Homecoming Reunion (3 page)

Even worse, he didn’t seem to care that he had walked away from her with her father’s money in his pocket and her heart in his hand.

If he did care, he wouldn’t be acting as if she were just any girl.

She hoped the chill in her heart reached her eyes but as their gazes met and locked again, she felt the tiniest tremor of awareness. The smallest ripple of older emotions she thought she’d long buried.

She may think Garret didn’t matter to her anymore, but as she struggled to hold his gaze she knew she was only fooling herself.

“I’m surprised you would want to buy a business in Hartley Creek considering you were in such a hurry to leave this place.”

When she spoke the words she realized how silly they sounded. She was referring to the many conversations they had, while they were dating, about Garret’s desire to leave town and her desire to stay.

Instead it came out like sounding like a petty whine from the girl left behind.

“Things change,” he said, his ambiguous comment creating a beat of annoyance in her. “Speaking of change,” he continued, raising his hand as if reaching out to her. “I was sorry to hear about your mother.”

It had been four years since her mother’s death, but the pain could still gather and fill her soul with dark sorrow. She pressed her lips together and nodded, acknowledging his condolences. “Thank you for the flowers you sent. That was thoughtful.”

“It wasn’t enough.” His voice was crisp. “Just a small courtesy that couldn’t begin to...couldn’t start...” He let the words trail off as if they were as insufficient as he thought his flowers were. “Anyhow, I thought of you and your father.”

“Thanks again.”

A moment of awkward silence followed her reply. She couldn’t think of anything to say and, obviously, neither could Garret.

Then his cell phone rang and before he pulled it out of his pocket, he took a step away and tossed off a quick wave.

“I’ll see you around then,” he said, giving her a polite smile before he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Take care,” she said as he walked away.

Her polite words masked other emotions and stifled older questions.

Why didn’t you ever call me?

Did you think of me before that?

She pushed the silly questions down into the deep recesses of her mind where they belonged as she waited for the door to fall shut behind Garret.

When she and Garret were dating she was young, foolish and full of hope and optimism. They were both older now. Wiser.

And both, obviously, had other plans and dreams.

Only now, his plans were causing problems for her. Because she should be the one to buy out her uncle’s share of the Inn, not Garret.

She couldn’t let that happen. She had to find a way to stop her uncle from selling his shares to Garret.

Because there was no way she was working with a man who had betrayed her so badly.

Chapter Two

“C
ould you at least give me the opportunity to see what the bank will say?” Larissa clutched her cell phone as she strode across the grounds of the Inn.

She had hoped to talk to her uncle face-to-face when he dropped off her purse, but by the time she got back to the Inn, he’d already left it with the front desk. So she had to settle for this phone call.

“Larissa, honey, it’s a huge debt to take on. I don’t think you want to do that.”

Uncle Baxter’s soothing tone felt like a patronizing pat on the head.
There, there, little girl. You go play while us men make our plans.

“Oh, but I do. You know how much the inn means to me.” She stopped on the wooden bridge spanning the creek that cut through the grounds of the inn, hating the edge of desperation creeping into her voice. “I had hoped to talk to you myself once I had enough money saved up.”

She watched the water of Morrisey Creek flow under the bridge, the light dancing off the waves, appreciating the cool shade of the trees.

She needed a moment to compose herself. To sound like a reasonable businesswoman.

“I had no idea, Larissa. You always seemed so content to manage the place,” Uncle Baxter said. “You never gave me any indication of your interest in buying out me or your father.”

“I needed time,” Larissa hugged herself with her free arm, letting the spray of the creek cool her heated cheeks.

“I talked to your father first, but he said he wasn’t sure he wanted to buy me out at this time,” Uncle Baxter was saying.

“I know. I talked to him this morning about it as well.” Her father, who was in Asia drumming up new markets for the mill, wasn’t pleased with this latest development but he had told Larissa that this was not the time for him to make this purchase. He also reminded her that together they owned the controlling share so whoever Uncle Baxter sold to would have to answer to both of them. “So if he won’t buy you out, I want you to give me a chance. You know how much I love this inn. I want it to be a bigger part of my life.”

