The House on Blackberry Hill: Jewell Cove #1 (Jewel Cove) (7 page)

Was there a right or wrong answer to this question, too? “It’s definitely something. A little worse for wear.” She gave him a small wink. “A diamond in the rough, perhaps.”

His florid complexion seemed to redden even more. “That’s a fine way to put it,” he agreed. “Your great-aunt Marian took a lot of pride in her place until she got sick. It’s a shame that it’s fallen into disrepair.”

Abby suddenly remembered what Tom had said about the town pressuring Marian to turn the house into a museum. Was that the reason for the warm welcome this morning?

“I’m sure it’s nothing that some paint and elbow grease can’t fix.” She lifted her chin a touch. “It was built to last, just like the Fosters, wouldn’t you agree?”

Why she felt the sudden surge of family pride, she didn’t know. But she met Luke Pratt’s gaze evenly.

A spark of admiration glinted in his eye. “I would. It was Jedediah Foster’s pride and joy—at least that’s what the records say.” A small smile touched his chapped lips. “We sea captains are made of sturdy stuff.”

“Fisherman turned mayor?” she asked politely, a bit charmed despite herself.

“Captain Luke Pratt, retired U.S. Navy,” he clarified. Was it just her, or had his shoulders straightened ever so slightly when he said it? “So Miss Foster, what are your plans for the house?”

Niceties out of the way, she affected a nonchalant shrug. “I haven’t decided yet. I only just arrived yesterday.”

“That’s good news.”

“It is?”

He rested his hands on the edge of the table. “Why settle on something so soon when there are options to consider?”

“And you’re going to tell me about one of those options, naturally,” she responded, curling her fingers around her coffee cup.

“Have you been inside the house?”

“Of course.”

“Then you know how much history is there. The house is important to this town—as a landmark and a testament to the long history here. It would be perfect as a museum. Both to preserve the history and, of course, as a tourist draw to our town.”

“Didn’t you approach my great-aunt about this years ago?”

He sat back. Abby mentally thanked Tom for the heads-up; this certainly wasn’t due to any communication on Marian’s part but Mr. Pratt didn’t know that. Without intending to, Tom had given her the upper hand. Or at least helped her level the playing field.

“Well, yes. Not me personally, of course. But previous councils…”

“And her answer was always no.”

“She might have said something about the house remaining in family hands.”

Abby kept hearing that and it puzzled her each time.

He cleared his throat. “What we’re proposing isn’t to buy the property from you. It would still remain yours—just like Marian wanted. But we’d propose renting it from you. In keeping with Foster tradition, we would ensure that the articles inside were family pieces and not random articles brought in as indicative of the period. It would, in all ways, remain Foster House.” He smiled. “Or as the locals know it, the House on Blackberry Hill.”

There was that name again. “And would you be paying for the renovations needed to make it happen?”

He paused.

“Of course not.” She answered her own question. “You want me to pay to fix it up and then hand it over to you, am I right?”

“We
would
be paying rent,” he insisted. “The historical significance alone—”

“Which I appreciate,” she relented. “Tell me, Mr. Pratt. Sentimentality aside, why didn’t you just offer to buy the house?”

Sharp blue eyes met hers. “The town can’t afford to buy it outright.”

“Which is no surprise,” she said. She admired his forthright manner, admired how he’d approached her today, even though she was starting to feel ambushed at every turn.

Then again, if Mayor Pratt looked like Tom this conversation might have gone very differently. She couldn’t ignore the fact that last night their banter had felt the tiniest bit like flirting.

“I just arrived in town, Mr. Pratt, and I don’t even know what needs to be done to the house. It would be premature to say I know what I’m going to do because there are too many unknowns.” The man didn’t need to know that she still figured selling it was the best idea. “But I’ll keep your proposal in mind.”

He nodded. “That’s all I can ask,” he said kindly. “I hope I didn’t overstep by approaching you so soon…”

“Don’t apologize. You were clear and to the point. That’s refreshing.”

Pratt slid out of the booth and held out his hand. Abby got up too and shook it. He gave her fingers a friendly squeeze. “You’re quite like your Aunt Marian, you know. Not so much in looks, but you’ve got her backbone.”

