Seth squeezed Marie’s arm as the jerk across from them sent the bid over three grand. Like a deflated balloon, air escaped from her lungs in one rush. She met his gaze, sadness flickering in her eyes. She swallowed and took a loud breath that didn’t quite seem to stick, as she immediately gulped at another.
The self-satisfied fool flaunted his win with a cocky grin, and a rush of indignation washed over Seth. Marie wanted that piece. And she deserved it after the late nights she’d put in repainting the disaster room, the long hours she’d spent kneeling in the dirt preparing the flower bed, and all the times she’d put up with his sharpness.
He elbowed her as the auctioneer called, “Going once.”
“Do it.”
Her eyes flashed. “We won’t have enough money to get the other things we need.”
He stared straight into her eyes, willing her to see that he understood how much she needed this win. “It’ll be enough. Do it.”
He pushed her arm into the air, and her blue eyes flashed once more—this time with a fight he hadn’t seen before—before she upped the bid. “Thirty-two hundred.”
Their competition flung his arms to his side and sat up, his face twisting with a glower that could have wilted a tulip. “Thirty-three.”
“Thirty-three fifty.”
Seth held his breath, tension building in his muscles, roiling and fighting for an escape. Marie wiggled in her white folding chair beside him, her whole body trembling like an idling car. Like she might fly apart if someone didn’t hold her together. No one else seemed to notice, so he wrapped an arm across the back of her chair, around her shoulders.
She seemed to settle down to a dull hum as the auctioneer looked to the other bidder. And if having an arm around her helped Seth feel more grounded too? Well, that was just an added perk.
“That’s three thousand four hundred to you, sir.”
The man nodded. “Thirty-four hundred.”
Seth glared at him, but before he could squeeze Marie’s shoulder, she said, “Thirty-five.”
His gut twisted like a washcloth being wrung out as the silver-haired man at the podium began his final count. “Going once.”
Marie sucked in an audible breath, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“Going twice.”
The jerk scowled.
“Sold to the young lady in the fourth row!”
Marie’s hands flew to her mouth, but they couldn’t cover the smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. He pulled her into his side for a split second before she wiggled free.
“Thank you.” Her words were soft, and he saw in her eyes something he couldn’t remember seeing there ever before, almost as though a fence had been taken down. As though she was beginning to feel comfortable with him.
He hadn’t even known that was missing. But now that he saw it, it was clear. She’d kept a distinct distance between them. He’d just been too focused on keeping her at arm’s length to notice.
Today was different. This was new. And it was good. They’d moved to a new stage, a new level.
It would certainly make living under the same roof easier. And Jack would be happy. But it didn’t change the fact that she was hiding something.
“I can’t believe we got it.”
He would still celebrate with her for the moment. “Congratulations. You were great.”
She looked down, and her cheeks turned a very pretty color of pink. She always looked so embarrassed when someone praised her, as if compliments were few and far too infrequent in her life. Was that what Jack had first seen in her? He’d bet that was the thing that had tugged at Jack’s heartstrings and convinced him to bring her home.
Seth couldn’t fault the man.
“Thank you for—” She bit into her bottom lip, her gaze on his chin almost palpable. He scratched at the thin scar that followed his jawline, and her eyes followed his movements. “Thank you for prodding me not to give up.”
“You’re the one who said we had to make a room around that particular piece.”
Her smile flashed especially bright. “And we will.” She turned her attention back to the bidding battle over another piece of furniture, content to wait. In fact, she didn’t move again until the square table she’d pointed out to him earlier came up. She didn’t move enough to signal anyone that she was interested, but her relaxed muscles slowly tensed, and he could sense her anticipation.
This auction seemed to be more about outmaneuvering other players than the actual antiques. And watching Marie play was fun.
Seth crossed his arms and leaned back to enjoy the show.
“Next up is a mahogany table with four chairs. Each seat features a hand-chiseled winter scene across the back. Made in 1937, this piece was owned by the Rosenthal family of Montague for seventy years.” The auctioneer looked up from his notes and wiped a white handkerchief across his glistening forehead. “We’ll begin the bids at one thousand seven hundred.”
