The Inn at Eagle Point

“Moms and dads never stop loving their children,” Mick assured her. His solemn gaze flicked to Jess when he said it, as if trying to communicate that message to her. She resolutely turned away, focusing her attention on cutting the meat on her plate into tiny pieces which she then shoved aside and left uneaten.

Sensing that this topic was no safer than business, Abby stood up. “Girls, why don’t I get you some ice cream and we can eat it outside? You’ll excuse us, won’t you?” She was already rising when she asked and didn’t wait for a reply.

Carrie and Caitlyn scrambled down from their chairs with a shout and raced for the kitchen, Abby on their heels. It wasn’t until she was safely away from the tension in the dining room that she sighed with relief. Okay, she’d just thrown Jess to the wolves in there, but right this second it felt like every woman needed to fend for herself.

“What kind of ice cream can we have, Mommy?” Carrie asked, tugging on her slacks.

“Let’s see what Gram has in the freezer,” she said, though she knew the answer. There had never been a time when the freezer wasn’t stocked with strawberry, Gram’s favorite, and with chocolate, which had always been Mick’s, hers and her brothers’ first choice. Jess’s had always been vanilla fudge ripple, so that was bound to be there, too.

She gave the girls their choices—they agreed on strawberry, for once—then dished up a scoop for each one. “Outside,” she said as she handed them the plastic bowls and spoons. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She gave herself a double scoop of chocolate, then covered it with hot fudge sauce for good measure. The way this day was going she was going to need every bit of chocolate decadence she could find to get through it.

4

Abby was glad she’d flown home still dressed in the black power suit she’d worn to work on Friday morning. She pressed it before putting it on Monday morning, then drove over to pick up Jess. When Abby arrived, Jess was still wearing paint-splattered shorts and a faded T-shirt. Abby barely held in a sigh. It looked as if Jess had gotten distracted by one of her decorating projects.

“Sorry,” Jess said, her expression flustered. “I lost track of the time. I couldn’t sleep, so I started painting at the crack of dawn, then someone called in a reservation—”

Abby cut her off. “Jess, we don’t have time for this. You can’t go to the bank like that,” she said, trying not to lose patience. Jess was obviously tense enough without Abby yelling at her. “You know how important this meeting is. It’s critical that we handle it as professionally as possible. Change, and do it fast, please.”

“Five minutes, I promise. You go on ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

Abby nodded and drove off, relieved in some ways that she was going in alone. She could say things then that she wouldn’t want to say in front of her sister, admit to Jess’s failings but stress that her sister had backup now and that things would be on track from here on out.

When they opened the door at Chesapeake Shores Community Bank, she walked in as if she owned the place and headed straight for Lawrence Riley’s office. She beamed at Mariah Walsh, who’d been working there as far back as she could recall.

“Abby, what on earth are you doing back in town?” Mariah asked.

“Visiting family,” she said. “How’ve you been?”

“Same as always. Just a few more years on me.”

Abby nodded toward Mr. Riley’s office. “Is he in?” she asked. “I need to speak to him.”

“What’s it about?” Mariah asked, already picking up the phone.

“Jess’s loans on the inn.”

Mariah frowned and hung up. “Then you’ll need to speak to Trace.”

Abby felt her heart lurch at the mention of Trace Riley. It had been years since they’d seen each other, and it was ridiculous that hearing his name was enough to make her falter. But in that instant, she realized exactly what Jess had been keeping from her. Jess had known that Trace was involved in this situation and that Abby would have to deal with him and not his father.

Trying to recover her equilibrium before Mariah could see how thrown she’d been, she said, “Trace is working here? I’m surprised.” He’d always sworn that hell would freeze over before he’d work in a bank, much less for his father.

Mariah grinned. “Hell’s sure enough frozen over, huh? He just started last week and he says it’s just temporary. His father’s hoping that’ll change. In the meantime, though, he’s in charge of the loan department.”

Damn, Abby thought. Maybe that could work in her favor, but she doubted it. The last time they’d seen each other, she’d slept with him, told him she was in love with him and then she’d taken off for New York without another word.

