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She looked surprised by that. “Really?”
“Why not? I’m here. Unless you don’t have time.”
“No, come on,” she said, though she seemed to be struggling to balance her eagerness to show off what she’d accomplished with her fear of his reaction. “I can at least take time for the fifty-cent tour.”
Mick followed her inside, reminding himself to keep all of his comments positive and superficial, no matter how badly he wanted to give advice. By the time they’d reached the third floor, though, he realized that his mental warning had been unnecessary. She was doing a great job without any input from him. She had her uncle Jeff’s intuitive sense of style. Mick could design a structure that would last, a development that could become a community, but it was Jeff who’d given each home its individual character.
“I’m impressed,” he said when they’d toured all of the rooms, including the kitchen where every stainless-steel surface gleamed. The old appliances looked a little time-worn by contrast. “You really do have a knack for this, Jess.”
To his surprise, she blinked back tears. “Thanks,” she murmured, then turned away, busying herself by pouring more tea.
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really proud of you.”
She turned slowly, her eyes welling up with tears. “You’ve never, ever said that to me before.”
“Of course—”
Her jaw set stubbornly. “No, Dad, you haven’t.”
“Then I’m sorry. This is certainly not the first time it’s been true.”
The smile that broke slowly across her face made his heart ache. How had he not seen how much she needed a simple thing like him voicing his approval? He vowed to be more generous with his praise. Right now, though, he had another issue that needed to be dealt with, and he was wise enough to know he had to tread cautiously, even if that wasn’t his usual blunt style. Still, he hesitated about bringing up the meeting at the bank and ruining this moment of hard-earned peace with his youngest child.
In the end, because the outcome of that meeting still stuck in his craw, he couldn’t stop himself. “Jess, how do you feel about what happened at the bank?”
She frowned and backed away, ending their rapport and literally putting distance back between them. “I’m not happy about it, but I guess I see Trace’s point. Abby’s better at finances than I am, and it’s not like she’s going to take the inn away from me. She’ll just stay involved until I’m on a solid financial footing.” She met his gaze, worry in her eyes. “Why? Did she say something? She’s not going to back out, is she?”
“No, she’s determined to see this through. I just wanted to be sure it wasn’t going to cause problems between you, because I could call Lawrence Riley and put an end to Trace’s plan.”
“How?”
“I’ll cosign your notes.”
“Absolutely not,” she said at once. “I don’t want you to bail me out.”
“It wouldn’t be a bailout. It would just make me your backup, so your sister could get back to her life. It’s my signature on a few papers. That’s it.”
She gave him a wry look. “That wouldn’t be it, Dad, and you know it. You’d think your signature entitled you to make a few suggestions and the next thing you know you’d be running things.”
“I won’t even be around,” he protested. “I’ll be heading back to California in a few more days. Come on, Jess. Let me do this for you.”
“Why are you pushing so hard for this?”
“Because you’re my daughter. I want to help out with something that matters to you. You’ve finally found the one thing you really seem to care about. I don’t want that taken away from you.”
“Abby will see to that, Dad. She’s always been there for me. And having her here again, that’ll be great for both of us. Maybe she’ll actually learn how to relax. And it’s going to be wonderful for Caitlyn and Carrie, too. This will be a win-win, Dad. I’m sure of it.”
He sighed. “I hope so.”
“Look, I appreciate the offer. I really do, but it’s better this way. Abby won’t boss me around.”
Mick gave her a disbelieving look. “Have you met your sister? She grew up bossing people around.”
Jess laughed. “True, but she doesn’t scare me.”
“And I do?”
“More than you know,” she admitted.
That was another thing he’d have to live with and figure out how to change.
“Okay, then, I’ll back off,” he said, brushing a strand of hair back from her cheek. “But if things get tense between you two, remember that the offer’s on the table. I don’t want anything to come between you and Abby, okay? Promise me you’ll call me if you think that could happen.”
“I will,” she said. “I’m glad you came by.”
“Me, too. Is there anything else I can do for you? I’m still halfway decent with a paintbrush. I could help with the last of those rooms upstairs.”
He saw her struggling with herself. She was too bloody stubborn to admit she could use any help at all, even from him. Maybe especially from him. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Never mind. I know you want to do every single thing yourself. But that offer’s on the table, too, if you change your mind.”
“Thanks for understanding, Dad.” To his surprise, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Love you.”
“Right back at you,” he said. “You coming over for dinner tonight?”
“I might.”
“I should warn you that Caitlyn and Carrie have the measles.”
“Oh, my gosh, Abby must be beside herself.”
“She has Gram and me for backup.”
“Then you all have more than enough to do. I’ll skip dinner, but call me if any of you need anything.”
“Right,” he said. He was halfway down the walk when he called back, “By the way, I noticed that rhododendron in back of the porch could use trimming.”
To his surprise, Jess laughed. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t get away from here without finding at least one thing to criticize.”
He silently cursed himself for speaking up. He tried to brush off the comment. “Hey, it’s only a bush. No big deal.”
Jess shook her head, her lips still twitching with amusement. “If you want to, bring your clippers over tomorrow and trim it yourself.”
It was part invitation, part challenge, but Mick felt as if his daughter had just opened the door a tiny crack to a real relationship. Now he just had to wiggle through without causing a ruckus that would send them back to square one.
Trace was feeling very pleased with himself over his strategy to keep Abby around where he could get to know her again. He had no idea what was going on in her life these days, but he’d noted the lack of a ring on her left hand about two seconds after he’d realized she was the woman in his office. Years ago he’d seen her with another man, seen an engagement ring on her finger, in fact, but that ring had been nowhere in sight yesterday. He had no idea why this mattered so much to him, but it did. Maybe he just wanted a chance to even the score, to get her all tied up in knots so he could abandon her the way she’d walked out on him. The prospect of payback did have a certain sweetness to it.
