19
That had been a close call.
Unless she’d misread the situation.
Had she?
In the safety of her room, Vienna sank into the green flocked chair destined for a charity-based resale shop in Coos Bay.
Was it possible she’d misinterpreted Matt’s intent? That he hadn’t planned to kiss her?
But if a kiss had been on his mind, what kinds of signals had she been sending to encourage him?
Groaning, she slammed her eyelids closed and dropped her face into her hands.
Why, oh why, hadn’t she declined his invitation for dinner?
And why, oh why, had she scurried away like a scared rabbit?
It was downright embarrassing.
All she’d have had to do to break the charged mood was grab a piece of pizza, stuff a bite in her mouth, and launch into a discussion about furniture deliveries or carpet samples or even the weather.
She was thirty-three, for pity’s sake, not a sixteen-year-old in the throes of a crush.
How could she ever face—
The muffled, musical notes of her ringtone echoed inside her purse, and she straightened up. Pushed herself to her feet. Crossed to the bed and pulled out her phone.
It was Kay. Half an hour early.
But not early enough.
If she’d called ten minutes ago, the whole fiasco with Matt could have been averted.
She pressed the talk button and put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Kay.”
“I’m sorry to call ahead of schedule, but I’ve been busy with Cora and may be busy again later. I thought I’d try you while I had a quick break. Is this convenient?”
“Yes. It’s fine. I’m in my room. Once I boot up my laptop, we’ll be good to go.” She pulled it out of the case and set it on the bed.
“Are you certain you don’t want me to call back later? You sound a little out of breath.”
Imagine that.
“I’m fine.” Or she would be, as soon as her pulse descended from the stratosphere and her lungs regained their rhythm.
“I’m glad we finally connected by phone. Email and texts have been efficient, but it’s not the same as talking to someone.”
“I hear you. How’s your friend doing?” Not that she knew much about the woman whose surgery had prompted both Kay’s trip to Boise and Matt’s presence here, but it would be polite to inquire.
“Improving day by day, but recovery is a longer and slower process than either of us expected. On a more upbeat topic, I’ve been watching the hits on the website and fielding inquiries all day. Creating a touch of mystery about the inn appears to have been a smart strategy.”
“I’ve popped in and out too. Now that the outside repairs are finished, I think it would be safe to give the exact location and begin promoting the half-price opening deal. We should populate the breakfast page too. Have you had a chance to put together a few sample menus or prepare any of the dishes we discussed so you could snap a few photos? You can have professional shots done after you’re up and running, but the previews don’t have to be at that level since the site still has an under-construction theme.”
“I was hoping to do that tomorrow. I found a recipe for a sausage casserole that sounds tasty.”
Casserole.
Vienna wandered over to the window that overlooked the expanse of ocean, watching the aerial display of two seagulls as she tried to formulate a diplomatic response. “I’m a casserole fan myself for quick and simple meals. But guests at the sort of high-end place we’re hoping to create will want to indulge in fancier, more elaborate food at breakfast. Did you have a chance to look at the menus I sent from several popular inns?”
“Yes. To tell you the truth, they’re kind of intimidating.”
Hmm.
Was food going to be the weak link in their relaunch?
“I’m not much of a chef, but between the two of us we ought to be able to put together three or four menus that aren’t too difficult to pull off. And since most guests will only stay a short time, we can just keep repeating the menu cycle.”
Kay exhaled. “I wish I could cook like Dana.”
That name rang no bells. “Who?”
“Matt’s wife. She could whip up a gourmet feast without breaking a sweat. I had some Instagram-worthy dishes at their house.” Kay sighed again. “Matt tried to make home-cooked meals for Grace’s sake after Dana was killed, but his heart wasn’t in it. He finally gave up and resorted to takeout dinners most nights.”
Food dropped off her radar as Vienna processed the new information Kay had relayed.
Matt’s wife had been killed? She hadn’t died of an illness?
And who was Grace?
