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“Moms and dads never stop loving their children,” Mick assured her. His solemn gaze flicked to Jess when he said it, as if trying to communicate that message to her. She resolutely turned away, focusing her attention on cutting the meat on her plate into tiny pieces which she then shoved aside and left uneaten.
Sensing that this topic was no safer than business, Abby stood up. “Girls, why don’t I get you some ice cream and we can eat it outside? You’ll excuse us, won’t you?” She was already rising when she asked and didn’t wait for a reply.
Carrie and Caitlyn scrambled down from their chairs with a shout and raced for the kitchen, Abby on their heels. It wasn’t until she was safely away from the tension in the dining room that she sighed with relief. Okay, she’d just thrown Jess to the wolves in there, but right this second it felt like every woman needed to fend for herself.
“What kind of ice cream can we have, Mommy?” Carrie asked, tugging on her slacks.
“Let’s see what Gram has in the freezer,” she said, though she knew the answer. There had never been a time when the freezer wasn’t stocked with strawberry, Gram’s favorite, and with chocolate, which had always been Mick’s, hers and her brothers’ first choice. Jess’s had always been vanilla fudge ripple, so that was bound to be there, too.
She gave the girls their choices—they agreed on strawberry, for once—then dished up a scoop for each one. “Outside,” she said as she handed them the plastic bowls and spoons. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She gave herself a double scoop of chocolate, then covered it with hot fudge sauce for good measure. The way this day was going she was going to need every bit of chocolate decadence she could find to get through it.
4
Abby was glad she’d flown home still dressed in the black power suit she’d worn to work on Friday morning. She pressed it before putting it on Monday morning, then drove over to pick up Jess. When Abby arrived, Jess was still wearing paint-splattered shorts and a faded T-shirt. Abby barely held in a sigh. It looked as if Jess had gotten distracted by one of her decorating projects.
“Sorry,” Jess said, her expression flustered. “I lost track of the time. I couldn’t sleep, so I started painting at the crack of dawn, then someone called in a reservation—”
Abby cut her off. “Jess, we don’t have time for this. You can’t go to the bank like that,” she said, trying not to lose patience. Jess was obviously tense enough without Abby yelling at her. “You know how important this meeting is. It’s critical that we handle it as professionally as possible. Change, and do it fast, please.”
“Five minutes, I promise. You go on ahead. I’ll meet you there.”
Abby nodded and drove off, relieved in some ways that she was going in alone. She could say things then that she wouldn’t want to say in front of her sister, admit to Jess’s failings but stress that her sister had backup now and that things would be on track from here on out.
When they opened the door at Chesapeake Shores Community Bank, she walked in as if she owned the place and headed straight for Lawrence Riley’s office. She beamed at Mariah Walsh, who’d been working there as far back as she could recall.
“Abby, what on earth are you doing back in town?” Mariah asked.
“Visiting family,” she said. “How’ve you been?”
“Same as always. Just a few more years on me.”
Abby nodded toward Mr. Riley’s office. “Is he in?” she asked. “I need to speak to him.”
“What’s it about?” Mariah asked, already picking up the phone.
“Jess’s loans on the inn.”
Mariah frowned and hung up. “Then you’ll need to speak to Trace.”
Abby felt her heart lurch at the mention of Trace Riley. It had been years since they’d seen each other, and it was ridiculous that hearing his name was enough to make her falter. But in that instant, she realized exactly what Jess had been keeping from her. Jess had known that Trace was involved in this situation and that Abby would have to deal with him and not his father.
Trying to recover her equilibrium before Mariah could see how thrown she’d been, she said, “Trace is working here? I’m surprised.” He’d always sworn that hell would freeze over before he’d work in a bank, much less for his father.
Mariah grinned. “Hell’s sure enough frozen over, huh? He just started last week and he says it’s just temporary. His father’s hoping that’ll change. In the meantime, though, he’s in charge of the loan department.”
Damn, Abby thought. Maybe that could work in her favor, but she doubted it. The last time they’d seen each other, she’d slept with him, told him she was in love with him and then she’d taken off for New York without another word.
Over the months and years that followed, she’d convinced herself that she’d had no choice, that Trace was a distraction she couldn’t afford. In fact, she’d had a whole litany of reasons that had made perfect sense to her at the time. She’d even told herself she was cutting things off for him as much as for herself.
Of course, she should have had the guts to tell him that in person, though. Instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out, because he tempted her in ways she’d found all but impossible to resist. Had she seen him one more time there was no telling what might have happened to her resolve to go to New York and start a career on Wall Street. She might even have been persuaded to stay with him right here. He’d obviously caved in to parental pressure, just as she’d always feared he might. That fear had made it impossible to trust all the pretty words he’d said, all the promises he’d made about their future.
Mariah gave her a knowing look. “His office is down the hall on the left. Want me to call and tell him you’re on your way in?”
“I think I’d better surprise him,” Abby replied, then stiffened her spine and headed for his office. She’d had enough uncomfortable meetings to steel her resolve for this one. She tapped on the door, then walked in without waiting for a reply.
