A Place to Call Home (10 page)

But, he thought with an inward sigh, there was somewhere he
would
have to take her.

“I asked if you’d ever gone to church there,” Abby reminded him.

“A few times. When I was a kid.”

She didn’t look surprised. Nor did she ask why he didn’t attend anymore. “Do you want to go with me?”

“Sure. Why not?” He didn’t have much of a choice so he might as well let her think it was her idea.

A smile backlit Abby’s eyes. As if she were genuinely happy he’d agreed to go.

What are You doing, Lord?

The prayer formed in Quinn’s soul and took flight before he had a chance to catch it.

It wasn’t until later that night, while staring up at the ceiling, Quinn realized he’d actually talked to God again. Asked Him a question.

And now here he was. Lying awake, waiting for an answer.

A
bby slipped out of the house, a coffee cup in one hand and her walking verse in the other.

Dew glistened in the grass and it was early enough that wisps of fog, soft as cotton candy, hung over the lake.

Mulligan and Lady ran circles around her, ready to go.

“Shh.” Abby put a finger to her lips. The shades in the windows of Quinn’s cabin were still drawn. “Not everyone likes to get up this early on a Saturday morning, you know.”

She hadn’t been able to talk Quinn into taking the weekend off but it didn’t mean he had to be up and working at the crack of dawn, either.

The dogs streaked ahead and disappeared into the woods. Abby followed at a more leisurely pace, keeping an eye on the grid of roots poking from the ground beneath her feet as she recited the verse out loud.

“‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me. He delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant.’” Abby peeked at the slip of paper in her hand. “‘Their faces are never covered with shame…’”

A branch snapped behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Quinn closing the distance between them at an easy lope.

There was no escaping the man.

Not that you want to,
an inner voice teased.

Before she had time to form a snappy inner comeback, Quinn reached her side.

“What are you doing out here so early?”

Funny, Abby had been about to ask him the same thing.

“I take Mulligan for a walk around the lake every morning,” she explained. “Lady followed us again. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a bit.” He shrugged. “She’s probably happier with the pace you set. I tried to take her with me once, but I ended up carrying her back. We were four miles from home.”

Abby pictured Quinn toting the pudgy dog for that distance and laughed. “I won’t be offended if you leave us behind in the dust. I’ve got cinnamon rolls in the oven, so I can only go halfway around this time.” She stepped to the side to give him some room, but instead of going on ahead, Quinn fell in step beside her.

“I think you dropped something.” He pointed to a piece of paper tumbling down the path in front of them, propelled by a mischievous breeze coming off the lake.

By the time Abby chased it down, she was out of breath. And laughing so hard her ribs ached.

“I admire your dedication to keeping the environment clean,” Quinn said when she limped up to him.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Abby gasped. “It’s my walking verse.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Because it looked to me like you were running.” Quinn’s lips curved, a repeat of the rare but potent smile she’d caught a glimpse of the day before.

Abby pressed a hand against the stitch in her side. “Don’t make me laugh,” she pleaded. “It hurts.”

Quinn held out his hand. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear it?”

“Your
walking
verse.”

Abby’s fingers curled protectively around the piece of paper. “I didn’t get much of a chance to look at it.”
Before you distracted me.

“You’re stalling.” Quinn plucked it from her hand and started down the trail again.

Leaving her with no choice but to follow. “Fine. But you have to start me out.”

Quinn looked down at the paper. “‘I.’”

Abby made a face at him. “A bigger start.”

“‘I sought.’”

Abby bumped him with her hip. “Be serious.”

He laughed instead.

The sound washed over her—and through her—as warm and unexpected as a summer rain. Bringing the feelings that Abby had been trying to deny into full bloom.

“Sorry.” Quinn’s laughter faded but a smile continued to dance in his eyes as he looked down at her.

Abby made the mistake of making eye contact with him. The toe of her shoe caught in a root and she pitched forward. Quinn’s hand shot out to steady her.

His touch was as warm as his laughter and she was struck by an overwhelming urge to turn into the circle of his arms. Rest her head against his chest.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

She pulled away instead and stumbled up the path, trying to concentrate once more on the verse she’d written down.

“‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me. He delivered me
from all my fears. Those who…’” Abby paused, waiting for Quinn to prompt her.

When he didn’t, she glanced up at him.

The smile on his face had disappeared, replaced by…disbelief?

Abby’s heart sank.

