Читать книгу Moonlight In Vermont - Kacy Cross - Страница 7

Three

Before she could go all the way to Vermont, Fiona had to clear the air with Delia, her stepmother. When Fiona’s father had remarried a couple of years after his wife died, Fiona expected to hate the woman who had replaced her mom. She didn’t.

Delia was wonderful, exactly what her lonely dad had needed. She’d never intruded on Fiona’s life, had never been anything but supportive and gracious. Her stepmother was everything anyone could hope for: a friend, a confidante, a role model.

Which was why this call had to happen, despite the butterflies in Fiona’s stomach. Delia loved her; she knew that. Oddly, their relationship had so many fewer complications than the one Fiona had with her father, which had everything to do with why it was hard to beg forgiveness for not visiting more. It wasn’t Delia’s fault her husband had moved out to a remote place like Vermont and abandoned everything that was important to Fiona.

But it was Fiona’s fault she couldn’t get over what she viewed as a betrayal, plain and simple.

Delia answered on the first ring. “Inn at Swan Lake. May I help you?”

Her stepmother sounded so cheerful and so much like unconditional love that this idea started to seem like a good one. She could use a hug from Delia right about now and some supportive, kind words about the horrible thing Nate had done to her. “Hi. It’s Fiona.”

“Hi, honey! How are you doing?”

Small talk wasn’t going to get this apology out any faster. “Listen, before you say anything, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I visited.”

There was no excuse, so she gave none.

“Oh, honey, that’s understandable. I just miss you. Well, we all do,” Delia corrected hastily.

Fiona knew her father didn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. The Wall Street old guard still talked about his ability to stay calm and unemotional in the face of turmoil. It had been the key to his success...and the whole reason he could dump an apartment full of love and laughter to jet off to Vermont at a moment’s notice.

And that was ancient history at this point. Ang needed a vacation. Fiona needed to not run into Nate by accident. Vermont held the key to both. No reason to let her emotions over the past get the best of her. Like father, like daughter.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. Angela and I thought it might be nice to come up tomorrow and see you guys for a few days.” She barely got the sentence out before Delia was squealing with happy laughter. “I take it that means you’re excited?”

“Yes,” Delia said succinctly in case there was still a question.

“We’ll just stay four or five days, but only if you have the room.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course we have the room. And your timing couldn’t be more perfect. MapleFaire kicks off this weekend.”

Fiona smiled just a little. That meant she could shove Angela out the door to sightsee on her own while Fiona nursed her broken heart by lying around in bed all day, phone in hand as she managed a few deals remotely. “Great. See you tomorrow then. Love you. And send my love to Dad.”

That was as close as she’d get to being conciliatory toward Harris Rangely.

Fiona looked up to see Irwin strolling into her office. Unannounced. “Irwin. Hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Did they have an appointment she’d forgotten about? No way. Unless she needed this vacation even more than Angela insisted she did.

“And I wasn’t expecting to have to chase you down,” Irwin said.

Oh. This was about the job offer that she’d been sitting on for goodness knows what reason. “I’m sorry. I really have to apologize—”

“Am I detecting a bit of hesitation?”

“No.” Yes. But she couldn’t let him know that her head hadn’t been in the game since Nate had dumped her. Scrambling, she gave him the best excuse she could think of. “I’m just going up to visit my dad in Vermont, and—”

“This is an offer of a lifetime,” Irwin reminded her, and it unsettled her stomach that he felt he needed to. “You’ll be the queen of New York real estate. What more could you want?”

Good question. The offer was amazing. It was Fiona that was the problem. She couldn’t stop wondering if this job might be one more thing standing in the way of finding the man she’d always envisioned making her happy.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire?

She’d never know if she didn’t jump. But giving up her solo practice was a huge step.

“Just a few more days to clear my head,” she begged.

Good. The request was vague enough that she wasn’t committing, but neither was she saying no. Maybe she did need this vacation. Perfect opportunity to get herself over this weird hump. She was going to take the job. It was indeed a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she hadn’t found the right man without it, had she?

“All right,” Irwin said kindly. “Give your father my best.”

“I will.”

