20
He ought to go back to the inn. It was getting late.
But he wasn’t ready to turn in yet.
As the full moon disappeared behind a stray cloud and a shadow fell over the sea, Matt paused in his solitary trek down the deserted beach. A large log that had been battered by the elements and worn smooth by wind and waves beckoned, and he trudged over, sat on top, and fished out his wallet.
Hesitated.
The moon peeked out of its hiding place, casting a silver light on the scene, and he swallowed. After wiping his palm on his jeans, he worked his finger into the spot behind his driver’s license and withdrew the laminated photo buried there.
Bracing, he angled the shot toward the lunar glow and examined the faces smiling back at him. Dana, vibrant and happy. Grace, eyes alight behind the candles of her birthday cake. Him, a hand resting on each of their shoulders and bending into the photo, sporting a carefree grin that had been absent for two long years.
It was a photo from another life, encapsulating a time of joy and fulfillment and completeness that would never come again.
Vision misting, he tucked the photo back into its slot.
Vienna may have stirred up the embers of longing that were a by-product of his loneliness and grief, but he needed to extinguish them. He didn’t deserve another chance at happiness.
Period.
So the sooner he left Hope Harbor and his lovely pro bono inn consultant behind, the better.
Trouble was, he had eight more days to go in a leave that had been earmarked for R&R but had instead dumped more stress in his lap. Eight days during which it would be impossible to avoid Vienna and the yearning she’d awakened in him.
As for any hopes Steve harbored that his partner would return refreshed and—
His phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it out. Skimmed the screen.
Why would Kay call him twice in one day? Had something come up in her conversation with Vienna that she wanted to discuss? Or was this about Cora?
He pressed the talk button and put the cell to his ear. “Hey, Sis. Everything okay?”
“Fine. Cora went to bed early and I was at loose ends. Are you busy?”
“Nope. Sitting on the beach.”
A beat ticked by.
“It’s almost nine thirty. Isn’t it dark there?”
“The moon’s out.”
“Strange hour for a beach stroll. Everything okay on your end?”
“Fine.” Hopefully she wouldn’t see through that lie. “How did your chat with Vienna go?”
The slight delay in her response put a blip on his radar screen. “It was productive. We picked out bedding and a bunch of other items. Will there be room in the garage to store everything until we’re ready to bring it into the inn?”
“I hope so. I started parking in the lot to accommodate all the deliveries.”
“Sorry about that, but better a wet car than soggy furniture and soft goods. Vienna sounds nice.”
He recalibrated at the non sequitur. “Uh-huh. You’ll get to meet her in person after your Florence Nightingale gig is over.”
“Yeah.”
Her lack of enthusiasm about returning wasn’t encouraging.
But if she wanted to sell the inn down the road, he wouldn’t fight her on it. After the transformation Vienna was making, Kay should get top dollar for it.
“So how are you keeping yourself occupied when you’re not helping Cora?” He rose and meandered back toward the inn. Tackling a discussion about the future of the inn would be too taxing tonight.
“There’s more to do here than you might imagine. Cora tries to take on too much, so half my day is spent reining her in and keeping her entertained. But I’ve been getting away for a couple of hours most afternoons while she naps to visit Liz at the garden center. I’ve actually pitched in to help a few times. Working there has been therapeutic.”
She proceeded to wax poetic about helping customers find the most suitable flowers for their gardens, caring for seedlings in the greenhouse, potting plants that were ready to be sold, and a myriad of other tasks. There was more animation and enthusiasm in her voice about her hours at the nursery than there’d ever been during their recent discussions about Sandcastle Inn.
As she wound down, he picked up his pace toward the welcoming lights of the inn in the distance. “I’m glad you’re able to work in a break and get fresh air.” Unless it was further undermining her resolve to be an innkeeper for the immediate future while she considered all her options.
“I’ve enjoyed the hours I’ve spent there, and Liz is shorthanded. Two people quit on her a day apart.”
“It can be tough to find reliable workers these days. We lucked out with Andrew and Paige. Not to mention Vienna.”
“I know. Listen . . . about Vienna.”
His step slowed at her odd inflection. “What about Vienna?”