Quinn stared down at the piece of paper, aware that Abby was waiting for him to give her another clue.

He couldn’t say a word.

Her “walking verse” was the answer to the question that had cycled through his mind over the course of a sleepless night.

He’d asked God if He was still there. If He was still listening.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me.

Now he understood Abby’s reaction the day before when he’d told her that he owned O’Halloran Security. She’d been amazed by what she’d viewed as God’s intervention on her behalf.

Quinn was a little amazed himself. So amazed that he couldn’t push out another word.

“I’m going to turn around now.” Abby’s voice intruded softly on his thoughts. “But you can keep going. I don’t want to hold you back.”

Hold him back? Quinn was beginning to wonder if Abby Porter wasn’t responsible for moving him
forward.

“Did you say something about cinnamon rolls?”

“Yes, I did. But what about your run?”

Quinn shrugged. “I can fit it in later.”

“Or…” Abby’s eyes held a sparkle of mischief. “I’ll race you back.” She whirled around and sprinted down the uneven trail.

Once Quinn’s initial shock melted away, he started after her. The dogs took up pursuit and all four of them burst into the clearing a few minutes later.

The rusty car parked in the driveway immediately set off Quinn’s internal radar. The three teenage boys lounging against the hood looked as questionable as the vehicle.

Abby started in their direction.

“Abby, wait.”

She quickened her pace instead. “That’s my Saturday painting crew. They’re early today. They don’t usually show until noon.”

The boys intercepted them halfway across the yard but by the time they met, Quinn made sure he got there before Abby.

Abby went down the row, introducing him to Tim and Zach Davis, but hesitated when she got to the third one, a lanky boy who looked to be several years younger than the brothers. He squirmed under her welcoming smile and Quinn had the feeling the kid would have bolted for the car if he hadn’t been wedged between the other boys.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said.

The boy’s dark-eyed gaze couldn’t seem to find a place to light. It bounced from Abby to Quinn and back again until it finally settled on the ground.

“This is Cody.” Tim finally spoke up. “He wants to paint, too.”

“Wonderful.” Abby sounded as if she meant it. “This place needs all the help it can get. I know Daniel usually gets you started, but I’ll show you the painting supplies—”

“I don’t mind playing foreman today,” Quinn interrupted. “I know you’re anxious to get started on the library.”

“I think I’d rather be outside today.” Abby tilted her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. “It’s going to be a perfect summer day. Beautiful.”

When she opened them again, all three teenagers were staring at her.

“What?”

No one said a word. They shuffled and muttered and looked everywhere but at her. Until Quinn intervened. He pointed at the garage. “Thataway.
Boys.
”

With sheepish grins and furtive glances in Abby’s direction, they stumbled away.

“Strange.” Abby’s brow furrowed. “Daniel never mentioned they don’t like to talk.”

Was Abby really that naive? One smile from her had left them totally tongue-tied.

“That’s probably because they talk to him,” he said dryly.

“I scared them away, didn’t I?” She sighed. “Chalk it up to a lack of experience with kids.”

Call him a glutton for punishment, but he wanted to see her smile again. “You could always buy a book.”

It worked.

“Maybe I will.” Abby grinned. “Right after I finish the one I’m reading on effective communication.”

Quinn sucked in a breath.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to read that one himself.

He knew exactly how the boys had felt. Abby had a way of leaving him tongue-tied, too.

It took all of Abby’s willpower to stay inside the lodge and not find a chore to do outside. Other than delivering cold drinks to her work crew, who’d set to work painting the boathouse shortly after their arrival, she’d spent the afternoon in the library.

She planned to turn it into a gathering room, where guests could play board games in the evening or settle into the comfortable chairs with a good book.

Like the other rooms, it boasted a fieldstone fireplace with a raised hearth. A perfect place either to invite conversation or encourage solitude….

Beethoven’s
Symphony No. 5
suddenly broke through her musings.

Abby would never feel the same way about classical music again.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Change your mind yet?”

“No. Have you?”

It had become their standard greeting over the past few days.

The amusement in Alex’s voice, rather than disapproval, gave Abby hope that he was starting to accept her decision.

Abby wasn’t sure why, but she’d sensed a change in her brother over the past week. He hadn’t been quite as dogged in his attempt to convince her to return to Chicago.

Not that she was complaining. A change like that she could live with. Alex was the only family she had and they’d always been close. The tension between them hadn’t been easy to deal with.

“How are things going up there?”

