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“Are you kidding? With that mother of hers? Margo King has been a professional hypochondriac all her life. She used that to keep poor old John dancing attendance on her, and now that he’s gone, she’s guilted Meredith into taking his place.”
Rachel darted a glance his way. “Cynical, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I call ’em as I see ’em. If you’re around them very long, you’ll see for yourself. Everyone in town knows what Meredith’s mother is like except Meredith.”
“I doubt that everyone in town is as cynical as you are.”
There was that word again. Was he cynical? He didn’t think so. At least, not about Rachel and her daughter.
“Just wait and see,” he said. “By the way, what’s going on with that little brother of yours?”
“Benj?” Rachel’s deep blue eyes widened. “Why? What have you heard?” The questions had a sharp edge of emotion. Was it fear? Surely not.
“Take it easy.” He lifted his free hand in a gesture of surrender. “I just meant that I expected him to stop around and mow the grass today, but he didn’t show up. Why are you worried about him?” He turned the question back on her.
“I’m not.” She made an unsuccessful attempt to mask the anxiety in her face.
“You know, you’re really not very good at telling fibs. You ought to practice a bit more.”
“I’m not interested in telling fibs.” The color came up in her cheeks again. “I don’t know why Benj didn’t show up. I’ll speak to him about it. He shouldn’t slack off on his work.”
“Spoken like a true big sister,” he said. “You don’t need to bug the boy about it. But you are worried about him, aren’t you?”
He waited, wondering if she’d try to lie again.
Rachel was silent for a moment, her gaze seeming fixed on her daughter. Mandy had stopped on the walk in front of Jeannette Walker’s B and B, and she seemed to be telling Duke something to which he listened intently, his head cocked to one side.
Finally Rachel shook her head, sighing a little. “Maybe I’m imagining things. After all, I don’t know Benj very well.” The words contained a wealth of regret. “But he seems to be frightened of something. And he’s keeping it secret, whatever it is.”
He nodded, unable to dismiss her concern. “I’ve noticed it, as well. He’s not in trouble with your dad, is he?”
“Not that I know of. I just wish he’d talk to me about it. Or somebody else, if not me.”
“Don’t start blaming yourself. Teenage boys don’t confide readily in anyone older. Probably teenage girls are the same, but I can only speak for the boys.” He tried a smile, hoping to lighten the moment.
“You were never an Amish teenager.”
“Boys are boys, Amish or Englisch,” he retorted. Maybe he didn’t want to start talking about being a teenager with Rachel. There were too many minefields in that topic, like what had happened between them one summer afternoon. “Looks like Duke’s making himself right at home.”
He nodded toward Mason House, looming ahead of them like a monster ready to consume anyone foolish enough to count on it. Duke had flopped to his side on the porch floor, with Mandy sitting next to him. His head rested on her leg, and he wore a blissful expression as she petted him.
“Mandy loves dogs. She’ll be pretending he’s hers in no time at all.”
“She ought to have a puppy,” he said, hardly thinking of what he was saying because he was so lost in Rachel’s expression when she looked at her child. “You had plenty of animals to take care of at that age.”
“I lived on a farm,” she reminded him. “If we got a dog I’d have to be certain it wouldn’t disturb the guests. Or frighten them.”
“You could keep a dog away from the guests, I’d think. And it would be a little added security for you and Mandy, if you’re determined to stay here alone.”
“There’s nothing to be frightened of in Deer Run. I don’t need a dog for security.”
He held the gate open for her. “Times have changed. Even Deer Run is affected by the modern world, whether it looks like it or not.”
Rachel seemed to shrug that off. She stopped at the porch steps and held out her hands for the grocery bag. “Thank you. I’ll take that now.”
“I’ll carry it in for you.” He went up the steps. “Maybe you’d be kind enough to give Duke a drink before we finish our walk,” he suggested, aiming the words more at Mandy than her mother.
“I’ll do it.” Mandy leaped to her feet. “Hurry and open the door, Mommy. I have to get Duke a pan of water.”
Rachel sent him a glance that mingled reproach with giving in. “All right. Let me get my keys.”
He had his hand on the knob while she was fumbling in her bag for the keys. It turned under the pressure of his fingers, and the stained-glass paneled door swung open.
“Looks as if you forgot to lock it,” he commented, pushing the door the rest of the way.
Rachel stood where she was, blue eyes darkening. “I’m sure I locked the door before we left. How can it be open?”
CHAPTER FOUR
COLIN GRASPED THE doorknob, holding the door ajar while he studied Rachel’s face. She obviously believed what she was saying, but was that realistic? Wasn’t it far more likely that she’d just forgotten to lock the door?
“Maybe the lock didn’t catch when you went out,” he said, trying for diplomacy.
Rachel’s expression said she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I did not forget to lock the door, and I double-checked it when I left. You learn that much, living in the city.”
