Читать книгу Echo Lake - Carla Neggers - Страница 9
ОглавлениеHeather splayed her fingers, still a bit red from her Rohan rescue, in front of the orange flames roaring behind a black screen in the massive stone fireplace, one of the many distinct original features of the century-old house. She wriggled her toes as she stood on the hearth. Her brother Adam, a stonemason, would be taking a look at the chimneys and fireplaces, as well as the outside stonework, all part of the renovations.
That was where her mind should be, she told herself. Not on a DSS agent who’d left Knights Bridge under a cloud more than a decade ago.
“You should dry your socks in front of the fire,” Adrienne Portale said as she entered the living room, carrying two bottles of wine. She set them on a side table. “Vic wouldn’t mind. He’d think he was roughing it out here. It would appeal to his romantic idea of being a gentleman farmer.”
Heather laughed. “There’s nothing romantic about my wet socks.”
Adrienne sank onto an overstuffed chair. She had thick, dark curls that hung past her shoulders and a pretty, heart-shaped face that complemented her hourglass figure and preference for dressing in black. She wore faded black jeans and a black-beaded tunic she’d found, to her delight, in a wardrobe in the first-floor guest suite where she was staying.
She tucked her feet up under her. “I invested in wool socks my first week here. They have a decent selection at the country store in town. I grew up in San Francisco. It can get chilly there but not like this. I never knew there were so many different kinds of wool socks. Why don’t I grab a pair for you before you go? In fact, you can have them. I was terrified I’d run out and bought far more than I need.” She grinned, settling back in the big chair. “That’s a better idea than drying your socks by the fire, don’t you think?”
“I do, yes, thank you.” Not, Heather thought, that she had any plans of drying her socks by the fire.
Adrienne fingered the label on one of the wine bottles. “Wine, wool and a hot fire. The perfect Knights Bridge winter evening. Add a wandering puppy and a rugged federal agent, and I have no complaints.” She sat forward. “He is rugged, isn’t he? Vic’s DSS agent guest? I haven’t met him yet.”
Heather balled up her hands, warmer now, but kept them in front of the fire. “I was focused on rescuing Rohan.”
“Mmm, and it would take a whole lot of ruggedness for you to notice with those brothers of yours. I can’t imagine life with one brother, never mind five brothers.” Adrienne gave an exaggerated shudder. “And to be the youngest. Yikes.”
“It’s normal to me.”
“Of course it is. Thank heaven that little devil Rohan survived his ordeal. I hoped I’d find him asleep under a bed. It was decent of Vic to take him in, but he doesn’t know much about puppies. Neither do I. They say crate training is the way to go, but maybe Rohan’s past that.”
“No one’s put up notices in town about a missing puppy that I know of,” Heather said, sitting on a chair on the other side of the hearth from Adrienne. “My guess is someone from out of town drove out here and dumped him like a bag of garbage.”
“It’s disgusting.” Adrienne waved a hand. “But we won’t think about that now. He’s safe here, even if we’re having a bit of a learning curve on how to take care of him. Three days, though, and he’s already got Vic rolled.”
“How long will you be staying this time?”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on Vic. He won’t need me to house-sit if he’s going to be here full-time. He says I can stay whether or not he’s here, but I don’t want to get in his way.” She stood, grabbing a poker from a rack and pulling back the screen. “I thought I’d get nervous being out here by myself, but it’s been great. I’m getting a lot of work done.”
Heather smiled, warm again, less achy. “And now you’ve got Vic interested in installing a wine cellar.”
Adrienne stirred the fire. “He’ll love it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Vic said, joining them. “I can picture myself up here at ninety, opening a good Bordeaux and watching the snow.”
“Will you be alone?” Adrienne asked.
“More important, will I be alive?”
He chuckled, taking a log from a small stack on the hearth. Adrienne pulled back the screen a bit farther, allowing him to place the log on the fire. She adjusted its position with her poker. “That’s not funny, Vic,” she said.
“Gallows humor. When you’re my age, you’ll understand.”
“You won’t be ninety for another thirty years,” Heather said.
“Gad, that long?” He stepped back from the fire. “What kind of wine are we having tonight?”
Adrienne returned the poker to the rack. “I thought we could try something from Noah Kendrick’s winery.”
“Kendrick,” Vic said. “Rich guy. High-tech entertainment company in Southern California. He’s engaged to the Knights Bridge librarian.”
“Former librarian,” Heather amended. “She resigned a couple of months ago.”
“Phoebe O’Dunn. Her mother lives up the road. Elly. Raises goats. I asked her if she knows who Rohan belongs to, but she said she doesn’t. She was on her way to San Diego to visit Phoebe and Noah.” Vic settled onto a sofa facing the fire. “See? I’m not that out of touch with the locals.”
