The Perfect Hope (14 page)

She hauled the runt onto her lap, listening with appropriate responses of shock and awe as he bombarded her with every detail of his past hour.

The women had gotten into the wine, but he didn’t think that was responsibile for her equanimity. In his observations, she just handled what came.

“Can we have a snack?” Liam tugged at Justine. “We’re
starving
.”

“We’re going to eat as soon as you wash up and Willy B gets here.”

“That could be forever.”

“I think it’ll be sooner. In fact, I hear Willy B’s truck coming up right now.”

So did the dogs, who immediately ran out the door—except for Tyrone, who stuck by Justine as if Velcroed. “Go on, wash your hands. We’re going to eat out on the deck.”

Ryder opened the fridge for a beer, spotted the bowl of potato salad. Grinned. “Keep your fingers out of that,” Justine ordered, anticipating him. “Wash your hands.”

So Hope ate grilled chicken and potato salad on the deck in the early summer evening, hip to hip with Ryder, with dogs wandering mournfully in the yard hoping for handouts.

Except for Tyrone. He sat—despite Justine’s protests—in Willy B’s lap, gazing up with shining love.

“This sure is good.”

Justine arched her eyebrows. “How much are you sneaking to that dog?”

“Oh now, Justine, I’m not. He’s a good boy—aren’t you a good boy? He’s not even begging.” Tyrone planted his front paws on Willy B’s massive chest and wiggled in ecstasy as he licked Willy B’s bearded face.

Then the dog laid his head on Willy B’s shoulder.

“That’s it.” Avery shook her head. “Dad, that’s your dog.”

The same shining love beamed out of Willy B and he stroked the dog’s back. “He’s my first granddog.”

“No, he’s
your
dog. You’re taking him.”

“Avery, I’m not taking your pup!”

“That dog’s yours. I know love at first sight when I see it, and I’m looking at it. He likes me, and he’ll love me eventually. But he’s
in
love with you. And you’re in love with him. You’re taking him.”

“She’s right,” Owen agreed. “You’re made for each other.”

The little dog snuggled into the big man’s arms.

“I wouldn’t feel right taking . . .” Tyrone turned his head, stared at Willy B with his dark, bulging eyes. “Are you sure?”

“You come by on the way home, get his things. You just got an extra Father’s Day present.”

“Best one ever. But if you change your mind—”

“Dad.” Avery reached over, gave Tyrone’s back an affectionate scratch. “Love’s love.”

Yes, it was, Hope thought. And there was plenty of it to go around on an early summer evening.

When the food was cleared they managed to interest the boys in the toys Justine had started stockpiling in a spare room. The room she now thought of as the boys’ room.

They sat outside as Hope related the details of her eventful Friday night.

“Before we talk about what all of this might mean, and so on, I wanted to ask you, Justine, if we should have any sort of a policy. Do you want me to tell people about Lizzy, or not tell them?”

“I think a policy is too limiting. You should handle it just the way you are. You judge, guest by guest, what to say, how much to say. This is the first time she’s ever disturbed anyone,” Justine considered. “And it seems like she did it on purpose. She didn’t like seeing someone being rude to you.”

“Ought to have better manners,” Willy B commented and gave Tyrone a tickle under the chin. Tyrone grumbled happily in his throat.

“Well, manners aren’t requirements for paying guests. They’re a nice benefit. I’ve certainly dealt with ruder.”

“But we’re not talking about Ry,” Beckett pointed out, and grinned when Ryder sneered at him.

“I think Lizzy makes certain allowances,” Hope continued. “I mentioned broadening those allowances to her.”

“You talked to her again?” Owen asked.

“Not exactly. I talk to her now and then. She doesn’t talk back. Except for Friday night.”

“It’s heartbreaking,” Clare murmured. “What she said about fading.”

“And yet she rarely seems sad. She’s got hope.” Beckett smiled at Hope. “She had it even before you. I can’t figure why she mentioned Ryder. He had less to do with her than me and Owen.”

“How do you know?” Ryder demanded.

“I don’t remember you saying much about her until she played games with you and Hope in The Penthouse.”

“We all spent plenty of time in that place, together, separately. I got along with her. We gave each other space.”

“Did you ever see her?” Owen asked him.

“You don’t have to see her to know she’s there. She didn’t like Shawn—you know the carpenter we hired on right after we got started?”

