After Caroline (4 page)

H
OLLY DRUMMOND CAME OUT
of her office and cast a critical eye over the front desk, more out of habit than the need to supervise. Bliss Weldon, the day clerk, was, despite her absurd name, both efficient and utterly reliable. And in fact, the desk was quiet, with Bliss working intently at the computer. No phones ringing, no guests offering plaintive grievances. Everything was peaceful, just the way a hotel manager preferred her establishment to be.

Holly consulted a page on her clipboard and nodded to herself. Only one guest was due to check in this afternoon, and she was booked into a small suite for the next two weeks, with the possibility of a longer stay. Which was fine, just fine. This time of year, guests tended to be sporadic, and anytime Holly could declare a 50 percent occupancy rate during the off-season, it was satisfying to both her and the owner.

She walked through the lobby toward the veranda doors, pleased by the elegant and comfortable atmosphere
surrounding her. Called simply The Inn, the hotel was more than fifty years old, but no expense had been spared in renovating it less than five years ago, and it was a beautiful place. From the marble floors to the wallpaper, only the best of materials had been chosen, and a well-trained staff kept the place running with smooth, quiet efficiency. The Inn had a four-star rating and a firm reputation for providing the ultimate in comfort for its guests.

It was, in fact, one of the major tourist draws for the area. Beautiful scenery, peace and quiet, and The Inn brought visitors to Cliffside, and the visitors brought money to boost the local economy. Generally speaking, it was a fine relationship all around.

Holly went through the open doors and out onto the seaside veranda. Chaise longues and groupings of tables and chairs were placed invitingly under the protective roof as well as farther out where the October sunshine was bright and warm. A dozen or so guests relaxed out there, some reading newspapers while others drank coffee and talked.

Holly nodded to the waitress keeping the guests supplied with whatever they wished and went on. Her destination was a chaise at the edge of the veranda, where a lean, copper-haired man relaxed in the sunlight. He wasn’t alone; a girl of about eighteen sat on the foot of his chaise and flirted for all she was worth, encouraged by his lazy smile of amusement.

Holly felt herself frowning, and smoothed out the expression as she joined them, saying pleasantly, “Hi, Amber. I thought you had a drive scheduled for today.”

The slender blonde jumped to her feet, her expression both guilty and defiant. “I told my parents to go without me. Who wants to look at miles and miles of scenery? I was just telling Mr.—I was just telling Cain that I was thinking about walking down to the stores and doing some shopping.”

“It’s a nice day for it,” Holly said, her tone ever so
slightly dry. At the moment, she felt every one of the twelve years between her and this girl.

Amber shoved her hands into the front pockets of the very brief shorts she should have packed away a month before and smiled brightly. “I thought so. Cain, would you—would you like to go?”

Cain Barlow chuckled, and his lazy voice matched his smile when he said, “Haven’t you heard the latest psychobabble? Men are hunters and women gatherers; that’s why you love shopping for its own sake, and we hate it.”

Amber looked down at him, her bafflement painfully evident. “Oh. Well … maybe we could walk along the cliffs later?”

“Afraid you’ll have to count me out, Amber. I have to drive into Portland this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Amber summoned a smile and clearly hoped it was devastating. “Some other time, then.”

“Sure.”

The blonde offered Holly another of those half-defiant looks, then left them and walked across the veranda toward the building.

“Do you suppose she learned to walk that way by watching old Mae West movies?” Cain mused.

“I think she just lets her hormones rule,” Holly said. “That and wearing heels three inches too high. You shouldn’t encourage her, Cain. Hearts break very easily at eighteen.”

“Encourage her? I was sitting here minding my own business and waiting for you to come back when she came over and practically dropped into my lap. What was I supposed to do? Offend one of your paying guests by being rude to his daughter?” He reached up a hand to touch Holly, but she shifted away with a faint shrug of impatience, and Cain’s eyes narrowed. “Obviously, you think I should have chased her away.”

Instead of claiming Amber’s former seat at the foot of
Cain’s chaise, Holly sat down on another one near his. “I think you charm without a second thought,” she said.

“Holly, she’s a kid, just a kid. And twenty years younger than me.”

“All the more reason for you to be careful.” Holly looked down at her clipboard, frowning.

Cain laced long fingers together over his flat middle and looked at her for a moment. He wore an expression of acute detachment, with only his brilliant green eyes alive in the stillness of his face. “Okay. Noted, for future reference. Now, hadn’t
we
planned a walk along the cliffs before that phone call interrupted us?”

“I can’t.”

“Let me guess. The call was from the master?”

Holly looked at him, still frowning. “It was Scott. Why do you have to be so mocking whenever you mention him?”

“Because I don’t like him,” Cain told her pleasantly. “And I don’t like the way you drop everything and run to him whenever he whistles.”

“That isn’t fair. He’s my employer. And he’s having a tough time right now,” Holly said. “Since Caroline was killed—”

“Since Caroline was killed, the entire town’s been heaping sympathy and understanding on poor Scott’s grieving head,” Cain said, definitely mocking now. “And the son of a bitch is milking it for all he’s worth.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Isn’t it? And a genuine pity it’s true.”

Holly surged to her feet, hugging the clipboard as though it were a shield. “Look, I just came back out here to tell you I have to meet Scott at City Hall and go over some things about the new wing for the clinic. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so. If you’re still here then—”

“I won’t be. Like I told baby Amber, I have to drive into Portland.” Cain didn’t move as he looked up at her. He sat relaxed, watchful—and Holly had no idea what he was thinking.

She never did. It was enough to drive a woman crazy.