“Great. This has been a productive week.” Thanks to Quinn.

“That’s good.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Alex didn’t see the humor in the question. “I only have your best interests at heart.”

It was a familiar refrain. One Abby had never been able to argue with. Until now. “Maybe that’s part of the problem, Alex. Maybe it’s time you followed some of your own interests for a change. You put your life on hold in order to raise your kid sister. But your sister isn’t a kid anymore.”

She waited for a snappy comeback. There was a reason Alex had been appointed captain of the debate team in college.

“I’m doing what Mom and Dad would want me to do,” he finally said.

The hint of uncertainty in Alex’s voice tugged at her conscience.

“I know.” Abby couldn’t argue with that. From the time she was six years old, protecting Abigail Marie had become the Porter family’s personal cause. After their parents’ death, Alex had continued to carry the torch.

He had to be as tired of bearing that burden as she’d finally become of being the one responsible for it.

“Why don’t you come home for the weekend and we’ll talk about it.”

“I am home.”

“I miss you, Abby.”

“Now you’re inviting me to go on a guilt trip?”

“Is it working?”

She laughed. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“You know I don’t.”

The doorbell came to life, sending out a series of tinny, off-key notes that reminded Abby of a jack-in-the-box.

“I’ll call you back later, Alex. There’s someone at the door.”

“You’re going to answer the door?”

“Yes, Alex. I live here,” Abby explained patiently. “I’m the logical person to answer the door….” As she pulled it open, the rest of the words died on her lips.

“Who is it?” Alex demanded. “Who’s there?”

Abby finally found her voice.

“A police officer.”

“I
’ll call you later, Alex.” Abby ignored her brother’s squawk of protest as she closed the phone.

The officer swept off his hat, exposing the shiny dome beneath it. “Good afternoon, Miss Porter.”

“Good afternoon.” Abby opened the door and stepped onto the porch. There was no logical reason for her to be nervous, but the butterflies that took wing inside of her didn’t seem to care. “Is there something I can do for you, Officer?”

“Sergeant,” he corrected. “Sergeant West. I’m with the county sheriff’s department.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant. Would you like to sit for a few minutes?” Abby gestured toward the pair of wicker rocking chairs. “I made a pitcher of lemonade this morning, if you’d like a glass.”

The deputy cleared his throat. “No, thank you, Miss Porter. I’m here on official business.”

Abby’s heart dropped to her feet. “What is this about?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that Cody Lang is working for you.”

Something about the man’s tone immediately put Abby on the defensive. “Tim and Zach Davis brought Cody with them today to do some painting. This is the first time I’ve met him.”

“Lang’s name came up this past week. We’ve had a rash of burglaries in some of the cabins on the other side of the lake. The sheriff’s department has good reason to think he was involved.”

“But you aren’t sure.”

The deputy’s eyes narrowed. Maybe he heard something he didn’t like in
her
tone. “My source is usually reliable. When there’s trouble, it’s a safe bet one of the Lang boys is in the middle of it. It looks like this one is following his brother’s footsteps.”

“I’m sure Cody will be all right. He’s just looking for a chance to earn some extra money like other boys his age.”

“Or he wanted to check things out.” Sergeant West shrugged. “If I were you, I’d send him on his way, not give him the run of the place.”

Goose bumps rose on Abby’s arms. “I appreciate your concern but Zach and Tim vouched for Cody and he seems like a polite boy—” in spite of his inability to look her in the eyes “—and since you don’t have proof that he was involved in the burglaries, I think I’ll keep him on, at least for today. I have more than enough to keep him busy.”

Stereo speakers suddenly launched an attack of pounding bass, drowning out the birdsong in the trees.

Perfect timing, boys, Abby thought.

Sergeant West’s gaze swung toward the lake, locking on the four figures near the dock. “I understand O’Halloran is staying with you.”

Abby stiffened. Apparently the officer had more than one reliable source. “I’m on a tight deadline. Mr. O’Halloran is able to put in longer days if he stays in one of the
cabins.
”
She put some weight on the last word, just in case there was any confusion as to where Quinn was staying.

“How is that going?”

“He’s making a lot of progress—”

“That’s not what I meant,” the sergeant interrupted, not taking his eyes off Quinn. “Does he…keep to himself?”

Abby frowned. She didn’t understand the question but she didn’t appreciate his tone. “I thought you drove out here to check on Cody Lang.”

“Like I said, you haven’t lived in Mirror Lake long enough to be privy to certain…information.”