“While we were talking tonight, I mentioned . . . I mean, I assumed the two of you had shared a little background. I didn’t realize she knew nothing about your past.”
He stopped walking. “What did you tell her?”
“Just that Dana was a fabulous cook, and how you tried to pick up the slack after she died by making meals for . . . for Grace. I had no idea she was clueless about her.”
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “How much did you say about Grace?”
“Nothing except her name. As soon as I realized Vienna didn’t know anything, I backed off. Did you tell her what happened to Dana?”
“No. I haven’t discussed my personal situation with her. Nor am I planning to.”
“Why not? Locking everything up inside isn’t healthy, and you won’t talk to me.”
“I’m doing fine, Kay.”
“Then why did you take a whole month off?”
“Someone had to oversee the inn while you went to help Cora.”
“Would Steve give me the same story if I talked to him?”
Matt called up his most daunting back-off tone. “Let it go, Kay.”
His sister snorted. “Forget trying to intimidate me, little brother. I have a lot of years on you—and a ton of practice being both sister and mother-figure. But if you don’t think Vienna would be an empathetic listener, forget I mentioned it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So why not talk to her? It might be helpful to hear a third-party point of view on your issues, since you won’t talk to me.”
“I don’t have issues.”
“Says the man whose workaholic tendencies have multiplied as fast as tribbles over the past year and who hibernates in his condo when he isn’t at his office.”
He turned his back to the wind as a gust stirred up the sand at his feet. “How would you know any of that?”
“No matter how late I call you, you’re either at the clinic checking on the four-footed patients you’ve kept overnight or holed up in your study at home with a medical journal.”
Since that was true, denying it would be foolish.
“Fine. I work hard and I put in long hours. We all deal with grief in different ways.” Despite his attempt to contain his irritation, it bubbled to the surface and spilled out. “But I didn’t run out and sink my nest egg into a floundering B&B.”
The instant the hurtful comment left his mouth, he cringed.
And the dead silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes about his sister’s reaction.
He closed his eyes. Filled his lungs. Just because she’d hit too close to home in her assessment of him was no excuse to lash out at her.
“Kay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” Her voice was stiff. “At least I’m willing to admit I may have made a few mistakes while trying to deal with all of the upheaval in my life. I’ve also been spilling my guts to Cora. Liz too. And talking is helping me clarify my thinking about all kinds of stuff. You may want to give it a try. Now if I were you, I’d get off the beach before the tide washes you away. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she ended the call.
Stomach bottoming out, he slowly slid the cell back into his pocket.
Lambasting Kay had been a mistake. She was the only family he had, and after everything she’d sacrificed for him, he owed her compassion, not criticism.
So come tomorrow, he’d have to try to mend that fence.
As for the fence around his heart that was locking in all the emotions he didn’t want to deal with—maybe Kay was right. Maybe the time had come to begin dismantling it.
Charley would no doubt offer him a sympathetic ear if he wanted a sounding board. The man radiated kindness and compassion.
Yet as Matt started forward again, toward the golden light shining from the windows of the inn, it wasn’t Charley who was front and center in his mind.
It was a beautiful, caring hotel executive who’d trusted him enough to share her own darkest, deepest secrets.
Problem was, if he let his defenses down with her and opened the gate to his heart even an inch, there was a very real danger she’d slip inside and never leave.
Matt was back.
If she hadn’t cracked the door to her room and been listening for his return, Vienna would have missed the faint snicker of the glass slider that led from the great room to the terrace.
She scanned her watch.
Ten o’clock.
He must have taken a long, late walk on the beach.
Prompted by the same excess energy pinging in her nerve endings, thanks to their almost-kiss? A need to clear his head? A sudden restlessness that had nothing to do with worry over his sister’s purchase of an inn that was draining her financial reserves and everything to do with the hotel consultant who was a temporary occupant in said inn’s premier room?
Hard to say. And further contact with him tonight hadn’t been in her plans, despite the questions bouncing around in her mind after her conversation with Kay.
But she had news to share about the Thompsons, and it couldn’t wait until morning.
Taking a steadying breath, she left her room behind and descended the stairs to the foyer.
A light was on in the kitchen, and she veered that direction.
Matt was rinsing out a mug at the sink, and she stopped on the threshold.
