This Heart Of Mine

Chapter 9

Kevin had his cell phone pressed to one ear, the B &B's phone pressed to the other as he paced the entrance hall barking orders to his business manager and somebody who was either a secretary or a housekeeper. Behind him an imposing walnut staircase rose half a flight, then turned at a right angle. The spindles were dusty, and the richly patterned carpet on the treads needed vacuuming. An urn filled with drooping peacock feathers topped a pilaster on the landing.

His pacing was wearing her out, so Molly decided to explore while he talked. With Roo trotting after her, she moved slowly into the front parlor. The pincushion settee and pleasing jumble of chairs were upholstered in pretty buttercup and rose fabrics. Botanical prints and pastoral scenes hung in gilded frames on the cream-colored walls, while lace curtains framed the windows. Brass candlesticks, a Chinese jardiniere, and some crystal boxes ornamented the mantel above the fireplace. Unfortunately, the brass was tarnished, the crystal dull, and the tabletops dusty. A lint-flecked Oriental carpet contributed to the overall air of neglect.

The same was true of the music room, where the traditional pineapple-patterned wallpaper served as a background for rose-patterned reading chairs and a spinet piano. A writing desk in the corner held ivory stationery, along with an old-fashioned fountain pen and a bottle of ink. A pair of tarnished silver candlesticks sat on top, near an old toby jug.

A Queen Anne table and ten matching high-backed chairs graced the dining room across the hallway. The room's dominant feature was a square, cutaway bay window that provided a generous view of lake and woods. Molly suspected that the tall crystal vases on the sideboard had held fresh flowers when his Aunt Judith was alive, but now the marble top was cluttered with the remains of breakfast serving dishes.

She walked through a door at the back into an old-fashioned country kitchen warmed by blue-and-white tiles as well as wooden cabinets topped with a collection of chintzwear china pitchers. In the center a sturdy farm table with a marble slab served as a workspace, but now dirty mixing bowls, eggshells, measuring cups, and an open jar of dried cranberries littered the surface. The very modern restaurant-size stove needed cleaning, and the dishwasher door hung open.

A round oak table for informal dining sat in front of the windows. Printed pillows covered the seats of the farmhouse chairs, and a punched-tin chandelier hung above. Behind the house the yard sloped down to the lake, with woods on each side.

She peeked into a large, well-stocked pantry that smelled of baking spices, then entered a small connecting room, where the very modern computer resting on an old tavern table signaled that this was the office. She was tired of walking, so she sat down and booted it up. Twenty minutes later she heard Kevin.

"Molly! Where the hell are you?"

Slytherin rudeness didn't deserve a response, so she ignored him and opened another file.

For a normally graceful man, he had an unusually heavy step that morning, and she heard his approach long before he located her. "Why didn't you answer me?"

She repositioned the mouse as he came up behind her, deciding it was time to face up to him. "I don't answer roars."

"I wasn't roaring! I was-"

When he didn't finish, she looked up to see what had distracted him. Outside the window a very young woman in skimpy black shorts and a tight, scoop-neck top flew across the garden, followed by an equally young man. She turned and ran backward, laughing and taunting him. He called out something to her. She grabbed the hem of her top and tugged it up, flashing her bare breasts.

"Whoa…" Kevin said.

Molly felt her skin grow hot.

The man caught her around the waist and dragged her into the woods so that they weren't visible from the road, although Kevin and Molly could see them clearly. He leaned against the trunk of an old maple. She immediately jumped on him and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Molly felt the slow pulse of dormant blood stirring as she watched the young lovers begin to devour each other. He cupped her bottom. She pressed her breasts to his chest, then, resting her elbows on his shoulders, caught his head to steady it, as if she weren't already kissing him deeply enough.

Molly heard Kevin move behind her, and her body gave a sluggish throb. She could feel his height looming over her, his warmth penetrating her thin top. How could someone who made his living with sweat smell so clean?

The young man turned his lover so that her back was against the tree. He pushed a hand under her T-shirt and covered her breast.

Molly's own breasts tingled. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't manage it. Apparently Kevin couldn't either, because he didn't move, and his voice sounded vaguely husky.

