*
* *
Mick wandered into his den and found Abby behind his desk,
her laptop set up, her cell phone at her ear and CNBC with its stock market
ticker running silently on the big-screen TV across the room. It was a side of
her he'd never seen in action. To him, she was still his firstborn, the little
girl who'd run to welcome him home every single night dragging a battered
Raggedy Ann doll that Gram had made for her.
"Yes, yes. Got it," she murmured, while tapping at the computer keys.
"No problem, Jack, I'll handle it right away. I agree we're overloaded
with financials. Let me take a look at which ones we should dump and I'll find
a few recommendations in the tech sector for you to consider. I'll get back to
you within the hour."
When she'd disconnected the call, Mick grinned at her. "I should have
guessed way back when you were eight and insisted on buying a Certificate of
Deposit, instead of opening a savings account, that you'd grow up to become
some sort of financial tycoon."
"I'm hardly a tycoon," she protested, but she was smiling as she said
it, clearly at least a little pleased by his assessment.
"How much money were you talking about just now?" Mick persisted.
"Half a million, give or take, if we do this trade, but it's not my money.
When it comes to my own bank balance, I'm not in the tycoon category."
"But you do okay for yourself, that's obvious."
"I suppose I do. What matters to me is that I love it. There's a huge amount
of pressure knowing that I'm dealing with other people's money, their life
savings, their retirement accounts, but on a good day, it feels great to know
that I'm actually helping some people amass a personal fortune." She
shrugged ruefully. "Of course, on a bad day, let's just say I should buy
stock in antacids."
"You've been at it a while now, so you're obviously good at it."
"My bosses seem to think so," she said modestly.
Mick studied her thoughtfully. "I have some investments that aren't
performing so well. Want to take over?"
"I don't think so," she said at once.
He frowned at the quick response. "Why not?"
"Because the first time anything took a dip, you'd blame me. I think it's
better if we keep
your
money out of our relationship."
"But what's the good of having an investment guru in the family if you
can't turn your money over to her?"
She seemed startled, but once again his comment appeared to have struck a
positive chord with her. "You'd really trust me with your
investments?"
Mick was surprised by the hint of vulnerability he heard in her voice. Had he
been so lousy at communicating that even his confident Abby didn't realize how
proud he was of her?
"Of course I trust you," he said emphatically.
Still, she hesitated, still looking vaguely uneasy. "How about this? Why
don't you leave your statements with me. I'll take a look and then we can
discuss some ideas, but you'll make the final decisions."
"If I'm going to be paying for your advice, then I ought to take it,
right? I don't need to sign off on every transaction."
"I'd rather you would," she countered. "At least at first. Then
we'll see how it goes."
"Okay," he said. "That'll work. I'll dig out the most recent
statements this afternoon, and we can go over them before I take off."
She regarded him with obvious dismay. "You're leaving?"
"I've already stayed longer than I'd planned to," he said, unable to
keep a defensive note out of his voice. "I need to be back in San
Francisco for a meeting tomorrow afternoon."
"Does Jess know?"
So that was it, he thought. She was worried about her sister's reaction, rather
than being disappointed for herself. Had she always put other people's needs
and feelings ahead of her own? Or was that something she'd taken on after Megan
left? Granted, she'd been seventeen when her mother moved out, almost an adult,
but she shouldn't have had to take on adult responsibilities for all her
siblings. Mick suddenly felt incredibly guilty for his own role in costing her
the last carefree days of high school.
Rather than getting into that, though, he merely responded to her question.
"I haven't mentioned it to Jess yet. Why? She'll probably be glad to have
me out of her hair."
Abby shook her head. "You are so clueless about her, Dad. Haven't you seen
how pleased she's been to have you hanging around over at the inn?"
"The only thing she's let me do was to trim that rhododendron."
"That's the point. It was just about getting to spend time with you. Jess
doesn't need you doing anything or telling her what to do. When was the last
time the two of you just hung out together?"
Mick thought about that. "Never," he said, vaguely embarrassed by the
admission.
"I rest my case," Abby said. "You used to go fishing with Connor
and Kevin. Bree always liked to help when you were landscaping the new houses.
And when I was little, you used to ride me around on your shoulders while you
supervised the construction sites. I even had my own little hard hat, remember?
Mom found it somewhere. It was bright pink, which looked awful with my red
hair, but I loved it."
Mick smiled at the memory. "I'd forgotten all about that. You were treated
like quite the little princess. Half the crew carried around candy for
you."
She laughed. "Why did you think I begged to go?"
"So in your own diplomatic way, you're telling me that Jess got
shortchanged because I was gone so much."
"That's exactly what I'm telling you. And I know Gram's told you the same
thing, so don't act as if it's a surprise. Having you here these past couple of
days has meant so much to Jess. Just the fact that you came all the way from
California because there was a crisis really proved something to her. It showed
her you do care."
"Well, of course I care. I'd do the same for any of you," Mick said.