“May I interrupt for a minute?”
He swung toward her, surprise flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”
Nor was he certain he wanted to, given the odd vibes wafting her direction.
“I won’t keep you long.” She passed on Andrew’s message. “He said he’d be in touch tomorrow with an update.”
“I’m sorry to hear about Paige’s mother. I didn’t realize either of them had family that close by.”
“Me neither. I’m thinking they may be estranged, if her parents didn’t help them out after all their troubles.”
“That seems plausible.” He wiped his hands on a dishcloth. “How was the livestream for your mom’s award program?”
“Impressive. I’m glad she went. She was beaming, and her acceptance speech was vintage Mom. If the applause was any indication, the attendees loved it—and her.”
“It’s a shame you couldn’t have gone.”
“Someone had to keep the home fires burning. Or, in this case, man the desk at Bev’s Book Nook.” He didn’t respond to that, so she took a step back. “Well, it’s getting late. I’m going to call it a night.” She began to turn away.
“I, uh, talked to Kay a few minutes ago.”
She pivoted back.
Had his sister mentioned the breakfast issue, perhaps? Was that why he’d brought up their conversation?
It would be helpful if she had. The morning meal was a critical component in the inn’s success, and Kay didn’t seem up to the task in terms of either skills or interest. The issue had to be addressed, and it would be less awkward if her brother broached the subject.
“She and I had a productive discussion tonight. We hammered out a ton of details.”
“That’s what she told me.” He leaned back against the counter and wrapped his fingers around the edge. “She also said she mentioned my wife and daughter.”
Vienna blinked.
That had come out of left field.
And why had he shared that piece of information? Was it an invitation to ask questions? A signal he was willing to talk about private matters? A tentative reaching out to see if she was receptive to hearing his story? An indication he wanted to take their friendship to a deeper level?
“Um . . .”
As she grappled with those questions, he pushed off from the sink. “As you said, it’s getting late. We should—”
“No. Wait.” He must have interpreted her sudden speechlessness as a reluctance to dive into heavier subjects.
And maybe it would be wiser to back off if she didn’t want to get involved with this principled man who’d come here to help his sister out of a jam while nursing his own hurts.
But it was impossible to turn away from the sorrow in the depths of his eyes.
“Yes, Kay did mention them. No details, though.”
“She knows I don’t talk about them much.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “When you lose the two people who are the center of your world, it’s easier to bury the pain than deal with it.”
Her pulse stumbled.
Mystery of his daughter’s whereabouts solved.
She wasn’t with him because she had died too.
Sweet mercy.
How did a person cope with so much loss?
“I knew your wife had died. Kay told Mom. But I didn’t know until tonight that you had a daughter. I can’t begin to imagine how hard those losses must have been.”
Bleak as his expression already was, the desolation on his face intensified. “It’s even worse when the deaths are your fault.”
As his confession hovered in the air between them, Vienna groped for the edge of the counter beside her.
Matt had caused the deaths of his wife and child?
No.
That wasn’t computing.
Any guilt he carried had to be misplaced.
But whatever its source, it might need to be discussed and analyzed before it could be released.
“Sorry. I know that’s a heavy subject to introduce.” The corners of his stiff lips creaked up a hair, as if the tiny movement required supreme effort. “Kay read me the riot act tonight about keeping everything inside, and I guess her comments are still on my mind. She may be right, but it isn’t fair to pull the first person to cross my path into the dark place I’ve been living for the past two years.”
She scrutinized him.
Was that the truth? Would he have opened up to anyone who’d happened to walk into the room tonight? Or was it possible he felt the same connection between them that she did, and he was too scared to admit it?
Only one way to find out.
“Are you saying you’d have brought this up to Andrew or Paige if they’d come in instead of me?”
As he pondered her quiet question, his eyes reflected a serious internal debate.
She waited while he wrestled with her question.
At last, shoulders slumping, he slowly shook his head. “No. I haven’t even talked about it in detail with my partner at our practice, and we’ve been friends since vet school. Kay only knows pieces of it. I brought it up to you because you shared your story with me, and . . . and I trust you.”
Pressure built in her throat as the significance of his admission registered.
He trusted her not just with his story but with his heart.