Brain buzzing, Vienna returned to the bed and sat beside her laptop. “Um . . . I think you lost me, Kay. Matt’s never mentioned anyone named Grace.”
A few beats ticked by.
“That’s strange. I assumed, with you staying at the inn, he’d probably told you about his daughter.”
A jolt ricocheted through Vienna.
Matt had a daughter?
She tightened her grip on the cell and tried for a conversational tone. “No. We don’t actually see each other that much.”
“Oh.” More silence. “Maybe I spoke out of turn. He doesn’t really talk about Grace, but I figured it would have come up somewhere along the way, with you two living under the same roof. Not that it’s exactly dinner conversation.”
“In general we don’t eat dinner together.”
“I thought he was providing the evening meal for everyone.”
“Most nights I eat with my mom.”
“That’s a shame. I think he could use someone to talk to. I try to have meaningful conversations on the phone, but it’s too easy for him to dance around hard stuff from a distance. So, back to the food. I’ll work on the menus tomorrow. And I did review the choices you suggested for bedding. Can we start with the Italian company?”
That would be Frette.
Moving on autopilot, Vienna clicked on her saved link for the company.
But as they went through the final list of soft goods to order and made their selections over the forty-five-minute call, her mind was only half on that task as a parade of questions strobed through her mind.
How had Dana been killed?
Had it been an accident?
If so, had Matt been injured too?
When had it happened?
Why didn’t he talk about it?
And most of all . . . where was Grace?
As Andrew paused beside the bed and read the text that had come in while he and Paige were having their picnic on the beach, his pulse picked up.
The brief message was after the one she’d sent to her father when they’d replaced their smartphones with a single burner cell months ago. A quick note to let her parents know how to reach them, if ever they wanted to connect.
They hadn’t.
Until now.
And the curt “call me” directive her father had left wasn’t comforting.
The shower in the attached bath shut off, and Andrew’s stomach began to churn.
With all Paige had endured over the past months, she didn’t need more stress.
But whatever had prompted her father’s text was going to bring a boatload of it.
Guaranteed.
He sat on the edge of the bed and waited.
Five minutes later, the door clicked open and Paige appeared, smiling as she finger combed her wet hair. “The sand has been vanquished. I’m glad the wind didn’t pick up until . . .” She stopped, her lips flatlining. “What’s wrong?”
He rose and lifted the phone. “We got a text from your father.”
The flush on her cheeks from the warm shower vanished, displaced by a sudden pallor. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. He just said to call.” Andrew held out the phone.
For a long moment, she remained where she was, eyeing the cell. Then she walked across the room, her gait stiff, and took it.
Her fingers were ice cold as they brushed his.
“Let’s sit.” He caught her hand and tugged her onto the side of the bed beside him.
“It has to be about Mom.” Worry vibrated through her words. “Dad would never have texted on his own. Whatever it is must be bad.”
“You don’t know that until you talk to him.” But she was probably right, based on the radio silence from his end after Paige defied him to marry the man she loved.
Paige lifted the phone and placed the call.
Two rings in, he answered.
“Dad? It’s Paige. What’s wrong?”
Andrew leaned closer to hear both sides of the conversation.
“Your mom appears to have had a stroke.”
The unsugarcoated response hung in the air, stark and ominous.
Paige sucked in a breath. “How bad is it?”
“Unknown. The doctors are evaluating her. Her speech is garbled, but she kept repeating a word while we waited for the ambulance. I finally realized she was saying your name. I assume she wanted me to reach out to you.”
But without his wife’s prod, he wouldn’t have called.
No surprise.
From what Andrew had picked up about the couple, Warren Reynolds was the one who’d decided they should cease communicating with the daughter who hadn’t lived up to his expectations in terms of academic career or choice of husband, and Paige’s mother had fallen in line. Perhaps more to preserve peace in her marriage than out of a desire to cut off her only child.
Distress carved grooves onto Paige’s forehead. “Where is she?”
The name of the hospital Warren relayed was one of the largest in Portland.
Andrew leaned closer and spoke in her ear. “I’ll drive you up. Tonight.”
