Laura Abbot (13 page)

She clutched his arms, her eyes desperately searching his. “Don’t leave. I still feel like celebrating tonight. Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? Let’s just relax and be together.”

He kissed her gently. “Okay. I can do that. I can.”

G
RETA REMOVED
the dessert plates, then refilled the coffee cups. Katherine sat at the head of the table, her daughter to her right, Laurel to her left. John had returned to Chicago earlier in the day, but Nan had decided to stay for the week. Much as she relished her solitude, Katherine had to admit the dinner with her special female guests had been a pleasant diversion. Laurel had told Nan all about her dream of opening The Gift Horse and the steps—and detours—she’d taken to achieve her goal. Laurel finished with a triumphant account of yesterday’s opening.

“From what I saw,” Nan commented, “you have some rare pieces. None of the cookie-cutter merchandise I so often see in gift shops.”

“One of the great joys of this business is discovering local artisans, who often have no idea how unique their products are. I love being able to help them.”

Nan stirred sugar into her coffee. “But how did you begin making such contacts?”

“That came naturally. My mother is a weaver and my father works in wood. The rocking horses are his. As a child, I began meeting other craftspersons at the shows where my parents exhibited. When I was asked to be the sales rep for their cooperative, it felt like the perfect job.”

“My,” Katherine interjected, “all that traveling must have been difficult.”

“I admit to having seen the inside of more motels than I want to think about.” Laurel smiled. “But otherwise, how would I have discovered Lake Michigan—and Belleporte?”

“We’re glad you did,” Katherine said quietly, wondering why this young woman had so captured her affection. From the beginning, Laurel had seemed like an old friend. And how very strange that she would have asked about the house. Why, very few current residents had any idea Summer Haven had once been white. Maybe this fall she’d consider having it repainted. After all, white had been the original color. But after that awful afternoon thirty years ago, Frank had insisted on the change, apparently hoping a coat of paint could blot out memories of what they had lost.

“…were your parents native West Virginians?”

Katherine perked up at Nan’s question. “No. My father was from Maryland, but he was orphaned as a young boy and grew up in foster families. I don’t really know much about my mother’s parents. Apparently they moved a lot. They’re both dead now. Actually, I never knew any of my grandparents.”

“That’s too bad,” Katherine said. “So it was just you and your parents?”

“Yes.” Katherine couldn’t help studying Laurel’s hands as they circled her coffee cup. Tapering fingers, graceful. When she spoke, she often gestured with her hands in a way that reminded Katherine of someone. Ballerina-like, not distracting, but rather a joyful adjunct to communication. She studied Laurel’s gestures as she filled Nan in on her girlhood—homeschooling, freedom to explore the mountains and hollows, fascination with nature.

A thought formed, and then, Katherine gasped, the sharp intake of breath piercing her chest. Laurel and Nan were staring at her.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Nan rose and crouched beside her. Laurel reached for her hand.

The young woman’s face swam in front of her but she was fine. It was just the shock of the insight that had come to her like a bolt of lightning. Irrational. Ridiculous. Yet nothing in a long time had filled her with such certainty. “I’m fine. A touch of heartburn.”
Heartburn.
She managed an ironic smile.
Heartache,
more likely. “Please, it’s nothing.”

Nan helped her into the easy chair in the living room. “You’re doing too much. I knew it.”

Laurel looked pale. “Maybe she overdid it yesterday.”

Katherine struggled to sit erect. “Nonsense. What do I have to do to convince you two I’m fine? Dance a jig?”

“Mother—” Nan started toward her.

“Calm down. I will sit right here like a good girl and tolerate being patronized by my youngers.”

Laurel approached and perched on the arm of the chair, patting her shoulder. “‘Youngers.’ I like that.” She tilted her head in a hauntingly familiar way. “That really should be the antonym for ‘elders,’ shouldn’t it?”

“That or ‘heed-me-nots.’”

Laurel chuckled. “We really must talk words one day soon.”