Those may not have been the words he’d used, but that was what he’d meant.
She took a step toward him. “Thank you for that. And if you’d like to talk about your wife and daughter, I’ve been told I’m a decent listener. Sometimes having a third-party point of view can help bring clarity.”
“That’s what Kay said.”
“Has she ever given you bad advice?”
“Not about personal matters. She’s less savvy on the business side, as this indicates.” He swept a hand over the inn. “But it’s late, and the story isn’t pretty.”
Was he giving her an out, or getting cold feet?
If he wanted to bail, fine. But she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.
“I stayed up far later than this working on projects for my previous job. Besides, I can take a nap tomorrow after services if I’m tired. And I’m not afraid of ugly.”
After a moment, he slowly removed his hands from his pockets and motioned to the table. “Do you want to sit for a few minutes?”
In silence, she walked over and claimed the seat she’d occupied during their pizza dinner.
He joined her, stopping beside the chair he’d sat in earlier. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“No thanks. If I ingest any caffeine at this hour, I’ll be wired all night.” As if she wouldn’t be anyway, after this late evening tête-à-tête.
He pulled out his chair. Sat. Knitted his fingers together on the table and stared at his knuckles. “I have no idea where to start.”
Probably not, if he’d kept all of his guilt and pain and recriminations bottled inside for months—or years.
“Why don’t you tell me why you decided to take a whole month off from your vet practice?” If he’d realized time away would be beneficial, talking about the reasons why should get him on track to discuss—
“I didn’t. Steve, my partner, more or less twisted my arm. He suggested six weeks. We compromised on four.”
So the break hadn’t been initiated by Matt.
That put a whole different spin on his state of mind when he’d arrived in Hope Harbor.
She’d have to approach this from another direction.
“Why did your partner push you to take a leave?”
“I hadn’t been sleeping, and it showed. Plus, I made a couple of minor treatment mistakes that fortunately didn’t harm either patient. Steve thought some R&R would be helpful.”
“Instead, you got This Old Inn on steroids.”
“At least it’s kept my mind occupied on things other than grief and guilt.”
“Which may not be the most effective way to deal with either.”
“So Kay and Steve have told me.”
She studied him. “The grief I get. Not the guilt.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “This is where it gets uglier.”
“Why don’t you give me a bit of history? Tell me how you and your wife met?” Perhaps opening with backstory would ease him into the harder subject matter.
“Okay.” He exhaled. “I was in vet school, and she was getting her master’s degree in cybersecurity. We clicked right away, but we didn’t get married until I was established in my practice. Dana landed a great job with an international firm, but after we had Grace, she became an independent contractor and worked out of the home. We had a perfect life.” A muscle ticced in his jaw. “Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. All because of my mistakes.”
Silence fell in the room, broken only by a jarring clatter as the icemaker in the fridge dumped a new batch of cubes into the bin.
Vienna waited, giving him space to collect his thoughts—and his courage.
Yet whatever mistakes he was about to claim he’d made, she had a feeling he was being far harder on himself than anyone else would be.
When he at last picked up the story, a quiver ran through his voice. “Dana liked to run every morning. I’d watch Grace while she was gone. One Saturday two years ago, I wanted to sleep as late as I could. I had to be at the office by nine, but I’d been out the night before at a bachelor party for a vet school friend. To accommodate me, Dana started her run later than usual, and she cut it short by taking a different route home. According to the witness, a passing car swerved to avoid a squirrel that darted across the street, and the driver lost control. He hit Dana. She died two days later from her head injuries.”
The pizza left in Vienna’s stomach from their dinner began to churn. “I’m so sorry.” Lame, but what could you say to a person who’d lost his spouse in such a senseless, heartbreaking tragedy—and who blamed his selfishness for the circumstances that led to her death?
“So am I.” He loosened his fingers and flexed his white knuckles. “Grace is the only thing that kept me going, and she became the focus of my world. Until the nightmare repeated itself a year later.” His voice rasped, and he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “I may have to stop here.”
She reached out and covered the fist he’d clenched on the table with her fingers, gentling her tone. “If you want to pick this up another time, that’s fine. I’m available. If you want to take a few minutes to regroup, I’ll wait. You decide. But it may be easier to continue now than return to this later.”