She nodded. “All right, then. Lunch was … fun.”

“Yeah. Of course, it would have been more fun if we’d ended up in my bed for dessert. But you don’t seem to have the time—or the taste—for sweets these days, do you, Holly?”

“You’re busy too,” she said defensively. “How many times have you had to go to L.A. or New York in the last weeks? Stop making it sound like it’s all my fault we hardly see each other.” She heard herself sounding like a neglected woman and made a fierce effort to keep that note out of her voice. “Look, we both have careers, and—”

“We were both busy a few months ago and still managed to find the time,” he said, his voice hardening. “Before poor Scott began to depend on you for everything.”

“You’re not being fair,” she said, knowing she was repeating herself.

“No, probably not. But then, I’m a selfish bastard myself. You’ve told me so often enough.” He shrugged, dismissing the conflict as though he really didn’t care whether it was resolved. “You run along and help Scott with his current problem. I should probably conserve my strength anyway. It’s a long drive to Portland.”

Holly turned away and took two steps before stopping.
Damn, damn, damn
. Hating herself, she turned back. “Are you staying long in Portland? I mean—will I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll probably be back late tonight,” he said.

She waited for an instant, until it became obvious that was all he was going to say. Then, reaching for dignity, she nodded. “Have a good trip. Drive carefully.”

Those brilliant green eyes softened just a little, and he nodded. “We’ll none of us ever be quite so nonchalant about driving as we were three months ago, I suppose. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

It was harder, this time, to turn away from him, but she did it and left the veranda briskly. She felt his eyes on her until she was inside, but she didn’t look back or even
pause. She had a job to do, after all, she reminded herself. She worked for Scott McKenna, who owned The Inn as well as various other properties and businesses in Cliffside, and if he needed her help in planning the new wing for the town’s clinic, well, then she’d help him.

She could feel the rift between her and Cain widening.

Holly was halfway across the quiet lobby when the front doors opened. She heard one of the bellmen outside saying something about bags and parking a car, and then a blond woman came in. Holly stopped dead in her tracks, vaguely aware that her mouth had dropped open, that she was staring incredulously, but she was so surprised she couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

The blonde came several steps into the lobby, saw Holly, and stopped a bit uncertainly. She was about Holly’s own height, an average five-six, with lovely honey-gold hair pulled back off her face in a simple style, and her casual slacks and sweater showed off a slender, almost delicate figure. Her face was more heart shaped than oval, her unusual tawny eyes large and dark-fringed, and she had a sensitive, vulnerable mouth.

Before Holly could gather her wits, the woman gave an uneasy little laugh and asked a question in a soft voice with a strong Southern accent.

“Was it something I said?”

Holly blinked. How strange to hear such an alien voice come out of a mouth that was all too familiar, she thought.

“Oh—no. God, I’m sorry. It’s just that you look an awful lot like someone I used to know.”

“Used to?”

“She died a few months ago.”

“Now
I’m
sorry.”

“It’s all right. We weren’t … close.” Holly smiled and stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I’m Holly Drummond, manager of The Inn. Please call me Holly.”

The blonde shook hands, her grip firm. “Nice to meet you, Holly. I’m Joanna. Joanna Flynn.”

“Well, Joanna, welcome. If there’s any way I can help
make your stay with us more enjoyable, I hope you’ll let me know.” The words were conventional and professional, but Holly always meant them, and that sincerity came through.

“I will, thanks.” Joanna Flynn smiled. “What I mostly want now is to settle in, unpack, and get the kinks out of my legs from the drive. Maybe I’ll see you around later?”

“I’m usually around,” Holly told her with a laugh. She watched Joanna head for the front desk, and after an instant continued on her own way. It was a fairly short walk, just a couple of blocks to City Hall, and Holly needed both the exercise and the air—to clear her head. And to figure out how to warn Scott. Hell, how to warn the town.

Hey, guess what? There’s a new guest at The Inn, and if you colored her hair dark and put in blue contact lenses, she’d be Caroline! How about that
…

“Dammit,” Holly barely heard herself whisper, “what’ll he think when he sees you, Joanna Flynn? What’ll he feel … ?”

The fourth-floor suite was lovely; it was composed of a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bath, and it was spacious and comfortable. Despite its quaint name, The Inn was a full-service hotel complete with twenty-four-hour room service and cable television, according to the friendly bellman, and if there was anything she required to make her more comfortable, anything at all, she had only to ask.

As soon as he left, Joanna began settling in. She unpacked and put away all her things, turning on the television to CNN for background noise while she briskly worked. When that was done, she went to the French doors in her bedroom that opened out onto a little balcony, and stepped out to contemplate her ocean view.

Down on the right was the tile roof that partially shaded the veranda; down and straight ahead were a couple of acres of green lawn, then the rocky cliff tops and, beyond them, the ocean. There was a beach at the base of the cliffs except at high tide, the bellman had told her, but it was
narrow, the path down to it somewhat difficult, and few guests ventured down there more than once.

Joanna turned her head to the left, her gaze following the cliff tops south. She froze, hardly breathing, and for a long moment just stood there staring. Then she eased back into her room as if careful movement was required to keep something dreadful from happening. She went into the sitting room and sat down at the little desk where she had placed the notebook.

She had never kept a journal before, but it had occurred to her that it might be a good idea here. To organize her thoughts. To keep things clear. Drawing a breath, she opened the notebook carefully and smoothed the page. She used the pen thoughtfully provided by The Inn and dated the top of the page. She didn’t really think about what she wanted to say, she just began writing.