Moorehouse Legacy: Beauty and the Black Sheep Part 22

Alex squeezed his eyes shut again. Grief radiated out of his chest, running through his veins like vinegar, drowning out the aches in his body. He gritted his teeth so he didn't cry out like a sissy, but tears escaped, rolling down his cheeks like the salty spray of the sea.

Nate was hotter than h.e.l.l in the kitchen. He'd finished with his daily prep, the bread was made, and he had an hour before he had to get dinner service rolling. He took the back stairs two at a time, changed into his bathing suit, and went to look for Frankie. He found her in the garden, bent over, staking up the tomato plants. He took a moment to admire her long legs."You want to go for a swim?" he asked.

She glanced at him from under her arm and smiled. Tendrils of hair were curling around the nape of her neck from the heat and her sweat. "Great idea. I've got three more to go. I'll meet you down at the lake."

As he looked into the flas.h.i.+ng blue of her eyes, a shaft of yearning pierced his heart.

"Go on, now. Shoo," she said laughingly. "You're distracting me."

"If you need any help getting into your bathing suit, let me know."

"Maybe you can get me out of it after we're done swimming."

"Lady, it would be my pleasure."

He ambled down the lawn. When he got to the end of the dock, he jumped into the water, feeling the cooling rush over his skin. He floated on his back, sculling with his hands, staring up at the blue sky and the white clouds and the blinding yellow sunlight.

"Hey, mister?"

Nate looked over to the right. There was a seven-year-old boy standing at the sh.o.r.e, a brilliant orange life jacket hanging c.o.c.keyed from his little body.

"Mister, can you help me? I'm not allowed to go on the dock without this thing, but I can't get the things right and if I don't get them right my brother's going to tell on me because I put toothpaste in his shoe last night, and I want to see the fish because they were there yesterday and I need to know if they are still there and I can't see them from the sh.o.r.e-"

Nate blinked and treaded water as the sentence went on and on.

It ended with, "So will you, huh? Please?"

Nate looked around. There were no other grown-ups in sight so he swam over to the dock's ladder, climbed out of the water, and dried off his face and hands. He approached cautiously, like the kid was of a different species entirely and maybe of the stinging variety. He fiddled with the straps and snap hooks, got everything where it should be, and rose to his feet. It was like pa.s.sing a test, he thought.

"Thanks, mister. My name is Henry. I come from New York City. I'm six and a half. My brother's nine and he's a pain, but I kind of like him sometimes except when he's mean, which is not really all that often. My mother says she's happy that she had two boys but that she doesn't want any more kids, which is too bad because I want a sister..."

Henry followed Nate back out to the end of the dock, chattering all the way. When they got to the end, Nate sat down and the boy plopped right next to him. Which was not exactly what Nate had had in mind.

"Although, I don't know, maybe she wouldn't like SpongeBob SquarePants and then I don't know if I would like her and I wonder whether there would be fewer presents..."

Nate couldn't help but stare at the kid. He had rosy cheeks and bright green eyes and his hands flew around as he talked like a sparrow's wings.

"Do you?" Henry demanded.

Nate shook himself. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Know anything about fish?"

"Ah, yeah."

There was a pause and Nate had to wonder if Henry was finally oxygenating his blood. The kid hadn't taken more than two breaths since he'd stepped off the gra.s.s.

"So?" Came the st.u.r.dy prompt. "Whadayaknow about them?"

Nate cleared his throat. And then something odd happened. He started telling Henry about the different ways a chef could cook fish and before he knew it they were in a conversation.

Henry was a sponge, all rapt eyes and smart questions. The kid was going to grow up to be an intellectual and that maybe explained why his head seemed so large on his thin shoulders. He probably needed extra room for that brain of his.

When footsteps approached, Nate looked over his shoulder.

Thank G.o.d, replacement troops.

"Hi," Frankie said gently. Her voice was even, but her eyes were concerned, as if she feared he'd been trapped by the boy. "What's going on?"

Henry looked up. "Hi. I'm Henry, I met you yesterday, remember? I'm learning about fish. Did you know that he's a chef?"

Frankie smiled. "Yes, I did."

"He knows everything about fish."

"Does he?"

Henry nodded gravely, as if he were a medical resident who'd had the chance to spend time with Jonas Salk.

Frankie looked back at Nate and he gave her a small smile. He couldn't say that being with Henry was easy. But it wasn't painful, either, probably because he was so distracted by all the talk. And the weird thing was, he kind of liked pa.s.sing what he knew along to such a captivated audience.

