“Not very good at minding my own business, either.” He walked to the door and then glanced back at her, hand on the knob. “I’ll be around, Rachel. I promise.”
The door closed behind him, leaving her wondering why that promise should sound remarkably like a threat.
* * *
COLIN HADN’T EVEN reached the steps of the wraparound porch when the truth reared its head. He’d messed up badly, antagonizing Rachel instead of gaining her cooperation. The mixture of guilt and something he hesitated to call attraction had played havoc with his self-control.
Not that Rachel had controlled her temper very well, either. She’d come a long way, it seemed, from the shy, innocent little Amish girl she’d been. Her heart-shaped face and sky-blue eyes still had a slight hint of vulnerability, though, and even with her blond hair pulled back, no makeup and wearing a baggy shirt, he’d felt...well, something.
But this Rachel had given back as good as she’d gotten, with a quick flare of antagonism at what she undoubtedly saw as his interference. Small wonder. Marriage to Ronnie Mason would try the patience of a saint.
Colin went slowly down the steps to the walk, the carved wooden railing wobbling under his touch. If Rachel really intended to open this place as a bed-and-breakfast, she’d have to get that fixed before she had a lawsuit on her hands.
He stood back, glancing up at the house. A three-story Victorian, it towered over everything else in the village. Literally towered, since the whimsical Queen Anne design boasted an actual round tower at one corner, forming circular bays in the parlor and the room above it.
Deer Run hadn’t changed all that much in the hundred and some years since Mason House had gone up. Probably the best thing that could have happened to the village was the decision not to run a state route through the collection of homes and stores.
Deer Run had subsided into undisturbed rural slumber, eventually becoming a bedroom community for nearby Williamsport. The Mason place and, across the road, the Sitler place, a not-quite-so-imposing Victorian, formed the west end of the straggle of homes mixed with businesses that was Deer Run.
Colin had to admit that Mason House was considerably more appealing, even in its current state, than The Willows, the only other bed-and-breakfast in town. Even the weeping willow in the side yard was bigger than the one that gave Jeannette Walker’s place its name.
Still, this was a crazy idea on Rachel’s part. He didn’t suppose Ronnie would have left her anything. Or have had life insurance. Ronnie had thought himself immortal—an excusable folly in an eighteen-year-old, but not in a grown man with a wife and child to support.
And now Rachel was about to compound the folly by sinking whatever little money she did have into this white elephant. She and the child would end up worse off than they’d started.
He reached the end of the walk and turned right. The sensible thing for Rachel to do was sell up. The antique furnishings would be worth a tidy sum, he’d think, even if he had trouble getting rid of the house for her. And she wouldn’t need to know that he’d forego his commission on the sale.
She could start over someplace away from the memories this place had to evoke, away from the family that didn’t seem ready to accept her.
With the exception of her little brother, apparently. Benj was a good kid, and he’d have been too small when Rachel left to know what a turmoil her decision had caused. At least she had him to give her a hand.
Colin’s eyes narrowed. Rachel had been wrong about one other thing. Benj wasn’t in the kitchen having lemonade. From where he stood now, Colin could see the boy slipping toward one of the dilapidated outbuildings behind the main house. Sneaking was actually the word that came to mind. Benj glanced around, the movement furtive, before disappearing into what had once been a stable.
What was the kid up to? He knew Benj pretty well, or as well as an Englischer was likely to know an Amish kid. The boy had been doing yard work for him for over a year. He’d have said Benj Weaver was the last person to have something to hide. It appeared he’d have been wrong.
Making a quick decision, Colin started across the lawn, skirting the willow tree. Benj hadn’t come out yet. What could he find to interest him in the old stable? Maybe Rachel had asked the boy to check it out for some reason, in which case Colin was going to look like an interfering busybody.
He neared the stable and glanced toward the house, half-expecting to see Rachel’s face at one of the windows, looking at him disapprovingly. But there was no sign of her. The stable door hung open, sagging on its hinges. Not touching it, he leaned over to look inside.
The interior had become the repository for everything that wasn’t wanted in the main house—lumber piles, a couple of old bicycles, a massive chest of drawers, a miscellaneous collection of discarded furniture. A narrow passageway, almost roofed over with boxes, made its way through the chaos. Benj was on his knees, head poked into the opening.
“Looks like a good place to hide,” Colin said, keeping his voice casual.
Benj jerked, banging his head on a crate. He edged out, rubbing his head, and sat back on his heels, eyeing Colin warily.
“I guess you could keep Mandy busy playing hide-and-seek out here,” he suggested.
Benj’s face cleared. “Ja. It would be a gut hideout.”
“Better be careful, though. Probably plenty of rusty nails mixed in with this junk. You don’t want her to have to get a tetanus shot.”
“I...I’ll be careful.” Benj swallowed, the muscles of his neck working, and shot another furtive glance around.
Colin leaned an elbow on the nearest crate and immediately regretted it. He’d have to change his shirt before he headed back to the office.
“I haven’t seen you for a while, Benj. What have you been up to lately?”
There was no mistaking the flash of fear in the boy’s face before he ducked his head. “Not much.” He shrugged. “Helping Rachel is all.”
Colin studied him thoughtfully. Something was clearly wrong, but like most adolescent males, Benj wasn’t about to turn to a grown-up for help. Colin remembered that stage only too well. Still, how much trouble could an Amish kid get into in a place like Deer Run?
“Well, if you’re helping your sister, maybe you’d better get back at it,” he said.
Benj gave a quick nod, hopped to his feet and darted out the door without another word.
Colin watched him run across the lawn, then turned and glanced at the small opening in the piles of junk. He might, if he had to, be able to worm his way through there, but not today.
He stepped back out into the June sunshine, frowning thoughtfully at the back of the house. Whatever it was Benj thought he needed a hideout for, Colin doubted that it was an innocent game of hide-and-seek. But what on earth could a kid like Benjamin have to hide? And what was causing that spark of fear in his eyes?
CHAPTER TWO
BY MIDAFTERNOON, the early enthusiasm Mandy had shown for painting had predictably waned. Benj was quite willing
