“You’ve been where?”
Quinn sprawled in a club chair in his brother’s office, noting the color that had surged into Adam’s face. “If you don’t learn to chill, you’re going to have a stroke before you’re forty.”
“Why the hell were you in... there, Quinn?” Adam demanded. He couldn’t even say the words Creighton Falls.
“Because our mother asked me to go,” Quinn answered shortly. “Did you know the hotel is about to be condemned?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting, while Adam turned away and busied himself with some papers on his desk. A floor-to-ceiling picture window gave Quinn an uninterrupted view of midtown, the sky cloudless and blue, the world below a hive of activity, dark-suited business people walking briskly to important places. “Did you?” he pressed, and Adam let out an impatient sigh.
“I might have been sent something about it.”
Irritation prickled along his skin and Quinn leaned forward. “Sent something? It was damn careless of you, Adam, to neglect—”
“You’re going to talk to me about careless, Quinn?” Adam let out a disbelieving huff of laughter. “Really?”
Quinn sat back in his seat, his mouth compressed. “There’s a difference between careless and carefree.”
“And of course you would make that distinction.”
Quinn let the jibe pass. He’d chosen his lifestyle because of Adam, and his brother knew that full well. “Regardless, it’s our family’s responsibility to—”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” Adam snapped. “You’ve been playing at being a beach bum for the last seven years, without a thought for anyone or the family business.”
“And why is that?” Quinn snapped. “Because you haven’t wanted me involved. You made that abundantly clear.” And Jake and his mother had backed him up. Even now, eight years later, the memory burned.
“You aren’t exactly qualified,” Adam returned evenly. “A college dropout—”
“I wasn’t a dropout the last time I came to you with a suggestion,” Quinn said coldly. A tense silence followed, and then Adam looked away.
“I only did what our mother asked me to do,” Quinn said when he trusted his voice to sound level. “I’m relaying this information on her behalf, Adam. I’ve made a list of repairs the hotel needs—”
“How kind of you.” Adam sat down hard in his seat, pulling his laptop toward him. Quinn watched him for a few moments, noting the lines of tension that bracketed his brother’s mouth, the scattering of gray at his temples. His brother was a total workaholic. He was thirty-eight years old and Quinn thought it quite likely that he’d burn out before he was fifty. Either that or work himself to death. But maybe that was what Adam wanted.
“So what are you going to do about the hotel?”
Adam didn’t even look up from his laptop. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Considering I spent the better part of a week there looking at the place, I think it is.”
Briefly Adam glanced up. “All right, so you called in a couple of contractors. Thank you. But it doesn’t give you the right to make any decisions.”
“I’ve never had that right, have I?” Quinn could feel the anger coiling tighter and tighter inside him. He’d leaned forward in his chair, and his fists were clenched. Besides the tight set of his jaw, Adam’s expression hadn’t changed. “You refused to give it to me.”
“Our father appointed me as CEO, Quinn.”
“Trust me, you don’t need to remind me of that fact.” Sighing heavily, Quinn leaned back in his chair. What was the point of going over old ground? Adam would never change. “Why can’t you just tell me what you’re going to do?”
Adam pressed his lips together, his eyes flicking up to Quinn and then back to his computer screen. “I’ll talk to Mom,” he finally said. “See what she wants to do.”
“I already know what she wants to do,” Quinn answered, “because she told me. She wants to sell it—”
“Fine,” Adam cut him off. “Then I’ll sell it.”
Which brought them right back to the beginning of the conversation. Quinn gritted his teeth. “Fine. But it needs work before it’s put on the market, Adam. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. That’s why I went up there.” He reached for the papers he’d brought. “I’ve got estimates on all the building repairs. The structure is sound, but it needs a lot of carpentry repairs, and a complete replumbing and rewiring—”
“Replumbing and rewiring?” Adam raised his eyebrows. “That’s got to cost close to a hundred grand.”
“We have the money.”
“Why would I spend that kind of money on that wreck?” Adam demanded. “I want to get rid of the place, not gussy it up. I’ll sell it as is, for however much someone’s willing to spend on it.”
“Which will be pennies, considering all the work it needs.”
“Fine, then I’ll take pennies. Better to have it off our hands.” Adam’s expression tightened, his lips firming into a hard line. “We should have sold it years ago.”
“Why didn’t you, then?”
He shrugged. “Mom didn’t want to.”
