скачать книгу бесплатно
The boy’s wide grin revealed a pair of dimples that melted Caro’s heart. Cabot had dimples.
“And this is my father, Martin McCabe,” Jake was saying.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McCabe.” Her hand was swallowed up in one of Martin’s giant paws.
“Likewise.”
Doreen returned then with a couple of towels, making Caro aware of how bedraggled she must look. Truman and his mother would be appalled that she was standing in a roomful of strangers looking like something the cat had dragged in. But then the Wendells wouldn’t socialize with people like the McCabes in the first place. Unless she missed her guess, they weren’t blue-blooded snobs who sat around at dry dinner parties discussing investment strategies, mutual funds and which couples in their social class had failed to make a killing in the stock market.
The McCabes, she realized, were more like her parents had been, down-to-earth folks who valued family, God and country.
The old ache throbbed to life a second time, a little more pronounced. She wrapped her arms about herself, seeking comfort she knew from experience wouldn’t come.
“Good heavens, child! You’re shaking. Get closer to the fire,” Doreen instructed.
“I’m fine,” Caro began. Her protest was lost as the older woman began issuing orders.
“Martin, throw another log on the fire. Dean, give the poor girl the afghan from the couch.” She eyed Caro a moment before continuing. “Bonnie should have something to fit you even though you’re a bit taller.” The older woman’s lips pursed. “And a little on the thin side.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Then what were you thinking heading out in a snowstorm?” Jake demanded.
His mother gasped, presumably at his rude question and not-so-nice tone. It was his tone, as much as his words, that caused Caro’s spine to straighten. Her hands dropped to her sides where her hands fisted.
“I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Not in a storm, you don’t.”
“Jacob!”
They both ignored Doreen’s shout.
“Storm or no storm, it’s important.”
“Nothing is that important,” he drawled. “Trust me.”
“This is.” Thinking of Cabot and Truman’s stipulations, Caro swallowed a sob. It wouldn’t do to fall apart now. “I have … a deadline to meet.”
“Work?” He snorted in disgust. “You risked your life for work?”
Let him think what he would. “Unlike you, I wasn’t out in a blizzard to ride a horse.”
She felt exhilarated, having given as good as she’d got. Meekness no longer suited her. In truth, it never had. But numb as she’d been for four years, first from grief and later from disbelief, she’d fallen into the ill-fitting role. God help her, she would don it again if need be.
That thought had her sobering.
Jake gaped at her, his wide mouth going slack for just a second before his lips pressed together in a flat line. She heard Dean’s muffled laughter and a glance around confirmed that the rest of the McCabe clan found her dressing-down of one of their members amusing rather than in poor taste. Even so, Caro was appalled. Whether the man had it coming or not, she was being unforgivably rude.
“I’m sorry. I … I …”
Jake unclamped his jaw just enough to say, “You mentioned something earlier about needing to make a phone call.”
“Yes. My cell’s not picking up a signal.”
“Follow me.”
Doreen settled the afghan around Caro’s shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “My son’s bark is a lot worse than his bite.”
Not quite sure what to make of that assessment, Caro offered a weak smile.
Jake was waiting for her at the tall reception desk near the front entrance. A small brass lamp with an oblong shade lit a guest book that was yellowed from age. The telephone, an ancient-looking thing with a twisted cord, rotary dial and clunky black receiver, was next to it.
“It’s not a local call,” she said.
“Fine.” He pushed the telephone toward her.
“I’ll reimburse you for the charges.” It looked as if he could use the money, given the state of the inn. It was a shame, too. The place had such great potential. That much was obvious despite its disrepair.
“Just make your call.”
Jake stomped away. He was angry, but not at Caro, even if he thought she should have stayed tucked safe in her home rather than venturing out in foul weather.
For work!
But the person he was good and angry at was himself. He was angry with the way he was acting. Angry with Dean that his younger brother had called him out on his self-prescribed isolation and stirred up emotions that had only recently begun to settle.
“You’re being selfish,” Dean had said earlier that day.
Jake’s family had arrived en masse the evening before, showing up at his doorstep, all grins and giggles, in an SUV they’d rented after touching down at the airport in Montpelier.
“I just want to be left alone.”
“No, you just want to stew. You got screwed, bro. No two ways about it. They set you up to take a fall. You took it.” The younger man set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I never understood that.”
“A woman was dead. Her child, too. A colleague killed himself afterward.”
And then, Miranda.
“But it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t get the address wrong,” Dean had insisted. “Someone as anal as you doesn’t get stuff like that wrong.”
Jake wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t be sure. Not anymore. Not without proof. “I was in charge. It happened on my watch, which makes it my fault.”
All of it.
“So you keep saying. But it’s been more than a year. When are you going to cut yourself some slack and rejoin the land of the living?”
The woman and her child didn’t have that luxury. Nor did the rookie cop. Those were facts he couldn’t move beyond. Between them and the media scrutiny his family had endured, and his wife’s decision not only to divorce him but to abort their child, going into exile had seemed the only solution.
“There’s nothing for me back there.”
“Except your family.”