“Or swayed by prejudice.”

Sergeant West’s gaze swung back to her. “Mike O’Halloran, Quinn’s father, was bad news. Everybody around here knows it.”

Abby had noticed the way Quinn’s expression hardened whenever he spoke of his father. For the first time, she had some insight into the reason why.

“I thought we were talking about Quinn.”

The officer shrugged, as if that detail didn’t matter. “Same family.”

“Different men.” Abby dug her nails into her palms to stop her hands from shaking.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so the saying goes.”

Abby had only known Quinn for a few days, but she knew it didn’t apply to him, no matter what his father had been guilty of.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said politely. “Thank you for stopping by, Sergeant.”

The officer gave her a sharp look, as if judging her sincerity. “You keep an eye on Lang. If he causes any trouble, let me know.” Sergeant West’s gaze strayed to Quinn again. “Some
thing else you might keep in mind, Miss Porter. A man who doesn’t talk about his past…well, he usually has a reason.”

Quinn watched the squad car pull away.

The tension in Abby’s shoulders told him the deputy hadn’t stopped by for a social call.

“What do you think he wanted?”

Quinn glanced at Cody Lang, wondering if the boy had read his mind. The kid looked a little tense himself; the hunted look in his dark eyes all too familiar.

The boy’s last name wasn’t familiar but then again, Quinn had been gone a long time. It was possible the Lang family had migrated to the area after he’d left town.

“I don’t know.” But he planned to find out.

“She looks upset,” Cody whispered.

Quinn thought so, too, but he was surprised by the intuitive comment. He glanced at Cody and saw the raw fear banked in his eyes before he averted his gaze.

The kid must have come to his own conclusion as to why the deputy had stopped by to talk to Abby.

“You tell Tim and Zach that break time is over, okay?” Quinn planned to give Cody a light, reassuring cuff on the shoulder but when his hand came up, the boy flinched.

Quinn silently berated himself. He should have known better.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Lost in thought, Abby didn’t seem to be aware of his approach.

Quinn’s vow to keep a professional distance disintegrated when he saw Abby’s hands clenched at her sides.

Had the deputy delivered bad news?

“Problem?” He tossed out the question to let Abby know he was there.

She thought he’d been teasing the day before, when he called out a greeting to warn her of his presence. He hadn’t been. Abby’s vague response that day in the chapel when he’d asked why she had read a book on self-defense techniques still chewed at the edge of his thoughts.

“Not anymore.”

“Sergeant West.”

“You know him?”

“I remember him.” An answer that wasn’t quite an answer, but it was the best Quinn could do. The deputy had been fresh out of the academy when he was a kid. “I’m not surprised he stopped by to say hello. He likes to keep tabs on things.” Which probably explained why the deputy hadn’t retired yet.

“He didn’t stop by to say hello,” Abby said. “He heard Cody Lang was here. It sounds like Cody was implicated in some burglaries that happened a few days ago. Cabins on the other side of the lake. Sergeant West wanted to make sure I was aware of it.”

It had been fear he’d seen on Cody’s face, not guilt, but he didn’t think that would matter to Abby. If West pegged the boy as a suspect, Abby would believe him.

His jaw tightened. “Do you want me to tell Cody?”

“Tell him what?” Abby looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

“That you want him to leave?”

“Why would you do that? I need him,” Abby shocked him by saying. “And there’s no proof Cody was one of the boys who broke into the cabins.”

Laughter rolled across the lawn as the Davis brothers began to wrestle in the grass like a pair of frisky puppies. Quinn noticed that Cody was still staring in their direction, as if he knew they were talking about him.

“There’s no proof he wasn’t involved, either,” Quinn pointed out.

Doubt surfaced in Abby’s expressive eyes. He could almost read her thoughts.

Maybe the sergeant was right. He could be checking out the place to see if there’s anything worth coming back for. When you’re alone…

“Cody will understand,” Quinn said. “In fact, he’s probably expecting it.”

Abby’s chin lifted, as if in answer to an unspoken question. “Don’t say anything to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“What about Sergeant West?”

“What about him? He was just doing his job. Warning me about Cody.” Abby started across the yard.

Quinn caught up to her in less than a stride.

“What else did he warn you about?”

Quinn’s tone was even; it was the bleak look in his eyes that stopped Abby in her tracks.

He knew.

Maybe, like Cody, he’d also expected it.

