Mountain Sanctuary (4 page)

At least, she felt little sparks of life shooting through her with tiny jolts each time she glanced at him. Or each time he looked at her. Telling herself to just ignore all that, Stella tried to focus on some of the paintings displayed along the busy sidewalks.

“Thanks for coming,” she told him. “It’s hard enough to keep up with Kyle when it’s not wall-to-wall people. I appreciate the extra set of eyes.”

Adam scanned the crowd, his gaze set and determined, and reminding Stella that he had been a big-city cop. She could almost see that in the way he went on full alert now, scoping the plaza and streets with a keen, but subtle appraisal.

“You don’t have to worry much about crime here,” she said, hoping he would relax. The man was as intense as a drill sergeant.

“Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging. “A lot can happen in the blink of an eye.”

Stella kept her eyes on Kyle, then called to him. “Honey, stay close, okay?”

Kyle came running back. “I’m hungry.”

“We’ll eat soon enough,” Stella replied as they strolled by the Buckstaff Bathhouse. Pointing toward Bathhouse Row, she told Adam, “I could sure use a good hot mineral bath and a massage. One day.”

“That sounds nice,” Adam said, agreeing. “I’ve never been one for that kind of luxury, though.”

“Oh, me, either. But a lot of people come here to be pampered. And they say the natural hot springwater is good for the soul.”

“All the more reason to give them a good place to stay.”

“You don’t let up, do you?”

“Not much.”

His look told her he wasn’t just talking about remodeling her house. Telling herself to keep her eyes in her head, Stella went over the list of reasons she shouldn’t be attracted to this man. He was a stranger; a wanderer fresh off some sort of meltdown, she imagined. He might be in crisis mode. And she’d had enough of crisis mode with her mother and her husband. Now she only wanted a nice quiet life, full of steady, solid work and raising her son. She wanted to take care of her daddy and Kyle. That’s all she asked.

And that meant she didn’t need to fill her head with images of a dark-haired, hardworking man whose gray eyes spoke of misery and torment. But you can at least be nice to him. The man is trying to help you. And he can cook, remember? Even if you’re not sure you can trust his motives.

Stella shifted her gaze back toward Adam. He kept glancing around, taking it all in. The art was colorful, the crafts interesting and eclectic, the music going from jazz to gospel to high-school bands doing their routines. But Adam seemed as tense as ever, almost as if being in this crowd was making him more uptight than relaxed.

“You okay?” she asked, worrying when she had no business worrying.

Adam nodded, kept looking around.

“Nice,” he finally said as they came upon some still-life pictures depicting Hot Springs Mountain, while the real thing stood sentinel just behind the park. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any hills.”

The park was part of the Ouachita Mountain range on the eastern side of the state. Stella looked up at the trees and rocks. “I guess I just take it for granted. But you’re right. It is nice, especially with spring bursting out everywhere.”

“We can climb to the top if you wanna,” Kyle suggested, eager to take off.

“Hold on,” Stella said, grabbing her son by the arm. “It’ll be dusk soon. No mountain climbing tonight.”

“Oh, all right.” Kyle twisted. “Then what can we do?”

Adam leaned down. “How ’bout we go in that shop over there and look at the toys. Maybe we can find you a coloring book or a miniature race car for your collection.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Why, sure.” Then Adam looked at Stella. “I mean, if it’s okay by your mom.”

Stella bristled at Adam’s ready generosity, but told herself to cut the man some slack. He seemed to need to be generous. He actually seemed to care. Which was refreshing if not disturbing. “I guess one racer wouldn’t hurt. Just one more for me to step on, but who’s counting?”

“I only need three more,” Kyle said, holding up three fingers. “Then I’ll have the whole co-wet-sion.”

“It’s collection,” Stella corrected, grinning.

“Well, then, we’d better get started,” Adam said, his stern expression breaking into a smile.

Stella had no choice but to hurry and follow her son and the new man in her life across the street.

