RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (90 page)

“We'll see,” Ruth said with a grunt.

“I think you need to go on one of those Sexy Senior Singles
cruises,” Alex said. “Mom, you should go with them too.”

Mary Ella rolled her eyes. “I'm not looking for romance—any
more than you seem to be.”

“Neither am I,” Ruth said. “Now, sex, on the other hand…”

Everybody laughed hard at that, even Maura, until Alex turned
to her. “Speaking of sex. Or at least
sexy.
I see
we've got a new business opening up in the old insurance company office.”

Maura could feel heat seep into her cheeks and she sipped at
her ginger ale, hoping nobody noticed. She still wasn't quite sure how Jack had
taken his fledgling idea over the holidays of opening an office of Lange &
Associates in Hope's Crossing and turned it into firm reality in only three
weeks. “It's a temporary situation. Jack has some projects in the area and he
needed a local base.”

“Has Sage started working for him yet?” Angie asked.

“Last week. So far she loves it.”

“I was so hoping she would be here tonight so I could ask her
what it's like to work so closely with a world-renowned architect,” Mary Ella
said.

“She's only been working for him a week, so I'm not sure she's
really qualified to answer that yet. I do know the work must be tiring. I think
she's been in bed by eight-thirty every night. I'm hoping she didn't catch a
touch of Owen and Macy's bug.”

Maura did her best to conceal her worry for Sage from her
mother and the other women. Something was wrong with her daughter. She knew it
in her gut. Since Sage had returned from several days spent in Boulder to fix
her car and clean out her dorm room ten days earlier, she had been withdrawn and
quiet.

During her first year of college, whenever Sage would return
home on breaks, the two of them would stay up talking for hours. She couldn't
manage to turn off her daughter's chatter and she hadn't wanted to, even when
she was exhausted from working all day.

This time around, Sage seemed to want to do nothing but read,
watch television and sleep.

If this didn't improve in a week or two, especially now that
Sage had the added stimulation and challenge of working with her father, Maura
planned to insist she make a visit to their family doctor.

“So how is it having Jackson Lange back in town?” Evie
asked.

Maura concentrated on the bite of very delicious cheesecake
melting in her mouth. “Fine, as far as I know,” she finally said. “I haven't
seen the man since the holidays.”

That was one good thing about Sage working for him. She spent
all day with him at the small office up the street, and they hadn't socialized
much together, which meant Maura's interactions with Jack had become
nonexistent.

“I heard he's renting a place up in the Aspen Ridge
development,” Angie said. “Gina Coletti has a place there and said he's in the
same unit with her.”

Sage hadn't mentioned that, but then Maura had tried very hard
not to ask about her daughter's father. Aspen Ridge was only a few streets away
from her house. She wasn't sure how she felt about Jack living so close to
her.

“It's only temporary,” she said again, wondering just who she
was trying to convince. She quickly and deliberately changed the subject by
turning to Evie. “How's Taryn these days? I haven't seen her since before
Christmas.”

“She amazes me every day. You heard she was back in school,
right? She started after the holidays. With the tutors she had in the fall,
she's not even very far behind. Can you believe that? And she's catching up
quickly. We'll have to drop by the bookstore after school one day to say hi. I
think Taryn would like that.”

“I'm so happy she's improving. Please tell her I would love to
see her.”

“I will.” Evie paused, then lowered her voice while the
conversation flowed around them. “I should probably tell you that she and
Charlie still email when they can. He happened to mention in an email that you
sent a Christmas package to him at the juvenile detention center.”

Maura avoided her friend's gaze, embarrassed to have that small
gesture become common knowledge. “He has plenty of time on his hands. I thought
he might enjoy exploring some good books while he's there.”

Evie squeezed her fingers. “Just for the record, you're one of
the very best people I know, Maura.”

What a joke that was. Inside she felt bitter and shriveled and
angry at the world. “It was no big deal. I run a bookstore, Evie. Books are kind
of easy for me to lay my hands on.” She paused, compelled to ask, though she
didn't really want to know the answer. “How much longer does he have?”

“Nine months.”

“What's in nine months?” Alex asked, overhearing. “Don't tell
me you've got another announcement, Evie!”

“No!” the other woman exclaimed. “Nothing so exciting, I'm
afraid. Or pleasant, for that matter. I was telling Maura that Charlie Beaumont
has nine more months in his sentence before he's released from juvenile
detention.”

Alex's teasing smile slid away, replaced by the sharp, hard
lines of anger. “Not nearly long enough for the little bastard. He killed our
Layla and almost killed Taryn. For that, he gets less than a year in youth
corrections? It's heinous.”

Evie opened her mouth, but closed it again. Maura knew Evie was
somewhat sympathetic to the boy, who had been driving impaired when he'd slid
into a tree. Charlie Beaumont had been a huge part of Taryn's recovery. Maura
knew that. Facts had emerged at Charlie's sentencing hearing that cast a new
light on the details leading up to the accident, but she wasn't nearly as
forgiving.

If not for Charlie's decision to drink and drive and then to
try outrunning a police officer—her brother Riley—Layla might be waiting home
for her right now to giggle and gossip and talk about school.

“I heard Mayor Beaumont is trying to get him out early on good
behavior so he can go to Genevieve's wedding,” Ruth interjected.

“I think Gen would prefer he stay locked up,” Claire said. “She
doesn't want anything to ruin her perfect day, especially not her juvenile
delinquent of a brother. Her extremely gorgeous fiancé and his snobby family
might not like it.”

Maura didn't want to talk about Charlie Beaumont—or for that
matter, Genevieve and her grand society wedding in only a few month's time—so
she again deftly maneuvered the conversation back to safer waters by asking
Claire about the second annual Giving Hope Day, which was in the planning
stages.

