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Romeo lay down on his belly, which, according to the books Adam had read, was a supplicant position. Yes, sir, that was his dog, ready to let a little kitty-cat walk all over him. The cat sprang out of Sylvie’s arms and onto the top of the fence. With a graceful leap, she landed on the ground in front of Romeo and swiped at his nose. Having delivered her message, she sat back, looking pleased with herself as she started to lick her paw.
“Moonbeam!” Sylvie glared at her cat. “I had no idea she was going to attack him. Sorry, Romeo.”
Romeo cringed away from them, whimpering, his nose buried under his paws. The old boy was going to have to toughen up if he was going to survive in this neighborhood. Adam patted the dog and stood. “I’m going to reinforce the fence so Rom can spend most of the day out here. I can’t keep him inside with all the dust from the renos. They’ll have to work things out for themselves, I guess.”
Adam studied Sylvie’s face as she stepped back from the fence. She had dark circles under her eyes and her beautiful mouth was turned down at the corners. When he’d first arrived she’d been so full of herself, she’d practically glowed. But this morning she looked preoccupied and kind of sad.
“For now, I’ll try to keep Moonbeam inside during the day as much as I can and let her out at night to roam. Will that work?” she asked.
“Sure, but sooner or later they’re going to have to make some kind of peace.” He wanted to ask Sylvie what was wrong, but clamped his mouth shut. Neighborly was one thing, getting involved in a person’s life, another. He didn’t like that she was sad, though. He wished he could think of something to make her smile—she had a great smile.
“How’s it going with the house?” She shifted from one foot to the other. Twitchy like her cat.
His house. He smiled. “I have a pretty clear idea of what I want to do. Matter of fact, I should get going. I have to drive to the city and buy some building materials today. Do you know anyone who would be interested in helping with the renos? I want to get started right away.”
“I suppose I could ask Cal. He was supposed to go away, but I think his plans have changed. But if he’s busy, he’ll know if anyone else is available.”
She made it sound like asking her brother was the last thing she wanted to do. Fine by him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to work with Sylvie’s brother, anyway. From the short exchange in the café, he could see her family watched out for her, and with him living right beside her, he didn’t want anyone on his case or looking too closely at him.
Sooner or later, someone was going to get wise to the fact that he had a criminal record. He didn’t want to make waves or draw attention to himself. He just wanted to fit in.
“Collina is small, in case you haven’t noticed. Tell one person you’re looking for a carpenter and everyone will know in the next half hour,” she continued.
Which meant it would be damn near impossible to keep a secret in this village. He’d known going in it was going to be hard. He wasn’t ready to give up on his dreams that easily.
He hesitated, wanting to say something to make them both feel better. “You...you look great.”
Her head shot up. “Excuse me?”
Adam backed away, a flush scorching the back of his neck. “Just...you know. You look nice. I gotta go.” He turned and sprinted inside his house. At the very least he’d given her something to laugh about. Mr. Smooth strikes again.
* * *
SEVEN HOURS LATER, Adam arrived home tired, but excited. He’d decided to put up with both his malfunctioning toilet and the rust-colored water, instead focusing his efforts on a new roof and windows before the cold weather arrived. Although it felt like it already had.
The hour drive from the city had taken twice as long thanks to the thick, syrupy fog that had rolled in after sunset. And yeah, he’d gotten lost again, but he’d realized pretty quickly and backtracked to the main road. Reducing his speed by half had made the long, twisty drive in the dark only marginally easier. No wonder Sylvie’s father had wanted her home before dark the other night.
He was thinking of Sylvie again.
He climbed out of the truck, and Romeo bounded out after him, immediately starting his circuit of their yard to mark his territory. Even though his mind had been occupied today with learning how to navigate the city and tackling all the decisions he had to make, Sylvie still slipped into his thoughts way too often.
There was no doubt about it—the less contact he had with her, the better.
