The Inn at Eagle Point

“Tonight?” he asked, trying to work out the all-but-impossible logistics in his head. “I doubt I could get on a flight on short notice.”

“Spend some of that fortune you make on something important for once. Hire a private jet, if you have to.”

He thought of having one daughter and his only grandchildren under his roof again, of being there when another daughter might actually admit she needed him, and made a decision. His mother was right. If ever there was a time he belonged at home with his family, this was it.

“I’ll see what I can arrange,” he said at last.

“That’s good,” his mother said. “And let’s just pretend, you and I, that we never had this conversation.”

Mick laughed for the first time since the uncomfortable conversation had begun. “You’re still a sly one, aren’t you, Ma?”

“I pride myself on it, in fact.”

Abby spent all day Saturday buried in paperwork at the inn. As her sister had assured her, the projections were positive, but Jess clearly had little sense of money management. If she’d wanted fancy, top-of-the-line shower curtains or thick, luxurious towels, she’d bought them, even if it broke the budget.

Not that she’d ever put a budget on paper in the first place or even the sort of business plan that Abby would have expected the bank to require. Obviously she’d been flying by the seat of her pants, and the bank had let her get away with it because she was an O’Brien in a town where that meant something. Any national bank would have adhered to much stricter guidelines than the Chesapeake Shores Community Bank apparently had followed.

Abby sat Jess down at the kitchen table on Saturday night and laid it all out for her while Gram was upstairs reading the girls their bedtime story. “You have little to no operating capital. How were you planning on buying supplies for the restaurant? Or soaps and toiletries for the rooms, for that matter?”

“Credit?” Jess said weakly, looking as if she were about to cry. “I haven’t maxed out my credit cards yet.”

Abby bit back a groan. “You’ll dig a hole so deep doing that, you’ll never get out. Like it or not, I’m going to give you an infusion of cash and a strict budget. Assuming, that is, that we can get the bank to go along with this. I’m just praying that they haven’t officially started foreclosure proceedings. I’m going to be on the doorstep over there at nine sharp Monday morning and we’ll see where we stand.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jess said. “This is my project.”

Abby agreed reluctantly. “Okay, but let me do the talking, unless they ask for information I don’t have.”

“Fine,” Jess said, not meeting her gaze.

Abby studied her sister. Jess’s cheeks were faintly flushed. Maybe it was just embarrassment that she’d let her finances get so messed up, but Abby thought it was something else. She looked guilty.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Abby asked her. “Has the foreclosure process gone further than you’ve admitted? Are there more bills you haven’t wanted me to see?”

Jess hesitated, then declared, “No. You’ve seen every single piece of paper, every bill I owe.”

“Then why do you look guilty?”

“Guilty?” She widened her eyes in an attempt to look innocent.

Abby didn’t buy it. “Don’t even try that act with me. I’ve known you too long and too well. That’s the look you used to get when you’d snuck out the bedroom window at night to meet Matt Richardson and Gram called you on it.”

Jess’s flush deepened. “Okay, maybe there is one other thing you should know before Monday.”

“Tell me,” Abby ordered, the knot of dread forming yet again in her stomach. “Don’t you dare let me walk into that meeting and get blindsided.”

Before Jess could reply, the door burst open and their father strode into the kitchen. Jess looked from him to Abby and back again.

“I see the cavalry’s arrived,” Jess said sourly. She scowled at Abby. “Did you call him?”

“Of course not,” Abby said, trying to soften Jess’s reaction by standing up to give her father a warm hug. She beamed up at him. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming home?”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” he said, casting a wary look toward Jess. “Something going on you didn’t want me to know about?”

“Nothing,” she said firmly, shooting a warning look at Abby that pretty much tied her hands. With obvious reluctance, Jess stood and gave Mick an obligatory kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Dad. Welcome home. I’d love to stay and catch up, but I need to get home.”

“Last time I checked, this was your home,” he said.

“I’m staying at the inn now,” she said, as she gathered up all the papers on the kitchen table and shoved them into a briefcase. Clearly she didn’t intend to take a chance that Mick would lay eyes on them.

She was already heading for the door when she said, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Abby.”