His gaze dipped to their joined hands.
For a moment, she thought he might pull away.
He didn’t.
“I’ll try to finish the story.” He drew a ragged breath. “After a few months, Grace began to bounce back. She was excited about her fifth birthday, and I promised her we’d spend the whole day together. Morning at the zoo, afternoon at the beach, dinner at a kid-friendly place that sent every child home with a helium balloon. We had a fantastic day. The happiest since Dana died.” His voice choked. “Sorry.”
“Breaking down after trauma is allowed.” The temptation to give him a hug was strong, but she settled for squeezing his hand.
Half a minute later, he continued. “After dinner, we went out to the car. I leaned in to put our leftovers on the backseat. Somehow, the balloon got away from Grace and she dashed after it. Right into the path of an oncoming car.”
Shock reverberated through her.
Dear God.
Both his wife and daughter had perished in a tragic car accident.
“If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget that terrible screech of brakes, or her little body lying s-so still on the pavement.” He rubbed his forehead, as if he were trying to erase the memory. “I only let go of her hand for a few seconds, but that was all it took. I should have buckled her in first instead of dealing with the food. She didn’t even make it t-to the hospital.”
Vienna’s vision began to swim.
Grace had died on her fifth birthday—and Matt blamed himself, just as he’d shouldered the culpability for his wife’s death.
How did a man go on with that kind of grief and guilt lodged in his soul?
And what could she say in the face of such soul-deep sorrow and anguish?
But maybe words weren’t what was needed here. Maybe it was time for the hug she’d been tempted to give minutes ago.
With a squeeze of his fingers, she slid out of her chair. “Let me give you a hug. Please.”
He looked up, his eyes awash with such misery and self-recrimination her heart ached. As the silence lengthened, she thought he was going to refuse—but all at once, he pushed back his chair and stood.
When she extended her arms, he stepped in and pulled her close, tremors rippling through him, his respiration choppy, his pulse beneath her ear pounding as hard as if he’d run a race.
How many minutes passed, she had no idea. But she’d stay as long as he needed an anchor to cling to after the retelling of his harrowing tale.
At last he eased back. “Thanks for that. And for listening tonight.”
“A sympathetic ear can make a huge difference. I don’t know how I would have managed if I hadn’t connected to that counselor in college.”
His gaze locked onto hers. “Connections can be priceless.” After a few charged seconds, he retreated a step. “Are you going to church tomorrow?”
She blinked.
That was an abrupt change of subject.
But it was understandable. Everyone had their emotional limits, and it was clear Matt had reached his.
“Yes. I am.”
“Would you like to ride together and conserve gas rather than take two cars? I was planning to attend the early service and then dive into painting again.”
His tone was measured, but could his suggestion be motivated by more than practical considerations? By stronger feelings?
No. Of course not. The man had spent the last few minutes telling her about his grief and loss over the woman and child he’d loved. His offer was pragmatic, perhaps prompted in part by gratitude for her willingness to listen as he unburdened his soul. There was nothing personal in the invitation.
Nor did she want there to be. Not here. Not now. The time and the place were all wrong for romance, for both of them.
So why not accept? The drive was short, and—
“Don’t feel pressured. If you want to sleep in tomorrow and go to the later service, I understand. You’ve been working hard for days on end without a break.”
She must have waited too long to respond if he felt compelled to give her an excuse to decline.
“I was just thinking over logistics and my plans for tomorrow. I’d appreciate a ride into town.”
They agreed on a departure time, and after wishing him goodnight, she left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room.
Yet late as it was, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.
She could get a jump on gathering up all the personal items in the room, expend some energy until she got tired enough to climb into bed. Now that Andrew was finished with all the touch-ups in the other bedrooms and ready to start on the two that were occupied, she was scheduled to play musical rooms this weekend.
But with him and Paige in Portland, he likely wouldn’t dive into her current space until Tuesday, at the earliest. There was no rush. What she didn’t finish tonight, she could do tomorrow between church and opening the bookshop in the afternoon.
And while she was in the house of God, it couldn’t hurt to ask for a bit of insight about how a handsome, hurting veterinarian was supposed to fit into her topsy-turvy world that had taken so many unexpected turns of late.