Читать книгу Saving Home - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

“WAITING FOR YOU, SIR,” Logan replied to the older man’s question. “I don’t mind waiting for you,” he said, stating the complete sentence so that the other man would understand. “If you’re Richard Roman, that is,” he qualified, although he was fairly certain that the man he was addressing was the same man he had been sent to speak with.

“I am,” Richard replied. He looked from the stranger to his daughter and made a natural assumption. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend, Andy?”

“He’s not my friend.” The disclaimer shot across the room like a bullet when Andy bit the words out.

Crossing, Logan extended his right hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Roman. I’m Logan MacArthur.”

“Logan MacArthur,” Richard repeated as he returned the man’s firm handshake. He rolled the name over in his mind and came up empty. It was unfamiliar to him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Dad,” Andy was quick to caution. “This might not be a pleasure in the long run.” The warning left her father more puzzled than ever. He glanced quizzically at Logan.

“This won’t take up too much of your time, sir,” Logan promised, continuing as if Andy hadn’t said a word. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to you privately.”

Richard shrugged as he responded, “I don’t see why not.”

Andy’s uneasiness refused to abate. Her protective instincts went up another notch. “Dad, maybe one of us should stay for this,” she suggested.

“One of us is staying, Andy,” her father pointed out with a touch of humor.

He knew what she meant, Andy thought, tamping down her exasperation. She was referring to herself and her sisters. It was hard protecting her father from whatever this man was up to if her own father was hindering her attempts to intervene.

“I meant one of us besides you, Dad,” she clarified tersely.

“It’s okay, Andy. Really,” Richard assured her with a warm, patient smile. “I’ll fill all of you in later.” And with that, the door closed, leaving Andy standing there, frustrated and exasperated beyond words.

She remained there for a few moments, wondering if there was some way she could listen in on what was being said. Her father’s health worried her and she didn’t want him facing any upsetting news alone. It didn’t matter that he’d been running the inn for a good many years, all that mattered was the immediate present and keeping her father healthy.

She didn’t know if it was the mood she’d initially been in, or the vibrations she was getting from this MacArthur person, but there was no denying she had a bad feeling about this.

After a few more seconds had passed and neither her father nor MacArthur had come out, Andy began to believe she was overreacting. If whatever that annoying man had to tell her father was really important, her father would tell her.

He’d tell all of them, just as he’d promised. Just as he always did. Richard Roman was not a man who was given to hoarding secrets—although, Andy recalled as she walked back to the main reception area, her father had kept the matter of his health a secret all those years ago until he was almost too weak to stand. That heart trouble had been triggered from overwork.

His excuse had been that he hadn’t wanted any of them to worry, she remembered, but that was exactly what happened when his health took a nosedive. Fearing the worst, they’d all worried.

Back then, fresh out of college, Alex had taken over, helming the inn and doing everything she could to keep it going until her father was well enough to get back to the job himself.

These days they were past rough patches like that, Andy thought, trying to find solace in that simple reality. These days the rough patches involved finding a way to be tactful when they had to turn guests away because the inn was booked up.

Not exactly a hardship. Andy smiled to herself. They had more business than they could handle and it was wonderful.

“Ah, if it isn’t Miss Grumpy-pants,” Alex declared as Andy walked into reception. “Did you take that gorgeous guy to Dad’s office or will the San Diego county police department be bringing the cadaver dogs out to the inn in a couple of days?”

She scowled. “Nice, Alex. Very adult. Don’t talk to me as if we were characters on some Saturday morning cartoon show. And, for the record, you were the one we used to call Grumpy-pants when we were kids. Not me...” She paused. “There’s something about that guy I just don’t trust.”

“So they will be bringing in the cadaver dogs?” Alex asked innocently.

Andy blew out a breath. “No dogs. I brought him to Dad’s office.” Her tone told Alex just how much she hadn’t wanted to run that particular errand.

Alex clearly wasn’t satisfied. “And was Dad there?”