“I’ve met Elly,” Adrienne said. “She’s a widow. Did you buy this place before her husband died?”
Vic nodded. “Patrick. He was a great guy. Sad he left behind a wife and four daughters. Life isn’t fair sometimes. I’ve survived a number of close calls during my time in the Foreign Service, and here I am, alone and unscathed.”
“I’ll fetch wineglasses.” Adrienne started for the adjoining dining room. “I don’t think I’ve met any of Elly’s daughters. I suppose I could have run into them in the village and not realized it. Elly says they all have red hair.”
“They do,” Heather said with a laugh. “Maggie O’Dunn is my sister-in-law. She’s married to my brother Brandon. She’s the second eldest of the four O’Dunn sisters, after Phoebe. She’s a caterer, and she’s making artisan soaps using milk from her mother’s goats. She and Brandon have two little boys.”
“I thought they lived in Boston,” Vic said.
“They did for a while.” Heather didn’t want to get into the details of Maggie and Brandon’s near-divorce last year. Not that she knew many of the details. “Now they’re back in town.”
“Brandon’s a skilled carpenter as I recall.”
“He’ll be working on your renovations.”
Heather watched through the double open doorway as Adrienne got wineglasses from a built-in cabinet with stained-glass panels, original to the house. She brought the glasses into the living room and set them on the coffee table. “You’re a mysterious character around here, I think, Vic. Elly told me you’ve always seemed exotic and fascinating, kind of a diplomatic James Bond.”
“A diplomatic James Bond,” Vic said. “I like that.”
What did that make Brody? The real deal? Heather stood, her hands and feet warm and her pant leg almost dry but her mood suddenly off. She felt restless, confused—faintly irritated. Why hadn’t Brody told her who he was right from the start? She obviously hadn’t recognized him while she’d been in the midst of rescuing Rohan and keeping herself from falling in the icy brook.
Adrienne opened one of the wine bottles. Heather noticed the elegant, distinctive Kendrick Winery label. She’d met Noah a few times but didn’t know him well. His best friend and business partner, Dylan McCaffrey, had beat him to Knights Bridge, arriving last spring to check on property he had discovered he owned there. Dylan, too, had fallen in love with a woman from Knights Bridge.
The short version of that story, Heather thought with a smile.
“What’s on your mind, Heather?” Vic asked quietly.
“Nothing. Just warming up.”
He studied her a moment then got to his feet. “You two chat and start on the first bottle. I’ll check on Rohan and invite Brody to join us. Last night I waited too long, and he peed on the floor. Rohan, I mean. Not our Agent Hancock.”
After Vic left, Adrienne poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Heather. “I think we’re going to enjoy this,” she said, raising her glass. “Cheers.”
Heather smiled. “Cheers.” She sipped the wine, enjoying the smooth flavor. “It is good, but you’re the expert.”
“I think of myself as a wine enthusiast more than a wine expert.”
“But you enjoy what you do,” Heather said.
Adrienne nodded, returning to her chair. “I love it, even when it doesn’t pay the bills. I’ve always had a keen sense of taste, and it felt natural to put it to use with wine. I know what I like, I know what’s good and I know how to describe wine in a way that’s entertaining and makes sense to other people.”
“You’re also not a wine snob.”
“I couldn’t be a wine snob and do what I do, or love it as much as I do.”
“When you think about it, snobbery doesn’t get anyone very far,” Heather said.
“It wouldn’t in Knights Bridge, that’s for sure. You all would run me out of town if I had my nose up in the air about wine—or anything else.”
Heather laughed. “Now, now. Live and let live, right? We have a soft spot for our snobs.”
“Every place has them, I guess. Vic’s more down-to-earth than I expected. I only met him a few times before I worked out this house-sitting arrangement. It’s been good getting to know him.”
“Any closer to deciding where you want to be after this?” Heather asked.
Adrienne shook her head. “I’ve been on the road constantly for more than a year. Maintaining an apartment made no sense, but now I feel rootless. Well, more rootless than usual. I haven’t lived anywhere for more than six months since I got out of college.” She smiled. “That must be hard for you to imagine.”
“I’m definitely not rootless, but I do want to travel.”
“Would you ever consider living somewhere besides Knights Bridge?”
“I have considered it.”
“But it’s home.” A touch of melancholy had crept into Adrienne’s voice. She raised her wineglass and seemed to make an effort to cheer up. “I’m enjoying hanging out here and teaching Vic about wine. No one thinks I’m taking advantage of him, I hope.”