The way Abby was feeling about Marian’s lack of contact with Iris’s side of the family, she wasn’t sure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult. She decided compliment, because it had clearly been meant that way.

“Thank you, Mr. Pratt. I’m sure we’ll speak again.”

He nodded and waved at a few locals as he left the coffee shop. Abby sat back down as the waitress came back to warm up her coffee. She wondered how Pratt had known to find her here. She could sense several pairs of eyes on her and tried to ignore the conspicuous feeling that crawled over her skin. No doubt someone had tipped him off and he’d hustled over here from the town hall or wherever the mayor’s office was.

She looked back at the website she’d been browsing—Tom’s—and knew she really didn’t have a choice. Keep it, sell it, rent it to Jewell Cove—it had to be renovated before any option was viable.

With a sinking heart, she realized she was going to have to call Tom Arseneault.

*   *   *

Tom rested his hand on the railing of the deck overlooking the quiet cove as he waited for his burger to finish grilling. Other than the occasional car passing, there was no sound except the quiet lapping of water on the pebbled beach below. On a soft spring night like tonight, he was one hundred percent satisfied that he’d made the right decision, moving here. The cozy cottage was nestled in the trees and a grassy slope led down to the calm waters of Fiddler’s Rock.

Josh was coming home to stay. Tom had been thinking about that a good deal since hearing the news. He didn’t have a good feeling about this picnic his mother and cousins were planning. He agreed that he and Josh had to find a way to coexist. Jewell Cove was not a big town. They had the same family, a lot of the same friends. But throwing them together at some big welcome-home gathering might just blow up in everyone’s faces.

He’d skip the whole thing if he could, except he knew someone would come out here and drag him if he tried it. The only thing to do was show up for a little while and try to stay out of Josh’s way. Keep on the down low.

A car door slammed and Tom turned his head toward the front of the house. Had someone come in? He checked his burger, slid it onto the warming rack, and turned off the burner before going inside through the patio door. Just as he shut it behind him, there was a knock on his front door.

He opened it to find his cousin Sarah on his doorstep, looking her usual bright and cheerful self in jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and a perky ponytail.

“Sarah. This is a surprise. Are Mark and the kids with you?” He looked over her shoulder, but she appeared to be alone.

“Nope, just me. Can I come in?”

“Of course you can.” He said the words easily but he frowned a little. It wasn’t very common for her to show up on his doorstep. She must want something in particular. He could pretty much guess what.

She stepped inside and he offered her a seat. “I was just going to have some dinner. I can put another burger on the grill if you want.”

She shook her head and sank into one of his chairs. He realized his home was very different from her light and airy house overlooking the harbor. The cottage was all wood paneling and hardwood floors and sturdy furniture. The upholstery was dark and plaid—not a floral print in sight. It was snug and welcoming, and quiet and secluded. Just the way he wanted it.

“What brings you by, Sarah?” He kept his voice deliberately casual. “Everything all right with the family?”

“I’ve come to ask a favor,” she said, smiling brightly. “You do know about Josh, right?”

“I heard.”

“We’re having a picnic on Memorial Day weekend to celebrate his homecoming.”

“I heard that, too. Your mom called me yesterday.”

“Oh.”

It seemed very wrong that he and Josh should work so hard at avoiding each other. They had been the same age, with the same interests and friends. They’d played baseball together all through high school—Josh on the pitcher’s mound, Tom at shortstop. They’d double-dated, spent summer afternoons at the beach, and once put a hole in his father’s aluminum boat and had to swim for Aquteg Island before being rescued.

Now they were reduced to this.

He thought of Josh, all alone in his house in Hartford. Josh had been the one to take retirement from the service and set up their home, waiting for the day Erin would be back for good and they could start the family Josh had always wanted.

And then Erin had been killed three weeks before she was due to return. Tom hadn’t always been a good friend or cousin, but he’d be a cold bastard to begrudge Josh the chance to come home and be with his family.

“I already promised to make an appearance, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“Actually, I was hoping you would make us a dance floor for the party. Something like you did for Julie and Adam’s wedding last summer, remember?”

