The Inn at Eagle Point (31 page)

*
* *

Abby and Bree were drowning in last-minute party
preparations, while Jess was at the front desk reviewing both the party guest
list and the first week's reservations. The inn's first visitors would arrive
the morning after the party and bookings were solid for the rest of the summer.
Even though Abby had thought everything was under control, glitches kept
popping up—some of them, she discovered, because Jess had failed to make
follow-up phone calls. After discovering that had happened with both the
caterer who would be working with their chef and the florist, she was about to
throw in the towel, when she caught Bree studying her.
"What's Jess done now?" her sister asked quietly.
Protective as always, Abby immediately tried to minimize it. "She forgot
to confirm a couple of things. No big deal. It's handled now."
Bree shook her head. "How on earth is she going to keep this place running
without you?"
"She'll be fine," Abby insisted, not wanting to reveal her own doubts
about that very thing. "I've already started interviewing bookkeepers. The
new chef has a good head on her shoulders, and she understands that her
responsibilities include more than cooking. She has to manage the restaurant
operation."
"But what Jess really needs is a business partner," Bree said.
"You know she's not going to listen to anyone else."
"She will," Abby insisted. "She has to, and I think she
understands that. This is her dream, after all. She'll fight for it."
"Until something more important or more interesting comes along,"
Bree said.
Abby frowned. "Why are you so down on her today?"
Bree's cheeks flamed. "I'm not. I want her to succeed. It's just hard for
me to see you working your butt off for
her
dream, while she keeps
letting critical stuff fall through the cracks."
"It's all handled," Abby repeated. "This party's going to be
amazing, and the actual opening will be a huge success. You'll see."
"If you say so," her sister said, though her demeanor radiated doubt.
"I do."
Just then Trace wandered in. Abby felt the color rise in her cheeks as he
headed right for her and claimed her mouth with a heated kiss.
"My, my," Bree said, her eyes wide. "This is something no one
told me about."
Trace whirled around, his expression startled, then grinned when he spotted
her. "Hey, Bree. Welcome home."
"Too bad nobody welcomed me like that," she said, getting to her
feet. "I think I'll head back to the house. It's a little steamy in here
all of a sudden."
"Don't leave on my account," Trace said. "I was hoping to steal
Abby for an hour or two for lunch. You're welcome to come with us."
"Do come, Bree," Abby pleaded. "You haven't had crabs since you
got here." She turned to Trace for confirmation. "We can go to
Brady's, can't we?"
"Absolutely. Nothing I like better than watching a couple of women get
down and dirty with a pot of butter, a mallet and a couple of dozen
crabs."
Bree laughed. "You have a very odd sense of what's sexy, but I'll pass,
thanks. Gram's ordered crabs to have at the house tonight."
"That's right," Abby said. "I forgot. We could go someplace
else."
Bree shook her head. "Being a third wheel to you two got old years ago.
Have fun." She stared pointedly at Abby. "I think you and I need to
talk later. I'm just putting you on notice."
Abby could imagine how that conversation was likely to go. The only person in
their family more adept at interrogation than Mick was her sister. She might
not be forthcoming herself, but she had a reporter's hard-hitting,
uncompromising interview skills. Oh well, she and Trace had handled her father
okay. Now that she'd had a fair warning, she could have her answers all worked
out and completely unrevealing for her nosy sister.

