A Small-Town Reunion (7 page)

“It’s a new office building for Keene Concrete.” Tess turned the model to show a side view. “It’s time that business moved out of its rusting office trailer and started looking like it’s going to stick around awhile.”

Charlie frowned and poked at one of the roof peaks. “Did Jack put you up to this?”

“No.” Tess flicked away a stray bit of paper stuck to one corner of the board. “Maudie mentioned she wouldn’t mind a bigger office, and when—”

“And when my mom just happened to mention she wanted more space, you thought you’d take the opportunity to drum up some business for yourself.”

“No harm in planning ahead.” Tess shrugged. “And no foul if you don’t like this first plan—although I do hope you like the general look, since I think it’s a good one. If you like it enough, we can discuss an interior layout. And the materials,” she added, warming to her subject. “I’d love to work with as much rock as
possible, although I think we should use local redwood, too.”

“Our customers are going to think we’re charging them too much.” Charlie folded her arms on Tess’s desk and rested her chin on her hands, examining the front more closely. “But it sure is nice.”

“Of course it’s nice,” Tess said. “It’s perfect. And extremely attractive, considering the site is essentially light industrial.” She pointed to the row of angled corner windows. “This is the section that will overlook the river. You’ll notice every office space has a two-directional view. And here,” she added, turning the model again, “are the main entry and the windows facing the plant.”

“Has Jack seen this yet?” Charlie asked.

“No.”

“Good. Do me a favor and don’t show him until after the wedding.” Charlie stood and made her way to the office door, sparing Dev a slit-eyed look as she passed by. “I don’t want him nagging me about this on our honeymoon.”

“She loves it.” Tess’s face lit up with a brilliant smile after Charlie had slammed the door behind her. “I knew she would.”

“How can you tell?”

“She didn’t have any complaints, did she?” Tess cleared a spot on one of her display cubes and carried the model to its new home. “And she said it was nice.”

Dev stepped beside her, leaning down to study her handiwork. “This isn’t nice. This is amazing. It’s all amazing.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Every once in a while I drive by that little shopping center you did—the one in Palo Alto. It still looks as beautiful as the day it was finished.”

“Thanks.” Tess stroked a hand down his arm. “A girl can never have enough admirers in her life.”

“You’ve picked up a couple since I saw you last.”

“Speaking of picking up,” she said, checking her watch, “I’ve got to collect Rosie from day camp in about twenty minutes.”

Dev shook his head. “Never pictured you as the instant family type.”

“Never pictured it myself.” Tess brushed her short bangs from her eyes. “Life—and love—doesn’t always turn out the way we planned it.”

“I can’t picture Charlie and Jack Maguire together, either.”

“They may seem like opposites on the surface, but they’ve actually got a lot in common, besides the business experience. And if you saw them together, you’d see how much they love each other. It’s beautiful.” Tess stepped back to admire her creation. “As beautiful as the new Keene Concrete office is going to be.”

Dev stared at the model on a neighboring display cube. “Guess I’ll get a chance to see them together at Geneva’s Fourth of July party.”

“Are you staying for that?”

“I’m staying for the summer.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and wandered across Tess’s office to look at the plans she’d framed and hung on one of the brick walls. “You knew that. I remember telling you, the first night I arrived.”

“Yes, but—” Tess laced her fingers together at her waist. “You never stay as long as you say you’re going to.”

No, he’d never been able to tolerate Geneva’s stern
looks or her dictatorial manner for more than a few days at a time. He’d suffered enough of her standards and rules during the years she’d been his surrogate mother; now that he was an adult with his own preferences and habits, he found it easier to slip away than to challenge her in her own home. “I don’t have your patience,” he told Tess.

“With Mémère, you mean.” Tess sank into her desk chair and leaned back, crossing her long legs. “I wonder sometimes if I’m becoming too much like her.”

“There’s a lot to admire there.”

“And a lot to fear.”

