don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she said, her lips twisting down. “Ever since I’ve been back, I’ve been crazy. Maybe it’s remembering how my aunt treated me. Maybe it’s just being here in Middlewood after so many years. Either I’m laughing or crying, or doing both at the same time.”
He pulled her toward him, closing the distance between them. Stifling a sob, she slipped into his arms and buried her face against his neck. Her tears flowed easily. He held her in his embrace, feeling the last of her defenses melting away like a late-spring snow. The scent of her natural perfume floated in the air, and he inhaled deeply. And then, ever so slowly, his hands traveled a wavy path down to the small of her back.
“Oh, no.” She stiffened in his arms. “I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what?” he asked, feigning ignorance. He knew what she was thinking. Was it his fault she had misinterpreted his intentions? “Let someone take care of you? You act as if it were a sign of weakness.”
She wriggled out of his hold. “What do you want from me? Why did you come here?”
He looked at her coolly. “You know what your problem is? You don’t need anyone. You like playing the martyr.” He teased her lips with his fingers. “Tell me, doesn’t it get lonely up there, alone in your ivory tower?”
“Stop it,” she said, recoiling from his touch. “Answer me, Jake. Why are you here?”
He leaned back into one of the sofa pillows and sighed heavily. “You probably won’t believe me, but I came to apologize.”
“You, apologize? For what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“For yesterday. I shouldn’t have said the things I said. You had your reasons for walking out of the marriage, even if I don’t agree with them.”
“So, we’re back to that again. Your apology makes me sound like the bad guy.”
“Come on, Laura. This isn’t easy for me. Don’t make me grovel.”
“Now that would be interesting.” She stared at him, and then shrugged. “Apology accepted. I’m still not sure what you’re up to, but I have to admit, humility becomes you.”
This was the Laura he remembered, all right, all spit and vinegar. But he was willing to overlook her attitude. For the sake of peace, he told himself. It had nothing to do with how her lips had felt under his touch, as soft as a whisper. “Truce?”
“Truce.” She picked up a stray goose feather and blew it into the air. It spiraled to the floor, landing in the same spot where it had been lying. “Last night Cassie had a fight with a pillow—the pillow lost. I should probably clean up these feathers before I start tracking them through the house.”
He made a motion to rise. “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, leave it. Given the condition of this place, getting rid of a few feathers would be a drop in the bucket. Cassie says I should renovate before I put it on the market, but I think I should just clean it up as best I can and sell it the way it is.”
“So that’s it? You’ve decided to sell?” Although he hadn’t spent much time in the house, he felt a sense of loss. It had been his father’s first restoration project, long before Jake was born.
Dotted with old Colonial-style homes, Middlewood had once been a sleepy little New England town. Charles Logan, Jake’s father, was going to restore these old homes to their original beauty and make his fortune in the doing, but the business had never become the success he had envisioned. Eventually Jake’s parents grew tired of the harsh northeast winters and retired to Florida, leaving the business to Jake. Under his adept management, restoration gradually gave way to construction, and the business flourished.
“I haven’t decided anything,” Laura said. “I’ve even been considering keeping the house, but the thought of living here, in these conditions…”
Jake looked around with a keen eye, but it didn’t take someone in construction to see that the interior had gone downhill. The wallpaper was peeling, its pattern of white roses now yellow with age. All the baseboards were scuffed and splintered, and on the far wall, the window panes were cracked, their wooden frames damaged by water. But the builder in Jake knew that it would take more than cosmetic repairs to whip the house into shape. “You should probably open the place up,” he said. “Maybe knock down that wall in the hallway.”
“That costs money. If I do decide to keep it, I’m going to do only what’s absolutely necessary. The rest can wait. Not that I’d move back permanently, but it might be nice to have a hideaway. A home away from home.” A frown crossed her brow.
“And the problem is…?”
“You know what my childhood was like. This house doesn’t exactly evoke pleasant memories.”
In spite of her gloomy expression, he grinned. “They can’t all be bad. What about all those get-togethers you had, the ones you didn’t invite me to? What did you girls do at those hen parties, anyway? Besides man bashing, or at our age, boy bashing.”
“Correction. I did invite you, and a lot of other boys from school, but Aunt Tess wouldn’t let any of you into the house.” She sighed. “But I suppose this place will always feel like home, regardless of its condition or Aunt Tess. And you’re right. I did have some good times here, with Cass and Ellen…and Cynthia.” She averted her eyes when she spoke his first wife’s name. “But I feel my aunt’s presence everywhere. Home or not, this place can be downright eerie.”
“Maybe it’s haunted,” he said, trying to appear serious.
“This from the man who defines paranormal as ‘indefinable hogwash’? Am I to believe that your definition of reality now includes ghosts?”
“That’s why I’m in this line of work,” he joked. “I enjoy digging up ancient burial grounds for new homes, and all that sort of thing.”
Even though her eyes were laughing, she looked at him reprovingly. “Speaking of work, don’t you have a job to go to?”
“That,” he said, “is one of the perks in running your own business. I make my own priorities.” If only that were true. Although it was still early, he knew that his secretary would be frantic. Mary liked knowing where to reach him in case of an emergency. “And my first priority today is making sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, really.” She lay back and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “I’m just a little cold.”
“Do you want me to make a fire? What about some brandy?”
“A fire in September? As for the brandy, it’s not even eight-thirty! I have to meet the lawyer today, and that’s all I need, for him to think I’m some kind of lush. Not that there’s any brandy in the house, anyway. You know how Aunt Tess felt about alcohol. But seriously, I would think you have something more important to do than baby-sit me. In the old days nothing could have torn you away from your work.”
“Well, the old days are gone,” he said.
His words hung in the air like fog, and an uncomfortable silence fell. The only thing that could be heard was the tick, tick of the seven-foot