Abby wanted to argue that they still had things to discuss right here and now, but clearly Jess didn’t want anything revealed in front of their father. She’d just have to wait until Sunday to find out what Jess had been keeping from her.

As soon as her sister was out of earshot, Abby turned to her father. He looked tired, but otherwise robust. There were threads of gray in his curly, reddish-blond hair, but his broad shoulders and trim waistline testified that he was still maintaining his fitness regimen even with all the traveling and dining out he did. His complexion was ruddy from working outdoors and there were a few more lines around his blue eyes, which were filled with concern as he stared after Jess.

“Gram called you, didn’t she?” Abby asked him.

He hesitated for a split second, then nodded. “She wanted me to know you and the girls were here. I caught the first flight I could get, so I could spend a little time with you. It’s been a long time since you’ve graced us with your presence down here.”

“Too long,” she admitted. “Was that all she told you?”

Mick went to the counter and poured himself a cup of tea, then sat down without replying. He stirred sugar into the strong brew and took a sip, then met Abby’s gaze. “Sure. Is there something else going on?”

“Don’t play games with me, Dad. You’re really back because she told you Jess is in trouble.”

His lips twitched at that. “Did she really? Are you a mind reader now? Or did you eavesdrop on a private conversation?”

“Of course not.”

“Then take what I’m telling you at face value,” he ordered. “It’s better that way. Now tell me where my darling girls are.”

“Asleep, I hope,” she said. “And we’re not going to wake them up at this hour. I’ll never get them back to sleep if we do. They’ll be too excited if they see you. You can spend all day tomorrow with them.” She gave him a stern look. “And no spoiling them rotten, either. I think you bought all the toys in FAO Schwarz the last time you were in New York.”

“It’s a grandfather’s privilege to do a little spoiling,” he argued. “That’s what we’re meant to do.”

Abby rolled her eyes. A few days of all that extra attention from Gram and now Mick, and the twins would be little terrors by the time she got them back to New York.

She realized that Mick was studying her over the rim of his cup. “You look worn-out, Abby. You’re working too hard.”

“That’s the nature of what I do.”

“Does it leave you enough time for those sweet girls?”

“Not really,” she admitted, then added pointedly, “but you should know better than anyone what it’s like to make hard choices, to do what’s best for your family.” In some ways they were two of a kind, which she supposed made at least some of her criticism sound hypocritical.

“I do know about hard choices,” he said, not taking offense. “And you should know as well as anyone what the cost was. I lost a woman I loved. And not a one of you could wait to leave this place. So what good did all this money and success do for me in the end?”

“Jess is still here.”

“And not a day goes by that I don’t wonder why.”

“I think I know the answer to that,” Abby said. “She loves it here, more than the rest of us ever did. And she’s still trying to prove herself to you, here, in a place that once meant everything to you. I think she believes it will create a bridge between you eventually.”

“There’s nothing she has to prove. My love for you, Jess, Bree and your brothers is unconditional.”

Abby saw that he honestly believed it was that simple and that obvious. She decided to be candid for once, rather than skirting around the real issues this family had. “Dad, when Mom left, you might as well have. From that moment on, you passed through our lives when you could spare a few days, but you didn’t know anything about us. For Connor, Kevin, me and even Bree, it was hard, but we were almost grown by then. Jess was still a little girl.”

He frowned at that. “What are you talking about? I knew everything there was to know about all of you. I knew when you were sick. I knew when one of you won an award at school or scored a touchdown. I was there for graduation. I paid the bills for college and saw the report cards.”

Abby’s temper stirred. “And you thought those things were all that mattered? A private investigator could have told you any of that stuff, though of course in your case it was Gram who filled you in. We needed our father here, cheering for us, drying our tears, calling us on it when we made mistakes.”

His cheeks flushed and his tone turned defensive when he reminded her, “You always had your grandmother for that.”

“And she was wonderful. She did all of those things, but she wasn’t you or Mom.” Abby shook her head, resigned to the fact that he would never understand. “What’s the point of fighting about this now? It’s all water under the bridge. We survived. Not every kid has an idyllic family, and our lives were certainly better than most.”

“I did the best I could,” Mick protested.

