Читать книгу Home For Keeps - Lynn Patrick - Страница 10
ОглавлениеIT WAS STILL MORNING, and Grace felt wrung out from the stress of everything happening at once. At least the reporter looking for a ghost story had spent only a few minutes with Nellie before leaving in disappointment. Thankfully, Nellie hadn’t been able to give him any details other than having seen some kind of faint movement through the trees. Just as Grace had expected. Apparently some of the other residents had blown up what they’d heard into something more exciting.
The community center had an area with tables for the residents to get together. Sitting opposite the older woman, Grace winced when Nellie raised her soda can with a bandaged hand.
“That’s quite some experience you had last night, Nellie. I’m very sorry you were hurt.”
“I was just so worried about Olive disappearing. And I let myself get distracted.” Nellie shook her head and her big glasses wobbled on her nose so that she had to punch them back in place. “I don’t believe in ghosts. It probably was just fog and wind.”
Relief washed through Grace. But not because of Nellie’s disbelief in ghosts. It didn’t sound as if the older woman wanted to sue the company.
“Are you sure you don’t want to have a doctor check you out?” Grace asked her.
“For a bruised knee and scraped palms?” Her surprisingly sharp blue eyes, magnified by thick lenses, gave Nellie an owlish expression reinforced by small tufts of silver hair around her face. “Really, no, but thank you for your concern.”
“Of course I’m concerned about all the residents of our new community. I’m going to make certain that area around your apartment is cleared of any debris.”
Nodding, Nellie said, “That would be good. Now if that darned cat of mine will get it into her head to appreciate her new home, we’ll be fine.” She glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. “Uh-oh, it’s time for me to go. I need to get to my shop. Nellie’s Treasures opens in half an hour.” She gathered up her things. “I don’t know what else I can tell you anyway.”
Grace still hadn’t been to Nellie’s consignment shop and now vowed to do so as soon as she had some free time. “I don’t have anything else to offer. I just wanted to find out what happened and to be sure that you were all right.”
Nellie got to her feet. “Like I said, I hope Olive doesn’t try to escape again. The new apartment is nice, but it’s so small compared to our old house. At least there are no stairs,” she said, putting a positive spin on the complaint.
The woman didn’t have a car, so Grace asked, “Can I give you a ride to your shop?”
“That’s nice of you, but I’m good. Walking is the only exercise I get these days.”
Grace followed Nellie out of the building and headed straight for the parking lot, where she picked up the abandoned art supplies from the table. By the time she carried them to her car, she was a little breathless. Just walked too fast, she told herself. Nothing to do with looking forward to meeting the impressive-looking Caleb Blackthorne. Wondering if she was also going to meet Mrs. Blackthorne, she drove out of the parking lot and onto the road.
She was doing this for Summer Storm. The supplies were simply an excuse. What she really wanted was some insight to the girl. Grace hadn’t had a perfect past herself, so she could recognize a kindred spirit. She didn’t know why that seemed so important to her. Didn’t know what she could or would do about it. Community residents wanted the young artist arrested. Grace wanted to know if she needed help.
Once past the development property, she slowed the car and began peering through the trees near the road, looking for a house.
She almost missed it.
A glimpse of windows made her hit her brake just as she came to the driveway. Her stomach fluttered as she turned in toward the house. Built of cedar and stone, the building blended well with its natural surroundings despite its wall of windows. A large deck around the front and east sides of the house. The steep roofline dotted with solar panels met straight vertical walls, so the modified A-frame had a second story. A beautiful home, one she would be proud to have as part of Green Meadows.
Grace parked and fetched the art supplies. By the time she got to the front door, it opened to reveal Caleb Blackthorne on the other side. He’d changed into worn jeans and an old T-shirt. Though he stood straight and still, the energy he gave off seemed dynamic. His expression was serious, brows seemingly ready to segue into a scowl, but Grace refused to let that intimidate her.
Her smile feeling a little stiff, she said, “Mr. Blackthorne, I’ve brought what’s left of your daughter’s art supplies. Is she home?”
“No, her grandmother came and got her. Let me take that from you.” He removed the supplies from her hands and nodded toward the inside of the house. “Come on in.”
Grace followed him into a great room—it went the full two stories, and she could see a loft area above. “Wow, this is much bigger than I imagined for an A-frame.”
“The new multistory designs are.” He set everything on the dining table. “Thanks, but you didn’t need to trouble yourself. I could have fetched all this when I took care of the mural. I was just getting ready to head back to Green Meadows.”
“Already looked after,” she told him. “I came because I wanted to talk to you about Summer Storm.”
“Her name is Angela.”
His expression did become a scowl now, though Grace wasn’t sure if his irritation was with her or with his daughter.