The audience sat like statues. All except Seth, who nudged Marie and nodded toward the table. This was her chance. No competition for the table. What was she waiting for?
The shake of her head was almost indistinguishable. And he sat back. Just watch the show.
“Will someone bid at one thousand five hundred?”
The audience stirred, looking around to see who would make the first move.
“This item is still steady and includes all original parts. It will make a nice addition to any home. Who will give me twelve hundred dollars?”
The woman wearing the green hat adorned with half a dozen unnaturally colored feathers tipped it to the side, as though she was thinking about throwing her cap in the ring.
Seth chuckled to himself at the mental image of her monstrosity sailing toward the staid man at the microphone, but stopped as pain flashed across the man’s face.
Still no one bid. And when the price dropped again, sweat beaded on the back of Seth’s neck. He wiped it away, unsure if it was caused by empathy for the auctioneer staring at a silent audience, or the midday sun beating rays onto the canopy that held the heat under it. He lifted the cuffs of his jacket away from his wrists and tugged at the neck of his shirt.
If Marie didn’t bid on the table soon, he was going to.
“Surely someone needs this dining room set. The bid is at one thousand one hundred.”
Marie raised her hand. She didn’t say a word, but the auctioneer targeted in on her in an instant, pointing a finger at her.
“Thank you! Eleven hundred to the young lady there. Going once. Going twice.” He whapped his gavel on his lectern. “Sold.”
After all the pieces had been bid on and Marie had won a six-chair dining set, Seth followed her to the table to pay for their items. “How’d you get that first table for six hundred less than the opening bid?”
She shrugged, a bounce in her step. “I didn’t let anyone else know how much I wanted it.”
“Jack would be proud.”
She glowed under the praise, the sun highlighting her brown hair with an unexpected halo.
“Well, well.” Aretha strolled up to them, her smile pulling taut loose bits of skin in nature’s face-lift. “Well done, you two.” She stepped between them, patting Marie’s shoulder and grabbing Seth’s hand. “I had no idea that sideboard would go for so much. But it’s worth every penny.”
“Marie promised me that we can build a whole room around it,” he said.
Aretha’s gaze traveled back and forth between them. “She’s quite right. Listen to this one. The design genes are strong in her.”
“Thank you.”
The older woman clapped her wrinkled hands. “Now tell me how things are going at the Red Door Inn. Are you on schedule for a May first opening?”
Seth’s eyebrows pinched. It was a valid question, just not one he had an answer to. “I hope so, but Jack’s been pretty tight-lipped about how he thinks things are going.”
“And he keeps going off on secret errands,” Marie chipped in, pinching the skin at her neck several times. “You don’t think anything is wrong, do you?”
Seth shook his head. Jack was made of sturdy stock and knew how to run a business. If there was trouble, he’d tell them. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably just worn out. He’s been working on the inn since long before you and I showed up.”
Rubbing her hands together, Aretha nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s a lot of work starting up a business.” She raised her eyebrow, then winked at Seth. “Maybe I should stop by later this week with some homemade food. That might boost his spirits a little.”
Marie stepped up as the line moved forward. “I think we’d all appreciate it. There isn’t much time for making meals.”
Aretha snapped to attention, her finger catching under Marie’s chin. “Are you not eating?” Then she swooped on Seth, her finger wagging and her tone matching his grandmother’s. “You need to keep your strength up. Why aren’t you taking care of yourselves?”
With a gentle touch, Marie pushed the finger down. “We are eating. Lots of protein and vegetables. But sometimes we get busy and don’t have time to cook a warm meal. That’s all.”
“That’s not all.” Like a general commanding troops, she said, “You tell your uncle that I’ll be there tomorrow night with dinner, and I’ll expect to eat at the table you just bought today.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As Aretha marched off, Seth turned back to Marie, whose face exploded with laughter. “I think she means business.”
Marie nodded. “Undoubtedly.”
After paying for the pieces they’d purchased and lining up a time to load them into his truck, they wandered the stalls, ending up at the one with the handmade quilts.
“Isn’t this one beautiful?” She looked at him and he shrugged.
