скачать книгу бесплатно
“I used to think so. Now it’s just a big, empty house filled with memories.”
Jamie pointed to a small building close to the lake. “Is that a boathouse?”
“No, that’s a guest cabin. It was on the property when we bought it. My husband and I lived there while we were building the lodge.”
“I need a place to stay while I’m building the model,” he said. “Would you consider renting the cabin?”
“I suppose I could. The furnace isn’t working and the plumbing is turned off. But I could probably get it ready. When would you want to move in?”
“Well, I have to get the permits to start building, and that could take a few weeks. But I have to finish before the end of October, or the weather is going to get bad and our investors might get antsy. So I’d probably be back in mid-October?” He laughed. “But I haven’t even seen the point yet. Maybe we should start with that.”
As they walked along the lakeshore, Jamie explained the goals of his company, the need for simple ways to provide housing for the homeless and how lake cottages would help fund their altruistic aims.
Celia listened intently, asking questions along the way. As he explained, her enthusiasm for the project seemed to grow.
Once they arrived at the point, Jamie could tell it would be perfect. Now all they needed to do was come to terms and hope her family didn’t object.
2 (#ulink_355bf160-75da-5bf9-895e-1559e644bb0e)
REGAN FUSSED WITH the folds of the pretty crocheted baby blanket, then stepped back to check the composition of the photo.
A local family had booked her new baby package and she’d spent the afternoon shooting the young couple and their infant daughter. They’d begun outdoors among the bright colors of fall, and now she was finishing up with mother and baby relaxing in a rocking chair in the nursery.
“There,” she whispered. “Now, just turn your head slightly and look out the window.”
Regan focused on the sleeping baby, her gaze taking in the precious details of the little girl’s features—the long lashes, the tiny nose, the Cupid’s bow lips. She swallowed hard as the usual flood of emotion hit her. It always did in moments like these, whenever she was shooting a baby.
After Jake, she’d given up her dreams of a fairy-tale marriage. And she was content with the decision. She couldn’t imagine ever allowing herself to be that vulnerable again. But along with giving up on marriage, she’d also given up on children of her own in the near future. And occasionally that still stung.
Someday, if she still wanted a baby, she’d have one. She didn’t need a husband, though she would have to find someone to donate the genetic material. But how hard could that be?
As she peered through the camera, her mind drifted back to the man she’d met on the road a few weeks ago. Whenever she had a spare moment, she couldn’t help but think about him. He’d been just about the most exciting thing to happen in her life in the past year.
She’d asked around town, a few discreet questions here and there, but no one had heard of any strangers staying in town. She’d thought he might be the new owner of the Hamill cottage, about a quarter mile down the road from her grandmother’s. The place had sold recently and he’d come from that direction. Her grandmother would have known the man if he’d been her new neighbor. She made it a point to acquaint herself with everyone who lived in Pickett Lake.
But it was sometimes best for Regan to keep her personal life to herself. Ceci had a tendency to become too invested in whomever she saw as potential husband material for Regan. The moment Regan showed interest in a man, her grandmother began preparing the guest list for the wedding. No matter how many times she’d explained that she wasn’t planning on ever getting engaged again, Ceci tried to convince her to give love just one more chance.
She snapped off a few more shots of the mother and child, then moved to a new angle, clicking the shutter until she was satisfied she had what she needed. “We’re done,” Regan said. as she placed the lens cap back on her camera.
Amy Farrell slowly stood, taking care not to wake her baby. “Won’t you please give me a peek?”
Regan shook her head, moving around the nursery and searching for items that would make good still-life shots. “No. I never let anyone look. It’s why you hired me. I find the best shots and I’ll make them beautiful. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Amy smiled. “All right. Well, thank you. And call me when they’re ready. We want to pick one for our Christmas card.”
Amy wandered out of the nursery, her daughter still asleep in her arms, and Regan packed up her things. As she hauled her gear out to her car, she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket.