He had a ton of other things demanding his attention, anyway. Like replacing the lightbulb over his front door. Unlike the city, the darkness here was complete, penetrating every corner of the night. Only the main street in the village had lights, and they hadn’t done much to dispel the fog on his way home.
There wasn’t much more to the village other than that one street, and a few side streets, like his, which led to or away from the ocean. He imagined the local fishing wharf and the café were the hot spots for socializing. Not that he planned to become a party boy. He’d partied so enthusiastically in his youth that if he never had another beer, he wouldn’t miss it. Okay, that was an exaggeration. He liked having a cold one once in a while, but he didn’t plan his life around drinking binges. Not like some of his family.
He felt his way cautiously through the fog to his front door, wishing he was as adept as Romeo at finding his way through the dark. Behind him, the restless surf raked over the round stones that made up the beach, the ocean sounding much closer at night.
When he first learned he’d inherited Gram’s summerhouse, he thought his mother was jerking his chain. Just a step from the beach in the picturesque fishing village, and filled with good memories of time spent with Gram, the house was exactly what he needed at this point in his life. Something he could put his heart and soul into. A place to call home.
It had taken him an entire day to summon the courage to call the lawyer’s number. If his mother was tripping on something and screwed up the message, he didn’t think he could face the disappointment. Hope was a brittle concept to him. But finally, he phoned, and two weeks later, he was the proud owner of an ancient, decrepit house far away from everything he knew.
Moonbeam appeared out of the mist and twined herself around his ankles as he shoved the door open with his shoulder. “It’s not all that nice out, so you can come in if you behave yourself. But give Rom a hard time, and you’re on your own. Understand?” The cat followed him into the house and padded into the kitchen. Adam laughed. At least she knew what she wanted. He’d get her some milk in a minute.
Juggling an armload of groceries, he flicked on the light and grinned as he deposited the food on the kitchen counter. He didn’t care if the rooms were so small you could barely sneeze in them, or that the whole house had to be gutted and just about everything replaced. It was all fixable. And it was all his.
A door slammed next door. When Moonbeam reappeared and stared at him, he ran his fingers along her spine before edging up to the window to look out. A man stood in Adam’s front yard, staring at his house. Adam had expected a few curious souls to come around, but not on such a gloomy night. When he heard the man talking outside the door, he wondered if there was more than one person, then remembered Romeo was still outside and swung the door open.
“Hey.” The man straightened up from petting the shepherd. “I’m Cal Carson. You met my brother and sister and dad the other day.”
Cal’s face was narrower than Sylvie’s and Dusty’s, and he had only a sprinkling of blond in his short, brown hair. He looked intelligent around his eyes, which were as bright blue as the rest of his family’s, but they held a hardness that hinted at disappointment.
“Adam Hunter. Come on in.” Adam shook Cal’s hand and stood back to let him through the door. Romeo brushed past him with hardly a wag, probably miffed to find Moonbeam hanging around.
“You babysitting Sylvie’s cat?” Cal nodded at Moonbeam, who sat on the old trunk that he was using as a coffee table. The old, battered furniture that had come with the house was what you’d expect to find in a neglected summer home. He planned to replace it at some point, but it served its purpose for now.
“Nah. Rom and Moonbeam haven’t worked things out between them yet. Sylvie keeps the cat in during the day so Romeo can stay outside, and she lets it out at night. It’s lousy out tonight. So...” He ran his hand over Moonbeam again.
Cal smirked. “That bit of fluff can come and go as she pleases. She’s got a cat door. She’s just taking advantage of you. Give them enough rope, they all do.”
Ouch. Sounded like the guy had been burned recently. “Want a beer?”
“Sure. Sylvie says you’re looking for help to do some renovations.” Cal followed him out to the kitchen, where Adam grabbed a couple of beers from the ancient green refrigerator.
He handed one to Cal. “That’s right. I’m in a race against the weather at this time of year, but I’d like to get a new roof on, replace some windows before it gets too bad. Ideally I’d like to replace all the windows and doors.”