And she wanted the authority to make some decisions her father seemed loath to. When her mother willed her a percentage of her share of the Inn, Larissa had hoped this would give her some authority to persuade her father to show more interest in the inn her mother loved so much. However that hadn’t happened yet.

“This inn will take over your whole life if you do this,” her uncle continued. “Don’t you want something else? What about a family?”

Larissa heard the yearning note in her uncle’s voice. Her uncle had never married and while he had never voiced regret, of late he seemed to be transferring the hopes and dreams he would have had for his children to her.

“You’re the only Weir left,” he continued. “The only Lincoln. Don’t you want to get married?”

“Of course I do. When the right person comes around.”

“You’ve met many right persons. You just have to learn to give them enough time to pop the question.”

Larissa laughed at the dour note in her uncle’s voice even as her mind unwillingly slipped back to the person who
had
proposed to her. The first man she had ever loved.

She pushed the thought aside. High school crush. Silly, childish emotions she thought she was over until she saw Garret at Mug Shots.

“Anyhow, I still want a chance to buy the inn,” she said. “Could you at least give me that?”

Her uncle released a heavy sigh. “Lucky for you Garret hasn’t given me any answer one way or the other, and I hinted that other people might be interested, so yes, I’ll give you a chance.”

Relief washed over her. “Thanks so much, Uncle Baxter.”

“I don’t know if you should be thanking me. I don’t want that place to take over your life like it did your mother’s...” He let the sentence trail off as if giving her a chance to change her mind.

“It is my life,” Larissa said.

“That was what I was afraid of.” Uncle Baxter’s voice grew quiet and then she heard him release a light sigh. “But if that’s what you think you want, I’ll give you the time. Now I gotta run. There’s an employee crisis here at the mill. Talk to you soon.”

He hung up and Larissa lowered her hand, breathing in and out, willing her heart to still.

She massaged her temple, feeling suddenly disconnected and untethered. As if the very moorings of her life had been shifted and uprooted.

When her mother died, her father pulled deep into himself, grieving in solitude, leaving Larissa to run the inn and deal with her sorrow on her own. Uncle Baxter had always been more hands-off, content to let his brother-in-law and his niece take care of his sister’s inn.

Larissa poured herself, heart and soul, into her work on the inn, determined to maintain her mother’s legacy, to keep her mother’s memory alive. Though her father inherited forty-nine percent share, he was never as passionate about the inn as she was. Never as involved.

As a result, the inn had slowly lost money and prestige. It needed a makeover, a partner who was vitally interested and a large injection of cash to pull it out of the hole it had fallen into over the past six years.

Larissa looked around the place, letting memories sift into her soul. Twice a year, after her mother was diagnosed with cancer, Paula would go to Mexico for a month with her friend Lydia to regroup, leaving Larissa in charge of the inn. Larissa loved the responsibility and when her mother came back, tanned and relaxed, they would make plans for the following year. But each year her mother lost more and more energy. In the last six months of her mother’s life, when Paula’s health was so fragile she couldn’t even walk anymore, Larissa would push her around in her wheelchair, stopping here on the bridge to watch the water flow and look over the land surrounding the inn. They would talk of future plans for the inn. Horses and a riding stable. A maze her mother had worked on for a number of years. A wedding arbor.

And every time she would look over at Larissa with an expectant smile as if hoping that Larissa would bring to fruition those very plans.

Trouble was, right now, the inn barely held its own. After her mother died, Larissa got to find out just exactly where the inn was financially and it seemed each month it got a little worse. It was at the point that Larissa dreaded her bimonthly meetings with her father and Orest, their bookkeeper and accountant.

Larissa would talk about things she wanted to do to boost the inn’s business, Orest would give her the bad news about the state of the books and her father would nix her plans.

