Читать книгу Hidden Treasures - Kathryn Springer - Страница 11

Cade woke up to the haunting, liquid cry of a loon on the lake.

Forty-eight hours ago, his alarm clock had been the low keen of sirens and the rhythmic pulse of rush-hour traffic outside the window of his condo in St. Paul.

He glanced at his watch and closed his eyes. Ordinarily he’d be showered, dressed and pulling into the Starbucks’ drive-thru by now. Not still horizontal in the twin bed he’d slept in as a child. Even the comforter was familiar—a lumpy bundle of goose down sandwiched between two soft pieces of flannel.

Cade’s nose twitched. The blanket even smelled the same. A pleasing blend of sunshine and cedar that whisked him back in time. Whether he wanted to go there or not.

In fact, it seemed as if the entire estate had been frozen in some sort of time capsule. Nothing had been updated. Or repaired. Even though Cade knew no one in his family had set foot on Blue Key in years, he’d still been shocked at how neglected the house looked when he’d arrived. The paint on the shutters had bubbled and faded. Scabs of dark moss crusted the roof. The flower gardens his mother had lovingly tended during their summer visits had turned into a matted tangle of weeds.

Douglas Halloway, Cade’s father, had refused to sink a penny into the place for twenty years. Except for the generous weekly paychecks mailed to Bert.

Bert.

Cade winced and closed his eyes. He hadn’t seen her for years—had to admit he’d all but forgotten his mother’s best friend—but from the moment he’d stepped onto the dock, she’d fussed over him as if he were ten years old again. It didn’t seem to matter that his presence on Blue Key Island meant she was about to lose both her job and her home.

Cade reminded himself that Bert had to have known the estate would eventually be sold. And she’d been well-compensated over the years for simply living in the house. But knowing those things still didn’t prevent him from feeling like a first-class jerk.

Especially when Bert treated him with the same indulgent affection and warmth she had when he was a boy, scratched and dirty from climbing the birch tree on the point or dripping water on the floor as he raided the refrigerator for an afternoon snack.1

He hadn’t given Bert more than a few hours’ notice about his arrival…or Parker’s upcoming wedding…and yet she’d hugged him fiercely when he’d arrived and told him that he had his mother’s eyes.

Cade was glad his father hadn’t been there to hear Bert’s observation. He’d spent years making sure his children didn’t resemble Genevieve in any way. But not even Douglas Halloway, as powerful as he was, could change the color of a person’s eyes.

The sun shifted a fraction of an inch, recreating a stencil of the lace curtain on the scuffed hardwood floor. For the first time Cade noticed a water stain in the corner of the ceiling above the window and mentally adjusted the price of the house. Again.

Whoever bought the island would probably raze the place and put up a structure more suited to its surroundings. He hadn’t listed the island with a Realtor yet, but already he’d had inquiries from a developer interested in building a luxury lodge catering to executives-turned-weekend-anglers.

Guys like him.

Not that it mattered what happened to the place after it sold, Cade reminded himself. He had a job to do and the sooner he wrapped things up, the sooner he could get back to civilization. And his business. It had taken a long time for Douglas to turn over the reins to the family’s architectural firm and Cade didn’t want his father to regret the decision.

Murmured voices, followed by a ripple of delighted laughter, drifted under the door. And worked its way right under his skin.

Meghan McBride. Memories of the evening before came rushing back to Cade and guilt sawed briefly against his conscience. He hadn’t exactly been a model host. Okay, he’d been downright rude. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told her who he was when they’d met in the boathouse. Maybe he could put it down to a day that had, thanks to Aunt Judith and a bichon frise that wouldn’t let him out of her sight, spiraled out of control. And Cade didn’t like it when things got out of control.

Or when something disrupted his concentration. And at the moment, his concentration centered on getting the estate ready to sell. He didn’t have time to play the attentive host. Not even to the wedding photographer. Maybe especially to the wedding photographer, whose winsome smile just might make him forget he hadn’t come to Blue Key to relax and enjoy the scenery.