“Nobody liked Shawn after we found out he was skimming materials for side jobs,” Owen pointed out.

“And hitting on Denny’s wife. What kind of idiot makes a play for the wife of a town cop, especially when the town cop’s a friend of his bosses—
and
the woman’s not interested?”

“Before we didn’t like him, and fired him—Lizzy didn’t like him. She used to hide his tools, his lunch bucket, his gloves, like that. At first I thought he was just being careless, then I found some of his things down in the old basement, where he hadn’t been. All stacked up neat and tidy—and smelling like honeysuckle.”

“A better judge of character than we were in that case,” Owen decided.

“Sounds like. She’d spook some of the crew now and then, but sort of playful. And . . .”

“Uh-oh.” Beckett pointed at him. “You’ve been holding back.”

“It didn’t seem relevant. But since we’re getting in deeper.” Ryder shrugged. “That time with Hope wasn’t the first time she’d stuck me in The Penthouse. Right after Hope showed up, and Mom hired her. On the spot.”

“Proving I’m a good judge of character.”

“Well, okay, yeah. Anyway, maybe I was a little irritated about hiring somebody so fast, without talking it over.”

“You were rude,” his mother reminded him. “Rude and pig-headed.”

“It’s not pigheaded to express an opinion. Rude, okay. I apologized,” he pointed out. “Maybe I was still a little steamed. I went back up to do a little more work. The door slammed shut behind me, and wouldn’t open. We didn’t have the lock sets on yet, but that damn door wouldn’t open.”

“She gave you the smackdown,” Avery said.

“Who’s telling the story? I could smell her in there, and that just pissed me off more. Windows won’t budge, door won’t budge. She fucking grounded me.” Then he laughed, quick and easy. “You’ve gotta respect that. Then she wrote your name on the window glass, inside a little heart.”

Hope blinked in surprise. “My name?”

“Inside the heart. I got the picture. She liked you, she wanted you around, and I’d better fall in line. Pissed me off more, but it’s hard to argue with a ghost.”

“Which you resolved by being snotty to me. Tell the innkeeper this, tell the innkeeper that.”

Ryder shrugged again. “She was okay with it.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe you should try talking to her, Ryder,” Clare suggested. “Since she mentioned you specifically. And since you and Hope are . . . friendlier.”

“You don’t have to use code,” Justine told her. “But you’ve got a point.”

“I don’t have that much to say to live people.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” Hope insisted. “She has a connection to you, to the three of you,” she said to the brothers. “Avery and I talked about this. We think because you brought her place—her home—back to life, there’s a connection. Because you and your mother cared enough to bring it back, make it beautiful, give it warmth again, you helped her. She doesn’t know how to be anywhere else, she said. So it matters that where she has to be is loved and cared for. Because it is, she’s more
there
. All of you had a part in that. But you, Ryder, had the most hands-on in the actual work. Maybe she’ll tell you what she can’t seem to tell the rest of us.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll ask the dead girl.”

“With respect,” his mother warned.

“Meanwhile,” Hope continued, “I heard back from my cousin and from the school. My cousin promises to send me what she can. She doesn’t buy the ghost angle for a minute. Her response was very amused and
really
condescending, but she’s enthusiastic about her research, and pleased someone else in the family shows an interest. Even if it’s about the wrong sister. And the librarian’s working through the red tape, but feels due to the family connection, and the family’s long-term support of the school, she can cut through it. There are letters. She hopes to scan me copies within the next few weeks.”

“Progress.” Owen sat back. “Better than I’m doing.”

“If they both come through and I end up with piles of documents, I’m dumping half on you.”

“Willing and ready.”

Angry young voices punched through the open deck door.

“It couldn’t last forever,” Clare said and started to rise to break up the fight.

“I’ve got it.” Beckett nudged her down again.

“Go with it,” Justine told her. “Pregnancy pampering doesn’t last forever either. Plus I’ve got ice cream to bribe them with. Any other takers?”

Hands shot up around the table.

“I appreciate it,” Hope said, “but I really need to get back. Carolee’s held the fort long enough. Thanks for dinner, for everything. It was just great.”

“We’ll do it again,” Justine promised. “And I’d like to see those letters when you get copies.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do. ’Night.”