Frankie sat down on the other side of Henry, dangling her bare feet in the water. Nate stared across the boy's dark head at her. She had a grin on her face while she listened to Henry regurgitate what he'd learned, like a little tape recorder.

Unexpectedly, Nate felt the urge to laugh as his own words drifted out into the summer air, spoken in a much higher octave and with a slight lisp.

At the end of the night, Frankie turned off her desk lamp. Nate had gone upstairs already and she could hear him moving around above her. She sat in the dark for a few minutes, just listening to him.Sitting on that dock with Henry between them had been a joy and a torment. She could tell Nate had felt awkward because his voice had been strained and his back stiff. But by the time the boy's mother had called him inside to change for dinner, Frankie could have sworn Nate was almost enjoying himself. That was the good part.

The more awkward thing was that the scene made her think of having a child with him. She just couldn't help testing the fantasy and seeing if it fit. And boy, did it ever.

Well, at least in her mind it did.

Except he'd already told her he didn't want marriage or a family and one conversation with a seven-year-old about ichthyology wasn't going to change all that.

And h.e.l.l, even if he did want to get down on one knee, and he'd given her no reason to expect that he ever would for anybody, there was still the little inconvenience of them being separated by hundreds of miles.

Frankie went upstairs and got into the shower, thinking she needed to get away from her morose thoughts. The water pressure was pathetic, barely enough to get the suds out of her hair, and she wondered whether Alex was out of bed. Maybe now that the house was quiet, he'd ventured from his room and was was.h.i.+ng his hair in the sink or taking a sponge bath.

When she got to her room, Nate was in bed. His book was open on his lap, but his head was back against the pillows and his eyes were closed. With his cheekbones even more prominent than usual, he looked exhausted and as if he'd lost some weight. He'd been working so hard in that hot kitchen and they'd been...busy during the nights. Although she was also tired, from Alex's disappearance and worrying about the business, at least she hadn't had to cook a hundred meals every night on top of it all.

She tiptoed over to him, slid the book from his hands and turned off the lamp. As she got in next to him, he let out an unintelligible sentence, dragged her body as close to his as he could get it, and started to snore softly. She'd gotten used to the sounds he made. To the way his body weighted down the mattress so she always ended up in a hole next him. To his warmth and his smell.

With cold dread, she imagined herself having to adjust to sleeping without him.

Hours later, she must have had some kind of nightmare. She woke up in the early morning, damp with sweat, tears on her face. Nate was stroking her hair, looking worried. When she reached for him, they made love-the sweet, slow gentle kind.

They were laying together, with her body draped boneless and utterly satisfied over his, when he asked her what her dream had been about.

"I don't know." She stroked his chest. "I think I was in an old house. Going from room to room. There was someone I was supposed to find, but I just couldn't get to them."

"I've had dreams like that. The searching variety. I had a lot of them after..." He hesitated. "After Celia left."

Celia. Her name had been Celia.

Frankie was tempted to ask all sorts of questions, but what was the point? The events had marked him and doing a postmortem on what had caused the scars wasn't going to change anything.

Instead, she found herself wanting to tell him that she loved him.

The realization that she had fallen for him didn't really seem sudden or out of the blue. It had been emerging for a time, slowly inching free of her unconsciousness, coming to the forefront of her mind.

She loved him.

The words were so close to breaching her lips, carried up out of her heart on a complicated wave of awe and bittersweet sorrow. So her mouth would stay closed, she kissed him, and lingered, keeping their lips together.

Chapter Fifteen.

N ate had just gone down to start breakfast when Frankie thought she heard him cursing. She froze, her pants halfway up her legs. Yup, that low rumble was him letting loose a few good ones. Yanking a s.h.i.+rt on over her head and throwing on some shoes, she quickly descended the stairs and nearly tripped on her own feet when she walked into the kitchen.

At first, she couldn't even comprehend what she was looking at.There were two inches of water across the floor and more was coming in from a huge hole in the ceiling. Sheetrock covered the stove and the counters.

"Oh, my G.o.d," she breathed in horror.

Nate climb up onto a countertop and peered into the rafters. "A pipe must have burst hours ago and the d.a.m.n thing has to be hooked into the supply line. You need time and a constant supply of water to make this kind of mess."

Of course. Her shower last night. No pressure.

"You better check the walk-in," Nate said. "If the compressor got wet, it's probably shorted out."

She crossed the room, splas.h.i.+ng as she went, the water soaking into her sneakers. Sure enough, the compressor wasn't working and there was a faint burning smell in the air.

