The Inn At Rose Harbor Part 4

Josh didn't sleep well. Little wonder-the dreadful scene with Richard played continuously in his mind, like a movie that refused to be shut off. Despite his best efforts the confrontation had gone even worse than he'd imagined it would. If anything, Richard seemed to dislike him even more intensely. It made sense. Richard had every reason to resent Josh. He was alive but the favored son-the son he'd fathered-was dead.

Breakfast was on the table when Josh came down the stairs. Jo Marie greeted him with a bright, "Good morning." Her natural cheerfulness caught him off guard. Just seeing her helped lighten his mood. Although she'd said he was her first guest since taking over the B&B, she was a natural. As far as he could tell she was the perfect hostess, seeing to his care, allowing him to set the parameters of how much attention he wanted.

Josh returned her greeting, then sat down at the table in the formal dining room. The room was bathed in sunlight, as if in reflection of Jo Marie's enthusiasm for the new day, and a welcome change from the gloom of the day before. His mother had been a morning person, Josh remembered. She'd sometimes woken him for school by singing to him. He grinned at the memory. Her chipper mood had irritated him at the time. Grumbling, he'd bury his head beneath his pillow.

Richard had been a different person back then. He'd always been in a rush to get out the door in the mornings and he often ate his breakfast standing up, gulping down one last sip of coffee before heading out the back door. No matter how much of a hurry Richard had been in, he'd always taken the time to kiss Teresa good-bye. Sometimes they kissed with such enthusiasm that Josh had been forced to look away. His stepfather had been a happier man back then.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Josh glanced over his shoulder. Jo Marie had mentioned another guest would be joining them. The woman looked about the same way as he felt. She kept her gaze lowered and smiled faintly when Jo Marie called out her cheery morning greeting.

The other woman didn't seem to notice him until she sat down at the table. Surprise registered on her face when she looked up.

"Morning," he said. While he didn't really feel like making conversation he didn't want to be rude.

"Morning," she replied with what seemed to be a certain reluctance.

"Josh Weaver, meet Abby Kincaid," Jo Marie said as she returned to the dining room, carrying a pitcher of orange juice.

Josh noticed that his coffee mug was already full. The ca.s.serole rested in the middle of the table along with a plate of crisp bacon, a stack of b.u.t.tered toast with an array of jellies and jams, and home-baked m.u.f.fins.

"Orange juice?" Jo Marie asked him.

"Please."

"None for me, thank you," Abby said.

Josh discovered he was ravenous. He hadn't eaten dinner the night before, although he'd enjoyed a late lunch with Mich.e.l.le. They'd stayed at the Pancake Palace for nearly three hours, talking about everything under the sun, other than Richard. Pride wouldn't allow him to show how upset his stepfather had made him.

After he'd dropped Mich.e.l.le off at her parents' house, Josh had driven around for another couple of hours, familiarizing himself with the town and the outlying areas around it once again. Cedar Cove was the only real home he'd ever known, and it felt strange to be back.

Mich.e.l.le hadn't exaggerated the situation with Richard. Josh didn't doubt that his stepfather was dying and, odd as it seemed, he felt a twinge of loss. The end of an era, even if not a happy one. The end of his chance to make things, if not right, then different than they had been.

Perhaps his sadness was related to the fact that he would be all alone in the world once Richard died. And yet, that didn't make sense, because basically he already was alone. The two hadn't spoken in years.

Still, there it was, this feeling that he was on the verge of losing something important. He barely remembered his biological father, an alcoholic who'd abandoned him and his mother when Josh was five. His mother had died thirteen years later and then his stepbrother.

Josh noticed that he'd been staring sightlessly out the dining room window and ignoring everyone else. He spooned a large serving of the egg dish Jo Marie had brought into the room and ate it with gusto.

The meal was delicious. Josh had two helpings, which was unusual for him. By contrast, Abby barely touched her breakfast. She just shuffled food around on her plate when she a.s.sumed someone was watching. Josh doubted she'd swallowed more than a bite or two, if that. He guessed she hadn't experienced such a great night herself.

It seemed like they had each come to Cedar Cove weighed down with burdens. He didn't speak of his and she didn't either, which suited him just fine, although they exchanged polite conversation.

"Will either of you be available for dinner?" Jo Marie asked, sweeping into the dining room with a fresh pot of coffee.

"I don't have dinner plans," Josh confirmed. "But don't count on me."

"I'll be with my family," Abby returned apologetically.

