The Perfect Hope

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HOPE BID GOOD-BYE TO THE LAST OF HER GUESTS. A midnight storm had brought welcome rain the night before and left behind a sodden blanket of heat and humidity. She stood in it just a minute, looking across the lot, through the herd of trucks. She needed to find twenty minutes to get over there, update pictures of the fitness center’s progress for the website.

But this morning held other priorities.

She walked back in, to the kitchen where Carolee polished the granite island.

“We need supplies,” Carolee told her. “I know it’s on your to-do list, but I thought I might go ahead and get them now. She might be more comfortable with less people around.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You just try to find out. I’ll take the list and load us up. Justine’ll be around later, so you can fill us both in. Hope, what do you think’ll happen when you find Billy for her?”

“I don’t know. If she … passes over, well, I’m going to miss her.”

“I know what you mean. I like being able to talk out loud and not feel like I’m talking to myself. And feeling her around. You know what I mean.”

“I really do.”

“I won’t be too long.” Carolee got her purse, put the supply list inside. “Oh, where’s my head? When you started telling me about that letter this morning, I forgot to tell you the news. Justine’s hired the manager and the assistant manager for Fit.”

“She found someone? That’s great news. Did she find someone local?”

“Local as they come, and with plenty of experience, and according to Justine, with energy to spare.”

“That sounds like just what you’d want in a fitness center manager.”

“She’s got a way, Justine does”—Carolee gave Hope a one-armed hug—“of finding the perfect person for the right job. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Alone, she took a breath. As she’d decided after considering all morning, she started for the stairs. Best to try this at Ground Zero.

Two steps past her office, the phone rang. She nearly let the machine pick up, then backtracked to answer.

“Good morning. Inn BoonsBoro.”

Twenty minutes later, she tried again. And Avery rushed in the door.

“I got hung up. Have you tried talking to her yet?”

“No, I got hung up myself. Do you know Myra Grimm?”

“Maybe. I know Brent Grimm. He works at Thompson’s, and he’s a regular at Vesta. I think Myra’s his older sister. Why?”

“She wants to book the inn for a small second-time-around wedding. I can tell you she divorced Mickey Shoebaker sixteen years ago, took her maiden name back, lives a couple miles outside of town and works at Bast Funeral Home.”

“Fortunately I haven’t needed to do business with her.”

“She met her future husband there three years ago when he buried his wife.”

“Huh. You wouldn’t think of funeral homes as hook-up parlors.”

“Love finds a way,” Hope said with a laugh. “Anyway, he popped the question, as she put it, and they want to get married here next month.”

“Moving fast.”

“They aren’t getting any younger, she tells me. Just a small wedding, maybe twenty or twenty-five people. In the afternoon. Details to follow.”

“A small second-time-around afternoon wedding,” Avery considered. “I could do some simple food, and Icing could do a cake.”

“I suggested both. She’s going to talk to her fiancé, but again, as she tells me, he’s fine with whatever she wants to do.”

“Handy for her.”

“She sounded giddy. It was sweet. Well.” She looked toward the stairs, then turned as Clare rapped on The Lobby door.

“I wanted to be here, if it’s all right. She helped me, and I thought maybe having us all together would help.”

“Good idea. Let’s go on up. E&D’s her favorite place, so we’ll try there.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Avery brought up the rear behind Clare. “But not spooky strange. It’s kind of like going to talk to a friend. One you don’t know all that well, really, but care about.”

“I’m learning more every day. She led such a restricted life. Not just because of the times, the culture, but her father was so stern, so hard-line. Do you know I haven’t found a single letter from Eliza in her sister’s things? There should have been. People wrote letters routinely back then.”

“The email of the nineteenth century,” Avery commented.

“Sisters would have written each other,” Clare agreed. “But if the father was so rigid, he may have destroyed any letters Lizzy wrote.”

“I think that may be it. There’s plenty of subtext in the letters I have read,” Hope continued. “Catherine feared him. It’s horrible, really, to imagine being afraid of your own father. And I think Catherine founded the school, once she was married and out from her father’s thumb, because of the way she and her sister were restricted. Catherine loved to read, and discovered a love of medicine during the war. She wanted to study, but that was out of the question.”

“So she founded a school so other girls could study.” Clare’s eyes went damp. “So other girls could pursue their dreams.”

“And Lizzy?” Hope added. “All she really wanted was to fall in love, get married, make a home, and raise a family. Everything her father expected of her, except for the first step because love didn’t enter into his plans for his daughters.”