Her grandmother had called twice over the last few days to invite Regan to dinner. She’d texted her grandmother that she was too busy editing recent wedding shoots, but would come just as soon as she had a free evening.
Though she had a small apartment above her storefront in town, Regan spent about a third of her nights at her grandmother’s. She knew how lonely Ceci got and how much she enjoyed cooking for her, so whenever she had a break from work, she’d make the short drive to the lodge.
Regan usually tried to have dinner with her grandmother at least twice a week, but with her fall wedding schedule and a trip to New York a couple weeks ago for an industry show, it had been nearly three weeks. When she got inside her car, she dialed her grandmother’s number.
She had a few days before she needed to go through the photos from the baby shoot. And the wedding she’d been scheduled to photograph on the weekend had been canceled last month.
Ceci’s voice mail picked up and Regan waited to speak.
“Hi, Nana, it’s Regan. I just wanted to say that I’m finally free for dinner tonight. I just have to make a quick stop at the hardware store to pick up batteries for my camera and then I’ll be right over. Call me back if you need anything from the store and I can grab it. See you soon. Love you.”
Regan turned the car in the direction of the hardware store. She was cutting it close; Walt Murphy closed his doors at exactly 5:00 p.m. and she had three minutes to get the special batteries he carried for her equipment.
She pulled up in front of the store just as he was coming out. “Thank God you’re still open,” she cried.
Walt chuckled and pointed to the door he’d just closed. “We’ll be open at eight tomorrow morning.”
“I just need a few of those cadmium batteries. They don’t carry them at the grocery store and I wanted to get some sunrise shots tomorrow for the fire department calendar.”
“Well, as a volunteer fireman, I suppose I’ll have to make an exception.” Walt reopened the door. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about your grandmother.”
“My grandmother?”
“Yes,” Walt said, holding the door open for her. “She was in the store a few weeks ago and she happened to meet this stranger named Quinn. He’d stopped by to see me, looking for a piece of land to build on. Next thing I know, she’s offering him Maple Point.”
Regan gasped. “Our Maple Point?”
“Yep. I figured she can’t go leasing or selling land that’s in a trust, but then I found out that piece of land belongs to her. She bought it herself way back when. I was gonna call you, but then I figured it wasn’t my place to butt into family business.”
Regan grabbed the batteries she’d come for and handed Walt enough money to cover the bill. “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”
“If she wants to sell Maple Point, I know I can get her top dollar if she’ll let me list it.”
“She won’t be selling that land,” she assured him.
Regan cursed beneath her breath. Since her grandfather had died, two years ago, her grandmother had been at loose ends. The family had urged Celia to sell the lodge and buy something smaller, but Celia had insisted on keeping it for the family, hoping to recreate those perfect summers of the past, the house packed full of three generations of the Macintosh family.
Since Regan was the only family member living in the area, it had become her responsibility to sort out any problems that Celia had. She had always been close to her grandmother, so it was never a burden. But Celia Macintosh could be stubborn and she was determined to make her own decisions, however cockeyed they might be.
This was definitely a strange turn of events, Regan mused. And if she’d invited a stranger into her life, then it was dangerous, as well. As Regan hurried back to her car, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket. But once again, there was no answer at the lodge.
This was her fault! She hadn’t been to see Ceci in three weeks, leaving her vulnerable to someone who might take advantage. If her family found out, there would be hell to pay. If Ceci had already signed some of the land away, Regan would have to get the lawyers involved, and that meant a call to her father.
The sun was already down as she navigated the curves on Shore Drive. Soon the first snowflakes would fall, and in another month, winter would be looming. When the weather changed and the holidays were past, Regan and Ceci headed south to her grandmother’s condo in Scottsdale.
Ceci enjoyed the warm weather and her Arizona friends, and Regan had weddings booked beginning on New Year’s Eve and nearly every weekend through the end of April. On the first of May, they packed up the car and headed back to the lake.
