Four Weeks (2 page)

"Never?"

"Nope.” He looked around at the animals surrounding them. “But I do like them. They stand in them stalls all day, never sayin’ a thing. Just satisfied to wait it out."

In spite of her hurry to be alone and read the letter, his simple way of looking at things touched her. If she'd thought about it, she would've admired the animals for the same thing. Instead of always chasing a better life, they accepted what came. Maybe she should be more like them.

"Nice talkin’ with you, Miss Hart, but I better get to work."

The wobbly wheels of the cart squeaked in protest as he pushed it away from the wide, breezy doorway. The noise matched the comical jerking motion of his legs as he headed off to clean the stalls.

Once she was sure his attention had been directed elsewhere, she pulled the sheet of paper free. Her fingers trembled slightly. The details blurred together, but the message sunk in.

Giddy relief washed over her and she smiled. The young Mr. Parker wasn't her boss. Where her boss was, she had no idea, but the instructions contained by the single page directed her on a new path. One she'd happily follow.

LOUISE SWUNG THE duffel bag over her shoulder and left the barn for the warm May sunshine. Without pausing, or even glancing back, she walked toward the street, under the weathered sign then down the sidewalk to find the place indicated in the letter.

The kindness of her new boss to arrange a room for her was unexpected but very much appreciated. Although it was still early in the season, and the historic sights like Fort Mackinac, the military headquarters that the British and Americans had fought over, had yet to open; she'd imagined herself wandering the island with her feet aching and a tattered classified section clutched in her hand. Now, the chore had been taken care of for her. The older Mr. Parker was more of a gentleman than his rude son.

When she reached the end of the block she consulted the neatly drawn map at the bottom of the letter. According to her best guess, Lovell's Rooming House was only another block or two away. She followed the curve of the street round to the left and waited at the three-way intersection while a pair of overloaded bicycles rushed by.

The men, a few years younger than herself, sped past. Their challenging shouts faded as the suitcases they carried, perched at odd angles and tied on with bright elastic cords, disappeared around a curve.

She hopped down from the curb and crossed the narrow street.

The races of the bicycling bellhops had seemed odd to her as a child, but now she understood it was their way of adding challenge and competition to a job that might otherwise be dull. Toting suitcases from the dock to the hotel only to turn around and collect more to take down the steep hills had to be monotonous. Boredom was something she'd never dealt with well. Maybe if she could be more creative, like the racing bellhops, she wouldn't have found herself in her current situation.

Admittedly, she'd accepted her new job to get away from home and to escape the faded dreams she'd left behind, but working among a crowd of enthusiastic people would make her summer fun. Too bad the good-natured competitive spirit hadn't rubbed off on the young Mr. Parker.

For some reason, the sound of his low laugh and the unwelcome image of his handsome face burst into Louise's mind. She shook her head as if she could get rid of him that easily. It didn't work, so she hurried down the walk. Putting distance between them might do the trick.

Thank goodness that man wasn't her boss. Besides the fact that she'd made a fool of herself by staring at him, his personality left a lot to be desired. The odd combination of nervousness and frustration pulsing through her veins just thinking about him told her everything she needed to know. He was a man to be avoided.

Louise tried to distract herself by studying her surroundings as she walked. Several patches of fading daffodils circled the front of a small art gallery. As she passed, she admired the large watercolor paintings filling the front window. To her, the landscapes of tall pines, old birches and delicate white trilliums carpeting the ground were distinctly northern Michigan.

Her hometown in the southern part of the state was pleasant, too. She loved her family and friends, but she'd been smothered for too long. Being the only child of overprotective parents didn't leave much room for independence. Her mother and father didn't understand her need to prove herself. They never believed her when she told them that what she needed to be fulfilled was an exciting career.

That's what she planned to find on the island. Freedom, independence, and success. That combination, the rewards from a successful career, would lead to complete happiness and fulfillment.

