Читать книгу Sailing In Style - Dana Mentink - Страница 14
ОглавлениеCY CHARGED OUT OF the kitchen, followed by an agitated Bitsy and Manny. Baggy managed to streak through before the door slammed shut.
Boris Brindle. The name rippled through Cy like an electric shock. What were the chances he’d run into Piper and her criminal uncle in the span of two days? He spied Boris as he stood surveying the lush garden and chicken coop, shaded by the twining clematis vines. Boris put the parakeet cage down on the carriage house porch step and breathed in a lungful of fresh air with the appearance of a completely satisfied man.
Cy was not swayed. He covered the distance in ten angry steps.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brindle, but my aunt was mistaken. We don’t have a room for you here.”
Boris did not lose his smile. “Oh? Did I misunderstand?”
Bisty shook her head. “No, you did not. Cy Franco, this is the rudest thing I’ve ever seen. What has gotten into you?”
“You don’t know this man, Aunt Bitsy.”
Boris cocked his head. “And I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, either, have we?”
Cy wasn’t about to say, “Three years ago I fell in love with your niece, and instead of accepting my marriage proposal she was driving a getaway car for you.”
“No, we’ve never met, but let’s just say I know about you, and you’re not welcome here.”
Boris reached for his parakeet cage. “No harm done. My mistake.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Bitsy snapped. “I offered him a room here, Cy.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. We aren’t an inn now, and you don’t—” He stopped short of saying the rest. You don’t own the Pelican anymore. She knew what he’d been about to say. He could see it in her expression. He felt like ripping out his own tongue.
Tears welled in her cornflower-blue eyes.
“Aw, Aunt Bitsy,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m a clod.”
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right.” She swallowed. “I’m not the owner, and I didn’t have the right to rent out a room without checking with you or Pike or Rosa. I’m sorry.”
Idiot, Cy. What a jerk to make your aunt feel worthless. “Of course you did. You’ll always be an important decision-maker here.” He drew her away from Boris. Manny followed.
“It’s just that Boris Brindle is a thief, a criminal,” he said, voice low.
Manny pursed his lips and gave Boris a once-over. “Doesn’t look like one. How do you know that?”
“Yes,” said a sharp voice as Piper appeared along the path, holding a full cardboard box with a pair of slippers peeking out of the top. “How do you know that?”
What parallel Brindle universe had he been sucked into? Cy checked again. Yes, he was standing in the gardens of the Pelican Inn. There should be no Brindles around for miles, yet here she was, her eyes blazing green fury at him. Forcing a breath in to calm himself, he faced her. “I know because after my stolen truck was recovered on a side street, an LA cop friend of mine told me about a certain set of fingerprints he lifted off the vehicle.”
Her face blanched, but she did not look away.
Bitsy took Manny’s hand and led him to a garden bench, allowing the fireworks to continue in semiprivate.
“If they found fingerprints, why didn’t they arrest me or Uncle Boris?” she asked.
“I didn’t want to press charges. I just wanted the whole thing to be over. My cop friend told me all about your uncle’s little habit of stealing things. Family trait, I assume, since I heard your mother...”
She raised a finger. “Don’t.”
The anger and pain in that one word slapped him like ice water. What was he doing, hurting his aunt and tearing open family wounds in public? Another quick breath and his reason returned. He would not be cruel. Not about that.
“Piper, it shouldn’t be hard to understand why I don’t want your uncle here. He’s a thief.”
“Not anymore.”
“So you say. He’s not welcome on this property.”
The sunlight caught the gold sparks in her hair. One long tendril had blown loose from her braid and flickered around her face in the breeze. He wanted to touch it.
“Believe me, if I had known he wanted to rent a room at your family home, I would have talked him out of it. I don’t want him around you, either.”
Cy stiffened. As if his family was the bad influence. “Afraid he might learn a few things about honesty and integrity?”
Bitsy stood and walked over. “I’m sorry. I tried to give you two privacy, but this garden is only ten feet wide, so I’ve heard every word.” She tipped her face up. “I know you’re trying to protect me, Cy, and I gather you and this lady have had a difficult past, but I will remind you that I was previously married to Leo, man who took things that didn’t belong to him. I loved him until his dying day, and so did you.”
“That was different, Aunt Bitsy.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“But he’s...”
“I appreciate your kindness more than you know,” Piper said to Bitsy, “but we will leave now. We’re sorry for any trouble we’ve caused.”