Regan watched for the red reflectors on the trees, and when she saw them she knew the lodge was just ahead. The entrance was marked by two stone pillars, and as she steered her Subaru wagon onto the narrow asphalt drive, her headlights created eerie shadows on the surrounding trees. Ahead, the lodge was lit up from top to bottom, a habit that her grandmother had adopted her first night alone in the house.
The adjustment had been hard on Ceci. Her grandmother had been only seventy-five years old when her husband had died. She’d expected to have more time with the man she’d called her husband since age nineteen. But life didn’t always work out as people dreamed, as Regan had learned all too well.
She pulled the car to a stop and turned off the ignition. Grabbing her bag, she hopped out and jogged up to the front door. Regan had her own key to the lodge, but she usually announced her arrival by ringing the bell.
“Nana?” she called as she walked inside. “Nana, it’s Regan.”
A few seconds later, Ceci walked in from the rear of the house. Her appearance was shocking, causing Regan to gasp out loud. Since her husband’s death, her grandmother had gradually lost her flair for fashion, dressing in simple clothes in somber colors, pulling her ash-blond hair back into a tidy knot. But tonight she was wearing a flowing caftan in neon pink and tangerine orange. Her hair was styled in soft curls around her face and Regan was stunned at how young she looked.
“Nana,” she whispered. “You’re...stunning.”
Ceci smiled, then twirled around. “This old thing? I haven’t worn it in years.”
“You did your hair.”
“Is the style all right? I know it’s not fashionable to tease one’s hair anymore, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“You look lovely.” Regan hesitated for a split second before she asked the obvious question. Why had Ceci gone to so much trouble? Regan drew in a slow breath. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.
“I met a lovely young man at the hardware store a few weeks ago,” Ceci said. “He’s working on a very important project. Changing the way we think about housing. He has some papers for me to sign, so I’ve invited him for dinner tonight. Since you’re here, you can join us. Why don’t you go tidy up while I get things ready? It wouldn’t hurt for you to fix your hair and put on a little lipstick.”
“Is this the man you want to lease Maple Point to?”
“Walt Murphy should mind his own business. And so should you. If I choose to lease or sell Maple Point, then that’s my decision—not yours.”
“Do you even know who this guy is, Nana? He could be a con man, a swindler, one of those creeps that preys on elderly women with money. A wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
“I haven’t lost my all my senses,” Ceci said. “I checked with our family attorney and Mr. Quinn seems to be exactly who he says he is. I never would have invited him to stay with me if I thought he was some sort of...ne’er-do-well.”
“You invited him to stay here?” Regan asked.
“I offered to rent him the guest cottage. I could use the extra money.”
“Nana, there’s no reason for you to have to take in boarders. You have plenty of money. And if you’re lonely you can always call me. I’ll come and spend the night.”
“I know, dear,” she said. “But you’re busy with your own life. And I need something to do with mine. Something to look forward to.”
“And that’s serving dinner to some stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger,” Ceci said. “He’s a lovely man and I’m sure you’ll agree when you meet him.”
“Which I plan to do right now,” Regan said. “When will he get here?”
“Oh, he’s here already. He’s upstairs,” Ceci said. “I thought it would be nice if we dressed for dinner. Your grandfather and I used to do that and it always made dinner seem so much more special. He didn’t have a dinner jacket, but I found an old one of your grandfather’s and he said he’d make do.”
Regan groaned inwardly. It was clear her grandmother was already infatuated with this man. Dinner jackets and intimate meals for two? Someone needed to put a stop to this before Ceci got hurt, and it seemed like Regan was the only one capable of doing it. “I’m just going to go upstairs and introduce myself to him,” she said.
“He’ll be down in a few seconds. Surely you can wait.”
“No,” Regan said. “I don’t think this can wait.” With that, she turned on her heel and started for the stairs.