Cal looked around the room while Adam took a saucer from the cupboard and poured some milk into it for the cat. He wouldn’t blame Cal if he turned and walked out the door. Wood flooring showed through the worn linoleum in front of the green stove and rust-stained, white enamel sink. The cupboards were made of plywood, painted a nonintrusive beige. It was the largest room in the house, but unfortunately one third of the country kitchen had been walled off for a mudroom.
“What kind of roofing are you thinking about?”
“Metal. I checked out a couple places today, got some costs.”
“I could probably get you a better price.”
“You’re free to do the renos?”
Cal’s mouth tightened at the corners. “I am now.” He drank deeply and set his bottle on the table with a thunk. “Let’s take a closer look at the rest of the house. Tell me what you have in mind. One thing, though.” He scowled at Adam. “I take the job, I’m the foreman. I don’t mind if you want to help. Matter of fact, that would be good ’cause it’s hard to scare up a crew at this time of year. Have you done much building?”
“Not much but I learn fast.”
Cal narrowed his eyes as if trying to bring him into focus. “Most people wouldn’t move to an isolated village like Collina and take on a project like this. Do you always jump in with both feet?”
Adam smiled as if Cal had made a joke. “Not always.” Only when it felt as if his life depended on it.
“You win the lottery or something?”
He relaxed his tight grip on the beer bottle. At least he got to tell the truth with this one. “I inherited both of my grandmother’s properties, but I’m not interested in living in the States, so I sold that house and decided to renovate this one.”
He still hadn’t forgiven himself that he’d been in jail and not free to attend her funeral last year. When he was a kid, he couldn’t wait to leave Toronto in the summer to visit his gram. He’d always felt safe with her. Both his parents had such mercurial moods, but Gram was always the same. Kind and loving, and when he was with her, he felt good about himself. He’d often daydreamed about what life would be like if he lived with her, but then who would have taken care of his mother? Their visits had always been too brief, and once he hit his teenage years...she wouldn’t have wanted him around, anyway. Thank God those years were behind him.
When he discovered she’d left both houses to him, he invested the money from the sale of her house in Maine before his mother could find a way to get her hands on the cash. She’d burn through it in a few months, which was probably why Gram had named him her heir. When, and if, his mom wanted to get clean, he’d made sure to put aside enough money to help her.
“You think I can take that wall out without the whole floor falling down on me?” he asked, shifting the conversation to safer ground. He outlined what he wanted to do with the kitchen, inquired how many walls he could knock out and what Cal’s rate was.
He couldn’t stop grinning when they’d gone over the entire house. His dream was coming together. It was finally happening. Cal was an okay guy, a bit grim, but Adam thought they’d work together just fine. He certainly sounded knowledgeable when it came to renovations.
“No reason not to start tomorrow,” Cal said. “I’ll order the steel for the roof. We can start stripping the old shingles off first thing in the morning. Shouldn’t take too long, it’s a small roof.” His eyes roamed over the living room. “You’ll never get back the amount of money you’re planning to invest in this house. We’re too far away from everything. Not a lot of people are interested in moving here. Hell, most of the young people move away first chance they get.”
Adam nodded. “It’s not an investment thing for me.” Not financially. “I appreciate you bringing it up, though. Thanks.”
“One more thing.” Cal pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. “You know anything about this?”
Adam took the wrinkled paper. Holy! It was a pencil sketch of him doing tai chi in his backyard. Pretty hard to pretend it was of anyone else. The artist had gotten his broken nose exactly right. A thrill shot through him before the horror set in. Had Sylvie done this? “Where did you find it?”
“You didn’t know Sylvie was drawing you?”
“No.” He passed the sketch back to Cal. “She’s good enough to make a living from her drawings?” The drawing was good, not the best he’d ever seen, but what did he know about art? What he should be concentrating on was damage control. He didn’t want Cal to think he’d been coming on to Sylvie. Hell, he didn’t want him to think he’d even looked at his sister.