“I’d like that. It would be—” she chuckled conspiratorially “—
vivifying.
”

Bending down, Laurel placed a fleeting kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for a lovely evening.” She stood and faced Nan. “I really enjoyed meeting you. Please stop by the shop again soon.”

While Nan escorted Laurel to the door, Katherine rested her head on the upholstered pillow and closed her eyes. Nan would call her a foolish old lady, lost in false hopes. Yet the sheer coincidence of it boggled the mind. If only she could slow the beat of her heart, which was relentlessly competing with her reason.

“Mother, you look so tired. Let me help you to bed.”

Katherine waved her daughter away. “Not yet. I want to ask you something.”

Unable to conceal her concern, Nan knelt at her feet. “What is it?”

Katherine licked her lips and struggled to keep emotion out of her voice. “Does Laurel remind you of anyone?”

Slowly Nan raised her head, her expression confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“She asked me if Summer Haven had ever been painted white.”

“So?”

“It’s been brown about as long as Laurel’s been alive. Besides, she’s never been to Belleporte before. So how would she know that?”

Nan stared at her mother for a long moment before her eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “Mother, you’re not thinking…”

Katherine felt her mouth go dry. “Don’t you see the resemblance?”

“Oh, Mama, don’t torture yourself.”

“I knew Laurel reminded me of someone.”

“Mother, Jo’s been gone for so long. We’ve never heard from her. Not once in all these years.”

“Your father told us to forget about her,” Katherine said, making no move to wipe away the tears gathering in her eyes. “But how could I forget my own daughter?”

Nan’s arms went around her.

“Laurel’s the right age.” She couldn’t bring herself to add, “to be my granddaughter.”

Nan took her by the upper arms and held her firmly. “Stop it, Mother. You’re trying to talk yourself into something. It will only end in pain. And you—we—have had more than enough of that.”

Katherine laid her weary head on her daughter’s shoulder. “But what if…what if I’m right?”

W
HEN
N
OEL CAME
through the door, Pat looked up from her loom, her lips forming a smile of greeting that slowly faded as she read the concern—and judgment—in his face. “What is it?” she asked, taking the shuttle to the end of the row.

Noel set the bag of groceries on the counter, then spread the mail on the kitchen table. “I think you’d better come take a look.”

Pat ran a hand randomly over the piece she was working on, seeking comfort from the texture of the wool. Outside the window she could hear songbirds chirping, and from somewhere across the valley the insistent whir of a buzz saw. Noel mechanically sorted the groceries—cold stuffs on the counter near the refrigerator, canned goods by the pantry. The lines in his face were deep, his jaw tense.

She came up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

“You’re not going to like it.” With a forefinger he pushed an envelope toward her. “It’s from Laurel.”

Her face lit up. “Why wouldn’t I like it?”

“She’s sent a newspaper clipping and photograph from the grand opening.”

“Good, at last I’ll be able to see the shop.”

She barely heard his next words. “That’s not all you’ll see.”

Something in his tone made her go weak in the knees. With bone-chilling dread, she pulled Laurel’s letter from the envelope, along with the clipping. In large type the headline read “Gift Shop Opening Well Attended.” Then her eyes fell to the photograph. Laurel standing beside a tea table with…with… “No!” She heard a shrill cry that sounded like her own voice just before the floor rose to meet her.

J
OHN
K
ELLEY SAT
at the head of the table in the Sullivan Company boardroom beneath an imposing oil portrait of Frank Sullivan, company founder. Flanking him were Jay and the chief financial officer. At first Ben had been intimidated by the lush Oriental carpet, the highly polished conference table, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Chicago skyline. As the discussion proceeded, however, and it became clear his input was not only helpful but appreciated, he relaxed. He wanted this work not merely because he needed the money, but because others valued his expertise. It didn’t hurt, though, that he now knew the source of his office rent for the next few months.