She slipped the key in the lock, opened the door. “We had guests in here last night. The room hasn’t been serviced yet.”

“I think we’re okay with an unmade bed. Sit down, Clare,” Avery ordered.

“I’m fine.”

“Pregnant women should never turn down the opportunity to sit.”

“You’re right.” Clare lowered into the purple velvet chair. “Does she stay in here, do you think, when you have guests like last night?”

“It depends. Sometimes I feel her up in my apartment. Or in The Library if I go in to refill the whiskey decanter or restock the coffeemaker.”

“She spends time with you,” Avery added. “Tell us about the letter.”

“I told you.”

“Tell us again, and maybe you’ll be telling her, too.”

“There are hundreds of letters. My cousin and the school archivist made enormous efforts to find letters written to and by Catherine. The bulk of what they have and what I’ve had access to were written to her. Letters from friends, relatives, the governess she had as a child, her music master, and so on.”

Avery nodded, sat on the edge of the bed.

“There are letters from James Darby, the man she married, and several from her to him. They’ve been my favorites so far. In them you can see the evolution of their feelings for each other, the affection, the humor, the respect. He fell in love first, I think, and I think his loving her, understanding her, helped her discover herself.”

“Lucky for her,” Clare stated. “She married someone she loved, and who loved her.”

“I think they had a really good life,” Hope said. “He not only financed the bulk of the school she wanted to build, but came to share that vision with her. He was from a good family, financially and socially solid, so her father approved. But they loved each other. She was able to have a full life with the man she loved. It wasn’t a marriage based on fear or duty or convenience.”

When she caught the scent of honeysuckle, Hope eased down beside Avery. “Love opened her life. She loved her sister, but she was young, afraid, and didn’t know yet what it was to be in love. She kept her sister’s secret, as far as I can tell. And my sense of her, from the letters, is loyalty. I don’t believe she would have betrayed you. She wrote to your cousin Sarah Ellen. They were close to the same age, and she shared her heart, her thoughts, her joys and worries with her. She feared for you, if your father learned you were slipping away to meet Billy. He was a stonemason, working on your father’s estate. Is that right? You need to tell us if that’s right, so I can keep looking.”

She appeared in front of the door leading to the porch.

“He carved our initials into a stone. He showed me. Initials inside a heart in the stone. He put it into the wall, so it would last forever, and no one would know but the two of us.”

“What was his name?” Hope asked.

“He’s Billy. My Billy. I was riding, and went past where I was permitted, alone. Down to the stream, and he was there, fishing on a Sunday afternoon. He should not have been, and I should not have been. A brisk March afternoon, and the water in the stream pushing through the thawing ice.”

Lizzy closed her eyes as if looking back. “I could smell spring trying to break through winter, yet snow still lay in the shadows. The sky was winter gray, and the wind still bitter.”

Opening her eyes, she smiled. “But he was there, and it was no longer cold. I should never have spoken to him, nor he to me. But we knew as if we had always known. A look, a word, and hearts opened. Like in the novels Cathy would read me, and I would laugh at love at first sight.”

Hope wanted to speak, to interrupt. His name, just his name. But didn’t have the heart.

“We met when I could get away, and loved the rest of that cold March, into the blooming spring and to the lushness of summer.”

She held out a hand toward Hope. “You know. All of you know what it is to feel so strongly for someone. He worked with his hands, not with wood, as your loves do, but stone. This alone would make him unworthy in my father’s eyes. We knew it.”

“Did your father find out?” Hope asked.

“He would never believe or suspect I would defy him in such a way. He chose a husband for me, and I refused when I had never refused him. At first, it was as if I hadn’t spoken. He simply continued with his plans for the marriage. I continued to refuse, but, in truth, I would have had no choice. And the war …”

She turned to Clare. “You understand what war does to those who fight it, and to those who are left behind to wait and fear. He said he must fight, must go, or have no honor. I begged, but in this he would not be swayed. We would leave together, marry, and I would stay with his family until he came back for me.”

“Where was his family?” Avery prompted.

“Here?” Lizzy’s fingers worked at the high collar of her dress as she looked around. “Near? It fades. His face is clear, his voice, his touch. Hard hands. Hard and strong. Ryder.”

“Yes,” Hope murmured. “Strong, hard hands. You eloped with Billy?”

“I could not. That very night my father signed my marriage contract. I should have remained silent, but I shouted at him, I raged. I thought of Billy going to war, and I raged at my father. I would never marry but for love. He could beat me, lock me away, throw me away, and still I would not do what he demanded of me. So he did lock me away, in my room. He struck me.”