"I think the rest of us have probably always known that. Jess
hasn't."
He bit back a sigh at just how complicated it was figuring out what to do with
kids once they were grown, especially daughters, who seemed to be more
sensitive to every nuance. His relationships with Kevin and Connor certainly
weren't this complicated.
"She's not going to think I've abandoned her again because I have to go
back, is she?" he asked worriedly.
"Why don't you ask her that?" Abby suggested. "Just talk to her,
okay? Will you do that?"
Mick stood up. "On my way," he said, then glanced back. "You and
me, we're okay?"
"Sure," she said.
Mick thought her smile looked a little forced, but he chose to take her at her
word. Dealing with Jess was tricky enough. He'd have to work harder to figure
things out with Abby the next time he saw her. He'd thought the whole
investment thing he'd suggested earlier would create a bond, but the truth was
until they sat down and talked about where her mother fit into both their
lives, things between them would never be easy.
*
* *
After her visit with her father and dealing with the
portfolio realignment with her boss, Abby needed to get out of the house for a
while. She craved fresh air and a change of scenery.
"Gram, do you mind if I run into town for a bit? The girls are down for
their naps."
"Not for long, I imagine," Gram said. "But we'll be fine. I'm
teaching them to play checkers. They're beating the socks off me already."
"Remember, they're not to have any snacks except juice. No cookies."
Gram gave her an innocent look. "Are you telling me how to feed a sick
child? Didn't I do okay with you and your brothers and sisters? Every one of
you made it to adulthood."
Abby laughed. "Okay, there will be cookies but I'll pretend not to
notice." She gathered up her purse and keys. "I'll be back in an
hour."
"Take your time," Gram said. "Shop a little, why don't you?
Bring the girls back a surprise. They deserve it. They've been awfully
good."
"I'll do that," Abby said.
In town she found a parking spot on Main Street right in front of Ethel's
Emporium. The awning-shaded window was filled with a colorful display of beach
towels, sand pails, beach balls and Chesapeake Shores T-shirts and swimsuits
worn by exceptionally well-endowed mannequins.
Though she'd intended to go to Sally's to have a late lunch, maybe even a slice
of old-fashioned apple pie if Sally had any, she decided to take Gram's advice
and look for trinkets for the girls. They would probably love a couple of beach
toys or maybe a souvenir T-shirt.
She was just stepping out of the car when Trace rounded the corner from behind
the building. Dressed in a suit and tie, his hair gleaming, he would have fit
right in among the men she worked with every day on Wall Street. There wasn't
so much as a hint of the rebel he'd once been or the one she still glimpsed in
the occasional twinkle in his eyes. In some ways that saddened her, but she had
no idea why. Trace's choices and his future had nothing to do with her.
She gave him a halfhearted wave, which she hoped would discourage him from
stopping to chat, but of course he headed her way.
"I'm surprised to see you here in town at this time of day," he said,
falling into step beside her as she walked straight toward Ethel's.
"Why is that?" she asked.
"I figured you'd be at the inn."
"Doing what?"
"Managing things."
She turned to face him down. They needed to get a few things straight and now
was as good a time as any. "Look, you may have been able to manipulate
things to keep me in Chesapeake Shores for the time being, but you don't get to
control how I spend my time. Even the lowliest peon gets a lunch break. For
instance, you're out here on the street, instead of sitting behind your desk in
the middle of a workday. Should I report you to your father?"
His lips twitched. "Okay, point taken. How are the girls?"
"Feeling better," she said. "I'm going to see if Ethel has any
little treats I can take home to surprise them."
"I'll come with you," he said at once. "Then maybe I can talk
you into having lunch with me."
She frowned at him. "Why?"
"Why what? I'll shop with you because it sounds like fun. I'd like to have
lunch with you for the same reason."
Abby didn't entirely trust his motives on either count, but it seemed
pointlessly rude to tell him to disappear. And she could hardly tell him that
spending time with him made her nervous. Heck, she didn't even want to admit
that to herself. She'd spent a lot of years making certain she never left
herself vulnerable. Whatever insecurities she'd felt had been buried deep so
she could cope, first with being there for her siblings after Megan had gone,
and later with her professional life and her kids after her marriage had fallen
apart.
"Suit yourself," she said finally, stepping inside the Emporium and
immediately being carried back to childhood when the sight of all those gaudy
tourist trinkets had enchanted her. So had the display case of old-fashioned
colorful penny candy, the same kind that members of her father's construction
crews had kept on hand for her. The price was higher now, but the assortment
was still tempting, if only for nostalgia's sake.
Trace grinned at her and headed straight for the candy. "Jawbreakers or
red hots?" he asked.
"Cherry Twizzlers," she countered without hesitation.
"Hey, Ethel," Trace called out. "How about an assortment of
candy?"
Ethel came across the store, beaming at him. "Trace Riley, I've been
wondering when you were going to come in here," she said, barely sparing a
glance for Abby. "I hear you're moving in upstairs."