She gave him a pitying look. “Perhaps you did, but you know what? Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest, but I remember a time when you were better than that.”

She stood up then, rinsed out her own cup and put it in the dishwasher. “Good night, Dad. The girls are going to be thrilled to see you in the morning.”

She wished she could say the same. Though she knew with everything in her that he’d come home to try in some way to help with Jess’s predicament, she had this awful feeling that his presence was only going to make things worse.

Sunday morning Trace was sitting on the family’s dock, his feet dangling in the water, when Laila appeared. In her short shorts, halter top and with her long blond hair caught up in a careless ponytail, she looked about sixteen, not twenty-nine.

She handed him an icy can of soda. “How’s the prodigal son?” she inquired, kicking off her flip-flops and dropping down beside him on the smooth wood that had been warmed by the sun. Overhead, an eagle swooped through the air, then settled high in an old oak tree to watch over the scene from his lofty perch.

“Chomping at the bit to get back to New York,” he responded. “Which I could do if you weren’t so obstinate.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, admit it. You like being here.”

“For a visit,” he insisted. “I’ve never wanted any part of the bank. That was your dream, not mine.”

“Unfortunately, Daddy doesn’t see it that way. In his male-dominated world, the family estate must go to the eldest son. Daughters get whatever’s left over.”

He frowned at her. “Not the way I heard it. Dad said he offered you a position at the bank.”

“Did he happen to mention what that position was?”

“The same one I’m in, I assume.”

“Well, you assume wrong. He expected me to work as Raymond’s assistant, which, in case you haven’t figured out the pecking order there yet, amounts to a clerical job that any high school kid could do.”

Trace winced. “That was not the impression he gave me.”

“Ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

Unfortunately, Trace believed her. It would be just like his father to dangle a job in front of Laila, knowing that it was beneath her and that she’d turn it down. Then he could claim—as he had to Trace—that he’d given her a chance.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter, but Trace knew better.

“Don’t be sorry,” she claimed anyway. “It was just Dad being his usual sexist self. I’m used to it by now.”

“I don’t know if it helps, but I’ve told him you’re the one he should be grooming to take over.”

“Oddly enough, it does help.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before she glanced his way. “Abby’s in town. Did you know that?”

“I’d heard she might be coming for a visit,” he replied neutrally.

“Have you seen her?”

He shook his head. “But I imagine we’ll cross paths before she leaves.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“We’re adults,” he said with a touch of impatience. “It’s been a long time. I’m sure we’ll manage to be civil, Laila.”

“I didn’t ask how you expected to behave. I asked how you feel about seeing her again. We both know she was the love of your life and you’ve never gotten over her.”

He regarded her wryly. “Oh, we both know that, do we?”

“Well, I know it,” she said, giving him a crooked smile. “You, however, may be too stupid and stubborn to admit it. You are a guy, after all.”

“I’m not discussing Abby with you.”

Laila wasn’t easy to deter once she’d gotten her teeth into a subject. “Come on, Trace. Admit it. It just about killed you when she left town. I was here. I saw what it did to you.”

“Then why would you want to remind me of all that now?”

“Because this could be your chance to find out what happened.”

“I know what happened. Abby made a decision to cut me out of her life. End of story.”

“That’s not the end of the story,” his sister contradicted. “It’s only the part of the story you know. Find out the rest. Maybe it will put an end to that whole episode once and for all, so you can move on.”

“I moved on years ago,” he claimed.

“Baloney!”

He stared at her, his lips twitching. “What are we, five?”

“I’m not, but that seems to be your maturity level when it comes to this one thing. Adults face each other and deal with their issues.”

“I’m not the one who left. Have you had this conversation with Abby?”

“I did ten years ago,” Laila admitted.

Trace flinched. “Really? And what did Abby reveal to you that she didn’t bother telling me?”

“She told me to butt out, as a matter of fact.”

He laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. “Seems like good advice to me.”

He was struck by the same nagging thought that had come to him at the bank on his first day there. “You haven’t shared any of this with Dad, have you?”

“About you and Abby? No, why?”

