Kim Watters - Home Sweet Home

“Abby?” His voice filled her ears, his warm breath tickling her lobe. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her heart wedged in her throat when she opened her eyes and turned to stare into his. The hammering in her brain intensified and swallowing became a chore.

The trill of the phone shattered the invisible thread binding them together. After scraping her chair’s legs against the linoleum floor, she lunged for the phone hanging on the wall next to the outdated refrigerator. At least this one was a little more current than the one in the office. “Hello? I mean, Bancroft Bed-and-Breakfast, Abby speaking. How may I help you?”

Abby listened to the voice on the other end. She stared at Cole, who still sat scribbling more notes on the paper, a slight frown hugging his lips. White knuckles protruded from his long, lean fingers as he squeezed the pencil. His actions contradicted his earlier words. “You’d like to book a room?”

Cole’s eyebrows rose, his brown eyes piercing her.

“Of course we do.” Turning away from the contractor, Abby found a piece of paper and wrote down all the necessary information to transfer to the ledger later. “Thanks, Mrs. Andrews. We’ll see you at the beginning of May.”

Lifting her chin, Abby twirled around and leveled her gaze on Cole again. Determination filled her. She was her mother’s daughter after all and until the end, nothing could stop Sharon Bancroft when she set her mind to something. “Great. Another reservation. I sense some conflict in you, Mr. Preston. I’m here for the long haul. I have to make this work. We have two months to pull this place together. If you don’t feel you’re up to the task, then leave. I won’t hold it against you.”

A dog barked from the neighbor’s yard, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“The name’s Cole. And I’m more than capable of the task.”

She hated pushing Cole, but she needed to know where he really stood. Her voice softened. “Fine. Then we’d better get started, hadn’t we? We can begin on the main floor and do the bedrooms as we need them. Right now I have two reservations, so that leaves four rooms we can work on later unless I book more guests.”

A knock at Abby’s front door caught their attention.

With the frown still hugging his lips, Cole set down the pen on the paper and stood. “Sounds doable. Are you expecting anyone?”

“No.” Abby pushed away from the counter, glad for the distraction as she headed for the sound. “It must be Mrs. Wendt again. She’s probably brought me something else to eat. She thinks I’m too skinny.”

Cole intercepted her, his gaze traveled slowly from the tips of her sneakers to the bandanna on her head. When his fingers tenderly brushed away a piece of dust from her hair, her breath caught in her throat and refused to move into her lungs. His appreciative glance finally settled on her face. “I think you look fine.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned and strode from the room. “I’ll get it.”

“No. I’ll get it. It’s my house.” A louder knock brought Abby out of her reverie. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

Heat flared in her cheeks as she scurried down the hall and overtook Cole in the reception hall. He hovered behind her but allowed her to struggle with the lock, until she finally managed to jiggle the dead bolt and open the front door. An elderly woman stood on the porch, her hand patting down a stray flyaway from her salon coiffed hair, a nervous smile gracing her brightly painted lips.

“Hello, Ms. Bancroft, My name is Kitty. Kitty Carlton. I used to help your grandmother with the housekeeping. I’m here to offer my services to you when you reopen.” The woman’s high-pitched words strung out in one big breath.

“Hi, Kitty. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Abby’s lips pulled back, exposing her teeth, but a smile took a long time to form. She extended her hand to shake Kitty’s limp one. The woman’s clammy grasp reminded her of the worms she used to put on the hooks when she went fishing in the pond behind one of their many apartments in L.A. She did her best not to shake off the feeling when she let go or rub her hands across her jeans. Abby motioned for Cole to join her. “Thanks for your offer. I don’t need anyone quite yet. Not until the beginning of May. Cole and I are just going over the remodeling that needs to be done before I reopen, aren’t we, Cole?”

“Cole? Cole who? I’d heard that you came alone.” Kitty’s open curiosity stung at the privacy Abby guarded carefully. The less people knew about her personal life, the less likely they were to hurt her emotionally. A lesson she should learn with Cole, yet somehow she sensed, or maybe hoped, he’d be different.

Cole stepped out of the shadows. “Hello, Mrs. Carlton.”

All the color fled from the elderly woman’s face, her voice frigid with contempt. “You have some nerve showing your face in this town, Cole Preston.”

Abby’s stomach nose-dived to her feet. Between the handshake and her reaction to Cole, the woman wasn’t making a good lasting impression on her. It was all she could do not to shut the door in Kitty’s face, yet if she did, word would get around and probably ruin her chances of fitting in. Or would siding with Cole destroy it? Indecisions clawed at her until she knew what she had to do. “Why? He’s come to do the work.”

Kitty’s piercing gaze stayed on Abby. “He’s trouble, that one. A bad seed like his dad. I wouldn’t let him inside my house or anywhere near my property.”

The woman’s remarks continued to upset Abby. No one deserved such rude treatment no matter what the circumstances. If anyone should hold a grudge, it should be Abby, and yet she couldn’t find the way to do it. He had come to do the work after all, even if he was a year late. She lifted her chin and clenched her hands together. There was no way she’d ever hire Kitty Carlton to do one lick of work inside her home without a huge attitude adjustment. “Thanks for stopping by. When Cole and I are done with the remodel, I’ll let you know if I need your services.”

“Why, after what happened and how he killed your grandparents—”

“Now, now, Kitty. You know that’s not true. Charles had a bad heart and Sally couldn’t go on without him.” Mrs. Wendt tsked as she climbed up the front steps with a plate of fresh baked cookies in her hand. The aroma of oatmeal and cinnamon drifted by Abby’s nose, carried in on a small gust of cold air. “Besides, if I remember correctly, it was his partner that took the money. Why don’t you go bother someone else with your lies and sour attitude and leave these two alone?”

Abby could have hugged her neighbor as the other woman retreated down the steps. “Goodbye then.”

“Good riddance is more like it. Maybe if she found the Lord, she’d be more forgiving and accepting. Hi, Abby. Cole. It is good to see you again. It’s time you came home.” The older woman raised her eyebrows and stepped past him. Once inside the foyer, she glanced around. “My, my, this place does need some work, doesn’t it?”

“Hi, Mrs. Wendt. Yes. Abby and I were just going through what needs to be done.” Cole wedged a hand through his hair and stepped back. His gaze met Abby’s.

“Why, that’s wonderful. That means you’ll be here for a while.” Speculation sprinkled the elderly woman’s expression. “Phillip will be tickled. You don’t happen to have a son that can shovel our walk now, do you? Or rake our leaves or mow our lawn?”

“No. I’m not married.”

“Not married? What a shame.” Mrs. Wendt winked at Abby. “You’d be a fine catch for some lucky, single, young lady. Abby, I made you some cookies and came by to retrieve my casserole dish.”