The words hit with the impact of flaming arrows, which was Dean’s intention. Jake missed his parents. As annoying as Dean could be, he missed his brother, too. And then there were Bonnie and the kids. They were a tight-knit family.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I know.” His brother had snorted. “So, you’re in Vermont to make a fresh start?”
Jake had said nothing.
“That’s what I thought. If I believed you really wanted to be here, that would be different. But you’re here basically hiding out,” he accused a second time. “And while you’re busy with your pity party, Mom and Dad are left hurting, and my kids are left to wonder why their uncle moved to another state and is living like a hermit.”
“You don’t get it,” Jake had snapped. “I did this for you. I did this for all of you.”
“No, bro. We can take care of ourselves. You did this for yourself. You did this because, in addition to the nasty fallout from that unfortunate police raid, you can’t face what Miranda did.”
Jake had grabbed his brother by the shirt. The old rage boiled inside him, tempting him to take a swing. Instead, he’d let Dean loose, found his coat and headed out into the storm. His temper had yet to subside when he’d spied Caro through the falling snow.
He glanced at her now from the door that led to the kitchen. He couldn’t hear what she was saying into the telephone receiver, but she wasn’t happy. The rigid set of her shoulders and the down-turned corners of her mouth said as much.
What was her story?
There was more to it than she claimed, of that Jake was sure. He might no longer be a cop, but his instincts when it came to people were still good. She didn’t fit the portrait of a driven career woman. Something about her was too soft for the hard-edged, high-stakes business world. And the quality of her clothes screamed high society, even if her car had screamed penny-pincher. Yet she’d endangered her life to meet a deadline.
Why?
She said it was important. Something illegal? His gut told him no, but Jake couldn’t shake his first impression that she was desperate.
Not my problem, he reminded himself, putting his curiosity aside. It was back in an instant when her expression softened and her lips curved into a smile.
Just who was on the other end of the line to make her scowl one moment and melt like butter the next?
She twirled the phone cord around the fingers on her left hand as she spoke. No rings that he could see, but the conversation she was having now had nothing to do with business.
I love you.
Jake didn’t hear the words. Rather, he saw her lips form them just before she set the receiver back in its cradle. He wasn’t disappointed that she was involved with someone, even if he did find her attractive. He was past all but the most primal of feelings where women were concerned. He had his ex-wife to thank for that. Besides, he barely knew this woman. Caro hadn’t deceived him. She hadn’t betrayed him. She hadn’t had time to offer more than cursory explanations.
If she had, would she?
He realized he was still staring at her, probably with a scowl on his face, given her startled expression when she spied him. Her eyebrows lifted; her lips parted. He let loose a mild expletive as he levered away from the doorjamb.
Jake never had been the life of the party. That was Dean with his easy smile and open demeanor. But these days Jake knew he came off as unapproachable. Only his family was immune to his black moods and foul temper.
And this woman, apparently.
Caro surprised him by crossing to where he stood.
He said the first thing that came to mind. “Did you get through okay?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Crisis averted?”
A shadow crept over her face. “What do you mean?”
“The deadline you spoke of. Did you get an extension or a reprieve or … whatever?”
She nodded. “Sort of. For now.”
Why didn’t she look happy about it? A moment ago she’d been smiling and whispering words of love to the party on the other end of the line.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Right.” It was said for his benefit, as was the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were saying something else. It wasn’t desperation he saw in them now. Not entirely, at least. He spied apprehension, nerves. That delayed deadline?
More questions bubbled. After all, it was Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow was Easter Sunday. Just what kind of work was she involved in that required her to be on the clock over a holiday weekend?
And then there was the way she’d ended the phone call. Perhaps she’d had a spat with her lover and they’d resolved it over the phone, but now she was stranded and they wouldn’t be together for the weekend.
That was it, he decided.
“He must be special.”
“Very.” She sighed, and then flushed. “Wh-who?”
Case closed. “Never mind.”
“I also need to call a garage for a wrecker. I wonder if you might have a telephone directory?”
He found a dog-eared book in one of the drawers at the registration desk. It was outdated by half a dozen years. Caro frowned when he handed it to her.
“You don’t have anything more recent?”
“No, but I doubt it will matter. The town hasn’t changed much in the past three decades.”
Quaint, old-fashioned, it was the same year after year. That was part of its draw for tourists. That was exactly its draw for Jake now. He needed a place where his memories weren’t tainted with the stain of the events back in Buffalo.
“Do you have a recommendation?”
He scratched his chin, thinking. “Try Orville’s. They do towing as well as repairs, and it looks like you might have some damage.”
This time, he left her alone to make the call, returning to the living room where his family waited. It was a bad choice if he’d hoped to avoid confrontation. His mother spoke first, which wasn’t surprising. His father preferred to stay in the background, asserting himself only when necessary, but then to great effect. Martin McCabe might be a quiet man, but he was no pushover. Still waters, according to Doreen. And she claimed that, of her two sons, Jake was the one who had inherited the quality.
“Who is she?”
“Just a woman who had the bad luck to have her car go off the road in a storm.”