At the end of the sidewalk, where the concrete met the sandy grass that stretched to the shore, sat two buildings. One was a carriage house that had been turned into an elegant hotel; the other smaller building had to be Lovell's Rooming House.

Louise slowed to examine the red-roofed structure. Instead of the dread she experienced when she first laid eyes on Hawk's Riding Stable, the rooming house drew her. The narrow brick walkway beckoned and she pushed her way through the prim whitewashed gate, noting the budding shrubs and small trees that filled the surrounding yard.

She followed the path as it curved around the building and climbed the wide steps to the back porch. A tiny painted sign nailed below a bell instructed her to ring for service. The pretty jingle pealed into the quiet.

She turned from the closed door to admire the shoreline view. To her left she saw the piers where the ferryboats brought the hordes of tourists onto the island and further down she made out the smaller docks where people kept their private boats. The tall sailboats and low fishing boats clung to the docks. To her right the shoreline curved sharply around forming the bottom section of the steep craggy west side of the island.

"Hello, Miss. Can I help you?"

Louise turned to find a tall, gray-haired woman staring at her. The woman brushed away a few stray hairs as she studied Louise the way a small town citizen studies every newcomer, thoroughly and openly.

The plain curiosity didn't bother her. After the treatment she'd gotten at the barn, she rather liked the fresh dose of honesty. Renewed with confidence, she offered her hand and introduced herself.

A spark of surprise and something else flashed in the older woman's faded brown eyes.

Uncertainty niggled at Louise. “I thought you might be expecting me.” She dropped one hand and lifted up the letter she held in the other. “Mr. Parker left me this note."

"Yes, of course.” The woman paused, then went on more firmly, “I was expecting you."

After another pause, a genuine smile appeared and brought her expression alive. “I'm Sally Lovell. I own this old place and I'm real happy to have you.” She pulled the door open wider, backed into the house and gestured for Louise to follow.

The wooden screen door smacked behind them. Louise put down her duffel bag and scanned the huge parlor she'd entered. Inviting couches and tables stacked with magazines filled the room.

"I'll get you a glass of lemonade."

Louise opened her mouth to tell her hostess that wasn't necessary, but Mrs. Lovell had already scurried from the room. A huge floral rug silenced Louise's footsteps as she crossed the room to look out one of the wide picture windows offering a wonderful view of the waters surrounding the island. The wind had picked up and white caps striped the blue waters of Lake Huron. When she'd come across on the first ferry that morning the water had been smooth and calm.

The waters were quickly changeable, just like Mr. Parker. The young, handsome, Mr. Parker. His easy going smile sure had disappeared fast enough after he'd figured out who she was. Had she embarrassed him or was it something else? Maybe he was disgusted his father hired someone so...

Unprofessional. She winced. At least he wasn't the boss. After the way he'd looked her over, she doubted he'd say anything about her to his father. He wouldn't want to explain his own actions.

But why the sudden personality change? More importantly, why did she care? She shouldn't, but something in the contemptuous way his gaze raked over her just before he'd dismissed her grated on her nerves. For all she knew, she'd never see him again.

Oh, but she did want to see him again, if only to set the record straight that she was a hard-working career woman, and not some flake that walked around with her head in the clouds.

Not that what he thought about her mattered.

"Here we are."

Mrs. Lovell strolled into the room carrying a tray. Her hair had been smoothed into place and her eyebrows had lost the tense, pulled together look.

She laid the tray on a long table. “I've brought you a snack as well, dear. I have a feeling your day has been a long one already, even though it isn't even noon.” She seated herself in a low-backed rocker and pointed to the couch. “Sit down."

Louise smiled despite the gentle command behind the words and tried not to drop herself onto the couch. “Thank you, Mrs. Lovell. I could use a snack."

She picked up the tall glass of lemonade and took a long drink. It was delicious.

"I make it with real lemons. I never got used to that powdered stuff.” Mrs. Lovell pushed the tray across the table. “Take some cookies, dear."