“Okay, Angela, then,” she said.
“I only recently learned that she’s calling herself ‘Summer Storm.’ My daughter feels she needs a more exotic name to identify her as an artist.”
Grace heard the increased tension in his voice on the word artist. So he didn’t like his daughter’s ambition? Looking around at the art on the walls—her work, Grace assumed—she would never know it. Painted in broad, thick, colorful strokes that gave the paintings a life of their own, the artwork depicted the moods and intense beauty of nature. Some paintings seemed to be semirealistic landscapes; others were birds, a few with outstretched wings. The style wasn’t exactly abstract, but the artist had gone for emotion, not photographic reality.
“She has talent, that’s for sure,” Grace said sincerely, noting the tone of these paintings was far happier than the mural Angela had done that morning. She was glad she’d taken an art appreciation class so she had some basic understanding of expression in various mediums.
Caleb snorted. “Art, ha! How will my daughter make a living? She has no respect for my wishes or my hopes for her future. Whenever I tell her she needs to do something practical for a career and do her art on the side, she simply gets angry with me.” Making an exasperated sound, he pushed a wild strand of long hair back from his face. “Hey, I just made some iced tea. Can I get you a glass?”
“Sure. That would be great.” A reason to stay a little longer, so she could have a more in-depth conversation about Angela with him.
He moved into the open-concept kitchen area and grabbed two glasses from a shelf and filled them with ice from the refrigerator door. “Before Angela started calling herself Summer Storm, she was ‘Sights Lightning’ and before that, ‘Snow Falling.’” He poured the tea. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s ‘Looking for Trouble.’”
One look at his expression and the raised eyebrow and Grace grinned. She liked a man with a dry wit, especially when he could use it to counter his own feelings. He was obviously upset by his daughter’s action and was dealing with it in his own way. He handed her one of the glasses, and when he indicated the high chairs at the island, she slid onto one.
She sipped her iced tea. “I think all teenagers go through an identity crisis of some sort.”
“Yeah, that.” His voice was gruff. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. My daughter has some issues, but why she went to Green Meadows to resolve them, I have no clue.”
“Is she unhappy about something in particular?”
“She’s fifteen.” He left it at that as if it would explain everything.
Which it sort of did to Grace, though she was certain there was more to it. But she was a stranger, and Caleb Blackthorne didn’t seem to be a man who liked to air his dirty laundry. He had his back up, but still, she couldn’t let it go.
“I was fifteen once, too. I did some things that made my dad a little crazy. But I had good reason.” Not that she wanted to tell a stranger her life story, either. “So I expect Angela had good reason for doing something so daring.”
Giving her an intent look, he said, “You seem to be in charge over there.”
“Sort of. Well, temporarily. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. Grace Huber. Walworth Builders is the family company. I’ll be in town overseeing things until Green Meadows is completed and more residents move in.”
He nodded. “About what happened, then...have you called the authorities?”
“No. I don’t want to handle it that way. I could see how upset your daughter was and I feel for her.” When Caleb gave her a questioning look, she said, “Remember, I was fifteen once, too.”
He heaved a sigh. “That friend she was with—Kiki—she’s always in trouble. It was probably her idea, convincing Angela to deface your property.”
“You really believe that?”
“Unfortunately, I do. The girl’s a problem. She doesn’t have anyone to stop her, either. Her dad overdosed on drugs and her mom’s in jail. She’s in a foster home.”
Grace couldn’t help but feel a pang. “How terrible!” But she wanted to talk about Angela. “Why does your daughter want to hang out with that girl? She was angry about something. And hurt. I could see it in her expression. In her eyes. Whatever her reason, it goes deeper than an irresponsible friend egging her on.”
Caleb sat stone-faced. She remained silent, hand tensed on her glass. Was he going to ask her to leave?
* * *
CALEB BIT BACK the urge to ask Grace to leave.
It wasn’t in his nature to open up to people he didn’t know well. Or to anyone, really, other than to his mother.
Grace Huber seemed to be a kind woman, concerned about his daughter. The ring of truth was in her words and her expression was sincere. She said she didn’t want to see Angela arrested. What did she want? Apparently something or she wouldn’t be here. No doubt, the truth to start.
It nearly choked him, but he said, “I think the girl behind bars in the mural was Angela, and the woman she couldn’t reach was her mother.”
Grace’s eyebrows rose. “So her mother’s not here. A recent divorce?”
He shook his head. “Never married. Lily ran off after Angela was born.”
“Oh.” Distress shadowed Grace’s expression, but she recovered quickly. “Then your explanation of the mural makes total sense.”
“Why now, though?” Caleb still couldn’t fathom it.
