Нора Робертс - Hideaway

The thin November fog crawling in as she climbed only made it all the more beautiful.

When she passed the ranch road to the Coopers’, she thought of them, all of them. She still kept in touch, but hadn’t come back to Big Sur in years.

Maybe she’d bake some soda bread and take it over to them sometime soon.

Key points, she thought. They more than qualified as one of hers.

When she drove onto the peninsula, she felt nothing but excitement. She stopped at the gate, started to roll down the window for the intercom.

But the gates opened for her.

Video surveillance, she knew, and she’d described the car, in detail, after she’d bought it.

She climbed the road, thought of the beach, the rocks, the house, the everything.

The second gate—installed after her kidnapping—opened as well.

When she crested the last rise, her grandparents stood together under the portico with the house and all its fascinating levels behind them.

She nearly forgot to put the car in park, but avoided disaster before she jumped out and ran over to hug them both.

Lily’s hair, still redder than red, waved the flames around her face in a new style. Hugh, with his trim little gray beard—a new style as well.

“We’ve been watching for you.” Lily all but bubbled it. “Since you texted you were maybe an hour away. Come in, come in, don’t worry about your things. All taken care of.”

“How are those pins, Grandpa?”

He did a little soft-shoe. “Don’t you worry about my pins. How was the drive?”

“A little nerve-racking at first. It’s been awhile. But it comes back to you. Oh, everything looks so good. I’ve missed a fire in the fireplace, and this light. And— Oh, Consuela!”

She’d known the longtime cook had relocated with them as head housekeeper/cook now, but seeing her just made Cate’s heart swell.

Beaming, Consuela rolled in a tray. “Bienvenida a casa, mi niña.” She teared up a little at Cate’s embrace. “Now you’ll have some wine, some food, and sit with your grandparents. Your grandfather doesn’t sit enough.”

“The pair of them would have me propped up from dawn to dusk, then flat out from dusk to dawn.”

Consuela only clucked her tongue, then, after stroking Cate’s cheek, slipped out of the room.

“I won’t say no to that wine. And look at that fruit. There’s nothing like fresh California fruit. You two, sit, let me serve this up. I want to work out some kinks from the drive.”

She poured wine, brought over the little plates, the fruit and cheese. Then paused just to look at the sea, the sky, the roll of lawn to the drop of cliff.

“You remember how beautiful,” Cate murmured. “But memory isn’t like seeing. It can’t capture it, not all the way. Here’s to Liam and Rosemary, their love, their vision, their gift to all of us.”

“Without them?” Hugh clinked glasses. “None of this, no you, no me.”

Cate tried a slice of mango, sighed. “And man, this is really good. It’s another world here.” She perched on the arm of his chair. “I’m ready for another world. I started dreaming about this house, this place.”

Hugh rubbed a hand on her thigh. “Good dreams.”

“Yes. Good dreams. Jigsaw puzzles and hunting shells on the beach, barking sea lions, waking up to the ocean, listening to Grandda’s stories. He was so full of stories. I knew I wanted to come back, that I could.”

“We want you to stay, but we don’t want you to feel obliged,” Lily added.

“I want to stay, and you’d better have my room ready because now you’re stuck with me. Did you notice I bought a car?”

Hugh paused as he reached for the tray. “You bought the one out front?”

“Yesterday. That’s no rental. Us California girls need our own wheels. And I may just buy me a hot convertible next summer.”

“You always wanted one,” Hugh murmured.

“Now’s the time, finally. I’ve looked into studios in Monterey and Carmel, and I figure to talk you into letting me soundproof one of the big closets upstairs. I started in a closet, and it worked just fine. So listen up, I’m home to stay.”

She reached for a sea salt cracker, topped it with some goat cheese. And grinned at her grandfather. “Too much Irish in me not to pay attention to dreams. I’m going to be looking out for you, pal of mine, while our Broadway babe hits the footlights again.”

“Looking out for me,” Hugh snorted.

“Damn right, so get used to it. I’d have come back either way, because dreams. But add broken leg—soft-shoe aside—and Mame ? Too many signs pointing here for me to ignore. And just so you know, I’d started researching those studios before you decided to fall off that horse, cowboy.”

“That does it.” Lily slapped her hands on her legs. “Hugh, I can’t wait another minute.”

Cate reached for a slice of kiwi. “For what?”

“Bring your wine.” Patting her leg, Hugh rose. “We’ll show you your room.”

When Lily led the way back outside, Cate shook her head. “You’re kicking me out of the house before I even unpack?”

“A young woman should have her own space, should have some privacy. She may want to entertain a gentleman caller.”

Now Cate snorted. “Yeah, I’m loaded with gentleman callers.”

“You should be.” Lily wrapped an arm around her waist as they crossed the side terrace, started down. “Hugh, you be careful on these steps.”

“Nag, nag, nag.”

“Bet your Irish ass. If you don’t want the guest cottage, you can pick a room in the main,” Lily continued. “I don’t have to tell you you’re free to come and go as you please. And watch out for the old man,” she added, sotto voce.

“I heard that!”

They took the stone path winding through the gardens where roses bloomed madly, fragrantly, in the November cool. Toward the sea, the pool shined dreamily blue. Ahead, the guesthouse, built as an Irish cottage in a fascinating contrast to the contemporary splendor of the main house.

Deep green shutters framed the garden-facing windows, stood out against the cream-colored walls, the little stone steps. The charm of window boxes offered bursts of color, spills of greenery.

Cate knew the sea-facing walls were glass, to bring in the drama, but the rest spoke of quiet charm, green hills, sheep-dotted fields.

Rolling back through her memory, she decided she’d take the master upstairs, one with that glass wall, and the little fireplace, a square of light and heat built into an interior wall.

It had a good-size closet she could soundproof, and her clothes could go in the bedroom across the hall. Four bedrooms, she recalled. No, five including the one on the first floor they’d used more as a playroom/dormitory when the whole family came to stay.

Hugh took a key out of his pocket, offered it to Cate with a dramatic sweep of his hand.

“This is pretty exciting.”

She unlocked the door, stepped in.

Fresh flowers, autumn blooms in milk bottles and mason jars—she’d expected flowers. She hadn’t expected to see the few pieces of furniture she’d put in storage—unable to part with—mixed in with the rest.

“That’s my coffee table, and my lamp! My hunt table, too, and my chair.”

“A woman wants to have her own things.”

She turned to Lily. “They were in storage.”

“And wouldn’t have been if they didn’t matter to you.”

“But how did you get them out of storage? How did you get them here?”

Hugh mimed brushing lint off his shirt. “We have our ways.”

“Well, I love your ways. This is just so damn sweet, and everything looks great. And oh God, that view.”

Breathtaking, she thought, with no obstructions to the hard blue of the sky, the wide, wide sea, the scatter of trees twisted by the wind into magical shapes.