When she glanced back at her grandmother, she saw a worried expression on her soft features. If this man was hoping to take advantage of her grandmother, Regan would find out. There were so many unscrupulous people in the world, people capable of ruining another person’s life, people capable of stealing a person’s identity. She would never allow that to happen to her grandmother. No matter how handsome or charming the man was.
Regan climbed the log stairs to the second floor and one by one searched the six bedrooms. She found his things scattered on the bed in the last room and she stepped inside to take a look.
The sound of running water filtered through the bathroom door and she listened to it with one ear, realizing that her time to do some snooping would be limited. Regan picked up his wallet and began to rifle through it. She found his driver’s license and pulled it out to examine the photo. The breath froze in her throat.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “It’s him.”
Though her grandmother had said he was handsome, she’d assumed he would be a little older. The man’s driver’s license revealed him to be only twenty-seven years old, and in the picture he possessed a masculine beauty that any woman would be grateful to have in her bed.
She found herself staring at the photograph, trying to gauge the intent of the person behind the pale blue eyes. There was nothing she could tell from the license, however; nothing could be revealed beyond the fact that his parents had made a genetically perfect male.
He had nearly five hundred dollars in his wallet, along with a stack of credit cards. From the rest of the contents, she discovered he had a reliable dry cleaner, a favorite coffee shop and tickets for a Blizzard’s hockey game against New York in early December.
Regan returned the wallet to where she’d found it and picked up his phone. But to her dismay, he’d turned it off. She pushed the power button and waited for the screen to light up. Certainly she’d be able to learn more from his old texts and his photo library...
* * *
JAMIE GRABBED A towel from the pile beside the shower and wrapped it around his waist. He probably shouldn’t have taken the time for a shower, considering Celia was waiting with dinner downstairs, but he’d spent most of the day in the car, and the marble shower seemed like the perfect place to work out the kinks in his neck and spine.
He opened the bathroom door and stopped short when he found a woman sitting on the end of the bed, holding his phone. She glanced his way and he realized that he knew her. “It’s you,” he murmured, recognizing the woman from the road that morning.
She stared at him with suspicious eyes. “And it’s you. Would you like to tell me what you’re doing here, in my grandmother’s house?”
“I think the more important question is what are you doing with my phone?”
She jumped up and dropped his phone on the bed as if it were made of fire. Her gaze slowly drifted from his damp hair to his naked chest and finally to the towel that hung low on his hips.
He chuckled softly. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
She turned toward the door, obviously torn between her desire to escape and her curiosity about the stranger standing half-naked in front of her. At the last moment, she decided to stay.
“Regan,” she finally said. “I’m Regan Macintosh. I’m Celia’s granddaughter. My father is Celia’s middle son.” She held out her hand, then realized his right hand was holding up his towel.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regan,” he said. He made sure the towel was knotted and shook her hand. “I’m James Quinn, but everyone calls me Jamie.”
She glanced down at where their fingers had become entwined, her brow furrowing as if she was confused how they’d gotten that way.
She forced a smile and Jamie waited for her to explain herself. Then, suddenly, she straightened her spine and looked him directly in the eyes.
“I think we’ve had enough of this,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of his bare chest. “I’m sure you find it quite useful to wander about half-naked. I’m sure it makes all the ladies a little breathless and dizzy. But to me it all seems a bit desperate.”
“Desperate?” Jamie chuckled softly. “How so?”
“Men like you need to use their best assets to their advantage,” she explained. “It’s quite apparent that you have an incredibly hot body. But I’m sure that my grandmother will be immune to such a blatant ploy.”
“A blatant ploy?” he murmured. “What exactly do you think I’m doing here?”
“I assume you’re here to hustle my grandmother out of her life savings. Isn’t that what men like you use your bodies to do?”
A laugh burst from Jamie’s throat as he realized the conclusion she’d jumped to. “You think I’m a gigolo?”
