The Village of Gerard's Cliff (3 page)

"You know very well why
I'm here, Allison. We discussed it at Patrick's funeral. I realize
that the timing may have been unfortunate on my part, and for that
I apologize," he turned to her with a look of mock sincerity on his
swollen face that sickened her.

"I agree, that was neither
the time nor the place to discuss the inn, Ethan. I appreciate your
apology, but the answer remains 'no.' I have no intentions of
selling the inn, to you or anyone else. I'm happy here. I believe
the inn will do very well. I know what I'm doing Ethan." She
finished firmly. "I don't understand why the inn interests you. I
can't imagine you running this place. It would be way out of your
comfort zone to say the least." She looked at him quizzically. He
looked uncomfortable - as if he wanted to say something but was
holding back..

He moved closer to her,
looking at her in a way that suddenly alarmed her, and Allie had to
force herself to stand her ground. He moved closer still, and her
heart began to race....something wasn't right. "Ethan," she began,
putting her hand out to stop his progress. "Have you been drinking?
Are you all right?" He was her brother-in-law, for goodness sake.
She might detest him, but she never had any reason to be afraid of
him in the past. She'd never seen him like this.

Ethan stared at her, his
eyes fairly bulging with suppressed anger, "Allison.." his voice
began to rise, and, truly fearful now, she took a step back from
him. Her mind began to race, and she tried to think of what she
should do...her eyes skittered around her, looking for something to
grab and defend herself...she didn't think he was a violent
man...she'd never seen him violent.

"Allison, you must come to
your senses, girl," Ethan's voice was getting louder. He lunged
forward, grabbed her wrist before she could react, and squeezed it.
Allie cried out, and tried to wrestle her hand free.

"Ethan - what are you
doing? Stop...you're hurting me!" His grip was unbelievably
strong...

"You can't stay here,
don't you understand? You shouldn't be alone here. I need to be
here. You don't... know...."

He stopped suddenly and
grabbed his chest with his free hand. Breathing heavily, he bent
forward as though to compose himself and get his breath, at the
same time, loosening his grip on her wrist.

Allie took the opportunity
to jerk her hand free and run to the desk. She grabbed the phone
and held it out.

"Ethan, I don't know
what's gotten into you, but if you don't leave right now, I'm
calling the police!" She was trembling so badly...her voice was
shaking as she shouted at him....she was on the verge of hysteria.
"And if you ever set foot on my property again, I'll have you
arrested! Get out now!"

Ethan's face was
blood-red, thin strands of his hair were hanging down over his
eyes, and he, too was shaking. He looked pitiful now to her, but
frightening all the same. "I'm sorry, Allison. You were right. I
have been drinking." He started slowly toward the front door, bent
forward, still holding his chest. He turned to her. "I'm sorry...
I...I was only trying to help." He stammered. "You just don't know
what...."

"Get out, Ethan." She
didn't shout this time, even though her heart was still racing so
fast, she could feel her throat throbbing.

Looking through the
window, she saw him walk slowly down the front steps and get into
his car. She returned the phone to its cradle, hurried to the front
door, and shut and locked it. She heard the engine start up, and
she watched him drive off.

Allie leaned her forehead
against the front door, closed her eyes, and took slow, deep
breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She walked over to one of
the over-stuffed chairs, and sank into the cushion. Allie sat there
all of two minutes before jumping up and grabbing her jacket from
the peg by the front door. She headed out, knowing she had some
time to herself before her guests would be returning to the
inn.

Allie breathed in the
cold, pungent ocean air, and pulled up the collar of her jacket.
She walked slowly along the Cliff Walk, trying to calm down, and
figure out Ethan's violent behavior a few minutes earlier. What on
earth just happened? She tried to fit the pieces together. For the
life of her, Allie could not fathom why Ethan was so bent on buying
the inn, and why he had become violent. He had shown no interest in
it while Patrick was alive, as far as she could remember. And she
never knew him to be a mean drunk...was the alcohol just finally
taking its toll, and his life spinning out of control after his
divorce? But why the inn? It made no sense to her.