Had someone been talking to Angela about her mother? Lily’s parents had moved to a warmer climate after she’d disappeared. And there were no other relatives in the area. So who?
He said, “She’s rarely asked about her mother in all these years.”
“But now she’s fifteen. A fifteen-year-old girl needs a mother.”
Hearing a catch in Grace’s voice, Caleb started. She didn’t even know his daughter. “That’s something I can’t do for her. I’ve never heard from her mother since she ran off. I have no idea where to find her. And I can’t even make Angela realize what she did at Green Meadows was wrong.”
“I guess all you can do is keep trying. Talk to her. Support her.”
“Exactly what I’ve been doing all these years!” He hadn’t meant to show his irritation, and he could see his flare of anger threw Grace off. “Hey, sorry. I’m just at my wits’ end with all these changes in Angela.”
“Obviously this is a more difficult time in your daughter’s life than you’ve experienced before.”
Which was true, Caleb thought. Calmer now, he said, “Hopefully my mother can get through to her. She has more influence with Angela than I do these days.” He took a slug of his tea, but it tasted sour going down. “Whatever it cost to remove the mural, I’m good for it. Just let me know how much.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I pay my own way.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” He toyed with his glass, spinning it halfway around on the island. They were done here, but for some reason, he didn’t want Grace to leave yet. Didn’t want to be alone to torture himself with what-ifs about his daughter. So, he said, “I want you to know I admire the work you’re doing at Green Meadows.”
“Thank you. It’s been a challenge, but very rewarding.”
“How did you get interested in green living?”
“I’ve always enjoyed the outdoors. Hiking. Biking. Boating.” Things her father didn’t care about and didn’t like her doing. “So I started looking for ways to help keep the planet healthy. Recycling. Composting. Adding little things to make my place earth-friendly.”
“Sounds like a great start. Not everyone is open to change.” Another thing to appreciate about her.
“Until now, our company built single-family homes and moderate-sized apartment buildings. Then Dad got this idea to create a whole development in an area that had open spaces but was still commuter distance from cities like Kenosha and Milwaukee. A place where people could live while they worked and then could retire in comfort. He’s been thinking about that a lot lately—retiring.”
Caleb realized her tone shifted on that last thought, as if it bothered her. “And he wanted it to be a green community?”
She shook her head. “That was my doing. I’d been reading about ways to build green, and I got on board. Not everyone in Sparrow Lake seems to be in love with the idea of the new development, but I think most people are coming around.”
“I was eager to see what would happen when I heard about the proposal. I teach environmental studies at the community college.”
“Really. Oh, I love it! I should take one of your classes.”
Her sudden enthusiasm made him smile. “We’re two-thirds of the way through spring semester now, but you can sign up for a course this summer. They start at the beginning of June. Well, if you’ll still be here then.”
“I will be here, at least until fall, so I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “We’re just completing a half-dozen town houses. And starting the landscaping with an environmental company. The woman in charge lives in Sparrow Lake. Maybe you know her. Heather Scofield.”
“I do. I mean, I don’t know Heather well, but she took a couple of my classes, and we’ve talked a bit at some regional environmental meetings.”
“Have you taken a personal look at Green Meadows?” Grace asked. “I mean, other than this morning.”
“No, haven’t had the opportunity.”
“Let me know when you have some time available. I’d be happy to give you the grand tour.”
“Thanks. Real nice of you.” He noticed her glass was empty. “Can I refill that?”
“Thanks, but no. I should get going.” She slid off her chair. “I need to get to the office.”
Caleb rose and walked her to the door. “Thanks for bringing Angela’s supplies. And for taking care of the cleanup. And most of all, for being concerned about my daughter.”
“No problem. If there’s anything I can do to help...”
“...I’ll let you know.”
She left. Caleb remained at the window and watched as she got into her car and drove away.
An interesting and compassionate woman.
One he hoped to see again.
Soon.
* * *
GRACE LEFT THE Blackthorne property but couldn’t get thoughts of Caleb out of her mind. He intrigued her. He seemed to be a strong man, one who would do anything to protect his daughter. Not unlike what her father had done for her when she was a teenager.
Despite the fact that it was a Saturday, she headed for the office, admiring an open field full of dandelions as she passed. She bet that the country roads around here sported wildflowers and all kinds of new growth. Birds would be making nests. She only wished she had time to drive around and look. The weekdays were so busy. There was always so much to catch up on.
They’d rented a storefront with offices for both her and her father in Sparrow Lake proper, directly on Main Street. She passed Nellie’s Treasures and a little farther down, Sew Fine, the quilting shop. The Walworth Builders satellite office was on the next block, directly across from The Busy Corner, which served a great breakfast and a decent lunch. After parking in a reserved space behind her office building, she entered, wondering if her father had heard about that morning’s excitement at the development.