Then again, if he’d learned nothing else in that meeting, he’d discovered that she was a woman who could hold her own. She’d come in there prepared for battle and she’d handed over a sound financial proposal to back up her position. He wondered if Jess had any idea how lucky she was to have someone with that much business savvy in her corner.
Convincing the board to hold off on the foreclosure and to give the new management a chance to get the inn on solid ground had been relatively easy. Not that he intended to let Abby know that. He wanted her to be grateful that he’d fought the good fight on her sister’s behalf.
He walked into the Chesapeake Shores Yacht Club promptly at twelve-fifteen, expecting to find Abby waiting for him. He’d deliberately chosen the yacht club where they’d be seen by the town’s movers and shakers. Abby had always hated its pretentious atmosphere, which meant he’d have the upper hand.
A scan of the dining room showed she was nowhere in sight. Had she bailed on him, after all? The possibility rankled.
“Hey, Liz,” he greeted the hostess, who’d been in his high school class. “Any sign of Abby O’Brien?”
“It’s Abby Winters now,” she corrected him. “She called and said she was running late. Something about the twins getting sick. She’ll be here as soon as she can get here. She said to call her if you don’t feel like waiting.”
Trace winced at the mention of a married name and nearly groaned at the mention of twins. Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong after all. Maybe Abby wasn’t available. Maybe that was why she was so anxious to get back to New York. If so, he’d just gone out on a limb for nothing. Well, not for nothing. The inn did deserve a chance to make it, but he couldn’t deny that he’d had his own agenda.
He took the slip of paper that Liz held out with Abby’s number written on it. After dialing, he jotted down a takeout order for Liz as he waited for Abby to pick up. “Ask the kitchen to put a rush on this, would you?” he asked Liz, just as Abby finally answered. She sounded completely frazzled.
“Good, you’re still there,” he said, then announced, “I’ve ordered takeout. I’m on my way over.”
“Bad idea, Trace,” she protested. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Which means I can just as easily be there in twenty minutes,” he reminded her.
“But it’s a little chaotic over here.”
“Then you need to stay put,” he said. “I’ve ordered the food. It’ll be ready in a few minutes and I’ll head on over. Tell your grandmother not to fix lunch. There’s plenty for her, too.”
“Why are you being so nice?”
“Because I’m a nice guy.”
“A nice guy wouldn’t be blackmailing me into staying in Chesapeake Shores.”
“I prefer to see it as protecting the bank’s investment,” he countered. “See you soon.”
Actually he was delighted by this turn of events. Ever since he’d seen Abby again, he’d wanted to check out the lay of the land, so to speak. What better way than to survey it for himself?
The last person Trace expected to find waiting for him when he reached Abby’s was her father. Mick was sitting on the top step, his expression forbidding, his seemingly deliberate positioning on that step pretty much blocking Trace’s path.
“Heard you were coming over,” Mick said, his tone not the least bit welcoming.
Trace held up the takeout bags. “I have a meeting with Abby. I brought lunch.”
Mick patted the step beside him. “Maybe you should sit down so you and I can have a talk before you get together with Abby.”
Just as Mick uttered the words, the screen door banged open. “Trace, you’re here!” Abby said with forced gaiety. “Come on inside.”
Mick scowled. “Trace and I were about to have a chat.”
Abby scowled at her father. “It can wait,” she said firmly.
Trace watched with interest, wondering how the test of wills would play out. To his amusement, it was Mick who finally backed down. He stood up and moved out of the way.
“Guess I’ll go over to the inn and deal with that overgrown rhododendron,” he muttered, picking up a pair of hedge clippers.
Abby faltered. “Does Jess know you’re coming?”
“It was her idea,” Mick assured her.
“Then it sounds like a great idea,” Abby enthused.
After watching Mick amble away, Trace turned to Abby. “Why do I have the feeling that you just saved me?”
“Because I did. He’s not happy about this little scheme of yours.”
“It’s not a scheme. It makes perfect financial sense,” he reiterated.
“Blah-blah-blah,” she said. “We both know otherwise.”
Trace met her gaze and held it. “Do you really think I’d use Jess’s loan as a way to, what, get even with you? I thought we’d settled that the other day.”
“Not to my satisfaction,” she told him. “From what I hear, you’re trapped here for at least six months. Why not make my life miserable by trapping me here, too?”
“I’m not trapped. I made a deal with my father. This is a six-month trial run. Of course, I know the outcome will mean I leave and Laila will get the job she should have had all along, but my father’s optimistic things will work out differently.”
“Would you be here working at the bank if your dad hadn’t forced you into it?”
“He didn’t force me into it,” Trace said. “I agreed mostly to prove a point.”
“What point?”
“That my sister should be the one working there.”
She smiled. “By doing what? Failing miserably?”
“Not miserably,” he said. “Just look at the deal I struck with you. I’d say I proved myself with that.”
“We’re not going to agree on what’s going on here, are we?”
He shrugged. “Probably not.”
“Then let’s have lunch. Gram’s set the dining room table. She seems to think this meeting requires more formality, being strictly business and all.”
Trace chuckled. “Is she as ticked at me as your dad is?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then this should be fun,” Trace said, holding the door, then following her inside.
To Abby’s regret, Gram was nowhere in sight when they reached the dining room, and the table had only been set for two. Trace grinned when he saw it.
“Now, isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” he murmured. “Could it be that your grandmother’s matchmaking?”
“Absolutely not!” Abby said fiercely.