As if that memory remained all too fresh, Lizzy touched her cheek. “My mother took to her bed, and he struck me again, and dragged me to my room, locked me in. I could not get out, could not get away. Three days and nights, my father kept me locked in my room with only bread and water. I did what I should have done before. I told him I would obey. I asked his forgiveness. I lied and lied, and I waited for my chance. I left that house and my family, my sister whom I loved, so much, in the dead of night with what I could carry. I took the train to Philadelphia. So afraid, so excited. Going to Billy. I traveled by coach. So hot. Such a hot summer. I was ill. I wrote … to his mother. I think. It fades. I wrote, and I came here. He was here.”

“Billy came here?” Hope asked her.

“Near. He was coming. I could hear the cannon fire, but I was so ill. He was coming. He promised. I’m waiting.”

“Eliza, I need his name. His full formal name.” Hope got to her feet. “He was William.”

“No. He was Billy, but Joseph William. He would build us a house, with his own hands. Will your Ryder build you a house?”

“He has a house. Eliza—”

“And a dog. We would have dogs. I left my dogs and my home and my family. But we would have dogs and a home and make a family. I think I was with child.”

“Oh God,” Avery murmured.

“I think … Women know. Is that true?” she asked Clare.

“I think it is.”

“I never told him. I only began to know when I came here. Then the heat, and the sickness. And it fades. It’s too long.” She held out a hand they could see through. “It all fades.”

“Oh, don’t—” Hope began, but Lizzy faded away like her hand.

“Pregnant and alone and sick, while the man she loved went off to war.” Avery rose to crouch by Clare’s chair, lean her cheek on Clare’s hand.

“It wasn’t like that for me. I was never alone. I had family who loved me. But yes, I can understand how frightened she must have been, and God, how determined. To leave everything with only what she could carry, to come to a strange place—and to realize she was carrying a child.”

“Then to lie in bed, sick and dying, listening to cannon fire. He fought at Antietam,” Hope said. “I’m sure of it. He was near, and he was a soldier.”

“His family was near, too,” Avery reminded her. “And we’re not looking for a William, but a Joseph William. Maybe Williams? Would they have called him Billy?”

“I don’t know, but having a potential first and middle name, or a potential first and last, is going to help.”

“The longer she talked, or tried to, the less she was here. She was less and less defined as she talked to us.”

Hope nodded at Clare. “That happened before. It must have something to do with energy. Who the hell knows? I could start researching paranormal activities, hauntings, and so on, but that would take time away from trying to find Billy. That’s the priority.”

“I’ll let Owen know, and he’ll dive in, too. But she talked to us.” Avery took Clare’s hand as she straightened, reached for Hope’s. “She talked to all of us. She hasn’t had anyone she could tell her story to, all this time. All she wanted was Billy, a home, a family, a damn dog. I wish her father would make an appearance. I don’t know if you can punch a ghost, but I’d like to try.”

“For now, this is her home.” Hope sighed. “And we’re her family.”

“Beckett brought her out. I really believe that,” Avery said to Clare. “Something about him let her reach out. Maybe he reminded her of Billy. Maybe they all do—Owen and Ryder, too. She trusts them, cares about them. There’s a connection there, and maybe it’s more than how they rebuilt this place.”

“Yeah.” Hope frowned. “You’re right. There’s something—” She broke off when she heard the door open downstairs, and voices carry up. “Cleaning crew.”

“I need to get back to the store.” Clare levered herself up. “We should write all this down. I can do that. Maybe if it’s all written down, we’ll see something we missed in the telling.”

“I’ll start the search for Joseph William—or Williams—as soon as I can.” Hope led the way down.

“We should have a meeting. The six of us—and Justine if she wants.”

“I’m open tomorrow night. Can you get a sitter?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she told Hope. “Can we get together here? It may jump-start something.”

They stopped in The Lobby, chatted with the cleaning crew. When the phone rang, Hope waved her friends off.

With plans for the meeting working through her head, she braved the heat to go outside and weed. She thought better if her hands stayed busy.

They’d had a breakthrough, she was certain of it. Momentum would carry them the rest of the way.

And what then? she wondered. When they found Billy—discovered where he’d lived and died, how he’d died and when—what would that mean to Lizzy?

She’d never had a chance, Hope thought, not really. And just as she’d believed her life would begin, it had ended. Yet her spirit remained faithful, compassionate, had humor and affection.

And love, she thought. The love just shone in her.

They’d have had a good life together, she mused. That stone house, that family, those dogs. However young she’d been, however tragic, she’d known what she wanted, and she’d grabbed for it.