Andy didn’t know why her sister was being so suspicious. She wasn’t the one under this roof who deserved the third degree. She gave a monotone, honest accounting. “Not at that moment, but then he turned up a couple of minutes later.”

“Then Mr. Gorgeous is still alive and breathing?”

Enough was enough. Just because the man was extremely attractive didn’t automatically negate everything else and make him a good guy.

“You keep calling him that and I’m going to tell Wyatt you were drooling over some stranger.”

“I’m not drooling, I’m paying attention. Besides, I’m married, not dead. I don’t expect Wyatt not to take note of other women. He can browse through any catalogue he wants,” she told Andy loftily. “As long as he doesn’t place an order, it’s okay with me.”

That was a really strange way to put it. But then, Alex had never been known as the conventional sister. “And Wyatt, he shares this little philosophy of yours?”

“He does,” Alex replied firmly, adding, “because he knows what’s good for him.” She punctuated her statement with a wide smile.

Andy just shook her head. Nothing was straightforward anymore. “It sounds way too complicated to me,” she said. She absently glanced down at her unadorned left hand. “Maybe not being married isn’t such a bad thing after all.”

“Just wait, Andrea Roman. Your time will come.”

The in-house line rang. Alex reached for the phone stored beneath the desk to make room for the ledger. “Hello?”

Andy was instantly alert. “Is it Dad?” she wanted to know. “Does he want to see me?”

Alex waved away both questions, concentrating on what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll send someone to you right away. And don’t worry, I’ll call a doctor. It’s Dr. Donnelly. I’ve got his number right here. Hang on, help is on the way.” Hanging up, Alex looked straight at her sister. “You’re it,” she declared.

Andy wasn’t sure what had just happened or who Alex had been talking to. “As in tag?” she asked, bewildered.

Alex shook her head, her blond hair all but dancing around her face. “As in the help I promised.”

Andy felt something tighten around her heart. “Dad?” Alex’s earlier dismissal hadn’t fully convinced her.

“Ms. Carlyle,” Alex corrected. “I’d go myself but in my present shape, I don’t exactly inspire confidence and I’m not exactly built for speed, so you’re elected.”

“Ms. Carlyle?” Andy repeated. It took a second for the name to get past her concern for her father. Another full second to fully register. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Other than being in her late eighties, early nineties?”

No one really knew the woman’s exact age. And Ms. Carlyle made it clear she preferred it that way. She had pointed out a long time ago that the inn’s main objective was to make her stay with them as pleasant an experience as humanly possible. This automatically included allowing the woman to maintain both her secrets and her dignity if those secrets contributed to Ms. Carlyle’s sense of dignity.

“Yes,” Andy answered with as much patience as she could muster, “other than that.”

“My guess is that it might be her heart,” Alex speculated, going through the list of regularly used phone numbers to locate the doctor’s. “She confided in Wyatt that she’d been having occasional...flutters...I think she called them.”

The term, as far as Andy knew, covered a wide variety of complaints for the former elementary school teacher. “She’s still sweet on Wyatt, huh?”

Alex nodded, still searching. “Ever since he interviewed her for that book his father had been writing about the inn. Here it is,” she cried triumphantly, jabbing the number with her well-polished nail for emphasis. “I’ll call the doctor, ask him to please come here and see her.” She glanced up at Andy. “I just hope he’s up to it. He’s getting on in years, too.” Alex sighed. “Things aren’t supposed to keep changing like this,” she lamented.

“If they didn’t,” Andy pointed out even though she didn’t care for change, either, “you and Wyatt would still be exchanging barbs instead of making babies.”

“Go!” Alex ordered, pointing in the direction of their only live-in guest’s quarters. “You’re wasting time. She could be freaking out.”

The stately Ms. Anne Josephine Carlyle spent a good deal of her time in the Queen Mary Suite, one of the inn’s original rooms. It was on the first floor within easy walking distance of the dining hall as well as the back veranda. The latter had an incredible view of the ocean and at night, during a full moon, it appeared as if the moon and the ocean were enjoying a secret relationship built on affection and gentle caresses.