"I think we've just caught our first glimpse of Amy and Troy Anderson."

The young woman dropped to the ground. She was petite but leggy, with dishwater-blond hair pulled up in a purple scrunchy. His hair was darker and cut close to his head. He was thin and quite a bit taller than the girl.

Her hands slipped between their bodies. It took Molly only a moment to realize what she was doing.

Unzipping his jeans.

"They're going to do it right in front of us," Kevin said softly.

His comment jerked Molly out of her trance. She bolted up from the computer and turned her back to the window. "Not in front of me."

His eyes drifted from the window to her, and for a moment he didn't say anything. He just gazed at her. Again that sluggish pulsing in her bloodstream. It reminded her that even though they'd been intimate, she didn't know him.

"Getting a little hot for you?"

She was definitely warmer than she wanted to be. "Voyeurism isn't my thing."

"Now, that surprises me. This should be right up your alley, since you seem to like preying on the unsuspecting."

Time hadn't diminished the embarrassment she felt. She opened her mouth to apologize once again, only to have something calculating in his expression stop her. With a shock she realized that Kevin wasn't interested in groveling. He wanted to be entertained with an argument.

He deserved her very best, but her brain had been inactive for so long, it was hard to come up with a response. "Only when I'm drunk."

"Are you saying you were drunk that night?" He glanced out the window, then back at her.

"Totally wasted. Stoli on ice. Why else do you think I behaved like that?"

Another look out the window, this one lasting a bit longer. "I don't remember you being drunk."

"You were asleep."

"What I remember is that you told me you were sleepwalking."

She managed a huffy sniff. "Well, I hardly wanted to confess that I had a problem with alcohol."

"Recovered now, are you?" Those green eyes were much too perceptive.

"Even the thought of Stoli makes me nauseous."

His gaze raked a slow, steady path over her body. "You know what I think?"

She swallowed. "I'm not interested."

"I think I was just irresistible to you."

She searched her imaginative brain for a scorching comeback, but the best she could come up with was a rather pitiful "Whatever makes you happy."

He shifted his position to get a better view of the scene outside. Then he winced. "That's got to hurt."

She wanted to look so badly she could barely stand it. "That's sick. Don't watch them."

"It's interesting." He tilted his head slightly. "Now, that's a new way to go about it."

"Stop it!"

"And I don't even think that's legal."

She couldn't stand it any longer, and she whirled around, only to realize that the lovers had vanished.

His chuckle had an evil edge. "If you run outside, you might be able to catch them before they're done."

"You think you're funny."

"Fairly amusing."

"Well, then, this should really entertain you. I dipped into Aunt Judith's computer records, and the B &B seems to be booked solid into September. Most of the cottages, too. You won't believe how much people are willing to pay to stay here."

"Let me see that." He pushed past her to get to the computer.

"Enjoy yourself. I'm going to find someplace to stay."

He was busy scanning the screen, and he didn't respond, not even when she reached over him to pick up the piece of notepaper she'd used to jot down the names of the vacant cottages.

A pegboard hung on the wall next to the desk. She found the appropriate keys, stuck them in her pocket, and made her way through the kitchen. She hadn't eaten that day, and on the way she picked up a leftover slice of Charlotte Long's cranberry bread. The first bite told her that Mrs. Long had been right when she'd said she wasn't much of a cook, and she dropped it in the trash.

When she reached the hallway, curiosity won out over her fatigue, and she climbed the steps to see the rest of the house. Roo trotted at her side as she peered into the guest rooms, each of which had been individually decorated. There were book-filled nooks, pretty views from the windows, and the homey decorating touches people expected at an upscale B &B.

She spotted a bird's nest filled with antique glass marbles on top of a stack of vintage hatboxes. An arrangement of apothecary bottles sat near a wire birdcage. Pieces of embroidery in oval frames, old wooden signs, and wonderful stoneware vases that should have held fresh flowers were tucked here and there. She also saw unmade beds, overflowing trash cans, and grubby bathtubs draped with discarded towels. Clearly Amy Anderson would rather cavort in the trees with her new husband than clean.