After he interviewed Meghan and discovered why she’d shown up a full week before the wedding, he’d settle in behind the old oak secretary in the library and start making a list of the contents of the house. And try to hire a new landscaper.

The unmistakable smell of bacon and maple syrup teased his senses and Cade pushed himself out of bed, resigning himself to renewing his gym membership when he got back to the Cities. He’d forgotten how much Bert loved to cook. The day before she’d caught a stringer of bluegills off the dock and fried them up for supper in a cast-iron skillet the size of a hubcap.

He’d told Bert he didn’t expect her to cook for him, but she wouldn’t listen. In fact, she’d informed him in no uncertain terms that she got tired of cooking for one and he should just “simmer down” and let her spoil someone besides Miss Molly for a change.

And judging from the feminine laughter coming from the kitchen, it sounded as though Bert had added another person to her list of people to spoil.

Good. If Bert kept Meghan McBride company, he wouldn’t have to.

Fifteen minutes later Cade padded into the kitchen. Meghan stood guard at the stove, tending Bert’s favorite skillet. Barefoot and wearing loose-fitting jeans with a white shirt knotted at her waist, she didn’t look old enough to be an established businesswoman.

But her unconventional clothing wasn’t what made Cade’s breath hitch in his throat. The night before she’d looked as wet and bedraggled as Miss Molly. But the hair he’d assumed was auburn had dried, lightening to an incredible shade of strawberry blond that fell in a tangle of curls to the middle of her back. He couldn’t think of one woman in his circle of friends who would let her hair grow to that length. Especially Amanda, who scheduled her six-week appointments at a trendy salon a year in advance.

But then again, he couldn’t think of anyone who’d wear what looked like a man’s dress shirt and jeans to an interview, either.

Cade frowned. Maybe Meghan McBride didn’t realize that although Parker had hired her, he had the final say as to whether or not she stayed hired.

Without turning around, Meghan knew the exact second Cade walked into the kitchen. And it wasn’t because of the subtle, musky scent of his cologne or the husky “good morning” he growled at Bert.

It was because the skin on her arms prickled.

She had goose bumps.

And Meghan never got goose bumps.

Rattled, Meghan scanned the counter for the pancake turner but couldn’t remember what she’d done with it.

“It’s in your apron pocket,” Cade said helpfully.

Meghan opened her mouth to argue that she wouldn’t put a cooking utensil in her pocket, but glanced down first, just in case he was right. And he was. Why did she get the feeling that Cade Halloway was always right?

Bert cruised past with a platter of hash browns and scrambled eggs, pausing long enough to flip on the fan in the hood above the range. “All set, Meghan?”

Meghan nodded, even though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of Bert’s fabulous breakfast.

Once they were seated, every time Cade’s unnerving cobalt gaze settled on her across the table, she knew he was silently questioning her qualifications. She refilled her plate—frequently—because basic etiquette said it was impolite for a person to talk with their mouth full.

“I can help you clean up, Bert.” It would buy her a few extra minutes before Cade’s interrogation…Meghan swiftly amended that negative thought…interview. That’s what it was. An interview.

“Don’t be silly. What else do I have to do?” Bert made a shooing motion with her hands. “Cade wants to talk to you and he’s not the kind of man who likes to be kept waiting.”

Meghan had figured that much out for herself. She hated to make snap judgments about people, but it was Saturday morning and Cade had dressed as if he were on his way to the office. The only thing missing was a conservative silk tie.

So maybe he had been blessed with traffic-stopping good looks but he was so…serious. The only time she’d seen the hint of a smile soften his features was when Bert had reminded him that it was his turn to catch their supper.

At least if she had to meet with Cade, it would give her an opportunity to pay more attention to the paintings hanging on the library walls.

She took a deep breath and tried to work up a smile.

“Come in, Miss McBride.”

She would have, if she hadn’t frozen in the doorway. How in the world did Cade manage to lower the temperature in a room as welcoming as the library? Instead of taking one of the chairs by the fireplace like he’d done the night before, he’d positioned himself at an antique secretary to conduct his interrog—interview.

“You can call me Meghan.” Because it would be harder to fire her if they were on a first-name basis. Wouldn’t it?

