A Place to Call Home (11 page)

“L
ook at this one, Abby!” Cody called, holding up a bluegill the size of Quinn’s hand.

“It’s definitely a keeper.”

Quinn heard Abby’s lilting voice and glanced over his shoulder. She was making her way down to the dock, balancing a tray loaded with snacks.

He was beginning to think she had a kitchen full of elves that did all her baking.

“Is anyone hungry?”

The three boys immediately abandoned their fishing poles, with Cody Lang leading the stampede toward the picnic table.

Quinn had a feeling the younger boy craved attention more than food.

The change he’d seen in Cody over the past two hours was startling. With every fish he caught—and brought to Quinn for approval—a glimmer of pride had begun to burn away his initial wariness like sunlight pushing its way through a storm cloud.

Quinn had no doubt the credit for the boy’s transformation belonged to Abby. In spite of her claim not to understand kids,
she’d somehow managed to come up with the perfect plan to convince Cody to stay. With his pride still intact.

He’d been wrestling with the fact that, in spite of her misgivings, she hadn’t sent the kid on his way with Sergeant West’s blessing.

And asked you to go along.

Quinn released a quiet breath.

What had the deputy said about him?

The rose tint blooming in Abby’s cheeks affirmed that West hadn’t missed an opportunity to fill her in on what she’d tactfully referred to as “local history.”

I believe what I see. Not what people say.

Abby’s response should have put Quinn’s mind at ease, not given birth to a dozen more questions.

“There’s plenty.” Abby waved at him. “At least there is now. I can’t guarantee if that will be true in five minutes.”

Quinn, who’d found a loose plank on the dock to fix while the boys fished, raised the hammer in response to her invitation. “I’ll be right there.”

“You snooze, you lose!” Zach Davis shouted.

Abby’s laughter followed the teenager’s challenge and it was all Quinn could do not to roll his eyes when he saw the shy but adoring looks the boys cast her way. It was clear she’d won them over—and not just with her cooking skills.

Quinn watched her fill glasses of lemonade, chatting easily as if they’d known each other for years.

It was possible that her self-proclaimed ignorance of knowing how to relate to kids was actually working to her advantage. She didn’t try to win them over.

Abby was just being…Abby.

Friendly. Generous. Hospitable.

It occurred to Quinn that she possessed all the qualities of
a great innkeeper. She had a way of making people feel…welcome. Accepted.

The first conversation he’d had with Alex Porter pushed its way, unbidden, into Quinn’s mind. Abby’s brother didn’t think she was capable of running a bed-and-breakfast. In fact, Quinn had gotten the distinct impression Alex didn’t think Abby was capable of much of anything.

He’d described her as fragile.

Quinn hadn’t thought much about it at the time, other than to add that particular trait to the list of reasons why he shouldn’t have accepted Alex’s proposition. He assumed that no one would know better than one of Abby’s own family members what she was, or wasn’t, capable of doing.

But over the past few days, without Quinn even being fully aware of it, the sophisticated figurehead of Porter Hotels had gradually started to be replaced by…Abby. A woman who tackled difficult projects with a gleam of determination in her eyes and a how-to book in her hand. A woman with a smile that shimmered like sunlight on water. A woman whose faith wasn’t the cardboard kind—it was the wide-eyed, childlike kind that expected God to do amazing things.

Didn’t Alex see any of those qualities?

One of them was dead wrong about her and Quinn was beginning to have an unsettling feeling that it wasn’t him….

“Last piece of chocolate cake!” Abby ignored the chorus of protests as she held the plate above her head—and out of the boys’ reach.

Quinn rose to his feet, reluctant to join them. His crowded thoughts didn’t leave much room for making polite conversation. He didn’t have Abby’s talent for putting people at ease.

Cody scooted over on the bench to make room for him. A smear of chocolate frosting bracketed his mouth and Quinn plucked a cloth napkin out of the basket and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” Cody mumbled around a mouthful of cake.

From there, the conversation dwindled as the teenagers got serious in their attempt to sample everything on the tray.