Ryder tapped a finger on his knee for about twenty seconds, then pushed up from the table. “Be right back.”

As he walked to the door Owen made exaggerated kissing noises. Ryder just shot up his middle finger and kept going.

“My boys.” Justine sighed. “So damn classy.”

He caught her before she got to her car. “Wait a minute.”

She turned, hair swinging, settling.

“What time are you clear on Tuesday?”

“Oh. I should be done by five. Maybe four thirty.”

“That works, if I can use one of the showers.”

“It’s your inn.”

“It’s not about whose inn it is.”

“Then yes, you can use one of the showers. Any one you like.”

“Okay.”

When he said nothing else, simply stood, bringing that surge up with the steady look, she angled her head. “Well? Are you going to kiss me good-bye?”

“Now that you mention it . . .”

He left her breathless and needy, light-headed and trembly. The perfect end, she thought, to an unexpected summer evening.

“That oughta hold ya.”

She laughed, shook her head as she slid into her car. “Let’s hope it holds
you
. Good night.”

“Yeah.” He watched her back out, make the turn. She flipped out a wave as she drove down his mother’s lane. He continued to stand where he was as D.A. wandered over to sit at his feet, to stare out at nothing as Ryder did.

“Jesus, D.A., what is it about her? What the hell is it?”

A little uneasy he might just find out, he walked his dog back toward the house.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E
VERYTHING TOOK LONGER THAN HE’D EXPECTED, BUT
that was nothing new. Rehabs ran on their own schedule, and when you bounced between two major jobs, schedules went to hell.

Unless you were Owen.

Still, one job had a roof ready to shingle, and the other was about to move into drywall and brick veneer. He glanced back across the lot, beyond the huge crane to the building. The new roofline changed everything, the shape, the sense of space and balance. He imagined even the untrained eye could see the potential now.

Then he put it out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about shingles and drywall. He wanted to think about taking Hope Beaumont to bed.

Actually, he didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to act on it.

He let himself in Reception, took a quick glance around. Everything in place, as always. For a moment, he imagined himself as a guest, walking in for the first time. Yeah, he decided, he’d want to stay here, wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Even as he walked to the kitchen, she turned out of her office to meet him.

Everything in place there, too, from the short summer dress and the sexy stilts to the thick, shiny swing of her hair.

She pulled up short when his dog wagged his way over to her.

“Where I go, so goes the Dumbass,” Ryder told her.

“Oh. Well.” She gave the dog an absent pat. “I tried calling your cell.”

“I forgot to charge it.” And the fact that it hadn’t rung a thousand times to interrupt his work didn’t hurt his feelings. “If you needed me to bring something, I can go get it, as long as I can get it fast.”

“No, it’s not that. I—”

But he grabbed her, pulled her in. If she was going to go around looking the way she looked, she had to expect the man she’d agreed to sleep with would want a sample.

Sample hell, he decided in two seconds flat. They should head straight upstairs. If she wanted conversation, they could talk later.

A whole lot later.

“Let’s go upstairs. Pick a room. Grab a key.”

“Ryder, wait.”

“I’ll shower first.” He remembered belatedly he had a day’s worth of sweat and dirt all over him. “Better yet, you can shower with me.”

“Oh boy.” She let out a breath, holding up a hand as she eased back. “That sounds really good. Exceptionally good. But I have guests.”

What language was she speaking? “You have what?”

“Guests. Up in W&B. Walks-ins. They came to the door a couple hours ago. I tried to call you, but—”

“You’re not supposed to have anybody here.”

“I
know
. We were clear, but they came to the door and wanted a room. I can’t turn people away when we have room. You wouldn’t want me to turn guests away, would you?”

He stared at her. Short summer dress, endless legs, twist-your-guts-into-knots brown eyes. “Is that a serious question?”

“Ryder, it’s my job. Believe me, I wanted to say no, but I can’t do that.”

“You’re awful damn responsible.”

“Yes, I am. That’s one of the reasons your mother hired me. They eloped, or they’re in the process. They’re going to the courthouse to get married tomorrow, and they’d been driving for hours.”

“What’s wrong with a motel? I’ll take them to a motel. I’ll pay for the room.”