“We’ll talk soon.” Irwin posed it like a statement not a question and Fiona appreciated the grace.

“Absolutely.” She was already formulating her acceptance, which she’d give him after letting Ang drag her to Vermont. Irwin deserved a one hundred percent whole-hearted commitment and nothing less.

Spring in Vermont apparently meant something different than it did in New York. Instead of delicate budding flowers and cute yellow ducks, Vermont got snow. Lots and lots of snow.

If Fiona didn’t know better, she’d think they’d gone back in time, and not just a few months. Decades. Everything here had that old-world feel to it, the same kind she sometimes got when crossing the threshold of a building on the Lower East Side that hadn’t changed since the early part of last century. Ghosts of days gone by flitted through the very atmosphere, weighing everything down with a sense of permanence and roots.

That part, she appreciated.

“It is so pretty here,” Angela gushed as Fiona drove past yet another white field that looked exactly like the adjacent white field. “Fun fact. Did you know Vermont has more cows per capita than any other state?”

“And it snows in the springtime,” Fiona couldn’t help but add as they passed another field covered in white flakes. Come on. Some variety would be nice right about now. “Can you check my phone and see if I have service yet, please?”

“What?” Ang sputtered. “No. No more work.”

Ang should know by now that Fiona’s real estate brain didn’t just shut off because her friend had willed it to be so. “Just because I’m out of town doesn’t mean my clients have to know that.”

“Okay, you have to let it go. You are here to relax and enjoy.” Ang punctuated each word with a smooth hand slicing through the air.

“And forget,” she muttered. Easier said than done. “I’m nervous about seeing my dad.”

Work provided a great distraction. Without it, emotions threatened to take over.

If anyone would get that, Ang would, though Fiona hadn’t meant to blurt it out like she expected free therapy. There was a fine line when you had a psychologist for a best friend.

“Five whole days of heartfelt healing ahead,” Ang spouted enthusiastically, which Fiona had totally asked for by opening her big mouth.

If it was that easy to heal the rift with her dad, she would have done it already. She hated that they were at odds. Hated it. It was rough on Delia and even sometimes got in the way of Fiona’s relationship with her brother, Brandon.

Of course, having a good relationship with Delia meant that her stepmom sometimes came on a little strong when expressing her concern for Fiona and her life.

“And some heartfelt grilling from my stepmom about why Nate and I broke up.” Yay. Delia meant well. It was just a lot harder to maintain the façade with someone who wouldn’t hesitate to ask probing questions, like what Fiona had done to mend things. “And we’re here.”

A sign with a black swan at the top and The Inn at Swan Lake across the bottom marked the way. Fiona drove the rental crossover SUV up the lane past a picturesque barn like the kind in storybooks with the large white X over the door and shuttered haylofts. The house nestled into the apex of the road where it circled back to the main highway. Horses grazed nearby, peacefully chomping on whatever horses ate when their food source had been buried by a layer of snow.

Throwing the car in park directly in front of the house that doubled as the inn, Fiona stepped out, the chill in the air stealing her breath for a moment. “Welcome to paradise. Or Siberia. This is definitely the frozen tundra.”

“This is adorable,” Ang said, her head swiveling around to take it all in so fast that it was a wonder she registered anything. “I love it.”

“Sure, Vermont is beautiful,” Fiona allowed and flung a hand at the charming two story house with a generously wide wraparound porch. “This only cost me my childhood home.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” There came Ang’s sarcasm, which meant Fiona had blathered on about it too long, apparently.

Can’t have it both ways, Ang. If she wanted Fiona to express her feelings about things, then she was going to have to hear about it too, now wasn’t she?

A racket on the other side of the car cut her off before she could remind Ang that she’d been the one to insist Fiona get in touch with her inner crybaby. Turning simultaneously, both women got an eyeful of the best scenery in Vermont thus far—about a hundred yards away, a rugged, clean-cut guy loaded wood into a wheelbarrow.

Hello. He bent to pick up another log and Fiona couldn’t help but notice how he moved, as if comfortable in his own skin. Very nice. Hey, she might be nursing a broken heart, but there was absolutely nothing broken about her eyes.