At the end of the hallway she opened the door into the only room that hadn't been rented out. She knew because it was tidy. Judging from the family photos propped on the dressing table, the room had belonged to Judith Tucker. It occupied the corner of the house, including the turret. She visualized Kevin sleeping beneath the carved headboard. He was so tall, he'd have to lie across the mattress.

An image of the way he'd looked the night she'd slipped into his bed came back to her. She shook it off and made her way downstairs. As she stepped out onto the front porch, she smelled pine, petunias, and the lake. Roo stuck his nose in a flowerpot.

She wanted nothing more than to sink into one of the rockers and take a nap, but since she wasn't going to join Kevin in Aunt Judith's bedroom, she needed to find a place to stay. "Come on, Roo. Let's go visit the empty cottages."

One of the computer files had contained a diagram that marked the location of each cottage. As she approached the Common, she noticed the small, hand-painted signs near the front doors: Gabriel's Trumpet, Milk and Honey, Green Pastures, Good News.

As she passed Jacob's Ladder, a handsome, rawboned man came through the woods. He looked as if he was in his early to mid-fifties, significantly younger than the other residents she'd spotted. She nodded and received a brusque nod in response.

She headed in the opposite direction, toward Tree of Life, a coral cottage with plum and lavender trim. It was empty, as was Lamb of God. They were both charming, but she decided she'd like more privacy than the cottages on the Common afforded, so she turned away and walked back toward the more isolated ones that perched along the lane that paralleled the lake.

An odd sense of déjà vu came over her. Why did this place seem so familiar? As she passed the B &B, Roo pranced ahead of her, stopping to sniff at a clump of duckweed, then discovering an alluring patch of grass. When she came to the end of the lane, she saw exactly what she wanted nestled in the trees. Lilies of the Field.

The tiny cottage had been freshly painted the softest of creamy yellows with its spindles and lacy wooden trim accented in palest blue and the same dusty pink as the inside of a seashell. Her chest ached. The cottage looked like a nursery.

She mounted the steps and discovered that the screen door squeaked, just as it should. She found the proper key in her pocket and turned it in the lock. Then she stepped inside.

The cottage was decorated in authentic shabby chic instead of the kind that was trendy. The white-painted walls were old and wonderful. Underneath a dustcover she found a couch upholstered in a faded print. The battered wooden trunk in front of it served as a coffee table. A scrubbed pine chest sat along one wall, a brass swing-arm lamp next to it. Despite the musty smell, the cottage's white walls and lace curtains made everything feel airy.

Off to the left, the tiny kitchen held an old-fashioned gas stove and a small drop-leaf table with two farmhouse chairs similar to the ones she'd seen in the B &B's kitchen. A glance inside the painted wooden cupboard showed wonderfully mismatched pottery and china plates, more pressed glass, and sponge-painted mugs. Something ached inside her as she spotted a child's set of Peter Rabbit dishes, and she turned away.

The bathroom had a claw-foot tub along with an ancient pedestal sink. A rag rug covered the rough-planked floor in front of the tub, and someone had stenciled a chain of vines near the ceiling.

Two bedrooms occupied the back, one tiny and the other large enough for a double bed and a painted chest of drawers. The bed, covered in a faded quilt, had a curved iron headboard painted a soft yellow with a flower basket motif worked in the center. A small milk-glass lamp rested on the bedside table.

In the back of the cottage, nestling into the woods, was a screened porch. Bent-willow chairs leaned against the wall, and a hammock hung across one corner. She'd done more today than she'd done in weeks, and just looking at the hammock made her realize how tired she was.

She lowered herself into it. Above her the beaded-board ceiling was painted the same creamy yellow as the exterior of the house, with subtle dusty pink and blue accents along the moldings. What a wonderful place. Just like a nursery.

She closed her eyes. The hammock rocked her like a cradle. She was asleep almost instantly.

The Klingon greeted Kevin at the cottage door with a growl and bared teeth. "Don't start. I'm not in the mood."

He walked past the dog to the bedroom and set down Molly's suitcase, then made his way to the kitchen. She wasn't there, but Charlotte Long had seen her disappear inside, and he found her on the porch, asleep in the hammock. Her watchdog scampered past him to do guard duty. Kevin gazed down at her.