Should she call someone back home and tell them, she
wondered, pausing to sit down on one of the benches that were
placed at intervals along the path. She shoved her hands in her
jacket pockets, and squinted toward the ocean waves crashing on the
shore
below
her
.
Who in Virginia
would be able to help her with this...his ex-wife, Mary? Perhaps
she would have some answers, but Allie knew that Mary had not been
on good terms with Ethan since their divorce three years earlier.
Mary had attended Patrick's funeral, and been cordial to Allie, but
she and Ethan barely spoke to each other. There were no children
from the marriage, and Allie did know that Ethan's drinking problem
was one of the factors in the divorce. Patrick had told her that
Mary was well off in her own right, and didn't need any alimony
from Ethan. She seemed to want to just be rid of him, Patrick had
told her.

Allie removed her hands from her pockets, and looked down
at her still red and sore right wrist. She rubbed it gently, and
scanned the beautiful beach before her.
Why...Why.........Why
?
For the first time, she actually missed Patrick...maybe he
could have shed some light on his brother's strange behavior. She
wished she could talk to him, to have him help her sort this whole
mess out, but then...none of this would have happened if Patrick
were still alive. It was all tied in to Patrick's death somehow,
she reasoned....but how? Allie was sitting on the bench an hour
later, staring at the sea, still absorbed in the drama that had
unfolded in her inn.

"Hello there." A deep,
warm, male voice interjected itself into her solitude, and she
looked up, startled to be discovered so lost in thought. "I
returned to the inn earlier than planned, and, since no one was
there, I thought I'd check out this Cliff Walk I've heard so much
about."

"I'm so sorry, Mr.
Garrison...forgive me." Allie looked up, embarrassed. "I hadn't
realized I'd been here so long. I don't usually lock out my
guests." She added with a rueful laugh. "I'll head back right now."
She hurriedly rose from the bench and was aware again of their
difference in height, as she looked up at his pleasant
face.

"Please call me
Connor...that is, if you don't mind." He looked down at her. "I
don't know if I can take two weeks of being addressed as Mr.
Garrison." He smiled. "... but, if there are rules about that sort
of thing at your inn, I'll understand. I've never stayed at an inn
before, by the way." As he spoke, Allie scanned his face. She
noticed his strong, masculine nose, slightly wide at the bridge,
and the rounded angles of his cheekbones beneath his amazing blue
eyes and dark lashes. His eyebrows were thick and straight. He had
a very nice, soft-looking mouth, that curved up on one side when he
smiled, as he was doing right now. A slight hint of dark beard
showed through his strong jaw.

"Of course I don't
mind.....Connor." She lowered her head, watching her step, as they
started walking back to the inn. "After all, you will be staying
with us longer than most guests. You'll soon be like family!" She
glanced up at him and smiled. "My name is Allie, short for
Allison."

"Pleased to meet you,
Allie." Connor stopped, turned toward her, smiled, and held out his
hand. Allie hesitated for just a moment before putting her cold
hand in his. She felt the warmth from his large, enveloping hand
radiate through hers. Her eyes flickered up into his for an
instant, and she saw them narrow, as if in surprise. She was
embarrassed to feel herself flush. She concluded the quick
handshake with an awkward smile, and removed her hand from his.
Allie shoved her hands in her pockets, and turned back toward the
inn. Connor followed suit, and they walked the short distance to
the front porch, both in thoughtful silence.

What the hell happened to
her hand?

Connor shut the door of
his room behind him, his expression one of anger and bewilderment.
He had been shocked to see the redness and bruising around her
wrist as they shook hands. He was pretty sure that she was unaware
of his seeing it. Whatever happened to her had to have occurred
after he left the inn. He definitely would have noticed it at
breakfast when she was standing right beside him at the
table.