He settled into the visitor’s chair, stretching his legs over Tess’s glossy wood floor and crossing his ankles. “You’ll have a happier life than grandmother did,” he said, thinking of the tragedies that had plagued the Chandler clan—their grandfather’s alcoholism and early death, his father’s divorce and accident. Tess, too, had lost her father at an early age, and her mother—Geneva’s daughter—had inherited a weakness for drink. “Maybe that happiness will make a difference,” Dev said. “Mellow you out.”

“Like you, you mean?”

“Me?”

“Mr. Mellow.” Tess nudged one of her sandals loose and dangled it over her brightly polished toes. “I’m surprised people don’t check for a pulse when you stop moving. Look at you now, all nestled into that chair and ready for a nap.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “I didn’t have any plans for the rest of the afternoon. Except for getting some writing done.”

“So why are you here?” She rustled some papers
and closed a drawer with a quiet thunk. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed your company. And your compliments. But you’re not going to get any writing done here.”

“Maybe I’m looking for inspiration.”

“And maybe you thought you’d find it around the corner.”

Cove Street. Addie’s place. His cousin always had been able to read him like a book. “I haven’t been there yet.”

“But you’re thinking of going.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“And you came here looking for my blessing.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her. “Do I need it?”

She’d slipped her sandal back on and tucked both feet beneath her desk. She regarded him like a prim schoolmarm, her hands folded on her neatened work space. “I don’t like being caught in the middle, Dev.”

He straightened and brought his elbows down on his knees, leaning forward. “What makes you think you are?”

“Don’t be dense. I’m caught between you and Charlie, who’s convinced you’re the reason Addie broke up with Mick—who happens to be one of the nicest men she’s ever met.”

“Wait a min—”

“And between you and Addie,” Tess continued, “who always tries so hard to keep the peace and always seems to end up getting trampled and left with nothing. And between you and Quinn, who happens to like you a lot but is worried about your intentions toward Addie, whom he absolutely adores, as do we all.”

Tess sighed and shoved a hand through her hair.
“And I’ll probably end up getting stuck between you and Rosie, since she’s showing all the signs of developing a minor crush on you. And since I’d planned on asking you to help me out with supervising her this summer—if you actually stick around, that is. You name it, I’m stuck, right in the middle. And I don’t like it.” She slashed a hand through the air. “Not one bit.”

“Wait a minute.” Dev stood to pace a tight circle. He’d missed most of Tess’s rant after that first blast:
Addie broke up with Mick
. The words had rammed through him like the iron ball on a wrecking crane.

“First,” he said, “this so-called problem with Charlie is a nonstarter. She and I have never gotten along. And that has nothing to do with you.”

“But everything to do with Addie.” Tess relaxed against her desk. “Have you ever wondered why Charlie’s always been so hard on you?”

“I figured it was a personality clash. Although I like her just fine.” He gave Tess a quick grin. “Just don’t tell her that.”

Tess shook her head. “She’s never liked the way you treat Addie.”

“I was rotten to her—to them both, when we were kids, I know that. Teased them every chance I got. But that was a long time ago.”

“And I always stuck up for you.”

“You did?”

“Yep. Stuck in the middle, even back then.”

Tess glanced at her watch and rose from her seat. “You’re my cousin. I don’t exactly have a large supply of relatives. And you’re one that I actually like.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“Dev.” She sighed again and moved to stand before
him. “There’s a great deal to like about you. There always has been. I just wish you’d grow up and decide to like yourself, too.”

He gazed over the top of her head and squinted at the wall, working his jaw to try to get the next words out. “I always thought you could see right through me. It would be nice to discover I’ve been right about that all these years.”

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ll understand that what I’m about to say is going to hurt us both. A lot.”

She lowered her hand and looked him straight in the eye. “I think you should stay away from Addie this summer. In spite of the fact that I think you’d make a very special couple if you’d—no,” Tess said, frowning. “Now I’m arguing with myself, and there’s not much middle ground there.”

She stalked away, whirled back. “The thing is, I don’t want to see Addie get trampled—again—when you leave. Even if you didn’t mean to do it, you’d end up hurting her. And then I’d have to hurt you.”

