitted. “I ended up stopping at a couple
different places and finally found a room at the Blue Columbine.”

“That's a really nice place,” Sage said. “My mom's friend Lucy
owns it.”

Good to know. He would have to take a careful look at the
basket of muffins that had been left outside his door that morning to make sure
nobody had slipped rat poison into it. “The bed was comfortable. That's usually
what matters most to me.”

“You didn't want to stay up at the Silver Strike?” Maura asked
with a sharp smile that seemed at odds with her lovely features. “I've never
seen the rooms there, but I've heard they're spectacular. Fodor's gives the
place a glowing review.”

His mouth tightened. She really thought she had the right to
taunt him about that damn ski resort, after everything? Did she not understand
she was on shaky ground here? He wasn't sure he would ever be able to forgive
her for keeping Sage from him all these years. He certainly wasn't in the mood
to deal with her prickly mood or veiled taunts about his father's ski
resort.

“I'll pass. A B and B in town is fine with me for now.”

“For now? How long are you planning to stay in Hope's
Crossing?” she asked bluntly.

Sage sat forward, eyes focused on him with bright intensity as
she awaited his answer. He chose his words carefully. “I'm not sure yet. I was
thinking about sticking around for a week or two, until after the holidays.”

For all their surface resemblance, the two women had completely
disparate reactions. Sage grinned at him with delight, while Maura looked as if
Dermot had just fed her a teaspoon full of alum with her tea.

“That's great. Really great!” Sage enthused. “I was afraid you
were leaving today.”

“How can you spare the time?” Maura asked woodenly. “You're a
big-shot architect, just as you always dreamed.”

“It's a slow time of year for me, which is why I was able to
accept the lecture invitation. After the holidays, things will heat up. I've got
a couple of projects in the region, actually, one in Denver and one in Montana,
and a big one overseas in Singapore coming up, but my schedule is a little
looser than normal this month.”

Maura stirred her tea, then took a cautious sip before speaking
in a polite tone that belied the shadow of dismay he could see in her eyes. “Do
you really want to spend that much time in Hope's Crossing?”

He shrugged. No doubt she was thinking his presence would ruin
her whole holiday. He didn't care. He wasn't really in the mood to play nice,
not after she had kept his daughter from him for nineteen Christmases. “I was
thinking maybe Sage and I could take off for a few days to Denver to study some
of the architectural styles.”

“Really?” Sage's eyes lit up as if he had just handed her keys
to a brand-new car. “That would be fantastic! I would
love
it.”

Maura avoided his gaze to look out the window, and he could
almost taste her resentment, as thick and bitter as bad coffee. When she finally
looked back at the pair of them, she offered up a small, tense smile.