She looked small and defenseless. One hand curled under her chin, and a lock of dark brown hair fell over her cheek. Her lashes were thick, but not thick enough to hide the shadows under her eyes, and he felt guilty for the way he'd been bullying her. At the same time, something told him she wouldn't react well to coddling. Not that he could have coddled her anyway. He still had too much resentment.

His eyes skimmed along her body, then lingered. She wore bright red capri jeans and a rumpled yellow sleeveless blouse with one of those Chinese collars. When she was awake and being her normal smart-ass self, it was hard to see her showgirl ancestry, but asleep it was a different story. Her ankles were trim, her legs slim, and her hips had a nice soft curve. Beneath her blouse, her breasts rose and fell, and, through the open V, he caught a glimpse of black lace. His hand itched to pop open the buttons and see more.

His reaction disgusted him. As soon as he got back to Chicago, he'd better call an old girlfriend because it had clearly been too long since he'd had sex.

The Klingon must have been reading his mind because he started to growl at him, then barked.

Roo awakened her. Molly eased her eyes open, then sucked in her breath as she saw the shadow of a man looming over her. She tried to sit up too quickly, and the hammock tipped.

Kevin caught her before she could fall and set her on her feet. "Don't you ever think first?"

She brushed the hair from her eyes and tried to blink herself awake. "What do you want?"

"Next time tell me when you're going to disappear."

"I did." She yawned. "But you were too busy gaping at Mrs. Anderson's breasts to pay attention."

He pulled a bent-willow chair away from the wall and sat down on it. "That couple is completely worthless. The minute you turn your back on them, they're climbing all over each other."

"They're newlyweds."

"Yeah, well, so are we."

There was nothing she could say to that. She sank down on the metal glider, which was missing its cushions and very uncomfortable.

His expression grew calculating. "One thing I'll say about Amy, at least she supports her husband."

"The way he was holding her against the tree-"

"It's the two of them against the world. Working side by side. Helping each other out. A team."

"If you think you're being subtle, you're not."

"I need some help."

"I can't hear a word you're saying."

"Apparently I'm stuck with this place for the summer. I'll get somebody in here to run it as soon as I can, but until then…"

"Until then nothing." She rose from the glider. "I'm not doing it. The sex-crazy newlyweds can help you. And what about Charlotte Long?"

"She says she hates to cook, and she was only doing it because of Judith. Besides, a couple of the guests came looking for me, and all of them take a dim view of her efforts." He rose and started to pace, his restless energy buzzing like a bug zapper. "I offered them a refund, but when it comes to their vacations, people are completely unreasonable. They want the refund plus everything they were promised in that Virginia magazine."

"Victoria."

"Whatever. The point is, we're going to have to stay in this godforsaken place a little longer than I planned."

It wasn't godforsaken to her. It was charming, and she tried to make herself feel happy that they'd be here longer, but all she felt was empty.

"While you were taking your beauty rest, I went into town to put a Help Wanted ad in the local paper. I find out the place is so damn small the paper's a weekly, and it just came out today, so the next issue is seven days off! I put out the word with some of the locals, but I don't know how effective that's going to be."

"You think we'll be here a week?"

"No, I'll talk to people." He looked ready to take a bite out of something. "But I guess there's a chance if I can't find anyone until the ad's out. Not a big chance, but I suppose it could happen."

She sat on the glider. "I guess you'll be running a B &B until then."

He narrowed his eyes. "You seem to have forgotten that you took a vow to support me."

"I did not!"

"Did you pay any attention to those wedding vows you were saying?"

"I tried not to," she admitted. "I'm not in the habit of making promises I know I'm not going to keep."

"Neither am I, and so far I've kept my word."

"To love, honor, and obey? I don't think so."

"Those weren't the vows we took." He tucked his hands under his arms and watched her.

She tried to figure out what he was talking about, but her only memories of the ceremony were of the poodles and the way she'd held on to Andrew's sticky little hand for dear life. A sense of uneasiness crept through her. "Maybe you'd better refresh my memory."

"I'm talking about the vows Phoebe wrote for us," he said quietly. "Are you sure she didn't mention it to you?"