“Morning, Carol,” she said.
“Grace, there you are, thank goodness.”
The receptionist wore a worried smile. Then again, Carol worried about everything and everyone, said it was the result of having raised five kids. Blamed them for the gray in her hair, though she was barely forty.
“Is something wrong?” Grace tried to keep tension from her voice, but Carol’s brows were knit together.
“Mr. Huber wants to see you,” she said in something just above a whisper. “He told me to send you in the moment you arrived.”
Oh, great. Wearing a forced smile, she entered her father’s office. Sitting behind a massive desk loaded with paper files, Henry Huber appeared every bit the successful businessman he was. His stocky build was minimized by tailor-made suits, which he wore even when visiting the construction site, and his dark hair laced with silver was professionally trimmed every other week.
“Hey, Dad, I heard you wanted to see me.”
He glared at her and looked as if he was ready to pop a cork. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve had people calling me the past couple of hours to complain.”
Uh-oh, he knew about the mural. Grace tried to divert him by asking, “You mean they’re bothering you about the ghost sighting? I talked to Nellie Martin. She really didn’t see anything other than some faint movement through the trees, maybe fog, but people are convinced the land is haunted.”
“Ignore them.” He carefully arranged a stack of paper in one of the trays on his desk. “I did hear a rumor about a murder...or similar in that old farmhouse we tore down. Whitman. That was the name of the old couple that lived there.”
“A murder?”
“Something that happened back nearly a century ago. Nobody could offer any proof, though. Probably just gossip.”
“A hundred years ago, huh?” Grace felt a bit relieved. “Yes, probably gossip.” People in small towns loved to talk.
“Whatever. It’s not important. What is important is taking care of our project now. I heard how well you did that this morning. Residents are complaining that you wouldn’t call the authorities and have those girls who defaced the property arrested.”
She should have known better. When her father had something he wanted to say, it was like a mission to him. “I did speak with the artist’s father—”
“Artist? You mean vandal!”
“She’s a kid, Dad. Her mother ran off and left her, and she’s upset about that. You remember what that was like, don’t you? You would have totally gotten it if you had seen the mural she painted.”
Her father’s mouth tightened.
She went on. “Caleb Blackthorne has taken this very seriously. He’s about out of his mind with worry for his daughter. I think he was terrified that I would have her arrested.”
Her father’s visage changed. He looked a little haunted himself. She knew he remembered the trouble she’d gotten herself in. It was a time in their lives that neither of them would ever be able to forget.
“Dad?”
“All right, all right! As long as they stay off the Green Meadows grounds.”
Grace was certain Caleb would do what he could to make sure Angela stayed in line. But she didn’t know about the other girl, Kiki. Still, she said, “They will,” with more certainty than she actually felt.
“Good. Then concentrate on the job. On what’s important, so you can slide behind my desk when I retire next year.”
Grace’s throat tightened. “You’re not going to retire, Dad. You would be too bored.” And thinking about whether he would retire or not was making him uptight.
“I want the pleasure of seeing what I’ve built become an enduring legacy for my family.”
“I understand you do.” Though Grace was not happy with the future he expected of her, she never could tell him that. “Now, I’ve got work waiting for me.”
While she enjoyed the public part of her job—dealing with people—she wasn’t so crazy about the executive part of it, particularly the never-ending meetings and financial planning for the future. The endless paperwork made her crazy, and she would do anything to avoid it. She wanted to expand her knowledge and get more personally involved in the green community, an idea that Dad continually criticized, making her keep her wishes to herself and resent him for it.
Her father waved her away, and she traded his office for her own, where she pulled out the proposal Heather had drawn up for the landscaping. Though she looked it over, she couldn’t focus. She kept glancing out the window, watching sparrows play tag as she thought about her future.
About her father telling her she was born to be his right hand, that her purpose in life was to run Walworth Builders when he was done serving his time.
She knew that position would have gone to her twin brother, if Michael had lived past thirteen. His death in a tragic boating accident drove her parents apart, and her mother had divorced her father and abandoned her when she’d moved to Minneapolis. She and her father had been left to go it on their own. That’s when she’d started acting out, getting herself into trouble. Like Angela, she’d been a handful, but her father had both protected her and put her back on the straight and narrow. And so, grateful, she felt very protective of the man who’d lost so much in life.
If only he wasn’t so demanding and grumpy. If only he didn’t tell her what she needed to do and how to do it. Her father really would retire one of these days. He expected her to take over as CEO at Walworth and, though it was the last thing she wanted, Grace knew she would do as he wished. Reaching up to close the blinds, she forced herself to stare at the papers in front of her.