Trace was on the phone, his gaze directed out the window. Distractedly, he waved her toward a seat without even turning around. She breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve. It gave her time to study him.
He looked good. Really good. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing tanned forearms. The laugh lines that fanned out from his eyes were carved a little deeper now. His hair, thick and dark brown with golden highlights from the sun, was a little long and windblown. She grinned. She’d bet anything he’d ridden to work on his Harley. That bike had been his first major rebellion way back in high school, and the possibility that he’d never given it up gave her an unexpected sense of hope. That was the Trace she remembered, not a man who’d turned into a by-the-book banker like his dad. She could deal with that man, challenge him to bend the rules.
When he finished the call, he swiveled around and caught sight of her for the first time. Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes, but he kept his expression neutral. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.”
“Hello, Trace.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t expect to find me here,” he said.
“It was a pleasant surprise, all right.”
“Pleasant?” he inquired doubtfully.
“For me, yes. We were friends, Trace. Why wouldn’t I be glad to see you again?” she asked, though she knew the answer. She’d just hoped to finesse her way past the awkwardness. The simmering anger in his eyes suggested that wasn’t likely.
“Friends?” he echoed with a lift of one brow. “That’s not exactly the way I remember it. Maybe my memory’s faulty, but I thought we were more than that.”
Heat stained Abby’s cheeks. “It was a long time ago, Trace. A lifetime, in fact.”
He hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, his gaze level, then finally he looked away and reached for a folder with an ominous red sticker on the front. “I imagine you’re here about this,” he said, his tone suddenly abrupt and very businesslike. “Jess has gotten herself into quite a mess.”
Taking her cue from him, Abby opened her briefcase. “We’re aware of that, and we’re prepared to give the bank every reassurance that things will change from here on out.”
“You’ll have to do quite a bit of tap-dancing to pull that off,” he said. “She doesn’t have any management skills. I think that’s plain. I have no idea why the bank approved these loans in the first place. I imagine they did it as a courtesy to your father.”
Just then the door to his office opened again, and Jess stepped in. She frowned at his words. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Trace. They did it because it was a sound investment. That’s exactly what your father said when he called me to tell me the mortgage and the loan had been approved.” She regarded Trace unflinchingly and added, “It still is.”
“Not according to these papers I have in front of me,” Trace countered. “It’s time to cut our losses, and that’s exactly what I intend to recommend to the board tomorrow.”
“No,” Abby said fiercely. “Not until you’ve heard us out.”
She tried not to notice the alarm on Jess’s face or the brick-red color that flamed in Trace’s cheeks. Instead, she plunged on, throwing diplomacy to the wind. “If you have even an ounce of business savvy in that rock-hard head of yours, you’ll see that this plan makes sense.”
“Why should I believe anything you tell me?” he asked.
Abby swallowed hard. This was all going to blow up just because she and Trace had a history. Why hadn’t Jess warned her? If she had, Abby would have stayed far, far away from the bank. But since she was in the thick of it now, she refused to let him goad her into backing down.
“Don’t make this about us, Trace,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t reflect well on you or the bank.”
Trace scowled at her. “Well, aren’t you full of yourself? Trust me, you had nothing to do with my decision. It’s all right here in black and white. People might lie, but numbers don’t.”
Abby knew he was right about that, but she wasn’t giving up without a fight. She’d seen the flicker of guilt in his eyes when she’d accused him of letting his feelings for her get into the equation. She intended to use that to force his hand and make him reconsider.
She tempered her tone. “Will you at least hear me out? You owe us that much.”
“Really?” he said quizzically. “How do you figure that?”
“You want to prove that you’re making a totally unbiased decision, don’t you? Then you have to consider all the facts. Otherwise I’ll have to insist on meeting the board myself, and you’ll wind up with egg on your face after barely a week on the job.”
Again, he gestured toward the file. “The facts are in here.”
“Not all of them,” she insisted. She handed him a set of the papers she’d spent all Sunday afternoon preparing, partly because she’d wanted them to be strong enough to make her case and partly as a way to steer clear of Mick. “Take a look. As you’ll see, there’s a new investment partner. Jess has more than enough cash now to make good on the loan payments and to capitalize the running of the inn for the first six months, longer if she’s careful. There’s a solid business plan on pages two and three. And on page four there’s a plan for refinancing that egregious interest-only mortgage that should never have been offered in the first place. I think we could make a case that the bank was hoping she’d get herself into financial trouble just so they could foreclose and lay claim to the inn once she’d poured a lot of money into renovations.”
Trace stared at her incredulously. “You can’t be serious. You think this was the bank’s fault?”
She smiled. “I do.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Want to test my theory in court? I think people are furious over the kind of lending practices that turned the whole industry upside down. I think we could make Jess into a very sympathetic victim.”
Trace regarded her with a glimmer of new respect. “Not bad. You almost had me going there for a minute.”
“I wasn’t joking,” Abby assured him. “My next stop will be a lawyer’s office unless I can make you see reason.”