A dance floor. It wasn’t a bit of trouble. Some plywood and nails. It wasn’t that. It was wanting to reach out to his cousin and make amends and being afraid he’d be slapped back. He turned his back on Sarah and walked to the wide bay window with his hands on his hips, gazing out over the water.

She went to him and put her hand on his arm. “Tom,” she said quietly, “hasn’t this gone on long enough?”

He didn’t look at her as he answered. “What you’re asking for isn’t just a dance floor. It’s not so easy to forget.”

Her reply was clipped. “Well, someone needs to make the first move. Or does family really mean that little to you?”

He turned on her then, a little bit angry himself, because he wasn’t sure why the onus always had to fall on him to make things right. Josh wasn’t a totally innocent party, either.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of that, Sarah. Not when you know better. We both know what I gave up in the name of family and brotherhood. Not that it did a damn bit of good.” Tom had stepped aside when push came to shove and they all knew it. He hadn’t stood in Josh’s way.

“You let her go except for the one way that mattered most. In your heart. You said all the right things but we all knew why you moved out here. You’re practically a hermit. You never date. You spend all your time on the job or in your woodworking shop. Please, Tom. Don’t let this continue to drive a wedge between you and Josh when she’s not even here anymore.”

“It’s not that simple,” he relented, softening his words.

She shook her head, her eyes soft. “Of course it isn’t. All I’m asking is for you to try. A visible gesture that you’re willing to take this first step. I miss the old days, Tom. I want to see us all back together again, like it used to be.”

“We’re older now,” he said, quieter. “We can’t go back. It won’t ever be the same.”

For a few minutes they stood in silence, watching the softening light over the cove. A few ducks bobbed on the surface, their bodies sending ripples over the glasslike water. This was why he’d chosen this particular spot in the first place. The cottage had a way of quieting a busy mind and a hurting heart.

“You always were like a mother duck,” he finally said, a smile in his voice. “If we all argued, you came up with a compromise. We got a scraped knee, you went for the Band-Aid. But you can’t fix this, Sarah, no matter how much you try. That’s up to Josh and me.”

He saw her shoulders slump and he closed his eyes, giving in. Why could he never say no to the females in his family?

“I’ll make your dance floor, and I promised Aunt Meggie I’d show up. The rest is up to Josh.”

A smile spread across her face and she raised her arms and hugged him. “Thank you! I knew I could count on you, Tom!”

He chuckled as he gave her a quick hug and then set her back. “Don’t get too excited. You had to know you’d wear me down. Now get going. Don’t you have a family to look after or something?”

“We’re meeting at Sally’s for ice cream after ball practice. I promised Matthew one of her hot fudge sundaes.”

He chuckled. “Just like we used to do when we were kids.”

“Yeah, only Sally is much older now. You’re welcome to join us,” she added.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve still got dinner on the grill.” Which was probably dried out by now, but it didn’t matter much. The way he was feeling, the last thing he needed was to hang around with yet another big, happy family.

He walked her to the door and kissed her cheek before she left. But as she backed out of the driveway he frowned.

Everyone seemed to think that this big reunion was going to be perfect, but Tom got the feeling they were setting themselves up for disappointment. Even if he were willing to make a new start with his cousin, it was a two-way street. And he wasn’t sure it was one Josh was willing to travel.

C
HAPTER
6

Abby’s hands were sweating inside the rubber gloves, but she was doing so much cleaning that she didn’t dare work without them unless she wanted chapped skin. For two days she’d scoured and washed and sometimes it felt like she hadn’t gotten anywhere. So far she’d managed to make the master bedroom clean and fresh, as well as the bathroom with its old fixtures, stand-up shower, and luxurious claw-foot tub. Marian Foster had spent considerable money updating the house to modern standards while still maintaining a vintage feel to everything. Running water and electricity were readily available but to Abby everything still looked like she’d stepped back in time. Somewhat grudgingly, she had to admit she liked it. It gave the house character.

The hall and stairwell had been cleaned, the faded carpet on the steps vacuumed within an inch of its life, and she’d taken a whole day to work on the kitchen, wiping walls and cupboards from top to bottom. Her whole body ached. The next time someone asserted that housecleaning wasn’t work, she’d set them straight in a hurry.