Kate Welsh - For Jessie's Sake

Well, she carried a lot of anger about Tracy’s death too—but it was directed at Colin. If Tracy had still been her friend, she would have listened to the truth about Kiel Laughlin when Abby tried to tell her. Tracy had had one huge fault—money. Feeling the lack of it, and desperately wanting it. She’d seen Abby’s mother’s life as a fairy tale come true. And she’d thought Kiel was her Prince Charming.

But Kiel was spoiled and reckless. One day while Tracy stood on the bow of his father’s boat, Kiel took his eyes off the river to take another swig of his beer. He ran them aground at high rate of speed and Tracy broke her neck when she flew off and landed in the shallow water. He’d been charged with manslaughter. There hadn’t been any witnesses on the shore, though, and the one witness against him had changed her story at the last minute. Everyone else on the boat had always claimed to have been looking the other way. With no evidence, Kiel had been found not guilty.

Tracy had been with Kiel for one reason—to capture him and his wealth. She hadn’t understood that the real treasure was a marriage like Tracy’s parents had shared. No matter the lack of material goods, the McCarthys’ marriage had been one made in heaven.

No so with the Hopewells. Abby’s mother had found wealth when she wed her husband but within months of Tracy’s death, the marriage dissolved.

It was only after ending her last attempt at a relationship that Abby had come to understand that she had to put the lessons of that painful summer to work in her own life. She would never again let a man get close to her. She was impulsive and had a passionate nature that would surely lead her to heartbreak again and again. Abby knew what a dangerous combination those could be just by looking at the mess her father had made of all their lives.

James Hopewell had gone on a tour of Europe after graduation from college. While in Tuscany he’d met Juliana and was swept away by passion for the seventeen-year-old daughter of a local vintner. He’d married her in spite of her father’s objections, then he’d brought his young wife home, where he’d found his own parents no less displeased by the union.

Years later he’d once again impulsively succumbed to his craving for passion and he’d betrayed Juliana. It was only months after Abby’s own debacle with Colin, and Tracy’s death, that her mother discovered James in the arms of another woman. Then her oldest sister’s heart had been broken when her fiancé called off their engagement because of the scandal surrounding the family.

Lesson learned.

That was why Abby had spent these past years studiously hiding behind a carefully built wall of self-discipline and self-denial. She couldn’t trust her own judgment. Not where men—and certainly not love— were concerned.

And she never would.

“…so after that,” Abby heard Colin saying, seemingly from a distance, “when you saw my sister, Tracy, you nearly always saw Abby Hopewell.”

Abby winced as memories and emotions flooded her thoughts. The pain of Tracy’s death had never really dulled as Abby had been promised it would. Much as she blamed Colin for somehow causing the rift between them, she blamed herself just as much for giving Tracy a craving for the kinds of things only money could buy.

Abby shook off the painful memories. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet my mother,” she lied, and fled down the porch steps. She’d wait for Juliana over at the winery even if she broke her neck stomping along the cracked-stone driveway in her high heels.

As she entered the town hall at exactly two minutes to seven, Abby looked around for her core group of lovable troublemakers. Sure enough, they were all there, seated down front and ready for action. Jean Anne, co-owner of the Hopetown Hotel and the Blue Moon Restaurant and Bar, turned around and waved to the seat they’d saved her. Jerry, Jean Anne’s husband, wasn’t there—probably the one home minding the kids and the hotel. As Abby strode down the center aisle, Harry Clark, owner of a local biker boutique, stood and turned toward her. Deep frown lines wrinkled his forehead. Harry looked like the kind of man you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley—or even mess with in broad daylight—but he was a pussycat.

“What’s up?” she asked, seeing that even Muriel Haversham seemed disturbed.

Muriel was the owner of Seek and Find, one of the many antique stores that dotted the town. She was usually unflappable and sunny. She didn’t look a bit sunny tonight. “Harley’s changed the agenda—tabled the federal grant discussion.”

Abby frowned. “What could be more important than getting federal help to solve the town’s flooding problem? Is he waiting for a fourth flood? Three in the last eighteen months isn’t enough?”

Harry waved the agenda. She stooped down and picked a copy off the chair she was apparently meant to occupy. “It just says development.”

“I don’t like the mystery,” Harry grumbled. “He’s probably trying to use tonight as a platform for his reelection. He’ll probably start trying to blame the Hopewell complex for the flooding again.”

“Don’t worry,” she promised. “I’m not about to let Harley Bryant get away with any posturing or diversionary tactics. When they did the perk test to check for our drainage it proved nothing runs off that plateau.”

“We have confidence in you, kid,” Albert Canter said in his gruff voice. Al was a blacksmith and seventy-five if he was a day. For any tourist who asked, he demonstrated his craft as gleefully as he displayed and sold his handcrafted iron work. Al just loved the town he’d retired to. He still considered himself retired even though he probably worked sixty-hour weeks during tourist season. Which had pretty much become year-round for the town.

After she took her seat, a steady stream of interested citizens entered the hall. Abby wished some of the other business owners would stand up to Harley, but she’d come to understand that going against him was uncomfortable for them. Some had spouses or children who worked for Harley at Bryant Savings and Loan. Others were friendly with Shirley Bryant—the shy, lovely woman he’d won over to the shock of nearly everyone in town. Still others had known his parents. Hopetown remained a small town, despite the large tourist trade.

Before long, Harley sauntered toward the podium and tapped on the microphone. “Can I have your attention?”

Just then the doors at the back of the hall opened and drew all eyes, Abby’s included. Colin McCarthy walked boldly up to the front row on the left side of the small hall. He turned toward Abby and grinned before sitting down. He certainly seemed to be jumping into life in Hopetown quickly, she thought cynically.

Abby straightened her shoulders, refusing to let him see that his mere presence set her on edge. Then Harley began speaking. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I tabled the grant discussion tonight. First off, we have six months after our little water problem along Main to deal with that application. Second, I don’t have figures from everyone, so if that includes you, get them to my office. And third, I have something more exciting to talk about tonight. I’d like to introduce my old friend, Colin McCarthy. Colin, come on up and get reacquainted with everyone.”

Colin stood and loped confidently up to the podium as Bryant continued, “Colin has returned to Hopetown as quite a success story. An award-winning architect and successful builder on the Left Coast, he’s come back here to live and to make Hopetown part of his next venture. I’m asking the zoning board for rezoning and an acreage variance on the land Colin owns so we can expedite matters and get the ball moving on his project. This will be a real shot in the arm for the town’s coffers. Colin, suppose you give us a brief explanation of your plans.”