She'd mentioned it, but Molly'd been so miserable she hadn't paid attention. "I guess I wasn't listening."

"Well, I was. I even fixed a couple of the sentences to make them more realistic. Now, I might not have this exactly right-you can call your sister to verify-but the gist of it is that you, Molly, promised to accept me, Kevin, as your husband, at least for a while. You promised to give me your respect and consideration from that day forward. Notice there was no mention of love and honor. You promised not to speak badly of me to others." He eyed her. "And to support me in everything we share together."

Molly bit her lip. It was just like Phoebe to have written something like that. Of course she'd done it to protect the baby.

She pulled herself together. "Okay, you're a great quarterback. I can do the respect part. And if you don't count Phoebe, Dan, and Roo, I never speak badly of you to others."

"My eyes are tearing up from emotion. How about the other part? That 'support' thing?"

"That was supposed to be about-You know what it was about." She blinked her eyes and took a deep breath. "Phoebe certainly wasn't trying to force me into helping you run a B &B."

"Don't forget the cottages, and a sacred vow is just that."

"You kidnapped me yesterday, and now you're trying to manipulate me into forced labor!"

"It'll only be for a couple of days. A week at the most. Or maybe that's too much to ask from a rich girl."

"This is your problem, not mine."

He stared at her for a long moment, then that cold look settled over his face. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Kevin wasn't someone who asked for help easily, and she regretted her peevishness, but she couldn't be around people now. Still, she should have been more tactful about refusing him. "I just-I haven't been in great shape lately, and-"

"Forget it," he snapped. "I'll manage on my own." He stalked across the porch and out through the back door.

She stomped around the cottage for a while, feeling ugly and out of sorts. He'd brought in her suitcase. She unzipped it, only to go back out on the porch and stare at the lake.

Those wedding vows… She'd been prepared to break the traditional ones. Even couples who loved each other had a hard time living up to those. But these vows-the ones Phoebe had written-were different. These were vows that an honorable person should be able to keep.

Kevin had.

"Damn."

Roo looked up.

"I don't want to be with a lot of people now, that's all."

But she wasn't telling herself the whole truth. She mainly didn't want to be around him.

She glanced at her watch and saw that it was five o'clock.

With a grimace she gazed down at her poodle. "I'm afraid we have some personal character building to do."

Ten guests had gathered in the buttercup and rose parlor for afternoon tea, but somehow Molly couldn't imagine Victoria magazine giving the occasion its seal of approval. The inlaid table at the side of the room held an open bag of Oreos, a can of grape Hi-C, a coffeepot, Styrofoam cups, and a jar that looked as if it contained powdered tea. Despite the fare, the guests seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The bird-watching Pearsons stood behind a pair of elderly women perched on the pincushion settee. Across the room two white-haired couples chatted. The women's gnarled fingers flashed with old diamonds and newer anniversary rings. One of the men had a walrus mustache, the other lime green golf slacks with white patent leather shoes. Another couple was younger, in their early fifties perhaps, prosperous baby boomers who could have stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad. It was Kevin, however, who dominated the room. As he stood by the fireplace, he looked so much like the lord of the manor that his shorts and Stars T-shirt might have been jodhpurs and a riding jacket.

"… so the president of the United States is sitting on the fifty-yard line, the Stars are down by four points, there are only seven seconds left on the clock, and I'm pretty sure I just sprained the heck out of my knee."

"That must have been painful," the boomer woman cooed.

"You don't notice the pain until later."

"I remember this game!" her husband exclaimed. "You hit Tippett on a fifty-yard post pattern, and the Stars won by three."

Kevin shook his head modestly. "I got lucky, Chet."

Molly rolled her eyes. Nobody made it to the top of the NFL trusting in luck. Kevin had gotten where he was by being the best. His good ol' boy act might charm the guests, but she knew the truth.

Still, as she watched him she knew she was seeing self-discipline in action, and she begrudgingly gave him her respect. No one suspected he hated being here. She'd forgotten that he was a minister's son, but she shouldn't have. Kevin was a man who did his duty, even though he hated it. Just as he'd done when he'd married her.