Before he could answer, Mandy wedged herself between them, reaching for the door. “Let me go in, please, Mommy. I want to get a drink for Duke.”
Rachel grasped her daughter’s shoulders in a quick, protective movement. Obviously his idea was backfiring.
“I’ll bet there’s an outside faucet somewhere near the flower beds,” he suggested. “Why don’t you use that one? You don’t want Duke’s muddy paws in your house.”
Duke’s paws weren’t really muddy, but maybe that would distract the child from getting in before he’d had a chance to check the house.
“That’s a good idea,” Rachel said, seconding him before Mandy could object. “Remember the faucet and bucket where Benj washed the brushes? You can use that one.”
“I remember.” Mandy darted off the porch with Duke lumbering after her. Poor old boy was getting more exercise than he’d expected, but at least it got Mandy out of the way.
“I suppose Benj might have come over.” Rachel reached for the door, obviously intending to see for herself.
Colin grasped her hand to forestall her and felt an almost visceral jolt at the brief contact. Rachel’s gaze met his, her blue eyes seeming to widen before she dropped her gaze.
“Let me,” he said. Before she could argue the point, he pushed open the door and stepped inside the entrance hall. He stood for a moment, listening, effectively blocking the door so that Rachel couldn’t rush in behind him.
Nothing. The staircase, with its mahogany railing, wound upward in silence; the rooms to either side of the hallway stood empty and still. The house seemed to be holding its breath, waiting.
He shook off the fancy. “Doesn’t look like anything’s disturbed.” He moved to the console table, letting Rachel come in behind him. “Except this.” He gestured to the table, where a paper-wrapped sheaf of pink roses lay next to a basket of fruit, their fragrance perfuming the air.
Rachel stared at the roses as if they hid a snake. “Someone’s been in here.”
She still seemed upset out of proportion to the cause, and he reminded himself to proceed cautiously. The little he knew of her life in recent years didn’t encourage him to think it had been free of trouble. Experience had probably convinced her that surprises were usually unpleasant.
“Maybe one of the other doors was unlocked,” he suggested. “Anyway, people bearing fruit and flowers rarely have malicious intent, ain’t so?”
His use of the familiar Pennsylvania Dutch tag was intended to break the tension, and it seemed to. Rachel’s lips softened a bit, even if she didn’t manage a smile.
“I guess you’re right. Denke, Colin. I’m being silly. I—”
The sound of a footstep in the kitchen cut off whatever she’d been going to say. With a quick, instinctive movement he closed the space between them.
And then felt foolish when the swinging door to the back of the house opened to reveal Jeannette Walker, holding a milk-glass vase in one hand.
“Rachel, there you are. Hello, Colin.” Jeannette came toward them quickly, apparently oblivious of having caused any alarm. “I stopped by to say welcome.” She gestured with the vase. “Just looking for something to put the roses in. A bed-and-breakfast doesn’t look welcoming without flowers, I find.”
“They’re beautiful, Ms. Walker.” Rachel recovered her powers of speech. “It’s so kind of you to bring them.”
“Not at all. I know Amanda let the flower beds go terribly in recent years.” Jeannette was at her most gracious—the successful innkeeper welcoming a newcomer who would be no competition at all.
While the women fussed over the arrangement of roses in the vase Colin scrutinized Jeannette, wondering what her agenda was. Prior experience of Jeannette Walker told him she always had an agenda. Whether it was a question of the right Christmas decorations for the village stores or the advisability of allowing a billboard at the edge of town, Jeannette rammed her wishes through with such subtlety that few people even realized they’d been manipulated.
The iron fist in the velvet glove—that was Jeannette. She wore her usual uniform of tailored slacks and sweater set with pearls—apparently what she considered proper attire for her position, winter or summer. She was only in her mid-forties, probably, but her tightly permed curls and carefully outlined lips made her look older.
Jeannette turned toward him as if she’d read his thoughts. “Colin, I’m surprised you’re not working today. But then, I suppose the real estate business is rather slow at the moment.”
He just smiled, inured to Jeannette’s petty barbs. “Or I might be so busy that I needed a day off. Hard to tell, isn’t it?”
Jeannette gave a slight sniff, dismissing him, and turned to Rachel. “Now, I want you to feel free to call on me anytime for advice. It’s so complicated to set up a B and B—all those tax rules and safety regulations, the advertising, the record-keeping. And there’s the difficulty of maintaining a web presence, because of course that’s how everyone shops these days, even for vacations. And setting up online reservations can be such a nightmare. Believe me, I know how overwhelming it can be for someone with little experience.”
If Rachel hadn’t been overwhelmed before, she looked it now after Jeannette’s recital of the tasks ahead of her.
“Just ask me for advice anytime,” Jeannette reiterated on her way to the door. “I’m here to help.”