A
DDIE STOOD ON THE
expansive back terrace at Chandler House on a beautiful Fourth of July afternoon, sipping Julia’s perfectly sweetened lemonade. She concentrated on the tickle of cool ocean breeze, the extravagant perfume of Geneva’s roses and the peaks of the white tent pitched over the lawn. The murmuring voices of the guests spoke of everything and anything but the darkly handsome man prowling the edges of the crowd at the bar.

She noticed the expensively dressed women who occasionally stopped his restless pacing to engage him in conversation. Old friends, old connections. Comfortable old habits in his comfortable old world.

“Don’t you think?” Tess nudged Addie’s arm.

“Hmm?”

“See?” Charlie made a beeline for one of the stone benches set along the balustrade. “Addie’s getting tired of all this wedding talk, too.”

“But this is the perfect chance to see how to arrange things for the wedding reception.” Tess pointed at the scene below. “I’m not sure I’d put the tent in the middle of the lawn. Making a space for a dance floor under the stars would be better, don’t you think?”

“Who said anything about dancing?” Charlie sighed. “This whole thing is getting out of control.”

Tess crossed her arms. “Only because you’re not keeping up with developments.”

“Maybe she should have more of a say in her own wedding.” Addie squeezed in beside Charlie on the bench and dropped an arm over her shoulder. “Do you want to have dancing at your reception?”

“I don’t know.”

Addie sent Tess a brief warning look, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut. “Does Jack?”

“Probably.”

“Wouldn’t you like to dance with him on your wedding day?”

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe. Probably.”

“Knowing Jack, I bet he’d love it.” Addie smiled at both her friends. “And I think Tess’s idea of dancing under the stars is romantic. And fun. Your guests would love it, too.”

“I’m sorry.” Tess leaned against the balustrade, beside Charlie. “I’m getting plans for your wedding mixed up with ideas for my own.”

“Maybe you should consult more with Tess,” Addie suggested. “You wouldn’t want her to hog all the best ideas for herself.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes at Addie. “You know, you may think you’ve got everyone fooled with your image as this sweet little do-gooder, but I can see through your act.”

Addie donned her most useful wide-eyed, innocent expression. “I don’t think I’m fooling people.”

Tess frowned at something in the scene below and took a sip of her soft drink. “When are you and Maudie
going to the city to pick up your gown?” she asked Charlie.

“Wednesday. In the middle of the week, in the middle of the busiest season of the year, for cryin’ out loud. How much sense does that make?”

“Considering that you may have to find someone to make some last-minute alterations,” Tess said, “it makes a lot of sense to get the dress as soon as possible.”

“I can hardly wait to see it.” Addie stood and stole a glance at the bar. “You are going to give us a sneak preview, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” Tess pulled Charlie to her feet. “Let’s go inside and scout through the parlor and dining room. I want to make sure we have enough seating for the shower.”

T
HE SIZE OF THE CROWD
and the activities of the Fourth of July garden party should have been enough to keep Dev’s radar from zeroing in on Addie, but it wasn’t. He knew she’d watched the kids’ sack races and sampled one of Julia’s teriyaki chicken skewers. He noticed her chatting with Quinn and fussing over Toni Hulstrom’s new baby. He was aware of the moment she’d left the terrace and disappeared into the house with Tess and Charlie.

He wondered what they were up to and how long they’d be up to it.

He’d managed to stay away from her for five days, but with every passing hour, his need to see her—to talk with her—increased. She was a part of this place, a part of his life here. And he missed her.

At one point he’d decided to wander past her and exchange a quick, casual greeting. If he didn’t find a chance to talk to her before she left, she might assume he was avoiding her—and wouldn’t that hurt her feelings? But one warning glance from Tess had sent him in another direction.

He stood near the horseshoes pit, pretending to watch the match underway and to listen to Karl Bern’s theories on fish bait. Dev wondered if anything short of leaving Carnelian Cove would end his growing obsession with Addie, and that fact was ticking him off. He didn’t want to leave, not until he’d made more progress with his writing. Not until he’d figured out where his story was headed. Or where his research might lead him.

