where you were going? Why did you come to this place?
Any answers Trevor might have given had died with him in the car accident. If she were to find out what had brought Trevor to Sloane Lodge in Lakemont, instead of to the business conference in Boston he’d told her he was attending, she’d have to do it herself.
And she’d have to do it here. If the answers were anywhere, they were at Sloane Lodge.
Only one month. That was all she had before her obstetrician insisted she not travel. One month in which to learn the truth.
The trees gave way to a thick clump of rhododendrons, their glossy leaves hiding the foundation of the lodge. She rounded the building, heading for the door she’d used when she’d gone inside to register. Maybe there was a back entrance from the cottages, but she didn’t feel inclined to search for it in the gathering dusk.
The sprawling frame-and-shingle building stretched a wide porch across its front, and welcoming light spilled from the many-paned windows.
She thought again of Nathan Sloane’s reaction to her presence. That had been anything but welcoming.
She’d probably see him again at dinner. Bracing herself for the idea of conflict, she mounted the steps and entered the lodge.
Once she was inside the wide front hallway with its bentwood coat racks and curly maple bench, the registration desk lured her. Access to the lodge’s records would tell her exactly how long Trevor had stayed before he died and whether that had been his only trip to the lodge. Barren information, probably, but more than she knew now.
But there was no chance to explore. Even now, someone approached from the shadowy rear of the hall.
“You must be Ms. Morgan.”
For an instant, before the man stepped into the pool of light from the hall chandelier, she thought the tall figure was Nathan. But this was a much older man, presumably his father. The two men had the same lean, square-jawed face, the same high forehead, the same piercing dark eyes and level brows.
But where Nathan’s face was guarded, this man’s was open and friendly. Where Nathan’s gaze had been antagonistic, his father’s radiated welcome.
“Yes, I’m Susannah Morgan.” She took the hand he extended, feeling strength and calluses—the hand of a man who worked hard despite his age.
“Daniel Sloane. Welcome to the lodge. Let me show you into the dining room.”
Apparently Daniel had no problems with her presence. He didn’t seem in the same hurry his son was to close for the winter. He took her arm as gently as if she were made of crystal, guiding her through the archway to the left of the registration desk.
“How lovely.”
She paused, glancing from the wall of windows with their view of the lake to the fire that crackled in a massive stone fireplace. Eight or ten round white-linen-covered tables dotted the wide-planked floor. Sloane Lodge might be small, but it was also charming.
“We like it.” Her escort looked around, too. His expression was…not pride, exactly. She sought to pin it down. Satisfaction, that was it.
Daniel Sloane looked like a man who had found his place in the world. He was what Nathan might be in thirty years or so, but with an inner peace that shone in his face.
“Now, let’s find a seat for you.” He moved as if to lead her toward a table where several older couples chatted with the ease of long acquaintance. “I’ll introduce you to a few people.”
“No. Thank you.” She’d have to start talking with people here if she was going to learn anything, but she wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m a bit tired from the drive.”
“Of course.” He was instantly solicitous. “I get carried away sometimes. Take this table by the window, where you can have a nice, quiet meal.” He pulled out a chair for her. “One of the servers will be with you in a moment.”
When he’d gone, she looked around cautiously. She’d like to assume Nathan had given up his efforts, but she couldn’t quite convince herself of that.
His face loomed in her mind, rigid with determination. He was like the rocky cliff that reared behind the lodge—solid and immovable. Not a man who’d easily give up once he’d decided something. And what he’d decided, unfortunately, was that he wanted her out of here.
Her gaze reached the archway and stopped. Nathan Sloane walked quickly through from the hall. The slightest check in his step when he saw her just confirmed what she already knew. The man had an instant reaction to her, and it certainly wasn’t a positive one.
Big, broad shouldered, muscular—he probably often got what he wanted just through the sheer force of his presence. Well, not with her. She faced down worse than Nathan Sloane in Philadelphia courtrooms.
At least, for the moment, he didn’t seem to plan on approaching her. He joined his father at a table in the corner, and she let out a small sigh of relief. She really wasn’t up to another battle with the man tonight.
She’d been too angry to see it before, but he’d changed. She toyed with her salad, looking back across the years. Nathan wouldn’t remember, but she’d met him once before.
She’d been an unhappy ten-year-old, shipped off to stay with Trevor’s family for a few weeks at the vacation home they’d owned on the lake. Nathan had been a teenager then, working as a lifeguard at the lake, with no time to notice a pouting child.
Still, through some odd fluke of memory, she could picture him clearly—tall, tanned, laughing and carefree. The center of every group.
He’d changed.
Well, she had, too. Life had a way of doing that to people.
By the time she’d finished her chicken, weariness was taking a firm grip on her. Even Daniel’s announcement that dessert and coffee would be served in the lounge couldn’t tempt her. She’d planned to slip out quietly and make an early night of it. Tomorrow would be time enough to think of plans.
She’d reached the hallway when she heard a step behind her and felt a light touch on her arm.
“Ms. Morgan.”
Morgan. She’d better keep in mind that she’d registered under the maiden name she still used professionally. Given her mother-in-law’s tearful opposition to any inquiry into what Trevor had been doing in Lakemont, that precaution had seemed wise.
Besides, if you didn’t know what you were going to find, you’d better tread cautiously. That advice worked both in the courtroom and in life.
She turned slowly to give Nathan an inquiring look, trying not to be intimidated by his frown.
“I hope you’ve had a chance to reconsider your plans,” he said.
He was nothing if not persistent. Annoyingly so. The kind of person who, if you gave an inch, took a mile. If she tried to pacify him by moving into the main lodge, he’d undoubtedly consider it a step toward getting her out entirely.
She pasted a smile on her lips. “There’s