Rachel stammered out a goodbye, and the door closed behind Jeannette.
“Help herself, more likely,” he commented, his tone caustic.
“She was being nice,” Rachel said. “Do you always have to be so cynical?”
That wasn’t the first time she’d accused of that particular fault. “Didn’t you see what Jeannette was doing? You...”
He stopped, seeming to hear an echo of Ronnie’s voice in his words. Ronnie, berating Rachel for something left undone on that one occasion he’d visited them after they’d married. Ronnie, turning his caustic wit against the woman who was working a menial job to help support their little family.
“Sorry.” He really did have to watch what he said. “I guess you got enough cynicism from Ronnie to last you a lifetime.”
Rachel’s chin lifted. “You can keep your sympathy to yourself. You don’t know anything at all about our marriage.”
“Don’t I?” His temper flared at that. “I know what I saw. You working like a slave to keep food on the table and Ronnie using that sharp tongue of his to cut you to ribbons, blaming you...”
He stopped, knowing he’d gone too far.
Pain and embarrassment chased each other across Rachel’s face, but then her shoulders squared. “If that’s what you thought of us, I’m not surprised you never came back for another visit.”
He reached out and grasped her wrist, feeling her pulse beating hard against his palm. “I didn’t come back because if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to knock Ronnie’s block off. And maybe a little healthy cynicism would be good for you.”
For a moment they stared at each other, and it seemed to him that the very air echoed with the beat of her pulse. Then she wrenched her hand free, the color coming up in her cheeks.
“You—”
The front door swung open to admit child and dog. “Duke had his drink. And I wiped his paws off, honest I did, Mommy.”
With a fulminating look at him, Rachel turned to her daughter. “That’s fine, dear. I don’t mind Duke coming in, but give the leash to Mr. McDonald now. He has to go.”
Mandy handed it over with a slight pout. “Come again soon, okay?”
“Sure thing, Mandy.” He glanced at Rachel. Her lips were pressed tightly together. “Hard not to say what you think, isn’t it?” he asked.
She unclenched her jaw. “Goodbye, Colin.”
* * *
MANDY CHATTERED ABOUT Colin’s dog all through supper, making it impossible for Rachel to stop thinking about him. Colin, that is. Not the dog. Of course Duke was the only thing on her daughter’s mind. Mandy had been asking for a puppy since she learned to talk, it sometimes seemed.
When they lived in the city, Rachel had found that a reasonable excuse not to burden herself with a dog. Now that they were ensconced in Deer Run, that reason no longer applied. She’d either have to come up with another one or give in.
Colin’s suggestion that a dog would provide protection for her and Mandy might have some validity, although she hated to admit that since it came from him. She’d been frightened, almost irrationally so, to find the door unlocked and someone in the house, even so benign a visitor as Jeannette. Maybe Benj’s fears were rubbing off on her.
Rachel carried dishes to the sink and turned on the hot water. They were eating in the kitchen, since it seemed silly for the two of them to sit in that formal dining room. Besides, it was the most cheerful room in the house, with its white walls and blue-and-white checked curtains at the many-paned south-facing windows. Some geraniums would probably do well on the two sills, distracting the eye from the faded linoleum on the floor and a gas range so elderly that it made her nervous every time she turned it on. Benj had lit it for her the first time, laughing at her fears.
Benj hadn’t come over today, unless he’d been here while she and Mandy were out. That was unusual. He’d stopped by every day since she’d moved in.
Mandy carried her plate carefully to the sink and handed it to Rachel. “I’ll clear the table, Mommy. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, sweetheart.” She loved it when Mandy helped without waiting to be asked, although a slight suspicion lurked at the back of her mind that Mandy might be intent on showing that she was mature enough for a puppy.
“Is Duke an old dog?” Mandy set her milk glass on the counter with a slight clink.
“I don’t know. What makes you ask that?”
“He has some gray hair on his face. I thought maybe that meant he was old.”
“You’re very observant.” She tugged at one of the ponytails Mandy wore today. “You can ask—”
A knock at the back door interrupted her. Maybe Benj, although he usually just opened the door and shouted. She hurried to the door, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and pulled it open. A cheerful greeting died on her lips. It wasn’t Benj. It was her father.
“Daadi.” The word came out as something of a croak. “I didn’t expect...come in, please.” She stepped back, gesturing toward the kitchen, trying to talk naturally around the lump in her throat. If her father was ready to accept her...
But he was already shaking his head at the invitation, his dark blue eyes distant. Ten years hadn’t really changed him much, save for a few gray hairs in the brown beard that reached his chest and a few more wrinkles around his eyes. His summer straw hat sat squarely on his head, looking exactly like the straw hats he’d worn since she could remember, and his suspenders crossed shoulders that were still strong.
“I am looking for Benjamin.” He clipped off the words. “He is here, ja?”