“Ryder.” Her laugh bubbled out, with frustration around the edges. “He wanted to give her something special since she’s not getting a real wedding. He found us on his iPad when they were at a rest stop, but he didn’t call ahead because he wanted to surprise her. They booked two nights so they can have what passes for a honeymoon because they both have to go back to work—and face their families.”

“Why did they tell you all this?”

“You’d be surprised what people tell the innkeeper. Added to it, they’re young, excited, in love, and maybe he was afraid I’d say no without a reservation without some romantic backstory. Even if it wasn’t my job, I wouldn’t have had the heart. Her father doesn’t like him.”

“I don’t like him either.”

“Yes, you do. Or you would. I’m really sorry, but—”

“What is that?” he interrupted, moving back toward the door. “Was that somebody screaming?”

“They’re at it again.” When he glanced back at her, frowned, she lifted her shoulders. “They
really
wanted a room.”

“That’s . . . wow.” Head tilted, he listened another minute. “We double insulated—floors, ceilings, walls. Do you always get an audio show?”

“No. No! Thank God. It’s an anomaly. I think it’s the frequency.”

“How many times can he bang her in a couple hours?”

“Not that kind of frequency,” she began, then saw him grin. “Although, ha-ha, there’s that, too. I meant like radio frequency. Plus they have the windows open.”

“Yeah?” He moved to the door, stepped out. He listened to the cries, moans, squeals while Hope tugged on his hands.

“Stop!” She struggled with another laugh. “It’s rude. It’s intrusive. Come back inside.”

“I’m not the one banging with the windows open. I deserve to get off vicariously.”

“No, you don’t. In fact . . .” She managed to get him back inside, then hurried to the counter, turned on her iPod.

“What did you do that for?”

“Eavesdropping Tom.”

“Like you didn’t listen.”

“Only until I realized what it was. And maybe for a short period thereafter. I’m really sorry, Ryder, but—”

“We can work around them.”

“Excuse me?”

“They’re busy.” He jerked a thumb at the ceiling. “Really busy doing what they’re doing, so they’re not worried about what you’re doing.”

“I can’t. It’s not only awkward—and unprofessional—but I have to be available for them. They’re going to come out eventually, want food.”

“Burning a lot of calories.”

“I imagine so. I need to be available when they do come out.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I bet you were a Girl Scout.”

“You’d lose. I didn’t have time for scouts. Listen, I have all this food. Avery made this wonderful food so I’d just have to warm it up. You could at least have a drink and a meal.”

Damned if he wanted to go home and scrounge something up. “I need a shower.”

She smiled at him. “Pick a room—except for W&B.”

“I’ll just take the one down here—it’s the farthest away from . . . guests.”

“Good choice. I’ll get the key.”

“I’ve got a change of clothes in the truck.”

He walked out before she could tell him to take the dog. “Stay right there,” she ordered D.A., then went to her office for the key. Hoping the dog listened, she went to Marguerite and Percy, opening the door, turning on the lights, giving the room a quick innkeeper’s scan.

When he came back with a small duffle, she offered the key. “You know how everything works?”

“Everything but you, but I’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not that complicated.”

They stood together in the doorway a moment. “You know, you could just put out a sign. Leave them Vesta’s number and a six-pack.”

“Yes, that’s the kind of service we pride ourselves on at Inn BoonsBoro.” She touched a hand to his arm. “I have tomorrow off. I could be off-campus until nine, maybe ten. I could come to your place.”

“That should work. I don’t allow walk-in guests.”

“Consider this booking a reservation.” She stepped back so he could close the door.

He’d taken it better than she’d expected. And, truth be told, better than she had herself initially.

She went back into the kitchen, took out the food Avery had prepared. She’d just put it on low so they could eat whenever it suited him. Then she opened a bottle of wine, let it breathe.

She deserved a glass of wine.

Tomorrow, she promised herself. She’d focus on personal business, including driving over to Ryder’s. That was probably better anyway. No chance of interruptions, problems, no ghost who might decide to play games.

Just the two of them. She glanced down to where D.A. snoozed on the floor.

Well, the three of them.

She got two glasses from the cupboard, was about to pour her own when she heard feet on the stairs.

Naturally, she thought, and put the glass down again.

Chip Barrow’s sandy hair stood up in mad spikes. Along with his tattered jeans he wore the faded Foo Fighters T-shirt he’d worn for check-in. Only now he wore it inside out. She doubted he realized it.