“Who do you mean by no one?” Heather asked.
“People in town.”
“Ah. You’re not the subject of local gossip that I know of, but I wouldn’t necessarily know since I don’t pay attention to local gossip unless forced. Elly O’Dunn knows everything that goes on in town. She’d be the one to ask when she’s back from San Diego. Anyway, what difference does it make if people gossip about you?”
“Good point. No one takes advantage of Vic Scarlatti, that’s for sure. He’s good-natured and mild-mannered, but he also has a spine of steel.” Adrienne drew herself up straight. “My parents say he almost got to the altar a couple of times. I wonder if there’s a woman out there he regrets letting get away.”
“Any candidates?”
“None that I’m aware of. Maybe there’s a woman out there who gave him up for her career, or couldn’t take the rigors of his life as a career diplomat.”
“Or who gave him up for his career,” Heather added.
“Oh, now that’s a fun one to think about. Vic Scarlatti besotted with the wrong woman. The woman recognizing it and walking away from their relationship so he could go save the world.” Adrienne drank more of her wine. “I doubt it ever happened, but I don’t doubt our Vic has secrets. I, however, will concentrate on designing him a proper wine cellar and stocking it with proper wine.”
“Do you think you’d ever relocate out here?”
Adrienne’s eyes opened wide in obvious surprise. “Here? In Knights Bridge? What would I do?”
“What you’re doing now, I guess. You don’t go into an office.”
“True, but I need more asphalt and concrete around me than you have here. Total city girl. I can’t see myself enjoying an expensive red wine while watching a bald eagle sail above Echo Lake. Are there bald eagles here?”
“A few, thanks to the reservoir and its protected watershed.”
“Quabbin. What a beautiful place. I can’t help but think about the towns that were wiped off the map to create it. Can you imagine Knights Bridge under thirty feet of water, everything you know gone? The Swift River Valley was a very different place in 1912 when this house was built.”
“There was talk even then about damming the valley to provide drinking water for metropolitan Boston.” Heather set her wineglass on the coffee table. She didn’t want to drink too much before she got on the road, especially on an empty stomach. “I love to snowshoe on some of the old Quabbin roads. Why don’t you join me one day, if it’s something that appeals to you?”
“That would be great.” Adrienne seemed genuinely interested. “I don’t know how to cross-country ski, but I can manage snowshoes.”
“I wish I’d had mine while I was chasing Rohan. I should head home. Thanks for the wine.”
“I’ll fetch your dry socks while you pack up.”
Heather thanked her and headed through the dining room and a small hall into the kitchen. Rohan was asleep on his bed in the mudroom. The back door was shut tight, preventing any further mischief on his part.
Vic was at the counter with a cutting board and paring knife. “I’m about to start hors d’oeuvres,” he said. “Adrienne made a list of ingredients, and I found everything on it at the country store in town. They won’t take long to prepare. Brody’s on his way back up. Why don’t you join us?”
Wine and hors d’oeuvres with Vic Scarlatti, Adrienne Portale and Brody Hancock. The idea was at once tempting and impossible. “Thanks, but I have to get back.” Heather grabbed her laptop and measuring tape off the table. “Enjoy.”
“Another time, maybe.”
Adrienne arrived with the fresh wool socks and echoed Vic’s invitation, but Heather didn’t budge. It wasn’t them, she knew. It wasn’t even Brody Hancock as a Diplomatic Security Service agent, back in Knights Bridge. It was herself. She couldn’t pin down what she was feeling, just that she was off—and such uncertainty wasn’t her norm and made her decidedly uncomfortable.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, slipping on the dry socks and her boots.
Vic had the refrigerator door open and was pulling out vegetables and different varieties of local cheese. Adrienne grabbed a knife and a cutting board and smiled. “We’ll save you some for lunch tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Your hors d’oeuvres will be better than anything I bring.”
“What was that you had today?” Vic asked her.
“Leftover lasagna.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That was lasagna?”
Heather laughed. “Now you sound like my brothers. I’ve never been much of a cook.”
“But you’ll build me a great new kitchen,” Vic said.
“In the meantime, we will definitely save you leftovers,” Adrienne added.
Heather thanked them again and headed out, careful not to disturb Rohan as she shut the door softly behind her. With any luck, she’d be on her way before Agent Hancock arrived for wine and hors d’oeuvres.
* * *
Naturally, her truck wouldn’t start.
Heather banged the steering wheel with one hand. Frustration wouldn’t get her anywhere, and she wasn’t wearing gloves. It was dark and her truck—which she’d bought at a deep discount from Eric, her eldest brother—wasn’t in the mood for the late-January cold.
That kind of day was turning into that kind of night.