The new
handyman,
she revised. He’s not in my life, he’s just here. He just appeared here. Out of the blue, she reminded herself. Like a gift from heaven. Either a gift or a very big mistake. Stella wasn’t sure which just yet. But she was sure of one thing. Adam Callahan looked dangerous, and not just because he carried the baggage of a burned-out cop. More like, because he was so good-looking and so intense. Just like her dead husband had once been. Good-looking and intense made for a whole slew of heartaches. And Stella would not make that mistake again, no matter how impressed she was with Adam Callahan’s muffins.

A
dam couldn’t believe how much fun he was having. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed and smiled so many times in one day. Stella’s smile could do that to a man. She wasn’t pretty in the cover-girl kind of way. She was exotic and whimsical in her long flowing skirt and pretty lace blouse, with her red-blond hair cascading around her shoulders and down her back like a golden waterfall. That made her much more interesting than any cover model. And she was sure different from all the brash, fast-paced women he’d tried to date back in New Orleans. But this woman’s attitude was as fickle as a prevailing wind. Stella fit the stereotype of a provincial country woman, but at times she broke the mold and shattered all his preconceived notions. Which made her so interesting, Adam couldn’t resist just being around her.

They’d walked along the streets of the historic district located on Central Avenue. Adam appreciated the towering live oaks and the turn-of-the-century homes and buildings. “This place is pretty,” he said as they strolled on past Bathhouse Row. “Even though it’s old and historic, there seems to be a good energy going on.”

“Hot Springs is a very eclectic place, that’s for sure. A mixture of laid-back artists and hardworking everyday people.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Kyle held his mother’s hand and pointed to things that interested him. Finally, they went into a popular diner to order burgers and fries. Adam had a piece of pie, too.

“That hamburger was good,” Adam said, just to test her mood after paying the bill and waving bye to the manager. He was fast learning that Stella had many moods. Maybe it was that fiery redhead thing going on. Inside the restaurant, she’d laughed and chatted with the locals, but she’d sure hushed up when they wanted to get more details about her new handyman.

“Yep.” She strolled along now, glancing at the art that lined the streets in front of all the quaint shops. “We have a lot of great restaurants here. And there are always some sort of activities going on around the square, too.” Then she looked over toward the mountain. “Me, I like staying at home, cooking something simple. I’ve never been one for crowds.”

“I cook a mean burger myself,” he said, smiling over at her. “I’ll cook us up a batch next weekend maybe.”

“Sounds good.”

He glanced ahead, keeping a close watch on Kyle. That one was as slippery as a catfish, dipping here and there, running through the crowd. No wonder Stella seemed so tired; she sure had her hands full with the inn to run, her daddy to watch out for and keeping up with an energetic little boy. From everything Adam could see, the inn was a big responsibility. And he wasn’t so sure Stella really enjoyed being an innkeeper. She seemed to be more of a solitary person who didn’t like a lot of fanfare or attention.

“When did your mom pass?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

She looked over at him, her green eyes going wide. “Why do you want to know?”

Deciding she’d make a mighty fine bad cop during an interrogation session, he shrugged. “Just wondering how long you’ve had the Sanctuary.”

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “She died last year. We moved into the inn a few months after that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “Were you two close, in spite of her leaving your dad?”

“No.”

That one word summed up a whole lot of things in Adam’s mind. He remembered Stella saying that her mother had left them when Stella was ten. That had to be hard on a child. No doubt, Stella still held some resentment toward her mother.

She glanced over at him, then let out a sigh. “My daddy and I stayed in Little Rock after she left. We knew she’d moved to Hot Springs, but we didn’t know much about the inn. Just that she lived in a big old Victorian house and that she had gained a following with her art. I think the house started out as some sort of artists’ community, then turned into a bed-and-breakfast for financial reasons. But she was well on her way to becoming locally renowned when she got sick. At least that’s what the locals tell me.”

“You said she was an artist, right? What kind of art?”

“Mostly still life and paintings.”

He watched as she glanced over the shops and eateries, her face devoid of makeup and emotion. But he could see the burn of a blush brightening up her freckles. Adam was about to ask her another question when Kyle came running back toward them.

“Mamma, I found one of Grandma Estelle’s pictures.”