Abby filled a glass and handed it to him, the smile on her face reflected in her eyes. Eyes that didn’t hold a smidge of doubt or suspicion. Wisps of sun-streaked hair had escaped the apple-green bandana on her head. The color matched the patchwork apron tied around her waist.

She looked totally…
kissable.

The piece of cake Quinn had just swallowed lodged in his throat.

“I see you found the loose board on the dock.”

Abby’s words buzzed in his ears like a tree full of cicadas. Great. He was acting like the rest of the adolescent boys at the table!

“Actually, it found me.” The board had cracked beneath his weight when he’d stepped on it.

“I caught some nice perch.” Zach gulped the remainder of his lemonade and reached for the pitcher.

Abby beat him to it and refilled his glass.

“So did Cody,” Tim chimed in.

Cody’s ears turned red. “They were okay.”

“I can’t wait to try them.” Abby put one hand on Cody’s shoulder.

Quinn saw him shrink from her touch and wondered if Abby had noticed.

Tim snagged the last slice of watermelon from the bowl. “We have to go pretty soon. We’re taking our grandma out for dinner tonight.”

“Yeah.” Tim sighed. “If she doesn’t eat right at six-thirty, she says it messes up her constitution. Whatever that is.”

“But we can come back tomorrow,” Zach added, his expression hopeful.

Over the boy’s head, Quinn aimed a what-did-I-tell-you look at Abby.

She crossed her eyes.

Quinn choked.

Tim leaned over and obligingly thumped him on the back.

“I don’t think tomorrow will work out,” Abby said. “There’s church in the morning and I’m afraid I have plans for the rest of the afternoon.”

Silence fell, along with the boys’ faces.

Abby tilted her head thoughtfully. “But why don’t you call me on Monday? I’m sure Quinn and I can come up with a few other things for you to do this week.”

That, and the fact that Abby passed around the plate of cookies again, cheered them up.

“Come on, Code.” Tim rose to his feet and snaked an arm around Cody’s neck, seizing him in an affectionate headlock as he pulled him off the bench.

Abby discreetly doled out white envelopes to each boy as they got up to leave. “Thank you for all your hard work today.”

All three nodded and shuffled their feet. And blushed. Then they trooped away, pushing and jostling each other with every step.

“Are boys always like that?” Abby whispered.

“Like what?”

“In perpetual motion.”

“You have a brother.”

“Alex was never like that.” Abby sounded certain as she began to gather up the dishes. “He was seriously…serious.”

“I should clean the fish they caught.” Quinn wouldn’t have minded, except that Sergeant West’s visit had made him start thinking about getting those locks changed. “You might not have noticed they didn’t get around to that part of the job.”

“They didn’t have time.” Abby winked. “Because of Grandma’s, um, constitution.”

The impact of that mischievous wink shot through Quinn like a lightning bolt and left him reeling. While he tried to recover from the impact, a car horn blasted.

Abby twisted around, lifting her hand to wave goodbye. Her face clouded. “I think something’s wrong.”

Quinn turned in the direction of the driveway and saw Cody loping back.

“Zach’s car won’t start,” he gasped once he was within earshot.

“I’ll take a look at it.” Quinn should have known Abby would follow. Mulligan and Lady, curious over what the fuss was about, trailed along, too.

Twenty minutes later, after Quinn had pronounced the engine dead, the boys circled the ancient Impala like mourners at a graveside service.

“I can’t get ahold of Dad. He’s not answering the phone,” Tim complained. “They must be waiting for us at the restaurant.”

“Grandma has a rule against using our cell phones in the restaurants,” Zach explained. “She makes Dad turn his off, too.”

“That’s okay…” Abby looked at Quinn.

He couldn’t read minds but somehow he knew what she was going to say next.

“I’m sure Quinn can drop you off.”

Yup. That was exactly what he knew she would say.

And he had no way to get out of it. He couldn’t suggest
she ride along because there wasn’t room in his truck—or her convertible—for the five of them.

Silently, he figured out how much time it would take to run the Davis brothers back to Mirror Lake and drop off Cody at home. A half hour. Tops. Quinn weighed that against the possibility of Alex calling for an update on Abby’s location.

“Sure. No problem.”