“Who is that?” Fiona murmured. “A groundskeeper or something?”

“I don’t know.” Ang waggled her brows. “He’s cute, though.”

Yes, he was. Straight out of an LLBean catalogue, and apparently he lifted weights, too, because some of those logs were not small. This was the kind of scenery Fiona could really appreciate.

Angela’s cell phone rang. “Oh, I have service. What part of ‘I’m on vacation’ did you not understand?” she bit out to whoever had called as she paced away.

So not fair that Ang had reception and Fiona didn’t. It was one more cruel joke in a long line of disappointments this Spring. “Oh, this is definitely not Manhattan.”

Only the sky heard her because this place put new meaning in the term “remote.” Even the cute groundskeeper couldn’t hold her attention. A rooster crowed and as she glanced toward it, a huge pile of mushrooms near her feet caught her attention. They were growing right there on a pile of logs near the drive.

“Gross.” She kicked at them but there were a lot and they held on tenaciously. Some of the slimy roots stuck to her Fendi boots that she’d snagged at an end-of-season sale at Barney’s only two weeks ago. “Yuck.”

“Hey, whoa!” The cute groundskeeper rushed her suddenly, peeling off his gloves as he crossed to the pile of logs she’d been kicking, his expression incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just getting rid of these mushrooms.” Not that she had to explain herself to him. “Eyesores like that can really decrease a property’s value.”

Everyone knew that. And they were the first thing guests would see as they pulled up in the circular drive. Delia and her father clearly needed someone with her skills to walk the property line in search of these scenarios.

His gaze lit on the crushed mushrooms and his expression fell. There was no question that she’d rained on his parade somehow. As if she’d kicked a puppy instead of fungus, he bent down and gathered the bunch into his hands protectively.

“These are not just mushrooms.” He towered over her as he spread his hands open to show her. “They’re oyster mushrooms.”

“Ohhhh-kay. Oyster mushrooms,” Fiona repeated since the distinction clearly meant something to him. Wow, he was really tall. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. “Sorry.”

“They’re really delicious and extremely rare for this early in the season,” he informed her in a tender voice better reserved for when speaking of a dearly departed relative.

Wait, delicious? As in he’d planned to eat them? Food came wrapped in plastic at the grocery store, not clinging to a log outside. In the elements. Where bugs and stuff could crawl on it.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your harvest,” she shot back.

He might be cute but he had this way of smirking that put her back up, as if she were a bumbling idiot from the city who couldn’t possibly know the secrets of Vermont real estate, particularly when it came to property value.

“I still gotta take mushroom soup off the menu,” he informed her, his breath turning white in the chilly air as he turned his back on her.

“Menu.” The word did not compute. “Menu for what?”

But the not-so-cute-after-all groundskeeper had already walked away, clearly not interested in continuing a conversation with Fiona the Destroyer. The guy might have cheekbones to spare, but he’d left his personality in bed this morning. Until he found it, she’d be happy to stay indoors, well away from the surly groundskeeper.

“Fi!” a male voice behind her called out and she whirled.

The only male she cared about at this moment charged down the steps and rounded the car, his smile wide and welcoming.

“Brandon!”

Before she could blink, her brother engulfed her in a hug and everything bad that had happened thus far melted away. It had been far too long since she’d seen him, a by-product of the feud with her father since Brandon had been living here at the inn for two or three years now. The former tech-exec couldn’t seem to find his footing in the city, so he’d exited stage left for Vermont, which meant he and Fiona didn’t get to have dinner on a regular basis anymore.

Shame. She might have to bend a little more about visiting or she’d keep missing her brother. Delia too, for that matter.

“Hi, Brandon,” Angela called in a singsong voice she reserved for Fiona’s brother.

He stiffened slightly and pulled away from Fiona, turning to greet the redhead whom he’d long considered the bane of his existence. “Angela.”

His tone changed when he talked to Fiona’s childhood friend, as well. If the two of them couldn’t see that the reason they were always so weird with each other was because they belonged together, then she wasn’t going to tell them. They had to figure it out on their own.