If Sergeant West hadn’t made that disparaging comment about Quinn’s father, Abby might have missed the shadow that skimmed across his face.

Had Quinn experienced the same kind of mistrust? Judgment?

Part of the reason Abby loved the idea of living in a small town was because of the “everyone knows your name” charm it represented. She hadn’t thought of that in terms of the negative.

She sensed that Quinn was waiting for her answer.

“He thought he should fill me in on a little area history.” Abby’s indignation, on simmer, began to bubble up again as she recalled the conversation with Sergeant West.

“And how it repeats itself.” It wasn’t a question.

Abby took another step forward but Quinn’s hand caught her wrist.

She didn’t pull away, although she could have. Quinn wasn’t holding her captive. His grip was too loose, too gentle, for that.

How could she explain that she knew what it felt like to have people make assumptions based on her family? On her last name?

It had happened all the time. As the “face” of Porter Hotels, some people had treated her as if she didn’t have a brain. Assumed she had a personality as shallow as the piece of paper the brochure was printed on.

“I prefer to make up my own mind,” she finally said. “Based on what I see, not what people say.”

Quinn stared down at her, searching for the truth. “And what do you see?”

They weren’t talking about Cody anymore.

Quinn hadn’t let go of her wrist. Without thinking, Abby squeezed his hand. His eyes darkened and his fingers closed around hers…

“Miss Porter?”

They jerked apart as Cody sidled up. His gaze riveted on his feet. “I wanted to say thanks. For letting me paint today.”

Abby felt a rush of compassion. It was obvious from the set of the boy’s narrow shoulders that he expected to be sent on his way. So he’d decided to leave on his own to save himself more embarrassment.

She pretended not to understand. “Do you have to go now?”

Cody looked taken aback by the question. “I—I thought you’d want me to,” he mumbled.

“Actually, I’ve got another job for you. If you’re interested.”

Cody’s shoulder lifted and fell. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Abby wasn’t fooled by the casual tone or the matching shrug. He knew the reason Sergeant West stopped by and was doing his best to hold his tattered pride together.

“I want to try out a new recipe but in order to do that, I need some fish,” she said briskly. “I was having pretty good luck last weekend casting for sunfish in those lily pads at the end of the dock. Are you willing to give it a try? I’ll pay you for your time.”

“You’re going to pay me? To fish?” Cody’s voice thinned out and cracked on the last word, reminding her, for all his forced bravado, how young he was.

“It’s something that needs to be done and I don’t have time to do it.” Abby mustered a stern look at having her motives questioned. “So, what do you say?”

Cody darted an “is this for real” look at Quinn. What he saw must have reassured him because a wide grin split his face.

“I say yes.”

“Ask Zach and Tim if they want to help. There are enough fishing poles in the storage shed for all three of you.”

“Okay. I’ll tell them.” Cody backed up three steps, turned around and sprinted across the yard as if he were afraid Abby might change her mind.

“They’ll be here all evening now,” Quinn predicted.

“I know.” Abby couldn’t help sounding a bit smug. But Cody’s expression was worth an adjustment in her plans.

“They’re not going to get another thing accomplished the rest of the afternoon.”

“I know.”

“And they’re going to tell all their friends that Abby Porter pays her employees to fish.” Quinn sighed. “But I guess it doesn’t matter what I think. You’re the boss.”

“You’re right. And because I’m the boss, I can order you to supervise them.”

Quinn tunneled his hand through his hair and gave her an impatient look. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Yes, you do.” Abby pressed her lips together to flatten a smile.

He spotted it anyway. “Abby—”

“Boss.”
She tapped an index finger against her chest.

“Bossy, you mean,” Quinn muttered. “You’re determined to give me some time off this weekend, one way or another, aren’t you?”

Apparently nothing got past the man!

“I have no idea what you mean,” Abby denied primly.

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced.

She sensed Quinn was going to continue the argument, but the series of whoops erupting from the Davis brothers told her that Cody had relayed the news about the change in their job description.

“I better show them where everything is.” Abby chuckled. “And they
do
need supervision. I have no idea how to harness that kind of energy.”

Quinn fell into step with her. He didn’t even have to touch her and every nerve ending in Abby’s body began to hum in response to his closeness.

“What made you decide that Cody wasn’t involved in the break-ins?” he said after a moment.

Abby slanted a look at him. Nothing in Quinn’s expres
sion gave away his thoughts, but she sensed that her answer was important.

She told the truth.

“I didn’t.”