Quinn thought about how Janet Pierce had said his mother had loved Creighton Falls. It was bizarre to think about now, but it made him understand why his mother might have held onto the hotel as long as she had. It was hard to let go of a dream, a memory. A hope. And he didn’t like the thought of selling the hotel, even though he could see the sense in it. He might be starting to remember his life in Creighton Falls, but as a family they needed to let go of it.
Quinn took a deep breath. “Adam, I don’t think you’re going to get many buyers without doing some basic repairs to the place.”
“All I need is one.”
“Fine, I don’t think you’re going to get any buyers. You’ve at least got to clean the place up, get the rotten furniture out—”
Adam’s nostrils flared, his mouth pinching. “You’re the expert now, are you?”
“More than you are in this case,” Quinn retorted, even though he knew they were both sounding childish now. Seemed like he and his brothers couldn’t keep themselves from it.
Adam sighed and pushed back from the desk. “What do you want me to do, Quinn? Sink a hundred grand into this wreck, knowing we’ll never get that out of the sale price?” Quinn didn’t answer and Adam nailed him with a hard gaze. “What is it that you actually want?”
Hell if he knew. Quinn looked away, trying to marshal his thoughts. “I don’t want you to just walk away from the hotel. From the town. If you went up there, if you saw what I saw...” If he’d seen and heard and felt the disappointment and sadness coming from everyone in Creighton Falls, if he’d realized how much the hotel had meant to them...
Well, being Adam, he probably wouldn’t change his mind.
“Since you seem so keen on the place,” Adam said, an edge to his voice, “why don’t you deal with it? You want some responsibility? Fine. Take some.”
Quinn’s gaze widened. “Do you mean that?”
“Get the place ready to sell,” Adam ordered. “And don’t spend a dime more than you have to.”
“What about the replumbing, the rewiring-”
“I’ll give you ten grand to improve the place. And then I’m selling it.” Adam turned back to his laptop, and Quinn knew the conversation was closed.
Spring came slowly to upstate New York. Mainly it came in mud, rivers of the stuff, as the snow melted and the river was freed from its prison of ice. Still, there was a beauty to be had in a blue sky, in the crocuses that peeked their bright, fragile heads between clumps of leftover snow, in the barest hint of warmth in the cold, still air.
Meghan climbed into her truck after dropping Polly for her carpool ride into Watertown. Polly took the car with a neighbor, Betty, who worked in a laundromat, and then brought her home again most days. If Meghan was out that way, she’d pick Polly up. It worked, mostly, and that was all Meghan aimed for these days.
She tried to suppress the wash of worry she felt whenever she thought about Polly’s care, and the bitterness about how her parents had just walked away from one of their children. She loved her sister dearly, and that deep-rooted seed of resentment always made her feel guilty. How could she begrudge Polly anything? She was her sister, full of fun and brimming with love, difficult and temperamental and forever a child. But she was Polly, and Meghan loved her. She wouldn’t change her if she could. She just wished she had someone in her life to share the burden sometimes.
Sighing, Meghan started up the truck. Truth was she’d been in a bit of a funk ever since a certain Freeman left town two weeks ago. Stupid of her to feel that way, since he wasn’t coming back and he’d only been offering a night anyway.
But what a night it could have been.
Impatient with herself, Meghan banged her hand on the steering wheel. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, her voice sounding loud in the truck’s cab. “You deserve more than a one-night stand.”
Trouble was she wasn’t sure she was going to get any more than that. How many men wanted to sign up to a lifetime of care of a mentally disabled adult? How many men in Creighton Falls did she want to sign up with, anyway? The answer, for the last ten years, had been zero. The one she’d suggested it to had walked away easily enough.
Meghan drove by the hotel, automatically slowing as she had every morning and night since Quinn had left, to check if anything had changed. The place still looked like one single breath might blow it all down. Windows shuttered or gaping, gingerbread rotting off, porch deeply bowed. It looked exactly the same.
Then she saw the truck in the parking lot. Meghan slammed on the brakes, her heart stuttering in her chest. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt breathless with an awful mixture of anxiety and hope. So there was a truck there. Quinn had probably arranged for someone to come in and start the repairs. He hadn’t contacted her about the replumbing, but that didn’t mean too much. He could have easily found a plumber from Watertown or further afield. He probably had, considering the way they had parted.
Meghan craned her neck but she couldn’t see anyone, just a run-of-the-mill Ford truck that looked as beat up as anyone else’s around here, a far cry from Quinn’s Beamer.
Trying to ignore the disappointment that weighed her down like she’d swallowed a bucket of lead, Meghan drove on.