Are you sure you want to do this?

Larissa pushed herself away from the bridge and before her second thoughts could gain force, she dialed the number of the bank, asking to be connected to the loans officer who took care of most of the business for the inn.

She
was
sure. The inn held her best memories. It was all she had ever wanted.

Other than Garret.

She pushed the thought aside. She had to focus on the present. The sooner she could get the process to get her loan in place started, the sooner she could stop Garret’s plans.

* * *

He should have just said no thanks, and moved on.

To what?

Garret swept the question aside as he slammed the door of his car shut. He paused a moment, looking over the property Baxter had offered to sell him four days ago. He looked over the grounds surrounding the inn. The Morrisey Creek Inn sat on twelve acres of prime real estate edging the golf course, creating a tiny oasis of peace.

He had let the idea of buying the inn settle in his mind then he had talked to the bank. When he spoke with the real estate agent in town he found out that Hartley Creek was growing and expanding and each year more tourists came to the area. The inn, with proper management and some financial input, could be a growth opportunity.

It could be a property he could hold on to, then flip and recoup his investment, hopefully with money to spare.

So this morning he decided to see the place again. See if it was as beautiful as he remembered.

The Victorian-style building was built in an L-shape, with a large wooden veranda running along the front and side of the wing. Flowerpots hung from the eaves and nestled against the stairs leading to the main door. The front entrance took up the smaller part of the L and, from what Garret remembered, was where the checkout desk, dining room and kitchen were located. The wing contained the thirty or so rooms that comprised the bulk of the inn’s accommodations.

When they were dating, he and Larissa used to sneak over here and hang out in the kitchen of the inn, persuading Emily Dorval to part with some cookies, which they would then take to one of the outlying buildings. There they would talk, laugh and share stolen kisses and plans.

That was years ago, Garret thought. He let the memories rest a moment, then brushed them away. He wasn’t here to reminisce. He had business to do.

He shot another glance at his watch, looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see Baxter’s SUV coming up the long drive to the inn.

He didn’t feel like waiting around, so he headed up the flagstone walk to the main entrance of the inn.

Overhanging fir and poplar trees shaded the walk, the wind rustling through their leaves, creating a gentle accompaniment to the murmuring of the creek just beyond the inn.

The same creek that cut through the ranch Garret was born and raised on. The ranch his brother, Carter, now lived on with his wife, Emma, and stepson, Adam.

His mouth lifted in a pensive smile. If he bought this place, then he and his brother would both own land along the creek they had grown up next to. Kind of a nice thought.

As he made his way to the entrance he looked over the building with a more critical eye. Time had not been kind to the Morrisey Creek Inn. The exterior needed a new paint job and the trim around the windows was peeling in places.

An older couple stepped out of the entrance, greeting him with a smiling hello and then turned down a side trail branching off the main walk. Garret guessed they were headed to the creek and from there to the walking path that followed it. He and Larissa used to challenge each other to races down the path. She was faster, but he had more endurance and he always won.

He willed away the persistent memories. That was a lifetime ago. He had better get with the present and not get distracted by the past.

He pushed open one of the large wooden doors and stepped inside, pausing as his gaze swept over the entrance. Maple wood wainscoting lined the entrance and above that, the walls were painted a dark blue. The hardwood floor and the large registration desk dominating the entrance matched the wood of the wainscoting.

It was as dark as he remembered it. A lighter paint on the walls would help. He glanced up at the ceiling. Possibly a skylight.

Then he caught a glimpse of dark hair and his stupid heart did a little stutter as Larissa swept into the room, the full skirt of her pink dress swirling out behind her, her hair bouncing with each step. She clutched a folder in one hand and a phone clamped to her ear in the other.

She frowned, nodded, and spoke a few short words, dropping the folder of papers on the desk, followed by the handset of a telephone. For a moment she glared down at both as if they offended her. Then she finger-combed her hair away from her face in a gesture so familiar it created a stirring in his soul.