And what do you want? Hope asked herself.

Her hands stilled as her own question surprised her. She had what she wanted. Didn’t she?

A job she loved, friends she treasured, family she could count on whenever she needed it. A lover she cared for and enjoyed.

It was enough, just as she’d told Ryder. It was more than enough.

Yet something niggled at her, something inside her that wanted to stretch for more.

Don’t spoil it, she warned herself. Don’t start piling on expectations. Take it all as it comes, and be happy now.

She stepped back as Carolee pulled in, and went through the arch to meet her at her car.

“I’m loaded!” Carolee announced.

“And I’m here to help.”

“So’s she.” Carolee gestured as Justine pulled in. “She’s been behind me the last mile and a half. Good timing,” Carolee called out. “Grab a bag and haul it in.”

Justine, wearing sandals with rainbows for straps and sugary pink sunglasses, flexed her biceps. “I’ve got the power. Jesus please us, it’s freaking hot.”

“I’d hoped that storm last night would cool things off.” Carolee reached in, pulled out a skid of toilet paper. “No such luck.”

“Took down a branch as big and wide as Willy B and dropped it across my lane. I had to get the damn chain saw.”

“You ran a chain saw.” Hope gaped at her.

“Honey, I can run a chain saw, a wood splitter, and whatever else you toss at me. If I have to. One of the boys would’ve done it, but I wasn’t calling them away from work when I could do it myself.”

“I can run a Weedwacker.” Carolee laughed as they hauled supplies inside. “But I’ve lived in town for decades and Justine in the woods. Remember how Mama thought Tommy was all but taking you to a foreign country when he bought up that land?”

“Mama figured I’d become a hillbilly. Tommy used to tease her that he was putting in a still.”

“She didn’t approve of him?” Hope wondered.

“Oh, she loved him. Crazy about him. She just didn’t love the idea of him plopping me down in the middle of the wilderness, which was how she saw anything more than three miles outside of town. My father grew up on a farm not far from here, and he couldn’t wait to get some town on him. They were made for each other.”

“Everyone’s got their place,” Carolee said.

“And mine’s in the wilderness. I’m lucky my boys feel the same so I can have them close.”

“No, sit,” Hope said when Justine turned to go out again. “I can get the rest. You have something cold, and I’ll give you the latest Lizzy update when we’ve got everything in.”

“I’ll do just that, and watch my sister put all this away.”

“You always did boss me.”

“You always needed it.”

Amused, Hope left them to it, went out to get the last of the supplies from Carolee’s car.

As she did, a red BMW Roadster pulled into the lot. She didn’t recognize the car—that was new—but she recognized the woman behind the wheel.

Her jaw tightened; her shoulders tensed. She didn’t bother to fake a smile as Sheridan Massey Wickham slid out of the car and onto gorgeous—damn it—Louboutin stiletto sandals.

Her hair fell in such perfect, shiny waves Hope was certain Sheridan had stopped five minutes down the road to freshen it and her makeup. She wore a watercolor-print sheath—Akris, Hope guessed—drop earrings of platinum, and a sparkling wedding set that could have put someone’s eye out.

Just my luck, Hope thought, when I’m sweaty, wearing weed-the-garden clothes and haven’t freshened my lip gloss since I put it on this morning.

Just perfect.

“Sheridan.” She left the greeting at that.

Sheridan whipped off sunglasses, tossed them into her candy pink leather purse. “I’m going to give you one warning, and that’s all you’ll get. Stay away from Jonathan.”

Hope recognized fury when it shot into her face, but couldn’t judge the cause. “I don’t see him anywhere in the vicinity.”

“You’re going to lie to my face now? I know he’s been here, don’t deny it. I know he’s been with you. I know exactly what you’re trying to pull.”

“I don’t intend to lie to your face or behind your back, nor have I got anything worth lying about. You can consider your unnecessary warning received. Now, I’m working, so have a nice drive back.”

“Listen to me, you bitch!” Sheridan grabbed Hope’s arm, clamped her fingers tight. “I know he was here. He stopped for gas. I saw the receipt. I’m not an idiot.”

Yes, Hope thought, jealous types would paw through receipts, emails, search pockets. What a sad way to live.

“You should be talking to him about this. But I’ll tell you he was here, once, earlier this summer to tell me his father wanted to make me an offer to come back to work at the Wickham.”

“You’re a liar, and a slut.”

“I’m neither.” Hope wrenched her arm away.

“If his father wanted you back, I’d know about it. And you’d have jumped at the chance.”