He studied her face, trying to decide if he could trust what she was saying. “It just seems awfully convenient that Dad decides to push this whole idea of getting me to work at the bank right when there’s going to be a battle with the O’Briens that was bound to bring Abby back to town.”

“You mean that possible foreclosure at the inn?” she asked innocently. “Do you think that’s why Abby’s here?”

“Don’t you?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she conceded. “Abby’s always been smart about business, and she’s always been the first one Jess turns to.”

“And none of that crossed your mind when you heard about the bank foreclosing on Jess’s property? Or when you heard that Dad was dragging me back here?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t spend a lot of my spare time coming up with conspiracies with Dad. And if it had been up to me, you’d still be in New York, and I’d be in that big corner office at the bank dealing with Jess.”

“Okay, then,” Trace said, deciding he might as well take her at her word. He was probably imagining a conspiracy where none existed. After all, Abby was here and he was just about one hundred percent certain to see her. How that inevitable confrontation had been set into motion hardly mattered. He just had to brace himself for it, so he didn’t make a complete fool of himself when they crossed paths. Throwing her across his desk and kissing her was probably a bad idea. And actually he hoped he wouldn’t want to.

Gram fixed a Sunday dinner that could have fed an army and insisted that all of them sit down at the table together, including Caitlyn and Carrie, whose table manners left a lot to be desired. Still, Abby thought they provided an excellent buffer between her sister and her father. Jess was shooting distrustful glances at Mick, to which he seemed to be oblivious. He kept asking questions about the inn that were supposedly innocent. Under the circumstances, though, they were as highly charged as an entire crate of explosives.

“No business at the table,” Gram finally said when Jess looked as if she was about to throw down her napkin and bolt. “I’m sure we can think of other things to talk about. After all, when was the last time we had a chance to be together under this roof? Let’s make this meal as special as the occasion calls for.”

“How are Uncle Jeff and Uncle Tom?” Abby asked, seizing on the first thing that came to mind.

“How would I know?” Mick responded bitterly. The implication in his tone was that he didn’t much care, either. Obviously neither time nor Gram had mellowed his mood when it came to his brothers.

The breakup of the business partnership had taken a personal toll. It had exposed all of the philosophical and environmental differences of the brothers. Since like all O’Briens, none of them were willing to back down from a stance, working together had been a really bad idea from the beginning. That they’d actually completed Chesapeake Shores at all had been a miracle.

Gram scowled at Mick, then turned to Abby. “They’re fine. Tom’s working on legislation to protect the bay and trying to get funding to clean up the waters of both the bay and its tributaries. Jeff’s running the management company that handles the leases on the shops downtown. His daughter, Susie, is working for him.”

“Gosh, I haven’t seen Susie in ages,” Abby said. “She was still a kid when I left for New York.”

“She graduated from college last year,” Jess said. “Magna cum laude, right, Gram?”

Gram ignored the hint of sarcasm in Jess’s voice and said evenly, “I believe that’s right. Jeff was real proud of her.”

“How’s your mother, Abby?” Mick suddenly blurted. “You see her, don’t you?”

Abby saw the deep hurt in his eyes and felt the same pity she always did when her mother plied her with questions about the rest of the family. “We get together for lunch every couple of weeks and she spends time with the girls on Saturdays when she can. She’s doing well. She loves living in the city.”

“I’m sure she does,” Mick said with undisguised bitterness, clamping his mouth shut when Abby pointedly nodded toward the girls to remind him that they didn’t need to hear so much as a whisper spoken against their grandmother.

“Grandma Megan’s beautiful,” Caitlyn said, then looked at Mick with confusion. “Do you know her?”

Abby realized that since her kids had never seen Mick and Megan together, they couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of the relationship.

The shadows in Mick’s eyes deepened as he responded to his granddaughter. “I used to,” he said softly.

“Grandma Megan used to be married to Grandpa Mick,” Abby explained.

That stirred a spark of interest in Carrie’s eyes. “Did you get a ‘vorce like Mommy and Daddy?”

Mick nodded. “We did.”

“Did you still love your kids?” Caitlyn asked worriedly. “Mommy and Daddy say they’ll love us forever and ever, even if they don’t love each other anymore.”

“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.