"I can't believe it," Mrs. Chet cooed. "When we chose a bed-and-breakfast in the wilds of northeastern Michigan, we never imagined our host would be the famous Kevin Tucker."

Kevin graced her with his aw-shucks expression. Molly wanted to tell her not to bother flirting with him, since she didn't have a foreign accent.

"I'd love to hear your take on the draft." Chet readjusted the navy cotton sweater he'd tossed around the shoulders of his kelly green polo shirt.

"How about the two of us share a beer out on the front porch later on tonight?"

"I wouldn't mind joining you," walrus mustache interjected, while lime green pants nodded in agreement.

"We'll all do it," Kevin said graciously.

John Pearson polished off the last of the Oreos. "Now that Betty and I know you personally, we'll have to start following the Stars. You, uh, wouldn't happen to have located one of Judith's lemon-poppy seed cakes in the freezer, would you?"

"I have no idea," Kevin said. "And that reminds me, I'd better apologize in advance for tomorrow's breakfast. Pancakes from a mix is the best I can do, so if you decide to leave, I'll understand. That offer for double your refund still stands."

"We wouldn't think about leaving such a charming place." Mrs. Chet gave Kevin a look that had adultery written all over it. "And don't worry about breakfast. I'll be glad to pitch in."

Molly did her part to protect the Ten Commandments by forcing herself out of the doorway and into the room. "That won't be necessary. I know Kevin wants you to relax while you're here, and I think I can promise that the food will be a little better tomorrow."

Kevin's eyes flickered, but if she expected him to fall at her feet from gratitude, he quickly disabused her of the notion with his introduction. "This is my estranged wife, Molly."

"She doesn't look strange," walrus mustache's wife said in a too-loud whisper to her friend.

"That's because you don't know her," Kevin murmured.

"My wife's a bit hard of hearing." Like the others, Mr. Mustache was obviously taken aback by Kevin's introduction. Several of those in the room regarded her curiously. The People spread…

Molly tried to be annoyed, but it was a relief not having to pretend they were a happily married couple.

John Pearson stepped forward hastily. "Your husband has quite a sense of humor. We're delighted you'll be cooking for us, Mrs. Tucker."

"Please call me Molly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check the supplies in the kitchen. And I know your rooms aren't as orderly as they should be, but Kevin will clean them up himself before bedtime." As she headed down the hallway, she decided Mr. Tough Guy didn't always have to have the last word.

Her satisfaction faded the moment she opened the kitchen door and saw the young lovers having sex against Aunt Judith's refrigerator. She stepped backward only to bump into Kevin's chest.

He peered over her head. "Awww, for Pete's sake."

The lovers sprang apart. Molly was ready to avert her eyes, but Kevin stalked into the kitchen. He glared at Amy, whose scrunchy had come out of her hair and who was doing up her buttons wrong. "I thought I asked you to get those dishes cleaned up."

"Yeah, well, uh… "

"Troy, you're supposed to be mowing the Common."

He struggled with his zipper. "I was just getting ready to-"

"I know exactly what you were getting ready to do, and believe me, that won't get the grass cut!"

Troy looked sulky and muttered under his breath.

"Did you say something?" Kevin's bark must be the same one he used on rookies.

Troy's Adam's apple worked. "There's, uh, too much work to do around here for what we're getting paid."

"And what's that?"

Troy told him, and Kevin doubled it on the spot. Troy's eyes gleamed. "Cool."

"But there's a catch," Kevin said smoothly. "You're going to have to actually do some work for that money. Amy, sweetheart, don't even think about leaving tonight until those guest rooms are spick-and-span. And, Troy, you've got an appointment with the lawn mower. Any questions?"

As they shook their heads warily, Molly saw matching hickeys on their necks. Something uncomfortable stirred in the pit of her stomach.

Troy moved toward the door, and Amy's longing gaze reminded Molly of Ingrid Bergman bidding Humphrey Bogart a final farewell on that Casablanca runway.

What would it feel like to be that much in love? Again she felt that unpleasant quivering in her stomach. Only after the lovers had parted did she realize it was jealousy. They had something she seemed destined never to experience.