Читать книгу Mending Her Heart - Judy Baer - Страница 11

Catherine gazed up at her old high-school classmate, Jerry Travers. He was a big teddy bear in a bow tie.

“Catherine, I’m so sorry about your grandmother.”

“Thanks, Jerry. I appreciate everyone’s kindness. How’s life going for you?”

“Same old, same old. Deeds, contracts, wills, estate planning and, fortunately, very few criminal cases. That’s the blessing of practicing in Pleasant. Most of the work is, well, pretty pleasant.”

She couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“I’m busier than I used to be, of course,” Jerry added.

“You are?” She studied his profile, the prominent nose, strong chin and high forehead. He looked little different than he had in high school.

“Dad is trying to retire. Emphasis on ‘trying.’ He’ll never give up practicing law altogether, but he does need to cut back. He had a minor heart attack last winter and my mother is adamant about getting him to slow down. I’m trying to carry a bigger load and make it look like it’s easy so that he’ll get the idea he can take a few days off here and there.” He took a sandwich off a tray someone brought by. “How about you? How’s the legal profession treating you?”

“I resigned from my job.”

“No kidding?” His dark brows raised with astonishment. “I thought you had some peach of a career on tap…at least that’s what your grandmother always said.”

“I suppose I did, but I needed a break,” Catherine responded vaguely. She wasn’t ready to go into detail about her life choices quite yet.

“How long will you be staying in Pleasant?”

“Probably several weeks. My time is my own right now.”

“Abigail always hoped you’d come back here, you know.”

Surprise rippled through her. “To practice law? What about the esteemed firm of Travers & Travers?”

Jerry chuckled. “Oh, them. More than once Abigail asked Dad if he’d hire you if you came home.”

“She did?” Catherine was taken aback. Her grandmother had had dreams for her she’d never voiced. What else didn’t she know?

“Dad always said yes, of course.”

“To pacify her, no doubt.”

“Not really. I believe he meant it.” Jerry turned an appraising eye on her. “He probably still would. My mother would be eternally grateful. If Dad thought he had a competent attorney in the office other than me, he might ease up finally.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to offer me a job,” Catherine said lightly. It was odd that right after she’d quit her job, other opportunities began to appear.

“Are you looking for one?”

“I’m considering doing some teaching. Of course, that was before Gram died.”

“You’d be good at it. You’d be good at anything you tried, Catherine. I know you’ve got your plate full right now. All I’m saying is that if you want to do some part-time work while you’re deciding your next step, Travers & Travers might be able to accommodate you. I saw you argue a case in the Cities, if you remember. I was very impressed by your skill and confidence. You left everyone else in the dust.”

“That’s very kind of you, Jerry…”

The big man snorted. “It’s not kind at all, Catherine. You’re one of the best. You’d be doing us a kindness by representing our firm.”

Jerry backed away when someone from the dining room called her name. “It’s great to see you again, Catherine. I’m so sorry about the circumstances. No pressure about my offer. I just wanted you to know that if time gets heavy on your hands, you have an option.”

“I appreciate the offer. I just…” She didn’t even get time to finish her sentence before another friend of Abigail took her arm and pulled her away.

When the last guest said goodbye, Catherine dropped into the nearest chair with a groan.

Emma patted her hand. “You’ve had enough for one day, dear. You’re white as a sheet. Why don’t you come back to my house tonight so you can get a good night’s sleep? I know you’d planned to stay at Hope House, but you can check out the place just as well in the morning.”

“I haven’t walked the grounds or been upstairs,” Catherine protested without much enthusiasm. “I really should…”

“Nothing will change overnight. It will all be here for you tomorrow.”

Suddenly, spending the night here felt like a very bad idea. Here at Hope House Catherine knew she would do nothing but think about what she’d lost, when all she really wanted was to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“I’ll take you up on that, Emma.”

She knew she’d be asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Catherine awoke slowly, the light of the sun filtering through the thick lace curtains and across her bed. She lay on her back thinking of the remarkable ceiling in her own bedroom at Hope House, which had been decorated with plaster swirls that had been piped on like frosting on a wedding cake. She’d taken the house for granted as a child, but its remarkable features struck her now. Although Emma’s home was lovely, it was a pale comparison to Hope House. Catherine had been living in a fairy-tale house back then and hadn’t even noticed. It would be painful to go back there without Abigail, but it had to be done.

Her limbs felt heavy and it took her some time to roll to her side and put her feet on the pink-and-blue Aubusson rug on the floor beside the bed. Gently she raised and lowered her shoulders and moved her head from side to side. Once her blood was flowing, she stretched broadly and stood up. Her body felt as if it had been beaten as her tense muscles screamed in protest.

After a quick shower, Catherine grabbed clothing from her bag and padded downstairs barefoot to find Emma in the kitchen whipping up a batch of pancakes. Coffee was brewed and fresh-squeezed orange juice was already on the table.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Emma.” Catherine poured herself some coffee. “I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping in the big house alone last night.”

“It’s the least I can do, sweet girl. I hope you slept well.”

“Quite soundly. I suppose being exhausted from getting ready to move and then the tension of yesterday wore me out.”