He studied the room, tailor-made for movers and shakers, knowing he, too, could’ve opted for this life. Recruiters had more than once laid down attractive alternatives to his one-man operation in Belleporte. Family considerations had put such opportunities beyond the realm of possibility, but he had to admit he thrived on the challenges Jay and John offered him.

John closed his folder, took off his glasses and smiled. “Ben, we appreciate the good work you’ve done so far, but this is only the tip of the iceberg. We’ll look forward to your further input.” He rose, extended his hand, then, closely followed by the CFO, left the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jay rounded the table. “Ben, my man, this is huge. Way to go!”

Grinning, Ben stood and shook hands. “I know I didn’t get this work solely on the basis of my boyish charm. Thanks.”

Jay clapped him on the back. “Forget it. Your objective viewpoint is genuinely helpful. I hope you have time for a late lunch before you head back to Belleporte.”

“I’m starving,” Ben said, recalling he’d been too uptight to eat breakfast.

The lunch crowd had come and gone from the nearby steak house, and Ben found the quiet, dim interior relaxing after his tension-filled morning. After they ordered, Jay unbuttoned his suit jacket and spread his arms across the back of the booth. “Sure there’s no way we can convince you to join our legal department?”

It was not the first time the suggestion had been made. “Afraid not.”

“Family keeping you busy?”

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” Ben said. For the umpteenth time since his Saturday conversation with Laurel, he second-guessed himself. What was his obligation to the family, anyway? Just this week when Terry learned he was coming to Chicago, he had made another appeal for money, this time for sailing lessons offered through the university. Hell, Ben didn’t even know how to sail. Terry had seemed baffled when Ben turned him down, suggesting he pay for them himself. “With what?” was his brother’s response. Ben had gritted his teeth. “The same way I pay for things—out of what I earn,” he’d replied testily.

Jay leaned forward, a sly grin on his face. “And what about Miss Gift Horse?”

“Laurel?”

“Yeah, Laurel.” Jay made a give-it-to-me gesture with his fingers. “Don’t hold out on me.”

“I’ve been spending some time with her,” Ben said noncommittally.

“That would be putting it mildly from what I hear via the Belleporte grapevine. Just as I suspected earlier, she’s the one, isn’t she?”

Ben rested his elbows on the table and looked straight at Jay. “I think so.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Attractive, opinionated, energetic and, how can I put it…?”

“Gorgeous?”

Ben grinned. “You got it.”

“I’m coming to Belleporte this weekend. I’d like to meet her.”

“Anytime but Saturday night. We have a big date.”

“Celebrating?”

“The successful grand opening of her shop.”

“Granny’s sure high on her.”

Ben chuckled. “They make quite a pair.”

The waiter served their steak sandwiches and fries. Jay took a bite of his sandwich, chewed thoughtfully, then spoke. “Mom’s worried about Granny.”

Ben set down his fry. “Why? She seems full of energy.”

“I don’t know quite how to tell you this, but it has to do with your Laurel.”

“Laurel?”

“I’m afraid I need to ask your help on a sensitive confidential matter.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, pal.”

“Granny’s gotten this crazy idea in her head. You may not even remember hearing about this, but my mother had a sister, Jo. Something happened the day before my parents’ wedding. Jo was supposed to be the maid of honor, but she left without a word after an argument with my grandfather. It’s like she just disappeared.”

Ben was dumbfounded. “You mean she’s never been heard from? Surely the family tried to locate her?”

“Grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. Said Jo had made her bed and she could lie in it. Essentially he turned his back on her, and the family was given little choice but to go along with him. He could be quite domineering,” Jay said in classic understatement. “And, no, she’s never been heard from.”

“What does this have to do with Laurel?”

“Granny has this nutty notion that Laurel resembles Jo. And somehow Laurel knew that years ago Summer Haven had been painted white. Of course, any old pictures of Belleporte cottages could’ve revealed that.”

“What does Laurel have to say about it?”