*
* *

"Bree looks good," Trace said when he and Abby
were seated at one of the new little cafés along the waterfront with their
thick, grilled sandwiches and glasses of iced tea. Panini Bistro had only three
or four tables inside, but they made up for that with plenty of outdoor seating
with bright blue-and-white-striped umbrellas to offer shade on these
increasingly warm late-June afternoons. Every table was occupied, mostly with
people in swimsuits who'd walked over from the beach.
Abby shook her head at Trace's observation about Bree. "There's something
off with her," Abby said. "She seems brittle, like she's about to
break into a million pieces, but she won't open up."
Trace studied her expression. "You're really worried about her."
Abby nodded.
"Do you suppose you could think about something else for a minute? Or do
you want to talk about your sister?"
She shook her head. "There's nothing I can do about Bree until she decides
to talk." She met his gaze. "What's on your mind?"
"Look, I really hate to bring this up right now. You have more than enough
on your plate, but I need to know how you want me to handle something."
She stared at him with alarm. "You sound serious. What's wrong? Nothing's
messed up with the inn's finances again, is it? I've been watching every
penny."
He held up a hand. "Slow down. It has nothing to do with the inn. It's
Wes. I heard from him earlier today."
Her eyes widened in shock. "You heard from Wes? Why? Did he call you? What
did he want?"
Trace reached in his pocket and withdrew the papers that had arrived at the
bank bright and early this morning. He'd been seeing red ever since a process
server had barged into his office with an indignant Mariah right on his heels.
He'd managed to get his temper under control before coming to see Abby.
"He sent this," he said, handing over the legal documents.
Abby gave him a questioning look, then took the papers and started to read.
"You have to be kidding me!" she exploded. "He's taken out a
restraining order to keep you away from the girls? He can't do that. You'd have
to pose some kind of threat."
"That would usually be the standard," Trace agreed. "He has to
have some judge in his pocket to pull this off. Or maybe they're fake, though
they look authentic to me, and they've been notarized."
Abby flipped through the rest of the pages, her expression increasingly
incredulous. As soon as she'd turned the last page, she reached for her cell
phone.
Trace put his hand over hers. "No. I'm not asking you to deal with this.
I'll handle Wes. I just need to know how you want me to proceed. Can I beat him
to a pulp, or would you prefer that I go through nice, tidy legal
channels?"
"You shouldn't have to deal with him at all," she said furiously.
"This is outrageous."
"Of course it is. He's just blowing smoke because he's scared to death
he's going to lose his close relationship with his daughters, especially if you
decide to stay down here."
"But I'm not—"
"You might," he corrected. "But that's a topic for another
day."
She sat back, looking stunned. "I thought Wes and I had settled things.
Why would he do something this crazy now? Do you think he's having some kind of
breakdown? His behavior's certainly erratic, that's for sure. Or else he's
retaliating for my forcing him to give up the custody suit."
Trace squeezed her hand. "His reasoning hardly matters. Let's just assume
it's as simple as wanting to keep me away from his girls and, by extension,
you."
"But why?" she asked, looking perplexed. "We've been divorced
for years."
"But I'm the first real threat to the status quo who's come along."
"I suppose."
"Here's what I'm going to do. I've already booked a flight to New York for
this evening and scheduled a meeting with my attorney for first thing in the
morning. I promise you this will be handled by the end of the day
tomorrow." He met her gaze. "It does mean, though, that I won't be
here for the party tonight. I'm sorry. I know how important tonight is for you
and for Jess."
"Don't worry about that, just take care of this. I could fly up with
you."
"No, you have way too much to do right here, and Jess would never forgive
you if you miss this party."
"I swear, I could kill Wes if he did something like this purely out of
spite."
"I'm more inclined to think it's desperation. Bottom line, though, is that
we'll work it out between us. He knows that order's not worth the paper it's
written on. There's absolutely no legal justification for it. And with
everything we know about him and Gabrielle, I think I can make him see reason.
We're holding all the cards, Abby."
Abby still looked shaken when they got back to the inn. Trace kissed her long
and hard to put some color back into her cheeks. "Stop worrying," he
commanded.
"How can I?"
"Focus on the party and think about what I have planned for you the next
time we're alone."
She studied him with sudden interest. "Really? You have a plan?"
"Sweetheart, when it comes to you, I've had plans for years."
He kissed her again, then left while that bemused smile was still on her lips
and her eyes were sparkling with real anticipation.