“Hold on a second, Dad.” She muted the phone and looked over at him, her eyes conflicted. “How can we do that? We have commitments here. Matt’s counting on us, and I’m too new at my job to ask for time off.”
“Portland is less than five hours away. We’re both off tomorrow, and you don’t have to be back at the Myrtle until Tuesday morning. Worst case, you let the job go and stay up there while I come back here to finish the job.”
“We need the money.” Her voice had grown shakier.
“We’ll make it work, Paige.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “Are you really up for a middle-of-the-night road trip?”
No, he wasn’t. After the long hours he’d been putting in at the inn, he fell into bed every night as if he’d been drugged.
But if Paige wanted to go to Portland, he’d get her there. Whatever it took.
“I can sleep when I get there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Tell your dad we’re heading out. ETA between three and four.” He leaned close again to listen in.
After a brief hesitation, she relayed the information.
“It’s dangerous to drive all night.” Was that a thread of worry winding through her dad’s words? “Where are you coming from?”
“A little town called Hope Harbor, down the Oregon coast.”
“The coast roads are foggy. If you insist on coming, why don’t you wait until morning? I can text you with news.”
“But what if something . . . if something happens to Mom before then?” Paige’s voice broke.
“Nothing’s going to happen. She’ll be fine. She has to be fine.” His words rasped, a rare crack in the stoic front he always presented to the world.
Andrew took the phone. “We’re on our way, Mr. Reynolds. I’ll get Paige there safely. Please call us if there are any updates during our drive. We’ll see you in a few hours.” He pressed the end button. “Why don’t you pack a bag for both of us while I let Matt know what’s going on?” He stood and tried to pull his hand free.
She held on tight and rose, stepping close to wrap her arms around his neck. “You’re the best, you know that?”
At the soft light of love in her eyes, his throat swelled. “You stole my line.” He gave her a quick kiss and backed off. “I’ll find Matt and make a cup of coffee to go. You want one?”
“No thanks. I’m already wired.”
Too bad he couldn’t tap into a smidgen of her adrenaline.
“I’ll be back in five minutes.”
He left her in the room, put a pod into the coffeemaker in the kitchen, and went in search of Matt.
The man was nowhere to be found.
Strange.
He checked the parking lot.
His boss’s car was there, meaning he had to be close by. But where?
Rather than waste time on a further search, he pulled out his cell and punched in Matt’s number.
The call rolled to voicemail.
He blew out a breath and disconnected. This wasn’t the kind of news he wanted to leave in a voice message.
Maybe he could knock on Vienna’s door, tell her the story, and ask her to pass it on to Matt.
Yeah. That would work.
He picked up his coffee, added a lid to the disposable cup, and went back upstairs.
Faint music came through Vienna’s door, so at least she was on the premises.
He knocked, and the music ceased.
A few seconds later, she pulled the door open.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Matt’s not here and I’d rather talk to someone in person than leave a note or voicemail.”
“No worries. The video presentation I was watching is over. What’s up?”
He briefed her in a few succinct sentences. “Would you pass all that on to Matt tomorrow? And please let him know I’ll be back on the job Tuesday at the latest and that I’ll make up any time I lose on Monday.”
“Don’t worry about that. Family comes first. Will you tell Paige I’m sorry to hear about her mom?”
“Yes. Let Matt know he can call me if he wants to talk, and that I’ll give him an update tomorrow.”
“I’ll take care of it. Just drive safe.”
“That’s my plan.”
When he returned to the room, Paige was zipping her small overnight bag closed. His was also packed and ready to go. “I hope I didn’t forget anything.”
“If you did, we’ll buy what we need in Portland. Ready to roll?”
“Yes.”
He picked up their bags, and she followed him out the door, down the stairs, and into the night.
Once their bags were stowed, he slid behind the wheel of the truck and buckled up mentally as well as physically.
Because the road ahead could be rough—and unless Paige’s father had had a change of heart, there wasn’t going to be a warm welcome waiting for them at the end of their long, dark journey.