“Obviously you’re wrong on both counts.”

Only more furious, Sheridan pitched her voice to a shout. “You won’t get away with the games you played before. I’m his wife now. I’m his wife, and you’re nothing.”

Hope resisted the urge to rub her arm. Sheridan had used her nails as well as her fingers in the grip. “I never played any games.”

“You slept your way up to manager, and you tried to sleep your way into marriage. And I know you’re trying it again. You think I don’t know who he’s sneaking off to see when he says he has a business trip, or a late meeting.”

Hope might have felt pity if her own temper left room for it. Instead she used every ounce of control to keep from shouting back. “Sheridan, get this into your head. I couldn’t be less interested in Jonathan. If you think I’d give him the time of day much less sex after what he pulled on me, you are an idiot.”

“Lying bitch!”

The crack of Sheridan’s hand across her face stunned her, and came forcefully enough to knock her back a full step.

“You tell me the truth! I want the truth right now, or—”

“You’re going to want to back off.” Ryder pulled Sheridan back. “And a long way off.”

“You take your hands off me or I’ll call the police.”

“Do that. In fact, I can call them for you.”

“Ryder—”

“Go inside, Hope.”

“Yes, go run away.” With a toss of that beautiful hair, Sheridan sneered. “The way you did when Jonathan told you he was through with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but I suggest you do.”

“I’ll go. I’ll go straight to your employer. You’d better start looking for another place to land because you’re going to be done here when I tell him what you’re up to.”

“Why don’t you tell me now?” Justine suggested as she stepped forward. “This is my place. Hope’s my innkeeper. So make it good. Otherwise I’m going to tell my son to go right ahead and call the police so they can escort you off my property.”

“She’s just using you, the way she uses everyone. Jonathan told me how she called him, begging him to come here to talk to her, and how she begged him to take her back.”

“Girl, if you’ve got problems like this so early in your marriage, you’re in trouble. Coming here and going after Hope isn’t going to fix them.”

“I’ve seen Jonathan once since I left D.C.,” Hope began. “I’ve never called him. I’ve never slept with him. I don’t want him, Sheridan. And right now, I wonder why you do.”

As Sheridan lunged forward, Ryder merely shifted to stand between her and Hope. “Put your hands on her again, I can promise you’ll regret it.”

Sheridan’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s it. Reverting to type, Hope? Sleeping with the boss’s son. How pathetic.”

“Lady, there’s a dozen men over there who saw you give Hope that bitch slap. Every one of them will go to court and say so when she has you charged with assault.”

“I—”

“Shut up, Hope.” He snapped it out at her interruption. “You get in your car and you get the hell out of here. You don’t come back. If I hear you do, and in a small town word gets around, I’ll have you arrested. I bet the Wickhams will love having their name smeared all over the Washington Post.”

“She’s just using you.” But there were tears in Sheridan’s eyes now, and the quaver of them in her voice. “She’s using you and trying to wreck my marriage. You’re the one who’ll be sorry when she tosses you away for a bigger catch.”

“Sheridan?” Justine spoke with surprising gentleness. “You’re making a fool out of yourself now. Go on home.”

“I’m going. It’s impossible to try to reason with a couple of hicks anyway.”

Justine’s grin spread wide as Sheridan swung back to her car. “Yee-haw.” As the BMW peeled out, Justine put her arm around Hope’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, don’t let that pitiful fool upset you so.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ryder turned back—he’d wanted to be sure the Roadster kept going. And saw tears spilled down Hope’s cheeks. “Cut that out. Just stop it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Come on inside,” Justine urged. “We’ll put some ice on that cheek. She really clocked you one, didn’t she?”

“I’m sorry,” Hope repeated, couldn’t seem to say anything else. “I need to …”

She shook free, rushed for the door, past a stunned Carolee, and straight up to her apartment.

“Ryder, you go after her.”

“No. No, ma’am.”

Justine whirled on him, eyes hot, hands fisted on hips. “You go after her right this minute. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“She’s crying. I don’t do that. You do that. You go. Come on, Mom, you go.”

“Christ on a broken crutch.” Justine rapped one of those fists on his chest. “What kind of man did I raise who won’t go see to his woman when she’s crying?”

“My kind. Please. I’ll talk to her when she stops. You’ll know what to say to her, what to do.”

Justine huffed out a furious breath. “Fine then. You do what you do and go buy her some goddamn fucking flowers.” After giving him a second, harder rap, Justine turned on her heel and marched inside.

Wincing, Ryder rubbed his chest, pulled out his phone to call the local florist.