Louise picked up a few round wafers dipped in chocolate. An easy silence settled between them while she ate and her hostess rocked in her chair. Louise cast a glance at her duffel bag. There didn't seem to be any hurry finding her a room, but Mrs. Lovell hadn't sent her away either. With a contented sigh, she eased into the couch and let herself relax.

A short while had passed when she heard heavy footsteps falling across the porch. The jingle of the bell prompted Mrs. Lovell to rise. “Excuse me, dear."

"No need to get up, Sally."

Even before the screen smacked shut Louise knew whose voice was interrupting the only peace she'd had all day. Trent Parker.

"Nonsense, Trent.” A note of affection warmed the older woman's voice. “I have to get another glass of lemonade.” With that she left the two of them alone.

Not ready to take whatever he had to dish out, Louise straightened. She braced herself against the power his presence seemed to have over her. Judging by the way he sat squarely in the rocker Sally vacated, she was sure he hadn't come to Lovell's Rooming House to welcome her to the island.

TRENT TOOK HIS time meeting Louise's gaze. He wanted to be in control, and he wanted to be sure she saw what he wanted her to see: A man who wasn't impressed with work credentials or a professional attitude.

No doubt she had those attributes in abundance. They had to be the reason his father had hired her. Only the old man wasn't here and that Mr. Parker, the one who valued a strong work ethic above everything else including family, wasn't coming.

Not today or any that followed it.

Trent moved his gaze over the antique furnishings Sally took such pride in. He'd seen it before, that first day on the island when she'd had him over, but to make Louise wait, and to get his thoughts together, he pretended to study it anew.

He told himself he didn't care much about his father's new hire. Who she was, where she'd come from, those things didn't concern him. The only thing that mattered to Trent was systematically eliminating each reminder of his recently deceased father, starting by getting rid of the ridiculous rundown shed he'd called a riding stable.

The first step in this plan was to get rid of the tempting Miss Louise Hart. He'd been expecting the new manager to arrive later in the day and he'd been anticipating a wide-shouldered sturdy-looking farm girl, so her appearance had been a surprise in more ways than one. Her sweet round face, wavy blonde hair, and wide blue eyes had caught his interest, but that was before he knew who she was. He should've sent her on her way home right from the barn, but after her long appraisal, he hadn't felt like it.

Deciding that she'd waited long enough, he turned to her. She raised her shoulders—maybe to keep from looking so small nestled among Sally's oversized cushions. It didn't work. The fat cushions still swallowed her up. She brushed a tiny crumb from her lip then laid her arms over her lap, yet she didn't turn away.

Trent clenched his jaw.

All the way over to Sally's he'd been certain he would tell her outright that the job she'd come for was no longer available. He hadn't planned on getting into the whole story about his father buying that money pit for no good reason then dying suddenly. But for some reason, things didn't seem so simple anymore. Not with her bright eyes watching his every move and bringing to life that interest she'd awakened in him at the barn. The heavy pulsing of his heart made it difficult to think clearly. Unfortunately, gazing at her made him feel more alive than he had in a long time.

So what? That was just a typical male reaction to a pretty face. Nothing he had to pay heed to. He knew what kind of woman his father would've hired to run a business and he didn't want any part of that sort of person.

Trent sighed. He had to come out with it.

Unfortunately, she broke the silence first. “Did you come here for a reason? Other than to stare at me?"

He couldn't deny that he'd been staring, so he didn't. “I came about the job."

"Do you work closely with your father?"

The question jabbed at him. He'd handled more than his share of business transactions, but none of them had been with his father. Mr. Parker never had any use for his only son, especially when his son handled business with a light hand instead of the smashing fist his father preferred. In response to her question he shook his head.

She lifted her fine eyebrows. “In that case I don't see what we have to talk about."

He couldn't help himself. He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “You seemed interested in talking to me at the stable."

The red flush that spread up her neck and stained her cheeks told him what he wanted to know. The attraction went both ways.