“That’s just it. Granny doesn’t want to involve her until she knows something for sure. As she said, there’s no point in upsetting Laurel needlessly. Mom has finally convinced my grandmother to hire someone to conduct a low-key investigation. Frankly, I think this is all wishful thinking on Granny’s part. Any connection would be an extremely unlikely coincidence. We want to move quickly, though, before she gets any more worked up. We need to prove to her she’s deluding herself. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” Ben stared at Jay.

“Yeah. You lawyer types know investigators, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“We wouldn’t trust anyone else with this, Ben. Any search has to be handled discreetly.”

“You realize the position you’re putting me in? It’s like a betrayal to go behind Laurel’s back like this.”

“But look at it this way. There’s probably nothing to it. Why get Laurel all worked up about it? Besides—” Jay spread his hands in a gesture of appeal “—you’d be doing us a tremendous favor.”

Ben stared at the cooled, congealing French fries and felt a lead ball forming in his stomach. In essence, he owed his career to the Kelleys and Katherine Sullivan. They asked for little in return. But this? “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t wait too long.” With that, Jay dug into his meal with an enthusiasm Ben wished he could emulate. Instead, he sat there pushing cold potatoes around his plate, realizing he was smack dab in the middle of a moral bind.

“I
’M SO GLAD
you suggested this,” Laurel said, spreading her towel beside Ellen’s. They’d selected a spot on the beach just down from a group of cavorting children.

“We both needed a break.” Ellen began coating herself with sunscreen. “Have you even been swimming yet?”

Laurel laughed. “Come to think of it, no. If you hadn’t dragged me out of the store and convinced me Megan could close, I’d still be there.”

“There’s usually not that much traffic late in the day.”

“No. In fact, I’ve considered closing half an hour earlier.”

Ellen squeezed more sunscreen into her palm and began applying it to her freckled shoulders. “But business is good?”

“The opening was fantastic, but I should’ve expected a lull after that, since most of the natives have made their initial sortie.” Laurel settled back in the warm sand, relishing the feel of the sun on her face. “How’s the real estate market these days?”

“Rentals are great. Sales are slow. They should pick up after the Fourth, but I still have time to help out at the store when you need me.”

“You’ve been a huge help, but I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s fun. I feel rather like a midwife to the enterprise.”

Laurel spread her arms and traced angel wings in the sand. “It’s just about perfect, Ellen. I love the town, the business is doing better than I’d hoped, and—”

“There’s Ben,” Ellen said with a teasing smile.

“Yes, there’s Ben.” Laurel had a brief misgiving. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Honey, I’m long past whatever feelings I imagined I had for Ben. Besides, it’s fun to watch you two together. You’re goners. Both of you.”

Laurel closed her eyes, a satisfied grin playing over her lips. Last night’s celebration dinner had been special. Chateaubriand, champagne and Ben’s approval. Heady stuff.

Ellen stretched out beside her, protecting her face with a large straw hat.

“I’m a lucky lady,” Laurel murmured. “I once told Ben that, except for my marriage, I’d led a charmed life.”

“No trouble spots these days?”

Laurel thought about Ellen’s question. “Only the fact my parents couldn’t come for the opening.” She flopped over on her stomach. “We’ve always shared everything, and it didn’t seem right not to have them here. But then I guess I have to realize they have their lives, too.”

Basking in the sun, feeling every muscle and nerve melt into the earth beneath her, Laurel was about to doze off when she remembered something. “Ellen, did I tell you I finally met Jay Kelley? He stopped by the shop yesterday morning. If I hadn’t seen Ben first, I’d have to think about Jay. He’s a very good-looking man. And nice, too.” She reared up and lifted Ellen’s hat. “How about you? Jay’s unattached. You’re looking.”

Ellen turned on her side and propped her head on her hand. “Jay Kelley and me? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re from totally different worlds.”

“Meaning?”

“Jay’s family moves in the finest circles in Chicago. I’m strictly homegrown. I wouldn’t fit in with his crowd, even though I have to agree with you, he’s one good-looking guy.”

“He seems really down to earth. And Katherine doesn’t put on any airs.”