As Claire launched excitedly into her spiel about how this one
would be bigger and better, Maura sat back, marveling at how adroit she had
become at social manipulation when the need arose. Yet another unwanted skill
she had developed over the past year.

* * *

T
HE
BOOK
CLUB
—
IF
IT
could legitimately still call itself anything
remotely literary after tonight—wrapped up around the time the store closed. She
ushered the last of her friends out, then spent another twenty minutes cleaning
up while the clerks went through their closing procedures.

“Need me to vacuum in here?” April Herrera asked.

“No. I've got it. Thanks. Good night.”

She had a cleaning crew, but over the past year she had reduced
their work to twice a week for deep cleaning, while she and her employees took
care of the superficial cleaning the rest of the time.

By the time she finished vacuuming the store, her arms ached
and she had a slight headache from the noise of her heavy old unit, but the
carpets didn't have so much as a stray piece of lint. She returned the vacuum to
the stockroom, then gave the store one last cursory look before she locked the
door.

In the dim lights, the books gleamed on the shelves and it
smelled rich and familiar, of coffee grounds and leather and the delicious mix
of ink on new paper. She always had to stop and inhale when she walked into her
store, absorbing the smell of new books—of humor and obscure facts and
adventures waiting to be discovered.

She loved this place. Pride and contentment were familiar
companions as she looked around at what she had built on her own. Yes, Chris had
insisted on very generous child support payments and alimony after the divorce.
His career by then had exploded, and he had erroneously given her much of the
credit for pushing him and believing in his vision of his music.

She couldn't deny his seed money had been a huge help in the
beginning, but her own elbow grease and ingenuity had certainly played a part in
the success of Dog-Eared Books & Brew. With luck and hard work, she really
hoped she could keep the store thriving.

But not tonight. Tonight she wanted to collapse into her bed
and block out the world. Tired and more than ready for the long day to be over,
she unlocked the door and let herself out, then locked it again.

The storm that had dropped a couple of inches of new snow on
the ski slopes earlier seemed to have passed over, leaving the night icy but
clear and beautiful.

She tightened her scarf and headed for her vehicle, parked off
Main Street in one of the rare side lots. Parking was such a pain. As an old
silver-mining town founded before the turn of the twentieth century, Hope's
Crossing hadn't been designed to accommodate modern traffic, forget about the
hordes of tourists who could descend on any given winter weekend to ski and shop
and eat. She didn't mind the walk, though, especially with the bright sprawl of
stars overhead.

With the new snow, everything looked fresh and clean in the
moonlight.

She would have a better view of the stars if she took her
snowshoes up the Woodrose Mountain trail on a midnight hike above the ambient
light of the city, but she rarely had the energy for much anymore except soaking
in the hot tub after a long day of work.

Her path to her vehicle led her past the former insurance
agency, now with a tasteful sign in sans serif script that read Lange &
Associates, Architectural and Design Services. Just as she reached the edge of
the storefront, the door opened and out of the corner of her gaze she saw Jack
walk out. She might have thought he had been lying in wait just for her to pass
by, if he hadn't immediately turned around to lock the door behind him without
even acknowledging her presence.

He wore that same tailored leather jacket and a gray scarf. On
some men she might have considered the scarf an affectation, but on Jack, it
looked masculine and sexy.

Something in her stomach tugged, sweet and pliable as taffy,
and she frowned, greatly tempted to slide into the shadows and keep walking. She
sighed and slowed her steps. She was many things, but she generally tried hard
not to be rude.

“Hi.”

She was a little gratified when he jerked in surprise at her
greeting and looked up with a distracted manner.

“Oh. Hi. Sorry. I didn't see you there.”

“It's the dark coat. It can be good camouflage when I need it.
Lets me sneak around town ninja-style without attracting attention.”

“Hmm. Seems to be an epidemic of that around here,” he
said.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. It's not important.” He shouldered his leather
messenger bag and walked toward her, and that taffy ache stretched tighter. “You
keep late hours.”

“That's funny. I was about to say the same about you. I didn't
realize brilliant architects had to burn the midnight oil too.”

He laughed roughly and the sound seemed to slide down her nerve
endings like the barbs of a feather. “I can't answer for the brilliant
architects. I know the rest of us do, if we want to be able to afford that oil
to keep the lights on.”

She smiled, amused at his attempt at humility. She had heard
enough about his career to know which category most of his peers would fit
Jackson Lange into. And if they happened to give out prizes for the sexiest
among them, he was certain to win that too, especially right now with his wavy
hair rumpled and that appealing evening shadow just begging for a woman to slide
her fingers across…

Not
this
woman, of course.

“What are you doing out so late?”

“Book club meeting. And I use the term loosely.”

“Which term?
Book club
or
meeting?
”

“Either. Both. Tonight it was mostly a gossipfest.”

“Sounds ominous. I'm glad I was safely tucked away here
working.”

“My friend Evie is getting married. That's an exciting bit of
news. She's marrying Brodie Thorne. Did you know him?”

“He was a few years behind me in school, I think. Didn't he ski
jump or something?”

“That's the one. They're getting married in March.” She paused.
“His daughter was Layla's best friend. She was injured in the same car accident,
and Evie has been helping her heal.”

He didn't seem to know what to say to that, and she wondered
why she was blabbering on about people he didn't know and likely didn't give a
damn about. Probably because she couldn't seem to fight this little hitch in her
breathing, the hard pulse of her heartbeat.

“Well, have a good night,” she said, and turned to continue on
her way.

“Wait. Where are you parked? I'll walk you to your car.”

“You don't have to do that. I'm not far, in the little lot
behind the bike shop.” She
really
didn't think
spending more time with Jack Lange was a great idea right now, with her defenses
sagging from exhaustion—especially when he looked so dangerously
irresistible.