Stella stopped in her tracks, her wedge sandals skidding on the sidewalk, her intake of breath quick and unsteady. “What did you say?”

Kyle grabbed her hand. “I found one of Grandma’s pictures. You know, the one with the bird sitting by the morning-glory vine. You told me about that one, remember?”

Stella gave Adam a panicked glance. “I don’t think—”

“Mama, come and look at it,” Kyle said on a whine, practically dragging Stella along. “It’s your favorite one, remember?”

Adam had to step aside to keep from stumbling over a couple holding hands, but he managed to keep pace with Stella and Kyle. They rounded the curve leading toward the Arlington Hotel, then Kyle stopped and pointed to a painting sitting on an easel by a doorway.

Adam looked from Stella’s frowning face to the painting. Kyle was right. He could make out the signature in the right-hand corner.
Estelle C.
The painting was just as whimsical in its own way as the woman standing beside him. The red bird sat staring at the budding blue morning glory, his eyes bright with anticipation. But the lush, vivid flower had an expectant look on its blossoming face, too.

The title of the painting was
Awakening.
But Adam couldn’t be sure if the bird or the flower was the one most surprised.

Stella seemed just about as surprised herself. He watched her green eyes flash fire before they went dark with memories and regret. “I wonder how that wound up here.”

“It’s sure pretty,” he said, sounding dense to his own ears. “Of course, I’m not an art critic.”

Stella saw the estimated value written on a card along with the words Not For Sale, then whirled toward him. “It’s worth three times what they’re asking, but the shopkeeper must be holding out for more.”

While Kyle touched the gilt-edged frame, his big eyes opening in wonder, Adam leaned close to Stella. “Don’t say that so loud. Someone will talk him into selling it and resell it for a lot more money.”

“More power to them then,” she said, turning in a whirl of floral skirts and shimmering waves of hair. “Let’s go home.”

Kyle glanced up at Adam. “I’m not ready to go home yet.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Adam said. “Why don’t you run over to that vendor and get yourself an ice-cream cone.”

Kyle looked doubtful, but took the money Adam offered.

“Stay where I can see you,” Adam cautioned, watching the boy with one eye while he tracked Stella’s retreat with the other one.

He caught up with her in two strides. “Hey, Kyle’s getting ice cream, so don’t go so far just yet. Let him catch up, then we can go home if you’re tired.”

She stopped, then set her sights on Kyle. “Look at me, just walking away from my own child. What kind of mother am I, anyway?”

“You knew I’d watch after him.”

“No, no, I didn’t,” she retorted. “I need to be more responsible.” She shrugged. “It’s just that since we’ve moved here, I can’t seem to focus. I fought it tooth and nail. I didn’t want to come here, to see where she’d lived and worked. But…my daddy wanted to do this and I wasn’t about to let him run that big old house all by himself. I feel as if I’m becoming more and more like my mother each day I’m in that house, though.” Her eyes widened, then she put a hand to her mouth. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Wondering what else she was trying
not
to say, Adam asked, “You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She watched Kyle for a minute, then said, “Yes.” But when she looked up at Adam, her eyes were as misty as a lake’s surface. “Just not today, okay.”

Since he wasn’t ready to go into detail about his own messed-up life, Adam nodded. “Okay. We’ll head home then.”

She nodded, then called out to Kyle. Her eyes on her child, she said, “Thanks, Adam.”

“For what?”

“For not forcing me to spill my secrets.”

“I’m bad about asking questions,” he said.

“You’re a cop. Comes with the territory.”

“But I shouldn’t be interrogating you.”

She touched a hand to Kyle’s head as they started back toward the store with the painting out front. Looking toward the bright painting, she said, “It’s complicated. My relationship with my mother…it just wasn’t an easy one.”

“You can tell me whenever you’re ready,” he replied, thinking she was like a painting—all pretty on the surface, but hard to understand and read through all the layers of color. Mighty hard to interpret, this one.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to stare at the vivid painting. “I wish I could just buy it back, but I don’t have the money.”

Adam saw the wistful look in her eyes. And he figured she wanted to buy back much more than just a pretty picture.