“The trouble twins return,” he announced as he glanced back and forth between the two of them, though Fiona didn’t miss that his gaze lingered on Ang.

“Awww.” Angela punched him on the arm the way a woman does when she wants to touch a man without cluing him in that she liked him. “You still sore about those snow cones?”

“The snow cones that ended up on my head?”

They’d totally edged out Fiona, facing each other as if there was no one else in the world, which amused her. The air fairly crackled between them.

Ang slid a finger through her hair to tuck it behind her ear as she gave Brandon a saucy smile. “From how I recall it, I was ten and you pulled my hair first.”

Brandon scoffed and said something else that Fiona didn’t catch because Surly Groundskeeper had lifted the wheelbarrow and pushed it toward the back of the house. There was no denying that watching that man leave had definite appeal—she got the best view of him and she couldn’t see that annoying smirk on his face.

“Fiona,” Angela snapped in a way that indicated it wasn’t the first time she’d said her name. “Back me up on this.”

“Oh no.” Fiona shook her head and focused on her brother. “I’m not getting in the middle of it. I can’t believe you’re still living here.”

Brandon jumped on the subject change. “It’s only temporary. Just like it was last summer.”

“And the summer before that and the summer before that,” Fiona finished with an indulgent eye roll. He’d had a run of bad luck with his dotcom business in New York. She couldn’t blame him for taking time to clear his head.

She’d come to Vermont for the same reason, after all.

“I know. But you know what? I won’t knock it. Helping Dad keep this place running is a better workout that I ever got in any gym. Although I do miss being in the center of things.”

Of course he did. What sane person would pick Vermont over New York on a permanent basis? Only one with a strong sense of family, which he had in spades. “I’m sure your tech-wizard side will rise again.”

“I hope you’re right,” Brandon admitted, which told Fiona he wasn’t as happy here as he pretended. “You guys go on inside and I’ll grab your bags.”

Fiona nodded and climbed the stairs to the wide wrap-around porch. Trailing her, Ang leaned in and murmured, “He’s working out now?”

They barely made it across the threshold before a blonde dynamo nearly bowled them over. “Fiona!”

Her stepmother, Delia, swept her up in a hug. The last year of being apart vanished and Fiona settled into her stepmother’s embrace with ease as if they’d just seen each other yesterday. Delia had that way about her. No one stayed a stranger, friends only got closer and family—that was forever. Fiona didn’t even mind the slight gleam of concern in Delia’s eyes that meant she would definitely be circling back to the breakup with Nate soon. Very soon.

Maybe telling Delia about it would be the final step Fiona needed to let it go. If nothing else happened on this trip than that, it would be time well spent.

Turning her attention to Ang, Delia hugged her as well, murmuring hellos and welcomes with a broad smile.

“Oh, my gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” Delia exclaimed.

“I know,” Fiona cut in quickly. “It’s only been since last summer, though.”

That excuse didn’t assuage her guilt. Delia loved her and wanted to spend time with her. It was that simple, and Delia didn’t understand why Fiona couldn’t put aside the difficulties with her father. No one did. Fiona included. Her father refused to talk about his reasons for selling the apartment that Fiona had loved, and therefore, Fiona refused to forgive him.

“When you run an inn, that’s two hundred bookings ago, so for me, it feels like forever,” Delia said with a smile. “I’m just so glad you’re home.”

Ugh. Fiona’s insides curled up at the term. “Do we have to call it home?”

This was not her home. The apartment overlooking the park where she’d lived with her mother and father—that got the label “home,” and nothing Delia or her father could do or say would change that. If only one of them understood how lost and adrift she’d felt after learning it had been sold…

But she couldn’t dwell on that or she’d cave in to the emotions that she’d rather die than admit to.

“Yes. You and your father are going to leave this little tiff behind you on this trip,” Delia informed her in that no-nonsense voice that brooked no arguments. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Fiona agreed, mostly because she knew it was what Delia wanted to hear. And also because it wasn’t really a question. It was a strongly encouraged suggestion, and Fiona hated causing Delia strife in the first place. She wanted it to be true, too, so she’d fake it until it was, if for no other reason than to make Delia happy.