“She had quite the career going, but then Pops had his heart attack and things have been pretty rough for her the last few months. She stopped painting ’cause—I don’t know why. I don’t think she does, either. But this—” He fluttered the sketch in the air. “This is the only thing I’ve seen her draw in weeks.” He studied Adam. “So, what’s the deal?”
“Deal?” Adam choked out as he watched his plans sink out of sight. Finding a contractor with an open schedule at this time of year was a blessing. Finding one right in the village was a miracle. He knew Sylvie was trouble the minute he’d laid eyes on her.
The Carson men weren’t going to be happy about a stranger cozying up to their angel. Especially someone like him. He was the first to admit he’d done some stupid things in his life. He wasn’t perfect; he had issues. But he had to believe if he kept working at it, someday he would become a good man. Right now his dreams were about to go down the toilet if he couldn’t convince Cal he hadn’t a clue about the sketch.
“Has she said anything to you?” Cal placed the sketch on the old trunk.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. She usually paints landscapes, and she hasn’t done much except for that mural since she came home. Why you?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Adam tried to quell his desperation. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? So, she drew a picture of me. Big deal.”
Adam caught himself forming fists and forced his hands to relax and hang loosely at his side. He inhaled, held his breath and slowly released it. Only then did he allow himself to look Cal in the eye. Jake would be proud of him. “The only thing I’m interested in is fixing up my house.”
After a minute, Cal smiled. “It wasn’t a very good sketch, anyway. She used to be really good, but, like I said, she’s messed up now. Can’t paint. I was hoping that you inspired her or something. She’ll be going back to Toronto soon, anyway. Oliver—that’s her boyfriend, a doctor—is probably fed up with her staying away so long.”
The last of Adam’s tension slipped away. The only thing Cal had been concerned about was Sylvie’s career. It probably hadn’t even occurred to him that Sylvie would give someone like Adam a second look. Not with a doctor boyfriend. Which was good.
Adam forced his attention back to what Cal was saying about the renovations. His house was important; not Sylvie nor her boyfriend. Or the fact that she was returning to Toronto soon. The only thing he cared about was making a new life for himself here.
CHAPTER THREE
THE AIR HAD a bite to it the next day when Sylvie finally ventured outside midmorning. Not cold, but not summer warm, either. She shivered as she walked along the beach. She’d always hated the change from summer to fall. It signified having to leave and go back to school. Although she’d completed her master’s degree a couple of years ago, her family would still be expecting her to leave soon.
She was running out of reasons to stay. Since Pops had moved into a seniors apartment at the complex, he didn’t need her as much. And all she did at the café was order supplies and fill in for Tyler.
Her family and friends believed all her problems would go away once she returned to her life in Toronto. But even before she’d come home it had become a daily struggle to go to her studio and produce something other people might be interested in. Not that she considered her audience when she was painting. Nothing killed an original idea or approach faster than letting public perception intrude.
Weeks before Pops’s heart attack, the joy she’d once felt from creating had shriveled into a hard knot of anxiety. Her therapist hadn’t helped. Dr. Carmichael had managed to get her to admit she hated living in Toronto, and that Oliver was as much a prop in her life as her studio and her Yorkville apartment. Who wouldn’t be depressed by an admission like that?
She stopped walking and watched as the sun dappled gold on the ocean surface. Losing your mother was a turning point in anyone’s life. But to discover her father and brothers had lied about her mom’s death—or at the very least, not told the entire truth—was devastating. Sylvie couldn’t even decide what they’d done or not done, but she knew they would have made any decision with her best interests at heart—which was wonderful when you were nine years old. But at twenty-six years of age she needed the whole truth if she had a hope of dealing with this new view of their not-so-idyllic family life. They’d had more than a few years to come clean, and yet they hadn’t.