“People always sleep better in Pleasant,” Emma said complacently. “No bright streetlights except a couple on Main Street and a street corner here and there, no traffic noise, no airplanes arriving and taking off, and all the gorgeous, mature trees—it’s like a cocoon, protected from the rest of the world.”

“I appreciate that, I…”

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Will Tanner strode in, dark hair still damp and curling from the shower, a night’s growth of beard shadowing his jawline. “Good morning, ladies. How are things today?” His gaze went directly to Catherine.

She looked as if she’d lost ten pounds overnight, he observed. Her cheeks were hollow and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. She sat at the kitchen table in well-washed jeans that had seen better years and a simple white T-shirt. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail that made her look like a teenager. She’d tucked her feet beneath her and held a large coffee mug in her hands. She lifted it to her face to inhale the aroma and breathed deeply.

Will had never wanted to rescue someone from sadness so badly in his life. Except Charley, of course, but Charley was family. His sister Annie’s blood ran in his veins.

“Morning, Will. I thought you’d be by.” Emma held up a carafe. “Coffee?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Maybe a jolt of caffeine would take the edge off his fuzziness. He’d dreamed all night of Abigail and the plans they’d had together.

In the dream he and Abigail sat at her kitchen table as they always did, discussing the house and the forever-growing list of restoration projects he was to tackle.

“Will,” she would say, “promise me that whatever happens, you’ll finish this house.” Her expression was intent. “Don’t get itchy feet. Please say that you’ll stay here until it’s done.”

“Abigail, there’s no reason for me to leave you. The house will be done. I promise. I’m not a quitter.”

“Refurbishing this house is my gift to the Stanhope family. I married my husband, Charles, as a very young woman and it changed everything about my life.” Abigail’s eyes would flash with resolve and she’d squeeze his hand so tightly that it almost hurt.

Then she’d stare straight into his eyes and say, “The Stanhopes were generous to a fault. They helped to mold me into who I am today. I will be forever grateful for the way they took me in as a true daughter. And they loved Hope House, as I grew to.”

He was ready to reassure her again that he wasn’t planning to go anywhere when he woke and realized that Abigail was gone. By dawn he knew with complete certainty what he had to do. She’d given him not only a job but a place to live—a cozy apartment in the guesthouse, a stable home for his nephew, Charley, and as a result, a renewed purpose for his life. If ever he was to claim Charley as his own son, a real home was imperative. The town was safe, idyllic and friendly, perfect for a growing child, and their place was small but comfortable—no matter what his sister-in-law thought. He was tired of continually locking horns with Sheila on the matter. He had to restore the house as Abigail had asked. It was imperative that he make a home for his little boy.

Then an unsettling thought occurred to him. What had Abigail told her granddaughter of her plans? Catherine owned the house now. She could sell it or turn it into a gift shop or any fool thing she wanted.

Still, even in death, Abigail was a force to be reckoned with. He would do what he’d promised her.

He looked up to see Emma and Catherine staring at him expectantly. How long had his mind drifted?

“Sorry. I didn’t sleep very well last night.” He looked at Catherine. “Did you?”

“I think it felt less like sleep and more like a coma,” she admitted. “I was already on my way to Pleasant for some badly needed R&R…” As she said it, she looked troubled.

There was more to this woman than met the eye, Will sensed. He hoped he’d get to know her well enough to learn what made her tick.

Catherine felt uncomfortable beneath Will’s intent gaze. “Tell me more about what you did for Gram,” she suggested.

“I’m doing a lot of carpentry work right now, as you probably already know. It was your grandmother’s dream that Hope House be preserved for posterity. I’ve been helping her restore the place.”

No, she didn’t know. Catherine couldn’t recall her grandmother saying that to her. Of course, Gram had traveled to Minneapolis for their visits and Hope House was rarely a topic of conversation.

Now she knew why he seemed so at ease in this house. There was a time when she felt she was Abigail’s primary confidant. Will had been here for Gram and she hadn’t. She’d trade it all for an hour with her now.

“I live in the guesthouse,” he added as if it were an afterthought.

Catherine blinked. Gram hadn’t mentioned that either.

“I’m a relatively recent addition to the property.” Tanner looked amused by her surprise. “Six months, remember? Living in the guesthouse is part of my payment for my work. Abigail and I struck a deal.”

What exactly did that mean?

He thrust his hands into his pockets. “It was my understanding that she was going to surprise you when you arrived. From what I gathered, Abigail was sure you’d be pleased because you’d grown up here and your family home had so much history.”

He gave her a shrewd stare. “She thought you felt the same way about Hope House that she did.”

Will might as well have pounded a stake into her heart. Of course she loved Hope House! But her life was very different from Gram’s. What’s more, she’d been away from home except for summer breaks and visits since she was eighteen years old. She loved Pleasant and Hope House, but it was part of her past, not her future. Maybe it was a good thing that Gram hadn’t understood that. It might have hurt her to know they weren’t on the same page.

“How did you and my grandmother meet?”