Over the months and years that followed, she’d convinced herself that she’d had no choice, that Trace was a distraction she couldn’t afford. In fact, she’d had a whole litany of reasons that had made perfect sense to her at the time. She’d even told herself she was cutting things off for him as much as for herself.

Of course, she should have had the guts to tell him that in person, though. Instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out, because he tempted her in ways she’d found all but impossible to resist. Had she seen him one more time there was no telling what might have happened to her resolve to go to New York and start a career on Wall Street. She might even have been persuaded to stay with him right here. He’d obviously caved in to parental pressure, just as she’d always feared he might. That fear had made it impossible to trust all the pretty words he’d said, all the promises he’d made about their future.

Mariah gave her a knowing look. “His office is down the hall on the left. Want me to call and tell him you’re on your way in?”

“I think I’d better surprise him,” Abby replied, then stiffened her spine and headed for his office. She’d had enough uncomfortable meetings to steel her resolve for this one. She tapped on the door, then walked in without waiting for a reply.

Trace was on the phone, his gaze directed out the window. Distractedly, he waved her toward a seat without even turning around. She breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve. It gave her time to study him.

He looked good. Really good. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing tanned forearms. The laugh lines that fanned out from his eyes were carved a little deeper now. His hair, thick and dark brown with golden highlights from the sun, was a little long and windblown. She grinned. She’d bet anything he’d ridden to work on his Harley. That bike had been his first major rebellion way back in high school, and the possibility that he’d never given it up gave her an unexpected sense of hope. That was the Trace she remembered, not a man who’d turned into a by-the-book banker like his dad. She could deal with that man, challenge him to bend the rules.

When he finished the call, he swiveled around and caught sight of her for the first time. Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes, but he kept his expression neutral. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.”

“Hello, Trace.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t expect to find me here,” he said.

“It was a pleasant surprise, all right.”

“Pleasant?” he inquired doubtfully.

“For me, yes. We were friends, Trace. Why wouldn’t I be glad to see you again?” she asked, though she knew the answer. She’d just hoped to finesse her way past the awkwardness. The simmering anger in his eyes suggested that wasn’t likely.

“Friends?” he echoed with a lift of one brow. “That’s not exactly the way I remember it. Maybe my memory’s faulty, but I thought we were more than that.”

Heat stained Abby’s cheeks. “It was a long time ago, Trace. A lifetime, in fact.”

He hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, his gaze level, then finally he looked away and reached for a folder with an ominous red sticker on the front. “I imagine you’re here about this,” he said, his tone suddenly abrupt and very businesslike. “Jess has gotten herself into quite a mess.”

Taking her cue from him, Abby opened her briefcase. “We’re aware of that, and we’re prepared to give the bank every reassurance that things will change from here on out.”

“You’ll have to do quite a bit of tap-dancing to pull that off,” he said. “She doesn’t have any management skills. I think that’s plain. I have no idea why the bank approved these loans in the first place. I imagine they did it as a courtesy to your father.”

Just then the door to his office opened again, and Jess stepped in. She frowned at his words. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Trace. They did it because it was a sound investment. That’s exactly what your father said when he called me to tell me the mortgage and the loan had been approved.” She regarded Trace unflinchingly and added, “It still is.”

“Not according to these papers I have in front of me,” Trace countered. “It’s time to cut our losses, and that’s exactly what I intend to recommend to the board tomorrow.”

“No,” Abby said fiercely. “Not until you’ve heard us out.”

She tried not to notice the alarm on Jess’s face or the brick-red color that flamed in Trace’s cheeks. Instead, she plunged on, throwing diplomacy to the wind. “If you have even an ounce of business savvy in that rock-hard head of yours, you’ll see that this plan makes sense.”

“Why should I believe anything you tell me?” he asked.

Abby swallowed hard. This was all going to blow up just because she and Trace had a history. Why hadn’t Jess warned her? If she had, Abby would have stayed far, far away from the bank. But since she was in the thick of it now, she refused to let him goad her into backing down.

“Don’t make this about us, Trace,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t reflect well on you or the bank.”

Trace scowled at her. “Well, aren’t you full of yourself? Trust me, you had nothing to do with my decision. It’s all right here in black and white. People might lie, but numbers don’t.”