Cade’s eyes narrowed.

Okay, maybe not.

He motioned to a chair but Meghan decided not to sit down. It would give him too much of an advantage. Instead she took a casual lap around the perimeter of the room to check out the artwork, sucking in a breath at the some of the signatures she saw. Nina Bonnefield hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Patrick that the Halloway family supported the arts.

She was used to seeing paintings of this caliber displayed behind a satin rope in a museum or in an upscale gallery, not in a casual arrangement on a backdrop of sun-faded wallpaper.

Her stomach knotted at the sudden realization that maybe there was a Ferris somewhere on the premises.

“…found you.”

Cade’s voice filtered into her thoughts and snagged her attention. Meghan mentally kicked herself for getting lost in the paintings. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He frowned slightly. “Maybe we should start with how my sister…found you.”

Found her? As if she were a stray cat?

Meghan bit down on her lower lip to prevent a smile. She’d already rehearsed the answer to this question. Her parents had taught her that honesty was the best policy and she’d made a promise to herself—and Ms. Bonnefield—that she wouldn’t tell a lie to explain her presence on Blue Key Island.

“The usual way. By referral. An acquaintance of mine heard your sister was looking for a photographer…someone who didn’t mind coming this far off the beaten path for a wedding.”

He couldn’t argue with that, now could he? Not only was Blue Key Island way off the beaten path, a person had to take a boat to get there. And she wasn’t even charging them for mileage.

Cade’s fingers drummed against the top of the desk. “What studio are you employed with?”

The knot in Meghan’s stomach tightened. “I’m a freelance photographer.”

“Freelance.” Cade repeated the word as if he’d never heard of it.

“That’s right. I have my own business.”

“Really.”

It didn’t escape Meghan’s notice that Cade’s sentences had gotten shorter as the interview progressed.

“I apprenticed with a master photographer for two years before opening my own studio five years ago.” Which she ran out of her apartment, but Cade didn’t need to know that. As her reputation had spread, she’d begun to travel more frequently but still tried to keep regular business hours.

“But you specialize in weddings.”

It sounded more like a statement than a question, but since Cade seemed to be waiting for some sort of response, Meghan gave him a truthful one. “I take pictures of a variety of subjects.” And please don’t ask what they are.

“I’m sure my sister asked for references.” Cade’s fingers drummed against the top of the desk again.

Meghan simply smiled. She’d never met Parker Halloway in person and she had no idea if Parker had checked out her Web site. If she had, she would have discovered Meghan McBride did photograph a variety of subjects. Most of them just happened to have four legs. And occasionally, feathers.

Cade’s eyes met hers and Meghan did her best not to flinch under the cool appraisal. “My sister can be a little…impulsive but she is a stickler for details. When you come back this weekend for the wedding—”

“Come back?” Meghan interrupted without thinking.

“It’s only Saturday,” Cade reminded her. “Parker and the rest of the wedding party won’t arrive until Friday morning. I assumed you came to check things out today….”

And then leave.

Meghan silently filled in the rest of the sentence Cade Halloway was too polite to finish.

Now what? She needed a legitimate reason to explain her extended stay on the island and not compromise her promise to stick to honesty.

The cry of a loon filtered through the open window and with a flash of inspiration, Meghan found her reason. “I know I’m here early, but I happen to be free this week.” Also the truth. “I’d love to photograph some of the wildlife.”

The lean fingers on both of the man’s hands made a series of tapping noises. Meghan realized Cade Halloway didn’t vent his emotions. He “drummed” them instead. “I have a lot of work to do. I thought I’d be alone on the island before the wedding chaos started.”

What a coincidence. She’d thought the same thing!

“You won’t even know I’m here,” Meghan added. In spite of his words, she sensed him weakening.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Cade said under his breath.

The telephone suddenly rang, saving Meghan from having to respond. Cade reached for it with a terse, “Excuse me,” and Meghan took that as a cue their interview was officially concluded.

She slipped out of the library, quietly closed the door and collapsed against the wall.

The Ferris was somewhere in the house.

Cade Halloway was in the house.

Meghan decided it was going to be a very long week.