“It’s blue.”
“It’s nautical. It’ll go perfectly with the compass we bought at Aretha’s. Don’t you think?”
He wasn’t educated enough in this area to be of any use. Although they had made a pretty decent bidding team.
“Sounds good.”
She picked out two others and told the owner which ones she wanted. He was almost finished wrapping them up when she wandered toward the back of the booth, where a black and white stretch of fabric peeked from behind another bedspread.
“I’m just going to look at this one.” She pulled the quilt free, her eyes caressing the black and white pattern and the words stitched about two feet from the top.
“What’s it say?” Seth asked as he helped the seller squeeze three quilts into a clear plastic bag.
“‘You may tire of reality but you never tire of dreams.’”
The proprietor looked up. “It’s a quote from Maud Montgomery. From one of the short stories in her book The Road to Yesterday.”
Marie beamed. “We have to have this. It’ll be perfect in the room with the type—” Her words just stopped, and she stared at Seth as her nostrils slowly flared and her eyes grew large.
Had she suddenly remembered his message on the typewriter? Was she embarrassed by it? Embarrassed for him to know she’d seen it? She wasn’t having any trouble maintaining eye contact, but she swallowed several times in a row.
He looked around for something to do, something to distract her, but the salesman beat her to it.
“Are you all right?”
She blinked, emerging from her stupor. “Yes. I just—I must have—excuse me. I just remembered something. I’m sorry.”
“So do you want that quilt?”
“Yes.” She didn’t play coy with this one, so he paid for it. After they wrapped it up, Seth carried all four quilts to the truck. Marie darted across the aisle, pointing to a small table and hollering something about a typing desk. By the time he returned, she’d bought that too, along with an armload of decorations.
“Got enough there?”
“Oh, be quiet.” She frowned at him, but her tone was filled with humor as she held out the small desk under her pile. “Take some of this stuff before I drop three hundred dollars’ worth of hominess.”
He reached for the lamp on top, but she leaned into him, handing over the whole lot before taking back a small bag of knickknacks. “You got all this for three hundred bucks? Not bad, Carrington.” He bumped her shoulder as they strolled from the grass onto the gravel lot and through a maze of trucks and trailers. When they reached his, he opened the passenger door and set her purchases in the backseat next to the quilts. As he stowed the table in the truck’s bed, the auction movers approached with the large pieces of furniture.
After half an hour, the furniture was secured, each piece wrapped in padding and tarps.
“Now you’ll want to drive slow, Mr. Sloane,” one of the young men said.
Seth grinned at him and held out a twenty, biting back the urge to tell him that he knew how to drive a loaded truck. “Thanks, Rob.” He turned back to Marie, opening the door for her. Resting a hand on the edge as she crawled in, he said, “I think we’ve done pretty well for a day, eh?”
“I think so.”
He closed her in with a solid thump and walked around the front to his side. Behind the wheel, he checked his obstructed mirror views before slowly backing out of his spot and pulling into the three-vehicle line waiting to get on the road.
As the evergreens turned into rolling fields alongside the road, they sat in amicable silence. It hadn’t been like this. Ever. Not even with Reece.
An image of the tall blonde as she’d been the last time he saw her flashed through his mind. Everything with her had been wild and passionate. Stubborn and exciting. Loud and lively. Nothing about that relationship had just been quiet.
And he’d had no idea how much he’d missed out on until this very moment.
Relationships should have excitement and vibrancy.
But two people should be able to just sit together. Silent and at peace.
“Can I ask you something?”
He glanced away from the road toward Marie, all innocence and perfectly unaware of the irony of her question breaking into his peaceful ponderings. “I guess.”
She looked at her folded hands in her lap, then out the window like she was going to ask the trees what she wanted to know. “You said earlier when we were talking with Aretha that Jack had been at this a lot longer than you. And he said something to me on my first day at the inn about you having nowhere else to go . . .”
His fist tightened on the wheel. He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to go back to the silence. He wanted to enjoy a quiet trip thinking about the great things to come for the inn.
And mostly he did not want to confess Reece’s betrayal.