"It's not a problem," Jo Marie a.s.sured them both and laid a hand on the top rung of the ladder-back chair behind Josh. "Is everything to your liking?"

After the scrumptious breakfast she had prepared, Josh could again hardly believe she was new to this. "It's wonderful."

Abby didn't respond; she seemed to be caught up in her own thoughts.

"Abby," Jo Marie prodded gently. "Anything more I can get you?"

Abby made an effort to smile, and failed. "Everything was ... perfect. Thank you so much."

"No problem."

Jo Marie was like a b.u.mblebee flirting from flower to flower, buzzing about the room. "I had the most wonderful night," she said as if she couldn't hold it in a moment longer. "I sat by the fireplace and soaked up the quiet. I can't remember an evening that peaceful in a very long while."

Josh was pleased that someone had found solace. He doubted it was possible for him while he was in Cedar Cove. He would like nothing better than to retrieve the few things he wanted and, if possible, leave that very morning.

He left the B&B shortly after breakfast. Mich.e.l.le had said she'd meet him at her parents' house to try again with Richard. Josh appreciated her company.

As he drove toward his old neighborhood, he realized that while he and Mich.e.l.le had spent a good portion of the day together, he still didn't know that much about her. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he'd done the majority of the talking. Mich.e.l.le had seemed curious about his time away from Cedar Cove. She'd asked about his stint in the army and plied him with questions regarding his schooling and his jobs around the country. Josh couldn't remember a time he'd had a three-hour conversation with anyone that wasn't job related. Afterward he'd felt close to her, closer than he had to any woman in a very long while. He wasn't sure what to make of this, if anything, but it played on his mind.

Josh had never married, but it hadn't been a conscious decision. He'd dated plenty over the years and had been in three serious relations.h.i.+ps. Eventually they'd fizzled out.

Josh wasn't sure why, other than the fact that he had never stayed in one place for long. One broken relations.h.i.+p was understandable, two was questionable, but three times? Really, that said it all. Clearly the trouble rested squarely with him. Josh supposed he was a prime candidate for counseling. No doubt he had unresolved issues regarding the father who had deserted him, and the depressing relations.h.i.+p he had with his stepfather.

When he arrived at the Nelsons', Josh noticed that the lights were on inside the house. Not so with his stepfather's place. Instantly alarmed, he started toward the run-down family home and stopped himself in the nick of time. If he rushed into the house and found Richard sitting up in a chair, he'd appear a fool. Best to stick with the plan. Get in. Get out. Get away.

Mich.e.l.le opened the front door as he strolled up the walkway to her house. She held a mug in both hands. "Morning," she called out.

"Morning." Even now it was difficult to get used to the fact that this lovely woman was Mich.e.l.le. The girl he remembered had been shy and retiring, seemingly uncomfortable in her own skin. They'd taken the school bus together for years.

She'd had friends. Josh was sure of that, but he simply couldn't remember who they were. What he did remember was the names the other kids called her. Mich.e.l.le had ignored them, but still that must have hurt. A couple of times he'd put an end to it, but that had backfired on him. The kids had started to tease him, saying he was sweet on her.

"How about a cup of coffee?" Mich.e.l.le asked.

"Sure." He wasn't so much interested in coffee as he was in delaying the inevitable-another confrontation with his stepfather. He followed Mich.e.l.le into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen counter while she filled his mug.

"How long ago did you lose the weight?" he asked. That was probably not the best conversation starter, but it was the one question that kept popping up in his head.

Mich.e.l.le shrugged as though it was no big deal. Josh wasn't fooled, it had been a major turning point in her life; it must have been.

"It's been a few years now."

Knowing how much she'd loved Dylan from afar, he asked, "Did Dylan ever see you ... like this?" He wasn't sure how to phrase it and he hoped he hadn't insulted her.

"I'd lost quite a bit of weight by the time of his accident, but I doubt he noticed."

Josh found that hard to believe.

"Dylan wasn't living at home at the time," she clarified. "I didn't see him that often; he was involved with Brooke."

"Brooke Davis?" Josh asked. Dylan had been attracted to Brooke in high school. She was a wild child with bright red hair and a temperament to match. As far as Josh was concerned, Brooke was bad news. She'd brought out the worst in Dylan.

"They were living together?" he asked.

Mich.e.l.le nodded. Josh realized he'd been naive to a.s.sume that Dylan had remained at home. It had always been understood that Josh was expected to move on as soon as he was out of school, but for Dylan it'd been a different story, and Josh had never thought otherwise.