Ignoring Ethel's cool, though not unexpected, reaction to her, Abby turned to
Trace with surprise. "Really? You've rented your own place? I thought you
were going to stay with your folks." She wasn't sure why that disconcerted
her, but it did. Had something changed? Was he more committed to staying right
here in Chesapeake Shores than he'd led her to believe? And why did that even
matter?
His gaze locked with hers. "I thought there might come a time when I'd
want some privacy," he said meaningfully.
Abby's pulse promptly skipped a beat or two, so she turned away, but not before
she caught the satisfied grin on his face. "Pig," she muttered under
her breath.
Trace laughed. "I heard that."
"So did I," Ethel said, chuckling. "You two always were fussing
with each other." Her attitude toward Abby warming slightly, she added,
"I suppose if Trace is around, that means I'll be seeing a lot of you, as
well, Abby."
Abby realized then what a mistake she'd made by coming in here with Trace and
what a mistake it would be to be seen having lunch with him at Sally's. There
was little that the year-round residents of Chesapeake Shores liked more than
local gossip. And a couple of old flames being seen around town together would
give them plenty to talk about.
"I doubt you'll see much of me," she told Ethel. "I'm helping
Jess get the inn ready to open. After that, I'll be going back to New
York," she added, giving Trace a defiant look that dared him to contradict
her.
Ethel looked as if she wanted to pursue Abby's statement, but Trace pointed to
the candy in the display case. "We'll take three bags. Make sure you add a
variety to each one."
"Three bags?" Abby asked.
"You have to take one apiece home to the twins. I'll bet they don't get
candy like this in New York."
"They don't, which is probably why they haven't had any cavities
yet," Abby said.
Trace shrugged off the comment. "They'll just brush their teeth longer
tonight. And if you don't agree to take the candy home to them, I'll bring it
by myself later."
Abby could see she wasn't going to win. "Whatever," she mumbled and
went to look at the selection of T-shirts. She found two adorable ones—in
turquoise for Caitlyn, lime-green for Carrie—and took them up to the counter.
"Bet they'll like my treat best," Trace murmured in her ear just as
Ethel handed her the bag with the T-shirts inside.
She was so startled by his unexpected closeness and the provocative whisper of
his breath across her skin, she dropped her package. To her annoyance, he
grinned knowingly as he picked it up and handed it back to her.
"Is everything a game to you?" she grumbled as she headed out the
door.
"Not until lately. You must bring out my competitive spirit."
"Well, get over it," she said. "And I am not having lunch with
you."
"Why not? Does the prospect of sharing a booth at Sally's with me scare
you that badly?"
"Of course it doesn't scare me," she said indignantly, tossing her
package and the bags of candy he insisted on handing her into the car.
"Then come with me," he coaxed. "We haven't really had a chance
to catch up, Abby. We'll have a couple of burgers. You'll steal some fries from
my plate, and then we can share a slice of Sally's apple pie the way we used
to."
It struck Abby as a very bad idea to do anything the way they used to do it.
That had only led to trouble and heartache. Still, she couldn't seem to make
herself turn down the invitation that he'd deliberately turned into a
challenge.
"Okay, fine," she said eventually, slamming the car door, then
marching right past him.
When they reached the entrance to the café, she stopped and looked directly
into his eyes. "When we get inside, you are not to hint in any way that we
are together. If Sally asks, we're discussing business, nothing else. This is
not personal. It is not a date."
"That's going to make it hard to catch up," he suggested.
"Those are my terms."
He regarded her with a determinedly serious expression that was belied by the
amusement in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said. "Anything you
say."
"I'm not kidding," she warned.
"I get that."
"I don't want half the town whispering behind my back about the two of
us."
"Then we probably ought to sit in separate booths," he said, then
paused thoughtfully. "Then again, that would stir up its own kind of
gossip, wouldn't it? It's so hard to know what to do in a situation like
this."
The mocking note in his voice was exasperating, but she let it pass.
"Believe me, I'm willing to go the separate booth route to find out,"
she said.
"Well, I'm not. Besides, you don't want me thinking you're a coward, do
you?" He feigned a dismayed expression. "Oh, whoops, I already know
that about you, don't I?"
Abby had never once in her entire life had a greater desire to haul off and
kick someone soundly in the shins than she had right this second. "Have
you forgotten that pitcher of water already?"
"Fortunately for my suit, Sally only serves water by the glassful,"
he commented as he opened the door and stood aside to let her enter. His solemn
gaze met hers. "Truce, okay? Just for the next hour."
Abby looked into those once-familiar eyes and felt herself drowning. Suddenly a
hundred different memories swirled in her head, all of them enticing. She
swallowed hard and looked away. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all. She
ought to be running for her life.
Instead, though, she lifted her gaze, met Trace's and managed to keep her voice
steady as she replied, "Truce."
It was an hour, after all. How hard could it be? Amazingly, though, right now
it promised to feel like an eternity.