Marie didn’t know any of that, so she kept right on. “I thought that you’d been working with Jack since the beginning. But I guess that’s not the case.”
“Are you going to ask a question in there?”
Her dark hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward, twisting to look at him more closely. “Why are you here? What happened?”
He shook his head. He should be asking her the same questions. Her answers could have serious consequences. His did not.
“It’s a long story.”
“We only have a few miles, so what’s the ten-minute version? Or longer if you follow Rob’s advice and go slow.”
Her joke provoked a dry chuckle. How did she manage to tease him about the thing that he found most absurd? Maybe she could read him better than he thought.
If he told his history—at least an abridged version—that might prompt her to open up about hers. It couldn’t hurt to try.
“I was a builder.”
“In San Diego?”
He nodded. “Yes. I owned my own company. Sloane Construction.”
“Creative.” She shifted again until she was nearly perpendicular in the bucket seat, facing him, one leg pulled up under her.
“It was just me, a couple guys that I trusted, and a few contract crews. We did mostly new construction, custom homes for big-money clients.”
She whistled low. “In San Diego? That must have been lucrative.”
“It was.”
“So what happened?” She twisted a strand of hair around a finger, but stopped as soon as he opened his mouth to continue.
He swallowed, taking time to find the right wording. “We met with a bit of financial difficulty.”
“Jack said something about a fiancée. Are you engaged?”
Thank you, Jack. The man had no respect for anyone else’s privacy. “Once. We broke it off about eight months ago.” Marie made a sound deep in her throat that said she was sorry to hear it and he should continue. And for some reason, he did.
“Her name is Reece, and we met at the home of one of my clients. He had a party to show off his new house. And he said I could meet potential new clients. His friends were well connected and wealthy. Just my clientele. He said I’d be a fool to miss the chance to sign contracts with them.
“So I showed up at his house and met Reece, who, at the time, was dating one of the other guys at the party. We struck up a conversation around the pool, and I’d never met anyone so beautiful in my life. The way the patio lights reflected off the water and danced across her face. I couldn’t look away. She laughed at every one of my jokes—even the really lame ones.”
“Interested girls usually do.”
He jerked at the sound of her voice. Surprised that he wasn’t rehashing the relationship by himself for the umpteenth time.
Perfect. He’d probably said far too much. “Anyway, we got engaged, but it didn’t last.”
“Hey. That’s not fair.”
“What?”
“You can’t get me hooked and then give me some abbreviated version without the details.” She lifted her eyebrows twice in quick succession. “How did you get Reece away from that other guy? How’d you win her?”
“Funny. I never—I mean, it didn’t—” He paused, putting a hand over his mouth until the words in his mind sorted themselves out. “I never thought of it as winning her. The spark was so strong, I just thought she felt it too and—”
Marie leaned back, the anticipation on her face replaced by uncertainty. “You thought she felt it. She didn’t?”
He let out a slow breath through his nose. This was not the conversation they were supposed to be having, but he’d just opened up that can of worms on himself. “No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“She made it perfectly clear that she’d never given a flying rat’s rear end about me when she cleaned out all of the money from my company’s accounts and left me. She’d been with me only for the con.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. He hadn’t meant to say that. At least not with that much bitterness. It was supposed to be getting easier to deal with. But the sting was still fresh.
Marie’s slender fingers touched his sleeve. “I am so sorry, Seth. I didn’t realize. I’m sorry that happened. I understand—”
“How could you possibly understand? What about your fairy-tale life makes you think you could possibly understand that kind of betrayal?” The words exploded in his anger at himself for revealing too much, but it was too late to take them back.
He got the silence he’d wanted for the rest of the trip, but this quiet wasn’t about peace or contentment. Like her face, it was stony, masking the boiling emotions just below the surface. It grated his nerves and shot pain through his temples.
Of course, his anger was really at himself. He’d let Reece convince him to add her as a partner in his business. Blinded by his own attraction, he’d signed over his entire livelihood. And as their wedding date approached, she’d talked him into a joint banking account too. Better to take care of it before the actual ceremony, right?
How could he have been so stupid? He’d handed her his entire life savings and given up every legal right by signing three little slips of paper.