This cannot be happening, she thought. It just couldn't be real. Any minute now the alarm clock was going to go off and they'd have a chuckle about her vivid imagination.

Any minute.

A slos.h.i.+ng noise cut through her stupid optimism.

George looked worried as he came into the room. "I turned the sink off last night. Really, I did. At least I think I did."

Hearing his voice helped her flip into crisis mode. She went to her office and called the plumber and the electrician. When she came back to the kitchen, Nate had gotten out mops and buckets, but was shaking his head.

"We need a water pump. Is there a U-Rent-It place around here?"

She got lost for a moment looking into the rafters. Water was relentlessly snaking into her house. How much was this going to cost to repair? Thousands. Tens of thousands. Her stomach rolled. She had a home owner's insurance policy, but old, rotting plumbing fell into the act of G.o.d category.

Actually, those rotting pipes were more like Lucifer's territory.

"Frankie?"

"Ah, there's one in the next town over. The plumber said he'd be here in fifteen minutes. If you can watch him, I'll go and get the equipment."

Nate nodded. "This doesn't smell like sewage, but the crud in that ceiling is nasty. I'm going to have to disinfect everything before we can serve food out of here. You should a.s.sume we're closed down at least until tomorrow afternoon. Probably longer."

She thought of all the income they were going to lose. The guests were going to be due a refund for some of their payments. White Caps was a bed and breakfast after all. And they'd been making money hand over fist in the dining room, but that was going to stop, effective immediately.

As Frankie stared at the dirty puddle she was standing in, she realized it was all over. There was no way to meet the mortgage payments now. White Caps was lost.

She must have moaned or something because suddenly Nate was pulling her into his shoulder. As all of the fight left her, the only thing keeping her standing was his strong arm around her waist.

Joy waved as the Honda drove off. It had taken a half hour to convince Frankie that she could leave with Alex and Nate to go see the orthopedic surgeon and everything would still be under control. Because truly, there was nothing to be done. The plumber had shut off the water supply at the source and determined that the whole pipe system in the back end of the house needed to be replaced. The only good news was that he'd been able to jerry-rig a way for the bathrooms in the front to get water so the guests were taken care of.Reservations for the dining room had been cancelled indefinitely. Between replacing the walk-in compressor, installing the new plumbing and putting up fresh Sheetrock, they'd be lucky to reopen the kitchen in a week. But at least Frankie was handling the whole thing really well. She was utterly calm, even when the plumber had told her his part of the job would be upwards of $15,000. a.s.suming everything went smoothly.

Joy headed back inside. The guests were eating lunch in town, George had gone upstairs for a nap, and Grand-Em was in her room, rereading the dance cards from her 1939 debut at the Plaza in New York. For Joy, having a few moments to herself was an incredible luxury and she decided to take a swim.

After changing into her bikini, she went down to the dock and was about to dive in when she heard her name being called.

That voice. His voice.

She turned around and squinted into the sun, thinking she had to be hallucinating.

But good Lord, was that Gray Bennett? Walking down the lawn to her?

Joy lunged for her towel and wrapped it around herself. Being practically naked in front of him was not going to improve her verbal skills.

Which had pretty much drained out of the soles of her feet and into the cribbing anyway.

G.o.d, he was too beautiful to look at. Dressed in tennis whites and with his dark hair all s.h.i.+ny in the sunlight, he looked powerful and s.e.xy. With his sungla.s.ses hiding his eyes, he seemed calm and in control, but she was curious to find as he got closer that his harsh, hawk-like face was somewhat tense.

"Where is everyone?" he asked as he hit the dock.

She opened her mouth and words came out in a ramble. "We had a little plumbing problem in the kitchen so the guests are out to lunch and Frankie took my brother to Albany."

"Alex is in town?"

"He was in an accident."

Gray frowned and took off the gla.s.ses. His blue eyes glowed with intelligence. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is he all right?"

"We hope he will be. What are you doing here?" She winced. Way to be welcoming. Maybe she should kick him in the s.h.i.+ns while she was at it. "What I mean is-"

He smiled. "My father's birthday is in the middle of September and we're going to have the party up here this year. I was wondering if White Caps catered."

They never had before, but she couldn't imagine Frankie would turn down business, especially now. "Why don't I have my sister give you a call?"

"Sounds good." He put his sungla.s.ses back on and his head tilted down a little. As crazy as it was, she had the feeling he was staring at her. And that he'd covered his eyes because he didn't want her to know it.