Stella busied herself with setting out the snacks she always provided for her boarders. People drifted in and out throughout the day, and unlike a regular hotel, the inn only provided breakfast. But fresh-baked cookies and muffins were a tradition at Sanctuary, even if she wasn’t necessarily the one doing the baking lately. At least she’d made the coffee and put out the soft drinks, juice and bottled water. The coffee would stay fresh in the thermal carafe and there was plenty of ice in the ice bucket to freshen the other beverages.

Eyeing the chocolate-chip cookies Adam had baked that morning before they’d walked down to the festival, Stella decided she had to try one. She had a sweet tooth, but she tried to stay within reason. Unless of course, she was nervous and tense. And she’d certainly been that for months now. Seeing one of her mother’s paintings today hadn’t helped. The vivid colors and quirky style of her mother’s subjects only reminded Stella of how her mother had shone and dazzled the world. While Stella had waited and longed to hear that smoky voice calling out to her and her alone. She’d often wondered what had happened to that particular painting, since Estelle had assured Stella that it would one day be hers. Apparently, Estelle had forgotten that promise.

Would Stella forever feel as if she were just standing in her intriguing mother’s shadow? Stella had always been waiting out of sight for her mother to notice her, waiting in the darkness, to be on hand as needed. But Estelle had never really needed anyone, especially her daughter. And she’d been willing to abandon her only child for that elusive spotlight of art and fame.

Which made Stella’s need to keep this place running that much more of a challenge, and that much more of a necessity. Stella needed this old place, because she still needed her brilliant, tormented mother’s memory, too.

So she bit into one of the big, crunchy cookies and then closed her eyes in a moment of pure bliss. “It’s a regular sin for a man to be able to cook like this,” she reasoned out loud, between bites.

“Is it that good?”

She whirled to find Adam smiling over at her from the door leading to the formal dining room. “You shouldn’t be lurking about like that,” she said, nearly choking. How could she have missed his footsteps clicking across the floor of the parlor?

“And you shouldn’t be getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar,” he retorted with a grin.

“Hey, it’s my cookie jar.” Just to prove her point, she shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth.

“That it is,” he said, his smile indulgent. “Need me to do anything else around here before I hit the sack?”

She glanced around at the gleaming butler’s pantry where they kept the snacks on a long antique walnut buffet table. Thanks to Adam’s help, she now had the kitchen and this little nook in order at last. “No, I think we’re good for tonight. What did you have in mind for Sunday breakfast tomorrow?”

He stepped into the long narrow space, his tall shadow shutting out the setting sun and cutting off Stella’s breath before it even left her lungs. The man sure was intimidating in a scary-handsome kind of way.

“I thought I’d do spinach quiche and oatmeal muffins with fresh fruit. The muffins are cooked and frozen. And I’ve got all the ingredients for the quiche ready to go.”

“And the oven?”

“Fixed that late last night.”

She slapped at his arm. “You are worth your weight in gold, Callahan.”

He grabbed her hand, his eyes going smoky. “And when you smile, you turn all golden. That’s worth a week’s salary.”

Stella grabbed her hand back, then turned to finish up at the buffet. Right now, as the heat of his words hit her square in the face, she felt as if she’d been turned to a bright red.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping away. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

She shook her head. “I’m just not used to getting compliments. It’s been a while—”

“And I’m kind of rusty in giving them, I reckon,” he replied, his voice low and grainy.

She turned to lean back against the buffet. “I guess we’ve both got a lot to learn. But you
do
work for me. Maybe we should maintain some kind of professional distance, just to keep things from getting messy.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest, which only reinforced his admirable biceps—and her need to stick to the rule she’d just created. Wishing she hadn’t eaten that cookie so fast, she tried to swallow. But her throat had turned as dry as burned toast.

Adam gave her a direct stare. “So you’re telling me that I don’t need to be flirting with my pretty boss?”

“Yep, that’s what I’m saying. I mean, you just showed up at my door and you do know how to cook and I needed someone to help me get back on track, but it’s only been a couple of days. I think we need to keep things casual and balanced. I’d hate to mess up a good working relationship even before it gets going.”