He gave her a sleepy, sex-drugged smile she envied bitterly.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not. What can I do for you?”

“Me and Marlie were wondering about maybe some dinner. Like I could get takeout so we could just . . .”

“Couldn’t be easier.” Though there would be one in their room packet, Hope opened a drawer for Vesta’s menu. “They’re right across the street, and they’ll deliver if you like.”

“Really? Awesome. Pizza’s like just right. It’s good, right?”

“It’s very good. I’d be happy to call the order in for you when you decide.”

“I know what Marlie likes.” His face shone as he said it. “We could do a large, with pepperoni and black olives. And some of this dessert here. This Chocolate Decadence. Sounds awesome, too.”

“I can tell you it is.”

“Um. Can they maybe bring it up to the room? Just like knock on the door?”

“No problem. Would you like a complimentary bottle of wine?”

“Seriously? Yeah, that’s great.”

“Red or white?”

“Um, why don’t you pick? Ah, could we get a couple of Cokes, too?”

“Give me one minute.”

She got a tray, an ice bucket, screwed two Cokes into the bed of ice. Added the wine she’d opened for herself, the two glasses.

“This is so cool. Marlie’s blown away by the room. We even turned on the fireplace. It got pretty warm, so we opened the windows, but it’s, you know, romantic with the fire going.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure it is. I’ll—Oh, Ryder. This is Chip.”

“Hey,” Chip said.

“How’s it going?”

“Awesome.”

“Would you like me to take that up for you?” Hope offered.

“No, thanks. I got it. And you’ll order the pizza and stuff?”

“Right away. Give it about twenty minutes.”

“Cool. Marlie’s going to dig on the wine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he carted the tray out, Hope pressed her lips together to hold back the laugh. “Awesome,” she murmured.

“What is he, twelve?”

“Twenty-one, both of them. She had her birthday just last week. They looked so young I carded them.” She got out another bottle of wine. “Why don’t you open that wine while I call this order in? If you’d rather beer, there’s some in the fridge.”

“Wine’s okay.” A little change of pace, he decided. Like the woman. He poured a glass for each of them, sampled his own. And decided he could develop a taste for change of pace.

After she’d placed the order, he nodded toward the stove. “What’s cooking?”

“Warming, since I can’t take credit for the cooking. Beef medallions, roasted fingerlings, butter-glazed carrots and peas. And there’s a little scallop appetizer.”

“Sounds good.”

She got out the appetizer. “Try it and see.”

He took a sample. “It’s good. Red Hots has the touch.”

“She does. She worked in a pizza joint when we were in college. I always knew when she’d made the pie. It was just that much better.”

“She dove right into Vesta, and she makes it work.”

“She’s the dive-in type.” Deciding she might as well go with the first part of her evening plans, she added a dish of olives, slid onto a stool. Appetizers and conversation here, dinner in The Dining Room. Phase Three would have to wait until tomorrow.

The dog bellied under the stools.

“Were you surprised when Avery and Owen got together?”

“Not especially. He’s had a thing for her since we were kids.”

“And Beckett had one for Clare since high school, and carried that spark all those years.”

“He always knew she was with Clint. He never messed with that. Suffered in secret,” Ryder added. “Unless you lived with him. He used to write really crappy love-ripped-my-still-beating-heart-out-of-my-chest songs and sing them in his room till Owen and I threatened to beat him with bricks.”

“Really?” She laughed, trying to picture it. “That’s so sweet. The songwriting, not the bricks. Were you friends with Clint?”

“Yeah, not close, really. We played football together, got drunk together a time or two. Mostly he was centered on Clare, like she was on him, and looking to join the service.”

“So young, both of them. Like Chip and Marlie.”

“Who?”

“Wesley and Buttercup—the almost newlyweds. I didn’t meet Clare until she moved back to Boonsboro and Avery introduced us. After Clint died.”

“Hard time for her. She looked—”

“Go on,” she said when he broke off. “Tell me.”

“Delicate, I guess. Like you could shatter her with a hard look. The two kids, basically babies, the runt still in the oven. But she wasn’t. Delicate, I mean; not down into it. Clare’s got more spine than anyone I know.”

She thought it might be his longest single discourse on any one person since she’d met him. More, the bone-deep affection and admiration came through.