She whirled on her heel and marched up the steps to Boris without a backward glance at Cy.
Bitsy folded her arms across her chest and gazed mournfully at Cy. “Oh, honey.”
Cy resisted the urge to put his hands over his ears like a child. “It’s for the best,” he offered up lamely.
She bit her lip, and he saw the deadly glimmer of tears again. Manny put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s their inn now, Bits. The young people. We’ve got to let them do things their way. Our time is past.”
Cy considered his aunt’s tears and the grip of his father’s once-strong arm, which now seemed spindly, and saw that he was stripping them of their dignity. In a moment, they were reduced to old, irrelevant, extraneous. Because of him. But surely the answer was not allowing a thief, Piper’s uncle, to live at the Pelican? Surely not that.
* * *
PIPER’S CHEEKS BURNED with shame as she rushed over to her uncle. Cy knew everything. He’d known for years. And worst of all, he’d kept Boris out of jail, which made him a sort of benefactor. It was too horrible. She blinked hard. She’d hoped he had chalked up her theft of his truck to temporary insanity. Now she knew she was nothing more than a common criminal in his eyes, her uncle’s getaway driver.
How could he think that? After all they’d shared. Six months together, months like no others.
She gripped the box so tightly it bit into her palms. You stole his truck and left him on the beach because you were ashamed. You’ve earned every bit of his distrust. Somehow she made it to the carriage house steps in spite of her trembling knees.
“We can’t stay, Uncle Bo.”
He sighed. “I got that. Shame, since we’ve started to put down roots already.” He gestured to the cage at his feet.
The ugliest dog she’d ever seen was crouched in a ball on the steps, staring through the birdcage bars at Peaches.
“Is this some sort of predator-prey thing?” she asked.
As if on cue, Baggy put his misshapen nose closer, and Peaches awarded him a sharp nip. Baggy drew back with a whine before settling into the same position, eyeing the bird with rapt attention.
Boris shrugged. “I think it’s more of a love thing.”
That figured. “Doesn’t matter. We’re going.”
“Where?”
“Wherever.”
“Not too many wherevers that only charge eight-hundred a month. I’m a little, er, low on funds at the moment.”
She wanted to shake him. “Uncle Bo,” she said fiercely. “They know our history, and they don’t want you—” She swallowed. “They don’t want us around.”
“‘A hungry dog believes in—’”
“‘—nothing but meat.’ Anton Chekhov. Hungry or not, you’ll have to find a new dog house. Period.”
He sighed and picked up the birdcage, then they started down the steps.
Cy was waiting at the bottom. His father and Bitsy were headed back into the house.
Cy’s expression was pained. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Brindle, I apologize for my rudeness. We’d like you to stay.”
Piper nearly dropped the cardboard box. “What?”
He shot her a look. “You heard me.”
“That’s very kind, Mr. Franco. I accept.”
Charity? Piper elbowed him. “No, he doesn’t. We’re leaving, remember?”
Cy held up a hand. “My aunt was right. I wasn’t being fair, especially considering some of our own family history.”
She frowned. “Your aunt said she was married to a thief?”
He grimaced at the word. “I’m not going to get into that now. Mr. Brindle is welcome to stay. Aunt Bitsy went into the house to start cooking for you two.”
Piper groaned. “No. Tell her no. Tell her we’re leaving.”
Cy heaved out a breath. “Sorry. You used the word more powerful than any other in the English language.”
“Hungry?” Piper queried.
“Starved,” Boris said, beaming at them as he trundled toward the kitchen.
“No, Uncle Bo,” she called.
He turned to say over his shoulder, “Put Peaches inside the carriage house, will you? I don’t think she should hang around a dog unchaperoned.”
If Piper was the fainting type, this might have been the time. Her pulse pounded, and there was a distinct ringing in her ears. Left alone with Cy, all she could do was pull her gaze away from his handsome, discomfited face and stare at the mole-like dog making goo-goo eyes at her uncle’s parakeet.
“What’s the matter with you, Baggy?” Cy asked.
“My uncle thinks he’s in love with Peaches.”
“Does she love him back?”
“She bit him a minute ago.”
She waited for Cy to say something hard and bitter.
Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.
It was the same rich laughter she heard in her memories, from the time when her heart was still whole. Despite her mortification, Piper found herself smiling.