He didn’t want a lot of things, he told himself as Courtney Whitfield waved and sauntered his way, but they kept getting shoved in his face.

“Dev, you scoundrel.” Courtney leaned in and angled her cheek against his in one of those near-miss kisses that set his teeth on edge. Her breath smelled of the margarita in her hand and her breasts pressed against his arm like pillows. “How nice it is to see you again after all these years.”

“Is it?”

Courtney’s features sharpened as she laughed off his comment. “It certainly is. Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“I haven’t been hiding. You found me.”

“So I did.” She lifted her glass to her lips and delicately licked the salt encrusting the rim. “What have you been up to?”

“This and that.”

“Ah. A man of mystery.” Her smile widened, and she sipped her drink. “I love a good mystery, myself.”

He gazed over the top of her head, scanning the crowd for Addie.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ve been up to?” Courtney moved to his side, facing the horseshoes game. Moved closer. “You might be surprised by the answer.”

Dev ordered himself to be polite. For five minutes, anyway. “Surprise me, then.”

“I’m divorced.”

No surprise there.

“Four years, now. And I’m working in a dress shop—Lulu’s, on Second Street.” She paused for another sip. “Part-time, for now. I’m hoping to learn enough about the business to open my own.”

He spared her a noncommital grunt and waited for the next bit of information.

“I never thought I’d run my own business,” she said, turning to face him. “Did you?”

“I don’t run a business.”

She tilted her head to the side with one of her charming social laughs, the kind of perfectly pitched trill that sent chills up his spine. “Honestly, Dev, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were going out of your way to tease me.”

“Then it’s a good thing you know me as well as you do.” He caught a glimpse of Tess—and the daggers she was aiming his way—and wondered whether being polite was worth the trouble.

Where was Addie?

“We go way back, don’t we, Dev?” Courtney raised an impossibly tanned hand flashing with polish and
jewels to rearrange her lush black hair over her eyes. And then she let her hand fall, brushing her fingertips over his forearm in a touch that was casual, brief and loaded with meaning. “Further back than either of us would like to admit.”

“I don’t mind admitting how much distance I’ve put between myself and certain things.”

Once again, annoyance flashed across her features before she regained her composure and poked out her lower lip in a pretty pout. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to be in a hurry to leave us again. Jack Maguire said you’d be sticking around until the end of summer.”

“That’s right. Until after the wedding, anyway.”

“I can’t believe Charlie Keene is getting married. And to a man like Jack.”

“Why not?”

“Well, she’s…” Courtney’s pout took on a nasty edge. “It’s a surprise, that’s all. She never seemed the marrying type.”

“Jack’s lucky she waited for him.”

“Oh, yes,” Courtney said, dripping with generosity. “I’m sure they’ll both be very happy.”

Courtney flexed one of her ankles, swiveling her foot on the heel of her silvery sandal and passing her polished toes over the tip of his shoe. “Are you going to the anniversary dance at the club?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.” There was Addie—over by the barbecue, chatting with Ben Chandler and Maudie Keene. And sparing him the occasional glance with one of her shuttered I’m-ticked-but-I-don’t-want-to-show-it expressions.

“You should.” Courtney leaned in, whisper close,
keeping things confidential. Intimate. “I’m on the events committee this year, and I can assure you it’s going to be a fabulous evening.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re still a member, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea.” Still watching Addie, Dev caught the flicker of misery in her eyes as she stole a glance at Courtney. Addie waved goodbye to Ben and Maudie and headed up the hill, toward the house.

The hell with avoiding Addie, thought Dev. The hell with them all—Tess, and Charlie, and Geneva and Lena and everyone. The hell with his conscience, too.

“Well, if you’ve let your membership lapse,” Courtney said, “I could—”

“Thanks. Here.” Dev pulled her glass from her hands. “Let me get you another one of these.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” She slipped her hand through his arm as he led the way across the lawn and toward the bar. “You’ve always been a perfect gentleman.”

But Courtney’s sticky lie about his manners wasn’t a strong enough adhesive to keep him by her side. While she gave her order to the bartender, Dev made his escape.