Hiding his reaction to the news that Dylan had been living with Brooke, Josh sipped his coffee. Discussing his stepbrother upset him and so he abruptly changed the subject. "We talked a lot about me last night. What about you? You're not married either, right?"

"Not now."

"But you were?" This, too, came as a surprise, although it shouldn't have. Again he'd made a false a.s.sumption. Since she was so close to her family and helping out around the house, he'd naturally thought ... well, he'd been wrong.

"I was briefly married," Mich.e.l.le continued. "It was a mistake that I regretted almost immediately. I married Jason when I was twenty and we were divorced by the time I turned twenty-one. He's since remarried and moved out of the area."

"I'm sorry," Josh said, not exactly sure what to say. Although she made light of her failed marriage, he supposed it had cut deep emotional wounds in her heart.

"Yes, so am I," she said with a shrug.

Josh noticed that she didn't make excuses, lay blame, or list the reasons for the divorce like some of the women he'd dated tended to do. He considered that a sign of maturity on her part. He took another sip of coffee. "After I dropped you off, I realized I hardly asked anything about you."

"What do you want to know?" she challenged.

"Well, for one, where do you live?"

"I have a condo on the water in Manchester."

Those must be new. Josh didn't remember any condos over there. "Do you enjoy your job? It can't be easy to be in social work when so many people need help."

"Actually, I love my work. I'm fortunate to work on the adoption end, and to be in charge of finding permanent homes for children who need them. It's rewarding on a number of levels."

He hesitated, not wanting to make her feel like he was grilling her with questions. "I'm grateful you're helping me with Richard ... I want you to know that. I'm hoping today will go better."

"I hope so, too." She offered him a gentle smile.

Josh had a hard time looking away. She really was a beautiful woman. She'd always been beautiful, both inside and out, but he'd been too blind to see it. Everyone had.

She set her mug in the sink and seemed uncomfortable under his gaze.

The atmosphere had gotten a bit thick so Josh filled the silence with words. "And I really appreciate how you and your parents have been keeping tabs on Richard. You were always good neighbors." He recalled how Mich.e.l.le's mother had brought over meals when his own mother was so desperately sick.

Mich.e.l.le lowered her gaze. "Richard and my mother had a falling out a few months back. When she took a meal over to him, she found him on the floor and dialed nine-one-one. Richard got upset and ordered her out of the house and told her not to come back."

Foolish man. But that sounded just like Richard.

"Your father's been checking on him then?" Josh asked.

"No. The only one he'll allow in the house is me."

In response Josh shook his head and did his best to hold back a smile. Apparently his stepfather wasn't immune to a pretty face.

"I think it all goes back to my high school crush on Dylan. Seeing me makes it easier for him to deal with his loss somehow. I don't know why, but mostly he's pleased when I stop by."

"Does Brooke ever come around?"

She snickered softly. "Never. She didn't even attend Dylan's funeral. From what I heard she spent the day getting drunk, crying in her beer."

"Is she still around town?"

"Don't know," Mich.e.l.le murmured. "I don't really care to know."

Josh didn't really care either. "Richard's gotten all the more difficult, hasn't he?"

She didn't bother to hide the truth. "I'm afraid so."

While Richard wouldn't appreciate it, Josh felt he had to ask. "Is there anything I can do for him?"

Mich.e.l.le mulled this over, briefly nibbling on her lower lip. "I ... don't think he'd accept help from you."

Josh figured as much. Having her say what he already suspected did little to cut the disappointment. Despite their negative history, he did want to help the older man.

"Have you spoken with his doctor?" he asked.

"Some. I've tried to phone a couple of times. Like I said earlier, Richard shouldn't be living by himself, but he insists that if he's going to die, he wants to be in his own bed."

"Thank you for being such a good friend to him," Josh said, and he meant it.

"I would have done it for Dylan ..."

"You loved him, didn't you?"

She hesitated. "At one time perhaps, but you didn't let me finish."

"Sorry."

"I did it for Dylan ... and for you."

Chapter 7.

I was busy cleaning up in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Setting aside the dish towel, I walked toward the front door. On my doorstep, smiling at me, was a striking woman with salt-and-pepper hair. She was dressed in a raincoat and a bandanna and she was holding a tray of what looked like m.u.f.fins.

"h.e.l.lo, I'm Peggy Beldon."