23

W
hen
Abby walked back into the office at the inn, she was still seething over that
idiotic restraining order that Wes had somehow manipulated a judge into signing.
That had to be how he'd managed it, by asking for a favor from some golf buddy
or client of the family conglomerate, because there was certainly no way he
could have gotten it otherwise.
Muttering under her breath, she tossed her purse on her desk, then noticed Jess
sitting in the shadows.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Abby asked.
"That's what I'm wondering about," Jess said, her expression
surprisingly grim for a woman who was about to see her dream come true in just
a few hours.
Already in a lousy mood, Abby lost patience. "I don't have time for
riddles. If something's wrong, just tell me."
"Why is number ten, our best room, showing up on the computer as reserved
when I can't find the name of the guest or a credit card number on file?"
Abby sucked in a deep breath. She'd counted on Jess not noticing that.
Naturally, for once, her sister had paid attention to details. She should have
had this conversation with her days ago, but she'd kept putting it off.
"I did that," she said eventually.
"I guessed that much, since you're the only other person who knows the
reservation system, but why?"
Abby met her sister's gaze. "I'll explain but you have to promise to let
me finish before you get upset."
Jess's gaze narrowed. "You're not comping a room to Wes, are you?"
Abby was shocked she would even think such a thing, but of course Jess didn't
know about his latest stunt. "Absolutely not," she told her sister.
"Actually the room is for Mom. She'll be here this afternoon."
For a moment her sister sat there in apparently stunned silence. Then she was
on her feet.
"No!"
she said emphatically, her fist hitting the
desk. "Not in my inn. Why is she even coming back to town? Nobody wants
her here."
"I do," Abby said quietly. "And if you'll look past all these
years of pent-up anger and hurt, I think you do, too."
"No, I don't," Jess said fiercely. "When has she ever been here
for me?"
"She tried, Jess. You know she did. You shut her out. How many times did
she beg you to move to New York? She wanted you with her, Jess. She wanted all
of us."
"Oh, please," Jess mocked. "If she'd wanted us there that badly,
she would have made it happen."
"Not if she could see how painful it would be for us to be uprooted from
our home here," Abby said quietly.
"She
abandoned
us," Jess repeated stubbornly. "I've never
understood how you've been able to forget all that."
"I haven't forgotten anything," Abby said quietly. "And Dad
should have insisted you go, at least for a visit, because she's your mother.
He was as much at fault as she was. I think it gave him some kind of perverse
satisfaction to force her to come back here time after time if she wanted to
spend any time at all with us."
"Look, I know she was your mother until you were seventeen. She was mine
until I was seven, and then she left. I don't think she gets enough points to
be called a mother after that."
Abby had known this was going to be hard, but she hadn't realized just how
difficult Jess would make it. Her bitterness ran even deeper than Abby had
realized. Not that she could blame her, but there had to be some way to use
this occasion for these two people she loved to make peace.
"Sweetie, she's coming here to support you. She's reaching out. No one's
asking you to forgive her the second she walks in the door, but please just
give her a chance."
"Why should I?" Jess demanded. "This is my big night, and I
don't want her here."
There was a gasp behind Abby and she whirled around to see Megan standing in
the doorway, her expression filled with shock and dismay. Abby was on her feet
at once. "Mom, she didn't really mean that."
"Yes, I did," Jess said, though there was a faint hint of regret in
her eyes. Despite her anger, she was too softhearted to deliberately hurt
someone the way she'd just hurt Megan.
Abby scowled at her and turned back to Megan. "It's going to be okay. We
just need to spend some time together, all of us. We need to remember how to be
a family."
Megan shook her head, her gaze never leaving Jess's face. It was as if she
couldn't get over the sight of this young woman whom she'd seen so rarely
through the years. "No," she said softly, her voice shaky. "I
should go. Jess is right. I don't belong here."
Jess cast a hard look at Abby. "What were you thinking?" she
muttered, then brushed past Megan and left the room.
Abby winced, but used her sister's departure to draw Megan inside and lead her
to a chair. "Don't listen to her, Mom. I just sprang this on her. She
needs time to calm down."
Her mother gave her a rueful look. "I doubt I can stay till
Christmas."
Abby couldn't manage to muster the grin her mother had obviously been hoping
would break the tension. "It won't take that long, I promise. I'll have
another talk with her. Please, stay."
Megan looked torn. "I knew this was a bad idea when you first suggested
it, but I wanted so badly to see everyone, I said yes anyway. Tell me, is
Mick's reaction going to be any better? Has he mellowed at all since I spoke to
him?"
"He's had time to digest the news," Abby assured her. "I think
he'll be on good behavior."
Megan sighed. "Well, that's something, I suppose."
"Then you'll stay?"
"I really want to," she said, her expression wistful.
"Then do it. I'll show you to your room." Abby grabbed her mother's
suitcase and carried it upstairs. There was no sign of Jess as they went, for
which Abby was grateful. She had a hunch that one more scene would send Megan
fleeing right back to New York.
Abby used the key to open the guest room door, then gave it to her mother.
"This is the largest room we have. I think you'll be comfortable in here.
I've booked it for a week, in case you decide you want to stick around."
Megan's eyes widened with appreciation. "It's really lovely. The decorator
has excellent taste."
"That's all Jess," Abby said. "You should tell her that when you
see her."
"I doubt she cares about my opinion."
"Of course she does. She just doesn't dare admit it, even to herself. Keep
reaching out, Mom. If she rejects you a few times, well—"
"Maybe it's what I deserve," Megan said, completing the thought.
Abby started to argue, then opted for honest. "Yes, maybe it's what you
deserve." She hugged her mother. "I think everything you need is in
here. Nobody's staffing the front desk till tomorrow, so call me on my cell if
you discover something's missing. The party's at seven."
Megan nodded, her expression somber. "I'm looking forward to it." She
said it with all the conviction of someone heading to death row.