“Through my cousin, who reroofed the house a year ago. She called him when she was looking for help with the renovating and he suggested me. I went uptown for supplies. I’m on my way to Hope House to work right now,” Will said. “Do you want to come back with me?”

“I’d like that. I’ll be right back.” She could feel Will and Emma watching her as she left the kitchen. It was as if they were worried about her. Especially Will.

That was puzzling. She’d just met the man and knew very little about him other than he was a very handsome man. And, of course, Abigail had liked him. She hoped Gram was right to put her faith in him.

She returned wearing the same jeans and T-shirt with a powder-blue sweatshirt. She’d pulled her long tumble of hair into a knot at the base of her neck. On her feet was a pair of her favorite flip-flops.

It occurred to her that for the first time in months she felt free.

No power suit and low-heeled pumps today. No arm-taxing briefcase full of legal papers, no court dates, no judges or bailiffs and no guards at courthouse security. And no way to mess up someone’s life. She was free. Even the tragedy of the moment couldn’t erase the relief she felt.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she said, “Sorry I’m so casual today.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re a beautiful woman, Catherine. Most ladies would give anything to look like you.” Then, to her delight, he blushed.

Catherine kept her eye on him as they said good bye to Emma and crawled into his pickup truck. He was extremely appealing, with that day-old growth of stubble on his cheeks. His dark hair was thick and rumpled and his eyebrows dark and straight over his remarkable eyes. He was tall and leanly muscled, dark-eyed and exuded an aura of strength—both physical and mental. No wonder her grandmother had been so cavalier when Catherine had asked about work around the house. Will had been her secret weapon against quickly growing grass and wood decay.

The thoughts of her grandmother brought tears to her eyes again. Abigail had been her entire family. Her absent aunt and uncle hardly counted. It was all gone now—Gram, her job, her condo…. Only Hope House remained to be dealt with.

This was a fresh start, something she’d been wanting for a long time. She was eager to take on a new opportunity but not when she was feeling guilty about it. About selling Hope House.

Pleasant was just what its name implied. As they drove down Main Street, Catherine watched the picturesque storefronts go by. The Nook, part gift shop and part quilt shop, had a colorful banner flying from the eaves that announced a sale. Across the street was an antiques store called Becky’s Attic, which was owned by a high-school friend of Catherine. Because it was near lake country, Pleasant had a steady flow of visitors all summer long that supported the shops and during long winters for ice fishing and sledding. A feeling of stillness washed over her as she viewed the unchanging storefronts and recalled shopkeepers who had been behind their counters since she was a child.

She also had a growing awareness of the man beside her. His physical presence was compelling.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

“There are a lot of memories for me here,” she said softly as she shifted more closely to the truck door. Her attraction to him was disconcerting.

“Good ones, I hope.”

“Very.” She studied his profile as he drove. There was gentleness about his features that surprised her. She liked it. Maybe she was too accustomed to hard-edged attorneys. Even if her coworkers had had soft sides, they tried never to let them show.

“You’re lucky—about the good memories, I mean. I would have given anything to have grown up in a place like this.” He said it so emphatically that she stared at him quizzically.

“This is a perfect place for a child,” he explained. “He can have freedom to roam and yet enough people watching out for him that he can’t get into much trouble. You know that stuff about it taking a village to raise a kid? This is that kind of place.”

“A kid like you were?”

“Me? No. I was a little wildcat according to everyone who knew me. It would have taken an entire metropolis to do much with me. I was thinking about my nephew, Charley.” He smiled slightly. “You met him yesterday.”

“Ah, yes, the one who threw a dump truck on top of me.”

“Charley lives with me now, although my brother and sister-in-law would like to change that. His mom, my sister, Annie, had cirrhosis. She died about five months ago.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He looked pained. “It was difficult to watch someone throw her life away, but my sister couldn’t quit drinking.” He strained to get the words out, as if he didn’t want to talk about this but couldn’t help himself. “Charley had a tough life growing up with an alcoholic mom. My sister loved him, but she couldn’t keep her act together, even for him.”

They pulled into the driveway of Hope House before she could respond. Today she looked—really looked—at the yard and gardens. The lawns were lush green carpets, so soft-looking she yearned to walk over them barefoot. Not a leaf or a twig marred the expanse. The variegated hostas had tripled in size since her last visit and the beds of moss roses were bright and colorful as bags of jelly beans. What had this man put the plants and grass on? Steroids?

“The yard is spectacular. You’ve done an amazing job with the whole place.” The old porch swing she’d loved as a child had been restored and was piled high with yellow, blue and white floral pillows. Even the white wicker furniture, which had been hidden away in the storage shed, was now inviting instead of decrepit. “It’s as if you gave the whole place a facelift. I could really enjoy this spot if…” She paused.

“If your grandmother were here to enjoy it with you?” he asked perceptively.

“Yes.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, your grandmother is here. She walked me through every decision and every repair she wanted me to make. This place is Abigail.”

That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.

But the house wasn’t all she had of Gram, Catherine reminded herself. Abigail was still alive in her heart after all, and wasn’t that where it counted most? Surely she didn’t have to own Hope House to keep Gram’s memory alive.