He stretched out his long
frame on the unmade bed, his head on a pile of pillows, with his
fingers clasped behind his neck. Connor stared at the ceiling and
mentally went down the short list of people he had seen at the inn.
He couldn't imagine any one of them having the inclination or
strength to injure her in that way. The only man he had seen around
the place had been that young guy, sitting with his wife in the
dining room that morning, and he didn't look strong enough to
inflict that much damage.

The image of Allie
suddenly flew into his brain...her dark, serious eyes, those
lashes. He liked that she didn't wear make-up, that she seemed so
natural...and unpretentious. Most of the women he had dated wore
their hair in a teased-up sort of hairdo that he just didn't care
for - but that seemed to be the style these days. He wondered how
Allie's hair looked long and loose, not tied back.

Stop the damn daydreaming
and figure it out, he scolded himself as he sat up, reaching for
his notebook on the table. Sitting on the side of the bed, he
flipped the pages, re-reading his notes. It doesn't make any sense.
There was no way her injury was an accident. Who the hell did that
to her?

Connor grabbed the phone
from the side table, balancing it on his knee. He dialed, and
leaned back on the pillows, one arm behind his head, as he waited
for someone to pick up on the other end.

"Mr. Garrison's office,
how may I help you?" Edith answered, absently, in the slightly
nasal tone that sometimes irritated him. Connor imagined the young
girl sitting at the front desk, reading Cosmopolitan, taking
advantage of his absence.

"Edith, it's Connor. Is
Bill around?" Connor felt a sense of urgency building in his
chest.

"I believe he is, sir."
She sounded surprised at his call. "I'll get him for you." Connor's
bent knee bounced impatiently as he waited for his colleague to
pick up.

"Here he is, Mr.
Garrison," Edith said quickly, and he heard the click transferring
him to the other man's office.

"Connor?" a friendly, male
voice queried. "How's the vacation, man?" He laughed.

"Ha! What vacation?"
Connor snorted, affably, then his voice turned serious, "Bill, I
need you to check on something for me."

Fifteen minutes later,
Connor pulled out of the parking lot, as he headed to The Village
of Gerard's Cliff.

"We have enjoyed staying
at your lovely Inn so much!" The young Mrs. Holland gushed, as she
and her husband, holding hands, encountered Allie in the front
parlor. Allie stopped from arranging some dried flowers in a vase,
and turned toward the couple and smiled. The dim lighting from
several small shaded reading lamps and the glow from the crackling
fire gave the room a cozy, golden ambiance. "I can't believe we're
leaving tomorrow morning. I wish we had booked a longer stay. Two
nights just aren't long enough!" The young woman frowned. "When we
get home, we are going to tell everyone we know about The Colborne
Inn."

"Thank you. That means so
much to me," Allie smiled sincerely. "Will you be having breakfast
with us tomorrow morning before you leave? I understand that Tilda
is making her special Eggs Benedict over Cod Cakes with Lobster
Sauce. It's incredible."

"Yes, we will be eating
breakfast here...but, we have to leave immediately afterwards." The
young woman smiled back. Mr. Holland tugged slightly on his wife's
hand, and they started toward the door. "We may be a little late
tonight. We're going to check out the night life in the
village."

"Well, I hope you have a
wonderful time." Allie laid the stems of dried red roses she had
been holding, on the side table. She pulled the long sleeve of the
black cotton turtleneck she had changed into, after returning to
the inn with Mr. Garrison, down even further over her bruised wrist
and walked behind them to the door. She turned the dead-bolt
securely after seeing them out, then went back to her task, putting
the last few stems in the vase and standing back to survey her
work.

Allie was determined to
put the incident with Ethan out of her mind, as she cleaned up the
bits of dried flowers that lay strewn around the table and floor.
She had had the whole afternoon to sort things out, and had decided
that Ethan's drinking had gotten the better of him. When the threat
of her calling the police, and the realization of what he had done
really sank in, he would surely not attempt anything so foolish
again. She would probably never know his motives for wanting to buy
The Colborne Inn, but that was fine with her, as long as he left
her alone.