Two hours later she was taking apart Fiona Denham’s toilet, trying to figure out what was causing the clog. One of the joys of being a plumber.
From the front room she could hear Fiona chatting to customers; a couple of years ago she’d bought the old cheese factory, long in disuse, and turned it into a bakery. Amazingly for Creighton Falls, the place was a success.
“So are you staying long?” Fiona’s voice drifted down the hall, and Meghan tensed when she heard the answer.
“Until the work is done.”
It couldn’t be. But that low, easy voice was so familiar. She’d been hearing it in her dreams for two weeks. A lot can happen in an hour.
“And then what?” Fiona asked. Meghan leaned forward, straining her ears for the reply.
“Then we sell, hopefully to someone who can turn it into something good for this town.”
It was Quinn. Meghan was halfway down the hall before she stopped. What on earth was she going to do, barrel into the bakery and give him a hug? The terms they’d parted on had been pretty final. She had no idea what she would say to him now, or what he would say to her.
And yet she was glad he was back.
Meghan tiptoed back down the hall and continued working on the toilet. She heard Fiona call goodbye and the door open and close. Her shoulders sagged a little and she let out a rush of breath. He’d left.
Twenty minutes later she came into the bakery; Fiona was just putting some fresh wheat loaves, golden and perfect, in the display case.
“It smells a lot better in here,” Meghan said, and Fiona wrinkled her nose.
“Is the toilet fixed?”
“Yes. One of your customers didn’t read the sign about not flushing sanitary products.”
Fiona made a face. “Ew. Sorry.”
“All part of the job.”
She shook her head, smiling. “So it is. Do you like it, Meghan? Being a plumber?”
“It pays the bills.”
“I know, but...”
Meghan shrugged. “I like fixing things.” Because there was so much in her life that couldn’t be fixed. “Was that a Freeman I heard in here awhile ago?” Hopefully her voice sounded casual.
“Quinn Freeman. Remember he was here a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes...” Meghan made it sound as if she was only vaguely aware of that fact, and Fiona narrowed her eyes.
“Weren’t you two chatty at the talent show? And you gave him a replumbing estimate?”
Busted. Why did she even try in this town? “That’s right.”
Fiona nodded knowingly. “Uh-huh. Well, he’s back, and he’s going to do as much of the repair work as he can himself.”
“Himself? He couldn’t even turn off the water valve.” And neither could she have, without a wrench.
Fiona shrugged. “I don’t know about that. But he’s here for a couple of weeks at least, probably more.”
“Really?” She focused on pulling on her coat, not wanting to meet Fiona’s gaze. Not trusting the expression on her face. A couple of weeks. She hadn’t expected that. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Would he make his offer again? Did she want him to?
“He’s a good-looking guy,” Fiona remarked. “Very sexy.”
“He’s blessed with Freeman genes,” Meghan answered with a shrug.
“Are all the brothers that hot?”
“I don’t actually know,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen them since they were little.” Fiona had moved to the town five years ago; she hadn’t grown up with the Freemans’ legacy the way Meghan had.
“Well, it’ll be nice to have one of them around,” Fiona said as she shut the display case. “There aren’t too many men in this town who are that easy on the eyes.”
No, there definitely weren’t. The good ones left or were snapped up straight out of high school. Briefly Meghan thought of Ben Campbell, her one attempt at a serious romantic relationship. He’d upped and left along with her mother; at nineteen he hadn’t wanted to sign up for what Meghan had been offering. A lifetime commitment, and she hadn’t just meant marriage. But she and Polly were a package deal, always would be. Nothing was going to change that, which was why marriage or even a long-term relationship had been off the cards for a while.
But a one-night stand?
It was something worth thinking about, now that Quinn Freeman was back in town. If he revisited his offer... well, maybe then so would she.
That afternoon she drove slowly by the hotel, debating whether to pull into the parking lot or not. She had an hour before Polly would be home.
A lot can happen in an hour.
Meghan pulled into the parking lot, next to the beat-up truck. She spared her reflection a glance in the rearview mirror; she looked okay but after a day working on people’s sewage systems and leaky sinks, she probably didn’t smell too great. Nothing she could do about that.
She took a deep breath and slid out of the truck’s cab. The door to the kitchen was ajar, and she pushed it open with the flat of her hand as she called inside, “Hello? Anybody home?”
No one replied, but in the distance she could hear the racket of what sounded like someone chopping wood. Her heart starting to hammer, she stepped inside.