Kate Welsh - For Jessie's Sake

Abby scowled. “Wait a minute. All? Even Colin and his daughter?”

“Yup. Even them. I think you’d better get used to him being around.” Genevieve grinned.

Abby did just the opposite. “I thought he’d be leaving today. He knows I don’t want him here and he didn’t really want to stay here, either.”

“Since when do you discourage a paying customer from staying? And why wouldn’t he want to stay here? It’s the nicest B and B in the area.” Her focus sharpened more. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a history here?”

“Colin McCarthy is poison. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Genevieve was one of the newer residents of the area. The only McCarthy family member she’d ever met was Erin. Colin’s youngest sister had stayed at Cliff Walk when she’d revisited the area on her way home from college that spring. Abby prayed Genevieve didn’t ask any more questions. Her anger at Colin was too personal and too deep to talk about. She never had and she never would.

She put her hand on the door and glanced at Genevieve. “The little girl’s scrambled eggs are getting cold,” she grumbled pointedly and pushed through the door. The cook had no choice but to follow since Abby stood holding the door open for her.

Abby should have been ready to face Colin. But then she heard his rich baritone voice telling Jessie her breakfast had arrived. Abby’s legs started to quake as memories washed over her—that voice teasing her sweetly, whispering sexual praises in her ear one minute and rejecting her the next.

She turned away. “Enjoy your eggs, sweetheart,” she managed to say, as Genevieve placed the plate in front of Jessie. Then, trying to stay as far away from Colin as possible, Abby walked across the room to stand closer to the door of her office. “Has everyone made plans for the day?” she asked, and nearly sighed in relief when an elderly guest, Mr. Kane, nodded.

“We hoped to go into town,” he said. “Is the road clear yet?”

Abby shook her head. “I called the state police a short while ago. The rock slide should be cleared by around three this afternoon but not before. You can still go into town, though.” She gave them alternate directions that would take them into New Jersey and to the town across the river from Hopetown. “The bridge there is open and you’ll cross back into Pennsylvania right in the heart of Hopetown. Silly as it sounds, it’s actually faster, though nowhere near as quaint or scenic. You may enjoy exploring their shops, too.”

She stepped into her office then, pleased that she’d managed to keep her eyes off Colin. She picked up a pile of the brochures she’d put together with a map showing the alternate route into Hopetown and the written directions.

Unfortunately, Colin was speaking when she stepped back into the dining room and her eyes zinged right to him as if they had no will of their own. He glanced her way at the exact moment her gaze landed on him. He stopped mid-sentence for a long beat and they stared at each other. There was something turbulent in his eyes, then he blinked and looked away, finishing his comment to Mr. Kane.

Abby gave the elderly gentleman the stack of brochures to pass along the table to anyone who wanted one. She was thankful Mr. Kane was seated the farthest from Colin and so gave her all the excuse she needed to stay far away from her newest customer. Jessie was engrossed in her breakfast, but Colin looked up and their gazes locked once more—and held longer than they should have.

“You look pretty today, Miss Abby. Just like a princess,” Jessie said, looking up from her eggs.

Abby dragged her attention off Colin, grateful for Jessie’s comment. But it also surprised Abby, upon further examination, since all her clothes were essentially the same boring style. Her trendy oldest sister, Caroline, said Abby’s long, flowing skirts and Victorian-style blouses were matronly. Caroline or anyone else could call them what they wanted but, however they looked, Abby felt safe in them. She could hide in the soft layers. She did not feel at all like a princess. She was supposed to be an ice queen so she’d never be tempted to risk her heart again.

“Yep, all she needs is a tiara,” Colin quipped silkily. There were chuckles, and speculation suddenly twinkled in the eyes of most of the other guests. Abby refused to take Colin’s remark as flirting the way they apparently had. It was more likely a taunt about her privileged upbringing.

Besides no one flirted with her. And that was the way she wanted it.

And even if for some perverse reason he had been flirting, it was Colin McCarthy—so it meant nothing. Nothing at all.

Abby forced herself to smile pleasantly. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her calm existence or cause speculation and gossip about her.

“Thank you, Jessie. If you’ll all excuse me, I have some housekeeping chores to take care of,” Abby said. Then she turned to move toward her office again, holding her head high, retreating in as dignified a manner as she could manage.

Colin’s mind reeled. She was going off to what? Make beds and dust? What had happened to the rich daddy’s girl he’d once known?

He shook his head. He shouldn’t care.

Colin looked back down at his half-eaten breakfast, too agitated to finish. All through his meal, helplessly unable to look away, he’d watched Abby as she’d chatted with her other guests. The conclusion he’d reached was that though he didn’t want to be, he was still as attracted to Abby Hopewell as he’d been years ago. And that made him feel unsettled, uncomfortable and just plain stupid.

He gave up on breakfast and hustled Jessie out to the pickup. Once he had them both belted in, he pulled the bottle of antacids out of the glove box and ate a handful, damning Abby for causing the familiar pain in his belly to blossom once again.

Then he looked back up at the Victorian he hadn’t yet seen in the light of day. It was perfect.

Every period detail was right on the money. Even the porch furniture was a trip back in time.

All of which meant Abby was probably the only woman he’d ever met who would understand his love for restoration and his obsession with historical accuracy.

At that moment Jessie squealed and bounced up and down in her seat. “Look at all the plants, Daddy. And what’s those bunch of houses over there?”

“I noticed them last night, but I don’t think they’re houses. One of the people at breakfast said something about visiting the Hopewell’s winery. And those plants are grape vines.”

“There sure are lots of them and that wine-ry is real pretty. Not as special as Abby’s Castle but it’s pretty.”

“It’s call Cliff Walk, kitten, not Abby’s Castle,” Colin told his starry-eyed daughter.

“I still think it’s her castle. She even lives in the tower just like Rapunzel. Maybe that’s her town over there, Daddy,” Jessie speculated, her mind hopping subjects again.

Colin looked back at the B and B and noticed Abby staring out a window at them—her expression frozen in sadness. “I want to find out what it’s all about,” he said, his mind occupied with questions other than Jessie’s.

“They look a little like our old house but different, too,” Jessie went on, sounding as confused as he felt.

He mentally shook himself. Their home had had Spanish influences, like so many others in Southern California. This was subtly different. In the light of day he saw it was definitely Tuscan.

“Actually I think this is Italian. It looks like a village I visited in Italy when I was in the army. That’s where Mrs. Hopewell is from.”

Jessie’s smooth brow puckered with deep thought. “There’s so many new peoples here. Who Mrs. Hopewell is, Daddy?”