A familiar voice rang out from the hall behind them. “Towels are out of the dryer and need to be folded before the new check-ins arrive.”

Fiona’s father came into view carrying a laundry basket. A laundry basket.

“Some of the new check-ins are already here,” Fiona informed her father with a laugh designed to cover that she was really glad to see him, difficulties aside.

Harris immediately dropped his basket and pulled Fiona into a hug before she could protest, and then all she could do was hang on. Her father loved her. He didn’t have to say it all the time for it to be true. She could feel it in his embrace. That was enough for now.

She could put aside her feelings. No problem. Just like she’d been doing for years.

“Welcome home,” he said enthusiastically, then caught Delia’s chopping motion at her neck and amended quickly to, “Welcome here. So… How’s life in the Big Apple?”

“Great. This might refresh your memory.” Thrilled at the chance to segue off difficult subjects, Fiona rifled through her bag and pulled out Delia’s gift wrapped in crackly gold paper tied with curly-q ribbons. “Brought you a bottle of your favorite perfume from 5th Avenue.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Delia protested but the delight in her eyes told a different story. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Delia had filled so many gaps in Fiona’s life that the gift couldn’t begin to hold all of her gratitude.

Ang handed Harris a bag. “Oh, and here are some real bagels from Zabar’s.”

That was the real hit. Harris’s eyes rounded and he took the bag so carefully, Fiona double-checked to be sure Ang hadn’t handed him a live baby.

“Oh, man! Thank you both.” Something beyond Angela’s shoulder caught Harris’s attention and he jerked his chin in that direction, bagels all but forgotten. “There he is. Fiona, this is Derek. He studied in Paris. He’s a culinary genius. The inn’s pride and joy.”

The world clicked into slow motion as the Mushroom Man from outside strode through the dining area off the reception hall. Of course. She muttered to Angela, “Oh, the wise-guy groundskeeper?”

Genius, huh? That remained to be seen. At least that answered her What menu? question.

Brandon joined the party, throwing in his own two cents on the matter. “He’s our new head chef and fingers crossed, soon to be the first Michelin star chef in Vermont.”

Derek sauntered over, smirk firmly in place across his chiseled jaw. “Oh, I believe we’ve met before. And mushroom soup is still off the menu.”

“The guy’s very particular about his mushrooms,” Fiona said to her father with an eye roll that she couldn’t quite help.

“Yeah,” Harris returned with a quizzical expression as if Fiona had told a joke with a punchline he didn’t quite get. “And a true artist who needs to focus.”

Derek nodded once and carried off a basket of rolls. Wow, was he ever anti-social.

“I’ve persuaded some of the top restaurant bloggers in New England to come later this week, so he needs to be in prime form.” Harris waggled his hand. “Bookings have been down a little bit and we could use the press.”

Oh no. Now Fiona felt terrible for giving Derek a hard time about the mushrooms. Clearly her father and Delia were depending on this new head chef to help pick up their business. Well, Derek could have been a little less confrontational about how she’d accidentally messed up his precious menu.

Harris continued. “Tomorrow we have more guests arriving and thanks to Brandon, we’ve updated our website. We’ve started to market to the hip millennial crowd.”

Delia nodded enthusiastically but Fiona had to laugh. “Hip millennial crowd? That just does not sound right coming out of your mouth, Dad.”

“Which reminds me…” Brandon trailed off as he held up his phone and wandered off to go do some mysterious inn task. Harris followed him, clearly on a similar mission, leaving Delia beaming at Fiona and Ang.

“Let’s get you settled!” she said and tucked Fiona’s hand in her capable one. “You can relax and enjoy yourself. And then later on, you can tell me all about your breakup with Nate.”

So close. For a minute there, Fiona had thought the subject wasn’t going to come up. Hopefully her smile didn’t look as pained as it felt, but Delia had vanished already.

“Yay, can’t wait!” she said to Ang, her voice dripping with irony. And so she had her marching orders from everyone else. Get over Nate. Get over the tiff with her father. Relax. No work.

When would someone ask Fiona what she wanted to do?