She climbed out as she debated her options. Before she could decide what to do, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the sanded driveway behind her.
“Of course you drive a truck,” Brody said as he approached her from the guesthouse.
Heather realized right away that her intense reaction to him at the brook hadn’t been a fluke. It wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight, at least. She tried to ignore it.
“I’m in the construction business,” she said. “A truck is practical.”
“And you’re a practical sort.”
“Do I hear skepticism in your voice, Agent Hancock?”
“You went after Rohan with no hat, lousy gloves, lousy boots—”
“Not lousy. They’re actually quite nice gloves and boots. I admit they weren’t the best choice for what I ended up having to do.”
“You’d have been in a mess if you’d fallen out there.”
“I left a trail. Vic or Adrienne would have found me, and, as it turns out, you were on the case, anyway.”
“As tough as any Sloan, aren’t you? Are you ever a girly-girl?”
“I met you three hours ago, and you’re asking me a question like that?”
He grinned. “I didn’t say I expected an answer, and we didn’t meet three hours ago. We met when you were a wild-haired kid in braces.”
“Everyone remembers me as a wild-haired kid in braces. It doesn’t faze me that you’re another one. Now I’m all grown up, and my truck won’t start. I could get one of my brothers out here to help jump-start it.”
“I was hoping to avoid your brothers.”
“A tough guy like you afraid of a few local guys? I don’t believe it.”
“I didn’t say I was afraid.”
His quiet, self-assured tone sent another surge of heat through her. She had to get a grip. Truck, she told herself. Work the problem. She peered down the driveway toward the back road that led into the village. “I could walk,” she said. “It’s not that far, but it’s very cold tonight.”
Brody shook his head. “You’ve already had one go at freezing today. What are the odds Vic has jumper cables?”
“Slim to none.”
“That’s what I think, too. Come on. I have a car. I’ll give you a ride home. You can leave your truck here tonight and figure out what to do in the morning.”
“You haven’t had too much wine?”
He seemed amused. “No, ma’am. I haven’t had a drop of wine yet.”
“Sorry. It was rude of me to ask.” Why couldn’t she control her mouth around him? “I only had a few sips because I knew I had to drive. If you’re a federal agent on duty day and night, you have to watch yourself, right? You can’t be getting drunk.”
“Again this habit of saying whatever is on your mind. You can walk with me to get my car or wait here.”
“I’ll go with you. I don’t want to stand still in this cold.” She shut her truck door. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
He set off down the driveway toward the guesthouse, setting a brisk pace as Heather caught up with him.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be working for Sloan & Sons,” he said. “It got its name before you were born, didn’t it?”
Heather nodded. “My parents had given up on having a girl and figured one or more of the boys would end up working in the family business. No harm done if they didn’t.”
“Do all your brothers work there?”
“Three of them. Justin, Brandon and Adam. Eric’s a police officer, and Christopher’s a firefighter. Justin’s a volunteer firefighter, too.” Heather shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She was already cold from her failed attempts to start her truck. “Do you remember the order? Eric, Justin, Brandon, Adam, Christopher, me.”
“Big family,” Brody said, his tone neutral. “No guy in your life?”
“You know, you have no room to talk when it comes to saying whatever’s on one’s mind.”
“So that means no guy. Having five older brothers—particularly your five older brothers—must make having a relationship a challenge.”
“You mean do my brothers vet potential guys in my life? It doesn’t work like that, but I can hold my own with them. I’m good at taking care of myself—as you saw earlier today, I might remind you.”
“Here we go again. You did great except for falling in the brook and getting hypothermia.”
“I accomplished my mission while minimizing the risks. I did fine without you.”
“You did better with me.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Not funny, Agent Hancock.”
He shrugged. “True, though.”
They came to his car, which she hadn’t noticed earlier. It wasn’t a rental. It was an old BMW two-door with New York plates. “You’re from New York?”
“It’s where the car’s registered.”
“That’s not what I asked, is it?”
He didn’t respond. He wasn’t pretending he hadn’t heard her, she decided. He was flat-out ignoring her. She wondered if it was a polite way of getting across that he was a federal agent who had no intention of telling her much about himself. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe his background was secret.
It wasn’t a thought she liked having running around in her mind as she got into the BMW next to him.
“Are you armed?”
“Armed?”
“You know. With a gun.”
He started the car. “Heather, I’m just a guy visiting an old friend. Where in town do you live?”
“Thistle Lane. Do you remember it?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“It’s in the village, off the common. The town library is on the corner.”
“Quaint little Knights Bridge.”
“Phoebe O’Dunn owns the house. You remember her, don’t you?”