He looked taken aback. “I’ll have to take this proposal of yours to the board,” he said eventually.
“Of course. They meet tomorrow?”
“At ten o’clock,” he told her.
“Then you should have an answer by noon?”
He nodded. “I’ll meet you at the yacht club at twelve-fifteen and fill you in over lunch.”
Abby hesitated. She could stay, had planned to stay, in fact, but with Trace involved it was too complicated. “Jess will be there, but I can’t be. I have to get back to New York tonight.”
His gaze clashed with hers. “You’ll be there if you expect this to be approved.”
“Why? This is Jess’s business, not mine.”
“You’ll be there because I intend to recommend that the board approve this on one condition only.”
Jess sat up a little straighter. “What condition?” she asked suspiciously.
Trace looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was even in the room. “That your sister take over as manager of the project.”
“No!” Abby and Jess said at once.
“It’s my inn,” Jess protested. “You have no right to dictate who manages it.”
“I do when this bank’s money is involved and you have a history of failing to make your payments,” he said, his gaze unrelenting. “Abby stays or it’s a deal-breaker.”
“But the plan,” Abby began.
“Isn’t worth the paper it’s written on unless you remain involved,” he said. “There’s no assurance it won’t be frittered away on who knows what before the next payment’s due.”
“Come on, Trace, be reasonable,” Abby pleaded. “I need to get back to New York. I have a job. Jess knows what has to be done. I trust her.”
“You’re her sister. I’m her banker,” he said. “Unless you agree to my terms, we’ll proceed with the foreclosure.”
He looked from Abby to Jess, then back again. “Well, what’s it going to be? Will I see you tomorrow?”
Abby bit back the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue and nodded slowly, afraid of what she might say if she spoke. She held her breath, praying that Jess would be as diplomatic. When she glanced at her sister, she discovered Jess looked furious, but at least she remained silent.
For the moment, he had them both over a barrel and they all knew it. Once the board went along with this insane plan of his, though, Abby was convinced he’d be satisfied with the victory. After that, she could make him see reason. She was sure of it.
Then again, she’d learned a long time ago that a man whose pride had been damaged could turn into a fierce and stubborn adversary. For now, anyway, Trace Riley held all the cards, so she and Jess were going to have to play the game his way … at least until she could come up with a new set of rules, and then make him believe that he’d come up with them all on his own.
Outside the bank, Jess stood on the sidewalk, trembling. She whirled on her sister.
“What the hell just happened in there? I thought you were on my side.”
“Of course I’m on your side,” Abby said, looking genuinely bewildered by Jess’s attack. “This was all about keeping you from losing the inn.”
“I might as well have lost it,” Jess snapped. “He’s put you in charge. Way to go, sis!”
Abby frowned. “Jess, calm down. Let’s go to Sally’s for a cup of coffee and talk about this. We need to plan our strategy.”
“Strategy for what? Getting your name on the deed?”
“Jess!”
There was a flash of hurt in Abby’s eyes, but Jess didn’t feel like relenting. She was spitting mad and she needed someone to take it out on. Her sister was the most obvious choice, since Jess couldn’t go back inside the bank and start pummeling Trace. Even in her fury, she knew that would be counterproductive.
“I should have let Mick handle it,” she said. “He’d have made a couple of calls and the bank would have backed down. I might have had to listen to his I-told-you-so’s from here to eternity, but that would have been better than being stabbed in the back by you.”
Temper flared in Abby’s eyes, and Jess knew at once she’d gone too far.
“That’s it,” Abby said, her tone icy. “I came down here because you asked me to. I didn’t create this mess, but I found a way out of it. I convinced Trace to go along with it, so you could keep the inn.” Her scowl deepened. “And now you want to blame me because Trace put a condition on his terms for not foreclosing? Did you hear me ask for this? Didn’t you hear me tell him no? Do you honestly think I want to be tied to Chesapeake Shores for who knows how long, when my life is in New York?” She shook her head. “It really is true—no good deed goes unpunished.”
With that, she turned and walked away. Guilt flooded through Jess. Abby was right. She hadn’t asked for this outcome. And maybe, just maybe, if Jess hadn’t kept the fact that she was going to be dealing with Trace from her, Abby would have expected something like this and could have come up with a different strategy. As it was, she’d been blindsided, exactly as she’d warned Jess she didn’t want to be. And Trace had clearly gone back on his promise not to let his personal feelings interfere with the bank’s decision. No way had this been about anything except getting even, forcing Abby to remain in contact with him, just so he could … What? Humiliate her? Date her? She hadn’t figured that part out yet.
Jess drew in a deep breath, then ran after her sister. “Abby, wait!”
Abby didn’t even slow down. In fact, she was in such a fit of temper that she’d just stormed right past her rental car. Jess finally caught up with her in the next block.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault. I know that. He just made me so furious.”
“Join the club,” Abby said dryly. “Why didn’t you tell me Trace was working at the bank and that he was involved in this? You knew, didn’t you?”
