the next morning, skinny little Ida Fannin swept through Jace’s always open door as he was searching his desk for a file he’d misplaced. Her cheeks were cherub rosy and specks of glitter from last night’s festivities still sparkled in her curly gray hair.
“Good morning,” she sang out happily, then placed a mug of coffee beside the one already sitting on his desk. “How are you this crisp, lovely day?”
Jace stared curiously, wondering what had put the extra spring in her step this morning. Whatever it was, he needed some. He was exhausted. He’d been awake half the night thinking about things he shouldn’t give a damn about. Eventually, he’d given up on sleep and come into the office, just in time to help pull Farr Canada’s seventy-two thousand board feet of red oak out of the number three kiln and slide the next load in.
“Morning, Ida. I’m okay. Did you enjoy yourself last night?” At nearly seventy, his office manager still wore makeup, and today, pale blue eye shadow and pink lipstick picked up the colors in her polyester pantsuit.
“Oh, my, yes,” she exclaimed. “The decorations were so bright and pretty, and the music was delightful. I’m eager to see what the food bank’s take will be.”
“Same here. There’s a chance we could know by tonight’s meeting.” For the past five years—since he and Ty had bought the business—they’d reserved a company table for the annual charity ball. Jace usually passed on the event, but this year, it had benefited the food bank, and he was on the board. A lot of years had passed since his childhood in Jillie Rae’s trailer, but he still remembered what it was to go hungry.
Ida continued to grin expectantly, almost as though she were waiting for an announcement. Just before she launched into another spate of happy chirping, Jace realized what it was, and cringed inside.
“I couldn’t help noticing that your night took a better turn as you were leaving. Before that, I expected you to bolt every time someone opened a door.”
Hoping to change the subject, he rolled his chair away to check a drawer in the filing cabinet behind him. “Ida, have you seen—?”
“The Farr Canada paperwork? Yes, it’s right here in your Out tray.” By the time he’d shut the drawer and turned around, it was on his desk blotter. “They’ll be picking up their load on Tuesday.”
Smiling, he wondered again why he even bothered to double-check these things. “Anything else going on that I should know about?”
“Nope.”
But she still refused to move a happy little muscle, and he finally decided to just get the interrogation over with. “Okay, what?”
“I didn’t realize you knew Morgan Winslow’s daughter!”
Paging through the work order and documentation on drying time, he grumbled, “I don’t.”
“I see,” she bubbled gleefully. “Then you just stumbled into her last night and landed on her lips.” Ignoring the bland look he sent her, she added, “You know, I heard she married a California attorney a few years ago, but that must over now, because—”
He sighed. “Ida, I really need to look these over.”
“—because she’s waiting to see you.”
Jace jerked his head up. “What?”
“Abbie Winslow. She’s waiting in the reception area. Such a pretty thing. The coffee I brought in is for her.”
Adrenaline prickled over every bone, muscle and hair follicle Jace owned as the image of Abbie in that backless gown filled his mind, and the unexpectedly visceral sensation of kissing her again hit him like a sledgehammer.
Slowly, he unrolled the sleeves of his pale blue oxford cloth shirt, buttoned his cuffs and stood to grab his olive corduroy jacket from the back of his chair. There was no point in telling Ida that she should’ve told him sooner; she was the glue that held the place together, and did things in her own sweet time. Some days he and Ty felt like they worked for her. “Send her back, Ida.”
She gave him another of her tickled-pink looks as he walked around his desk to stand beside the door. “I’ll just do that.”
The polished pine hall beyond the door wasn’t long, but when Abbie appeared a moment later, Jace still had time for a good look. Topped by a long, snow-white knitted scarf, her knee-length black-and-gray herringbone coat hung open, and beneath it she wore black wool slacks and a pearl-gray turtleneck. Parted in the middle, her long auburn hair curved around her forehead and high cheekbones, then fell sleek and shiny on either side of her upturned collar. She looked expensive. And very beautiful.
“Hi,” she said quietly, and Jace decided she’d come bearing white doves and an olive branch.
“Hello, Abbie.” When she’d stepped inside, he closed that always open door.
“The place looks good, Jace. Bigger, more organized. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. We’re doing all right.” Even when he’d worked here as a logger, the company had been a viable business. Now, with all the improvements and newly erected kilns, Rogan was quickly becoming one of the most respected logging and lumber companies in Northwest Pennsylvania. And, thank God, profits were good. Between Ty’s talent for finding new customers, and a cherry-, oak-and maple-hungry public, they’d never had a problem meeting their mortgage payments.
But he’d bet their new skidder she wasn’t here to check out the place.
“What’s on your mind?” Her dark eyes looked a little tired, and considering the night he’d spent, Jace felt a run of satisfaction.
“You know why I’m here. That business last night was awkward.”
“If you want an apology because I used you to get to your father, you’re not going to get one. I figure we’re even now. You used me, I used you; quid pro quo.” He returned to his desk, then nodded toward the chair and the white mug on her side of it. “Have a seat if you want. The coffee’s yours. Ida brought it in.”
“Thank you, but I won’t be here long enough to drink it. I came to apologize for a very stupid thing I did well over a decade ago. I tried to explain then, but you wouldn’t hear me out.”
“Abbie, it’s been way too long to get into all of this again.”
Her soft tone nearly got to him. Nearly. “Has it? It didn’t seem that way last night. It’s time we put this thing behind us.”
Jace felt his nerves knot. He thought he had put it behind him. Then he’d seen her father’s smugly approving smile as she’d danced with an acceptable suitor, and his old outcast status had risen up and grabbed him where he lived.
“Whatever. I don’t feel the need to go into it, but if you have something to say, the floor’s yours.”
Frustration lined her face for a second, then she let it go and moistened her lips. “You know what a control freak my dad’s been since my mother died.”
He nodded, thinking that was putting it mildly.
“I needed some space from that. I know raising a daughter alone had