The boys piled into Quinn’s pickup and he gave them a moment to adjust before he squeezed into the front cab next to Cody. At least the dogs hadn’t tried to hitch a ride.

The last thing Quinn saw when he looked in the rearview mirror was Abby. Laughing.

“You’re meeting your family at the Grapevine Café, right?” Quinn asked once they were on the road.

“Nope.” Zach shook his head. “The Cedars.”

Quinn’s back teeth ground together.

The Cedars was located ten miles west of Mirror Lake. It would add another half hour onto the trip.

Abby will be fine,
Quinn reminded himself. There was still a good hour of daylight left.

He tried not to think about the break-ins across the lake but put a little more pressure on the gas pedal, hoping Sergeant West wasn’t running radar on one of the side roads.

Zach and Tim’s parents appeared the moment Quinn’s truck pulled up by the front door of the restaurant, resulting in another delay. Quinn spent five minutes explaining who he was and why he’d given the boys a ride and another five minutes offering their father a possible diagnosis as to what was wrong with the car.

Forty-five minutes later, he turned down the private road that wound through an archway of maple and oak to the lodge.

The first thing Quinn noticed was that the house was dark. That in itself struck him as odd. The moment the sun began
to set, Abby turned on every light until the place glowed like a Chinese lantern.

Quinn parked the truck by the cabin and got out. The peach and pink sunset spilled from the horizon onto the lake as if someone had tipped over a paint can. Everything was calm. Quiet.

Too quiet.

There was no sign of Abby. Or Lady and Mulligan.

Quinn’s next breath stayed in his lungs.

Because what he did see was a ribbon of black smoke curling over the roof of the lodge.

It wasn’t working.

Abby cupped one hand over her mouth and, with the other, tossed another handful of sticks into the ring of stones.

According to the book there were supposed to be flames, not smoke.

“What am I doing wrong?” she murmured.

Lady and Mulligan, who’d camped a safe distance away from the fire pit and were sharing one of Abby’s homemade biscuits, both stopped chewing and raised their heads.

But they weren’t looking at her.

Abby turned her head just in time to see Quinn round the corner of the house. At a full run.

She vaulted to her feet, startled by the wild look in his eyes and half expecting to see a black bear at his heels.

Dread bloomed in Abby’s chest. She couldn’t imagine what would rattle a man like Quinn.

Had he seen something?

Someone?

As much as she’d tried to put it out of her mind, Deputy West’s warning about the break-ins had whittled away at her
confidence. After Quinn had left with the boys, she’d needed something to prevent fear from highjacking her inner peace.

The thought of taking a walk to the chapel wasn’t as appealing as it usually was, which discouraged Abby even more. She wanted to enjoy God’s creation, not worry about vandals using the woods as a hiding place.

She’d decided to tackle one of the projects on her to-do list until Quinn came back.

The expression on his face, however, drained away her initial relief at his return.

“What’s wrong?” She was almost afraid to ask.

He skidded to a stop a few feet away from her. “Saw. Smoke.”

She frowned, because it looked as if he were having trouble breathing. Which didn’t make sense given the fact that
she
was the one whose lungs had been seared by the smoke!

“I know.” Abby coughed. “But it’s supposed to be a fire.”

Quinn looked at her. And the fire pit. And then he dropped to the ground and covered his face with his hands.

Strange.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” His teeth snapped together on the word.

“You don’t look fine. You look…upset. Did something happen?”

He lifted his head, peering at her through narrowed eyes. “Apparently not.”

Not sure how to interpret that, Abby picked up a sturdy branch and poked at one of the logs. Another cloud of smoke billowed into the air.

“What are you doing?”

Abby would have thought it was obvious.

“Making a campfire. And believe me. It’s not as easy as it looks in the picture.”

“Picture.”

Maybe, Abby thought, she shouldn’t have mentioned the picture. But it was too late. Quinn was already reaching for the manual, facedown on the grass and open to page thirty-four.

He squinted at the camouflage cover and read the title out loud.
“How to Survive and Thrive in the Woods.”

Something in his tone put her on the defensive. “There’s a really interesting chapter on edible plants, too.”

Quinn set the book down. Carefully. “Why are you making a campfire?”