“This will make things so much easier after we’re married,” she’d cooed. “This is what’s best for us and the business, right? I mean, if anything were to happen to you, who would you want to run things?”
She’d had her hands running through his hair and her lips pursed so close to his that he couldn’t possibly have been thinking straight.
A little flick of the wrist and he signed it over.
His own bad judgment had cost him everything.
It still made his stomach hurt, even three thousand miles and eight months away, as he pulled into the Red Door’s driveway.
Marie slammed her door open before he could even put the truck in park. She jumped to the ground and marched toward the house without a look over her shoulder.
He hopped out after her, running to catch her before she made it to the stairs leading up to the back door. “Wait. Marie, don’t be—” He caught her hand to tug her to a stop.
She flung her arm around, dislodging his grip at her wrist. “Don’t touch me.” Her words slithered like a snake, quiet enough that they wouldn’t draw Jack’s attention from inside but hard enough to bend rebar.
“I didn’t mean to yell—”
“Don’t.” She cut him off with the flash in her eyes even more than with her words. “I really don’t want to hear it.”
“Please. Just let me explain.” He stabbed a hand through his hair as she turned away. But she stood still for a long moment, and his pulse jumped. This was his chance. “I—”
She shook her head. “You say I don’t understand, that I couldn’t possibly, but you have no idea about my life. You presume to know about my fairy-tale existence without ever bothering to ask.”
His heart wrenched. Lord, what have I done? “Will you tell me about it?”
“No.” She bounded up the steps, the door slamming behind her. Seth chased her up the stairs, nearly running into her motionless form in the kitchen.
She was staring at Jack, who leaned against the counter with locked elbows and hands that shook, papers scattered before him. Shoulders slumped and head bowed, he didn’t move.
“Jack?” She walked up to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, her movements the opposite of what they’d been two minutes before.
The old man jerked up, looking at them. “I didn’t even hear you come in. How was the auction?”
“What’s wrong?” Seth stepped forward, keeping a wide perimeter around Marie, and pointed to the papers strewn across the counter. “What’s all this?”
Jack looked confused for a moment before pulling the pages into a haphazard pile.
“Jack?” Marie’s tone had the gentleness of a preschool teacher coaxing a scared student out of his mother’s arms. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Sure. Just fine.” His head bobbed with a smile, but the light never made it to his eyes. Marie shook her head, giving him a silent scolding, and his eyes darted to the paper. “Everything’s great.”
“We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.” Marie reached for his hand. “We’re invested here too. Let us help.”
Jack’s posture sagged even lower as he leaned his back against the counter. His gaze passed between them, and he hoisted a smile. “Not a big problem. Money’s a bit tight, is all.”
“Well, I don’t need a paycheck,” Marie immediately piped up. “And maybe I could help you look over the budget. I have some exp—”
“Nonsense. Get paid as long as you’re working here. I promised you.” Jack looked at the ground. “Besides, that’s a drop in the bucket compared to what we need.”
“What about the loan money?”
Jack crossed his arms. “We’re going to have to make it stretch.”
Marie squeezed Jack’s hand, and a pang of something he couldn’t name shot to Seth’s stomach. “Will they give you some more?” she asked.
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?” Seth said.
Jack’s chin dropped, and he looked away. “I met with the loan officer at the bank again this morning.”
“Again?” Marie straightened until it looked like she’d left a hanger in her shirt. “Why didn’t you tell us this was going on? I could have helped you update your business plan.”
“I thought they were going to give me another loan.” He pasted another smile on his face and straightened his paperwork by tapping the edges against the counter. “Don’t worry about this. We’re going to make the Red Door a success. We’re just going to have to keep an eye on the budget and make the dollars stretch.”
So Jack didn’t have any more money.
Seth eyed Marie, waiting for any indication that the news upset her. If she was in this to dupe Jack, she’d gotten a worse deal than she’d counted on. If she was in this for the scam—and more and more he doubted that possibility—she’d jump ship sooner rather than later.
At least she’d go empty-handed.
But if she stayed, they could all wind up where they started. Broke, bitter, and all alone.