A
FTER A QUICK TRIP
to the powder room to lock herself away from the crowd for a few minutes and splash some water on her face, Addie wandered through Chandler House. She paused in the doorway of the morning room, where Tess had dragged Charlie for one more consultation on wedding-shower décor. Addie leaned a shoulder against the jamb, trying to picture Charlie enjoying her party. Instead, she remembered
Courtney Whitfield stroking her blood-red nails down Dev’s sleeve.

Addie checked her watch. Hours remained until the fireworks would start, but she doubted she’d stay for the celebration. Coming here had been a mistake; leaving early would fix it.

She decided on a detour to the entry hall to study the two undamaged windows. And as she climbed the stairs, the end-of-day sunlight seemed to make the wavy glass shimmer and her troubles ease.

Cool marble steps, warm wood tones, plush carpet, hushed echoes—she’d once loved pulling the feel of Chandler House around her like an elegant ball gown. Now she paused on the landing to brush a fingertip along smooth veins of lead. Topaz and emerald, sapphire and ruby—her private collection of precious gems. She’d need all her skill to make the repairs to the missing windows, to make the new pieces seem as though they’d always been part of the picture.

A part of the picture. Seeing Courtney Whitfield flirting with Dev had reminded Addie she’d never have a real place in his world.

She stared at her hand as she drew it from the window—short, naked nails and a bandage wrapped around yesterday’s nick. She glanced at her thin cotton blouse, plain linen pants and simple sandals—inexpensive basics from a local discount store. She ran her fingers through her serviceable ponytail and tried to remember the last time she’d had the ends trimmed.

No wonder Dev hadn’t been back to her shop in a week.

With a sigh, she turned to leave. And found Dev slouched against the wall at the foot of the stairs, one
long leg stretched over the bottom tread, barring her path.

She hesitated, squeezing the handrail, and then continued to descend. Surely good manners would force him to shift out of her way. But as she neared the spot where he sat, motionless, she remembered Dev had never been one to let manners dictate his behavior.

“Are you going to let me pass?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

She was tempted to wait him out, but after a few seconds she grew impatient. “What do you want?”

“Now there’s a dangerous question.” He looked up at her, and his bland expression gave no clue to his intentions or emotions as he patted the tread beside him. “Have a seat, and I’ll think of a decent answer.”

A few minutes ago, the silence in the house had felt welcoming and secure. Now it seemed to close in on her like a trap. “I should go back outside.”

“Is someone waiting for you out there?”

She recognized the faint trace of pain beneath the sarcastic challenge of his tone. It reminded her of a lonely boy left to entertain himself. A sensitive boy trapped at the center of family battles. Rather than answer, she slowly lowered herself to a tread above him. “There’s more comfortable seating in other rooms.”

“I’m sure there are hundreds of comfortable chairs in dozens of rooms.” He bent the leg that had blocked her way, resting his hand over his raised knee. “But this is more private.”

“Do we need privacy?”

He didn’t answer, and after some time had passed, she realized he’d chosen to ignore her question.
Uneasy with his brooding silence, she searched for a way to fill it. “What would you like to discuss?”

“I’m not in the mood for a discussion. Or an interview.” His lips thinned in a scowl. “I just wanted to talk with you. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has. Nearly a week. But I suppose you’ve been busy.” She regretted her words as soon as they’d escaped. Hadn’t she just been thinking he had no good reason to seek out her company? “Sorry.”

“That always was a bad habit of yours. Apologizing,” he added when she gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m only being polite,” she said primly.

“Spreading a layer of snotty attitude over things isn’t an improvement on the automatic-apology routine, but I think I like it better.”

“And comments like that would explain why it’s been a while since our last conversation.” She reached for the handrail, intending to pull herself up and step right over him.

“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist. They both froze. And then his fingers tightened and his thumb brushed across the sensitive spot inside her wrist in what might have been a tentative caress before he released her.

Had it been a caress?

“We don’t need to go through the motions with the small talk,” he said. “Do we?”