As recently as last week, she’d stopped by Dusty’s with a six-pack of beer, hoping to loosen his tongue. She’d wasted her money because he’d been on to her scheme before he’d finished one beer and made up a fantastic story about Pops joining a cult of mermaids. She laughed out loud. Maybe she hadn’t wasted her money after all. They’d had a great time, just the two of them, kicking back and trying to best the other with how silly they could be.
But to have Adam Hunter move in right next door... If her memories that had surfaced from the shock of almost losing her father were true, then his grandmother was responsible for wrecking her parents’ marriage, and thereby indirectly responsible for her mother’s death. That long-ago night, she’d overheard her parents fighting about Adam’s grandmother, and soon afterward her mother had stormed out of the house and died in a head-on collision with a truck not even two miles out of Collina. Sylvie shivered. Had it really been an accident or had her mother killed herself?
She wished Adam would go back to where he came from instead of hanging around her backyard.
Maybe she wasn’t being fair, but she hated the constant reminder of how things weren’t right with her family.
She turned when she heard a sound behind her and plowed into her father. “Pops!”
“There now.” He engulfed her in a hug, surrounding her with all things safe, the smell of Old Spice and the feel of rough wool against her cheek. “You were off in a world all your own.” He patted her affectionately on the back and released her. “How’s my little Em this morning?”
Sylvie forced a smile. Her father had given her the nickname when the critics noted her work was reminiscent of Emily Carr’s art. “What are you doing here, Pops?”
“I need to get in my two kilometers a day, so I thought I’d join you for your walk on the beach.” He slipped his arm through hers, and they started down the beach. “I wanted to check out the new neighbor, as well. Cal likes him.” Pops smiled. “That’s high praise coming from your brother.”
They strolled amicably along the beach for a few minutes before Pops tugged her closer to his side. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, honey. You see, I’m thinking of putting the café up for sale. I thought I should tell you first, even though you’ll be heading back to Toronto soon, anyway.”
“What?” She stumbled and almost fell. Not only was he expecting her to return to Toronto any day now, but he also wanted to sell the café.
“It doesn’t make sense to keep the old place. You’re living in Toronto, the boys are both settled in their careers, and I’m tired, hon. I don’t want the responsibility of taking care of the café. I never did, really. When Mrs. Marley ran it, I didn’t have to do much, but since she’s retired, it’s like I’ve got a whole new job. Plus, the money from the sale will make my life a lot easier.”
Tears rushed her. She’d never seen her father look embarrassed before.
“The last few months I’ve been dipping into the profit margin from the café because my pension doesn’t cover all my medical expenses. That works in the summer when we’re doing a good trade, but now the season’s over, I’ve got to find money somewhere. The boys think it’s a good idea.”
“But, Pops—”
“Now, honey, don’t cry. I know we’ve owned the old joint forever, but it’s either that or sell the house. I can’t hang on to both.”
Sylvie gulped for air. The café was called Plain Jane’s, named after her mother, the Jane part, anyway. Twenty years younger than Pops, her mother had been a stunning beauty. Sylvie sometimes wondered why her mother, so young and beautiful, had married such a gruff old fisherman. Pops had a heart of gold. But still.
The café was the last link she had to her mom, and in her mind, Plain Jane’s had always been her backup if life tipped out of control. Just as the house was her refuge. Between the two, she’d believed she had a safety net. If Pops sold the café that would mean...she supposed it would mean she’d have to finally grow up. No more I can always go home.
“I’m not going back to Toronto.” The words spilled out before she could censor herself. She’d rehearsed this conversation over and over and had been waiting for the perfect time to talk to her father about what was troubling her. Guess the perfect time had arrived.
“What?”
“I hate living there. It’s not working for me. I want to move home full-time.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re...you’re famous. You can’t walk away from everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
“I’m not famous, Pops.” But she loved him for believing she was.
“Well, you can’t move back here.”