“She doesn’t need to. She’s able to buy and sell us all and can tell most people to take a flying leap if she wants to.”

“I could tell Jay adores her.”

“They’re a close family. I like all of them. But you can forget any little matchmaking schemes.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

Ellen lay back down and covered her face again. “Positive.”

Still, the longer Laurel lay there, the more clearly she could see Jay and Ellen together. They’d be perfect.

Perfect. She considered the concept. Right now her own life was about as good as it could get. She smiled with satisfaction, then sat up, removed her watch and ran toward the water. A breaking wave hit her with a jolt that knocked the breath out of her and threw her back on her derriere.

She giggled.
Almost
everything was perfect, but no onlooker would ever confuse her with a sea nymph.

B
EN WAS NO PLUMBER
, but somehow he’d managed to get the downstairs toilet in his mother’s house functioning again. Peering over his shoulder, she watched anxiously. “I couldn’t get along without this.”

As he eyed the row of potty chairs and low-hung towel racks, Ben wondered how anyone had the patience to run a day-care center. When he straightened, wiping his hands on the rag he’d been using, he took a good look at his mother. The worry lines in her forehead had deepened and her pale skin looked gray. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He threw an arm around her shoulder and led her to the sofa, where he sat down beside her. “I can think of any number of reasons, starting with Bess and Mike.” He paused. “It can’t be easy having Bess and the kids move in.”

“We’re family,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

“Your health matters. Dad wouldn’t want you—”

She lifted her eyes to his. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Talk about him.” She thrust a hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out a tissue. “Sorry. I’m just having a bad day.” She blew her nose.

“You never talk about him, Mom.” From upstairs came the strains of some female vocalist. A breeze from the open window stirred the garden flowers on the sofa table. “Wouldn’t it help?”

“Help?” She rose to her feet and went to the bookcase where his parents’ wedding photograph was displayed. “Talk won’t bring Matthew back. Neither will tears.”

He watched her, aware that she was controlling her emotions only by a thread. He felt uncomfortable with his role here, but someone needed to ask the question. “Wouldn’t it help to cry?”

She turned slowly to face him, a bitter laugh erupting. “Cry? Ben, I’ve cried many, many times over your father. There’s no need to do it again.”

Picking up the picture, she studied it, then ran her fingers over the surface of the glass. Finally she set it down and faced him again. “Don’t talk to me about death and grief, Ben. I could write the book. When I need to cry, I’ll cry. Understood?”

What could he say? Apparently his mother needed control more than release. “Understood.”

Before she excused herself to go start dinner, she brought up one last subject. “If you want something to worry about, go talk to your brother Mike.”

His stomach clenched. “Why?”

“He failed geometry,” she said.

Just then Mike made a timely appearance in the doorway. Ben turned toward him. “I guess you heard,” the boy said.

“Yes.”

“You gotta get me out of summer school. Only geeks go to summer school.”

“Geeks who fail courses.”

“You could talk to Principal Moberly and tell him I could double up next year. Take two maths.”

“Think he’s going to consider that when you couldn’t pass one?”

“You gotta help me.”

Ben felt a fuse burning in the neighborhood of his chest. Before it exploded, he turned to his brother, eyed him up and down and simply said, “No, I don’t. I’m not the one who failed the course.” Then, before Mike could say anything, Ben turned and left, not sure whether he was furious or triumphant.

Funny,
he thought as he drove away from the house,
how harmony suffers from the truth.
He cursed under his breath. That little insight reminded him of the message from Jay on his voice mail requesting an answer about the investigation. The way Jay had put it was that they merely needed to prove Laurel
wasn’t
related to Jo Sullivan. From what Ben knew, that ought to be simple enough to do. Laurel’s parents were known entities, easy enough to trace, and if it would ease Katherine Sullivan’s mind… Laurel would never have to know, and Katherine would be satisfied. Besides, he couldn’t overlook his debt to the Sullivans and Kelleys. What could be the harm?