“The eldest of the O’Dunn sisters. They were our closest neighbors when we lived out on the lake.”
“Everyone in town expects Phoebe and Noah will be announcing their engagement soon. I think they’ll keep the house even after they’re married. It’s in good shape. I’m drawing up plans for a new kitchen and bathroom.” Heather wasn’t sure why she was telling Brody all this, but he didn’t seem uninterested. “It’s fun. I’ve discovered I have a passion for interior design.”
“Often helps to know your passions,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what he meant but decided not to pursue the subject since it involved the word passion. She’d blundered on that score enough for one day.
As they reached the end of Vic’s driveway and turned onto the winding road into the village, she noticed that the winter conditions and the absence of streetlights didn’t seem to bother Brody in the least. He drove with a confidence that Heather realized she should have expected.
“Phoebe’s house is the last one on the right,” she said when she pointed out Thistle Lane. “It was also built in 1912. It must have been a good year in Knights Bridge, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t know Knights Bridge had any good years.”
“That, Agent Hancock, is a negative attitude.”
He smiled at her. “Practical.” He pulled in front of the little house. “If you need a ride up to Vic’s in the morning, give me a buzz, and I’ll come fetch you.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“Yes, you do. I got yours from Vic and texted you.”
“Efficient.”
He sat back. “Don’t forget to bring jumper cables.”
“I won’t.” She started to open her door but angled him a look. “What did you do to annoy my brothers?”
“There’s what I did and there’s what they thought I did.”
“Bet the two overlap.”
“It’s all in the past.”
“Bigger fish to fry now, huh? Nothing’s wrong, is there?”
“Wrong as in what? An abandoned golden retriever running off into the woods?”
“Wrong as in a federal agent turning up in Knights Bridge.”
“Good night, Heather.”
“Wrong as in Brody Hancock turning up in Knights Bridge after all this time.”
“Do you ever quit?”
“Can you arrest me for asking questions?”
“Thinking about that.”
“You’d tell me if I was in any danger, wouldn’t you?”
“I told you today, and you told me to go to hell.” He leaned closer to her. “Go, Heather. Have a nice dinner and relax.”
“You didn’t answer my question, you know.”
“Good night, Heather.”
That was two good-nights. Time to be on her way. She got out of the car and made her way up the walk, which she’d shoveled herself after the last storm. Her brother Adam had plowed the driveway. She’d thrown fresh sand on the walk and the driveway before leaving that morning, never imagining she would rescue a puppy, slip into a brook and run into Brody Hancock, formerly of Knights Bridge, Massachusetts.
He waited until she was on the small porch and had the front door open before he turned around and headed back down Thistle Lane. Heather didn’t know why the prospect of him watching her made her feel so self-conscious, but it did.
Probably shouldn’t have mentioned the ice-skating bruises on her butt.
She ran inside and turned up the thermostat in the short hall between the front room and kitchen. No point keeping the place toasty warm when she wasn’t there. Not that she kept it toasty warm when she was there. Most evenings she watched television under a quilt and then went to bed.
Alone.
She’d hoped moving into town from the apartment above the Sloan & Sons offices in her parents’ converted barn would help her social life. Specifically, her romantic life. It wasn’t just being on top of her parents and her brothers all the time that discouraged “suitors,” as her grandmother called them. It was also that with such a big family, she had a built-in social network. They all lived in Knights Bridge. One of them was bound to be available to hang out. She had friends, too, but she decided to stay in for the evening.
She heated up a can of black bean soup and took it into the front room with her. It was a quiet, dark night, and very cold. Even indoors, she was aware of the dropping temperature. She glanced around the attractive room, feeling oddly out of place. Phoebe and Noah had met at a costume ball in Boston, a charity fund-raiser. Phoebe had been dressed as an Edwardian princess, Noah as a swashbuckler. He’d had no idea she was a small-town librarian. She’d had no idea he was a billionaire.
So romantic.
Heather wasn’t sure she’d know a swashbuckler if she saw one. Sometimes she wondered if she had a romantic bone in her body.
She reached for her laptop. What would happen if she did an internet search for Diplomatic Security Service agent Brody Hancock?
Would she learn anything interesting?
Would he find out?
She smiled but felt a quiver of uneasiness, too. She put aside her laptop and investigated the shelves of books. She chose a worn copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel and took it to bed with her, but abandoned it after seven pages and went back downstairs for her laptop. She brought it upstairs with her and, with a deep breath, did an internet search to see what she could find out about the Diplomatic Security Service.
She eyed the list of results, suspecting it would be best if she returned to her swashbuckler tale and put aside her questions about Brody Hancock and his return to their little hometown.
