Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(34)
Author: Irene Hannon
Not likely. But why waste any brainpower on what-iffing?
“Thanks. Sleep well.”
“You too.”
They parted in the hall, and Jon continued toward his room. Veered toward the master bath. Flipped on the light and faced the mirror—a rare occurrence, except while shaving.
Judging his current features by his pre-roadside-bomb appearance was pointless. He’d never look like he had five years ago.
Nevertheless, compared to the early days there was noticeable improvement. The surgeons had done a remarkable job patching him up. He’d been spared the burns and traumatic brain injuries many in his squad had suffered, thanks to his location farther from the explosion. But the shrapnel that had pierced and shattered his jaw, ripped off two fingers, taken most of the vision in his left eye, and left a mottled mass of white scars from forehead to chin, down his neck to the top of his body armor, and along his left arm and leg, had altered his appearance forever.
He wasn’t a pretty boy anymore, and he’d never win a spot on The Bachelor.
But he wasn’t horror-movie material either. Not like he’d been in the beginning, when the sight of him had turned Melinda’s stomach.
The question was, were Kyle and Laura right? Was it possible people would be able to overlook his obvious physical imperfections and see into his soul and heart?
There was only one way to find out.
Ditch his disguise. Let the world see his scars and wait for a verdict.
His pulse spiked, and he gripped the edge of the vanity.
Vanity.
There was that word again.
Maybe he was vain.
After all, the face staring back at him wasn’t bad enough anymore to scare people, despite what he’d told Ashley. Yes, it would draw curious looks, but he could live with that. And Hope Harbor was small. It wasn’t as if he’d be meeting new people every day. Once residents got used to his appearance, it was possible they wouldn’t pay any attention to his physical flaws.
He forked his fingers through his hair and straightened up.
Going cold turkey would be difficult, but why not drop his concealing paraphernalia one item at a time? The scarf could go first. Getting rid of that annoying scrap of cloth would be a pleasure.
Armed with that plan, he pulled out his toothbrush and got ready for bed.
He’d wait until Laura left to implement his multistage shedding strategy, though. While she was here, he had another challenge on his hands.
Now that Ashley was on his sister’s radar, he’d have to find an excuse to keep Laura away from Edgecliff.
Far away.
Because introducing them wouldn’t be smart. Laura would ask too many questions. All tactful, naturally. Laura knew how to be discreet—with other people.
But she was also insightful. A beneficial skill in her role as an employee ombudsman for a major company, but a definite negative for him in her role as sister. If Kyle had picked up on his interest in Ashley, Laura would be all over it in minutes. Or less.
He squeezed the toothpaste onto the bristles, coaxing the last dribs out of the almost-empty tube.
There were only two days left in the workweek. He’d already nixed tomorrow with his legitimate errand excuse. He did have several suppliers to visit. And the visit to Shore Acres State Park on Friday would be a worthy substitute for Edgecliff.
It was a decent plan.
Laura would continue to pester him about Ashley, of course. But if he could keep the two women apart for the next three days, his sister would be winging home to Colorado on Sunday.
And with more than a thousand miles separating her from him, and communication confined to calls and emails, she’d have to resort to advice rather than action.
A far safer and more manageable situation.
As long as he got through the next three days unscathed.
13
“Sorry I’m late. And thanks for your willingness to change our appointment from Tuesday to Thursday.”
Ashley pulled the door to the main house wider and ushered Marci in. “No worries. A sick three-year-old takes precedence over a newspaper article. How’s she doing?”
“Improving. Whatever bug she picked up did a number on her, though. She hasn’t been sleeping at night, and neither have we. Thank the Lord I have a capable assistant at work who is more than up to the task of running both the paper and my PR business if I’m not there.”
Ashley’s ears perked up. “You have a PR business too?”
“Yep. That’s what pays the bills. The Herald feeds my journalistic soul, but in a town the size of Hope Harbor, a biweekly newspaper doesn’t provide a living wage.”
“Let’s sit in the drawing room.” Ashley motioned toward it, digesting this new information. “Do you do websites in your PR business?”
“Absolutely. I pull in a designer sometimes, depending on the complexity of the project, but most often we do them ourselves. Why?”
“Edgecliff needs a website, and that’s not my area of expertise. After we finish with your questions for the article, can we talk about that?”
“I’m always happy to discuss new projects.” Marci perched on one of the tufted chairs and surveyed the room. “Rose isn’t joining us?”
“No. Sorry. I tried.”
She sighed. “Disappointing, but I can’t say I’m surprised. To tell you the truth, I was shocked she agreed to the first interview.”
“When it comes to protecting her family’s history and heritage, she’s all in.”
“Your partnership with her proves that.” Marci withdrew a sheet of paper from her notebook and held it out. “Since I didn’t expect her to show, I put together a list of questions, like you recommended. It would add a lot to the story if she answered even a few.”
Ashley took the sheet. “I’ll pass it on and try to convince her to contribute.”
For the next hour, Marci peppered her with questions. She continued the friendly inquisition during the tour of the house and grounds while she oohed and aahed over the furnishings and the gardens that were beginning to take shape.
As they ended back in front by the porch and settled on a time for a follow-up meeting about the website, a UPS truck rumbled down the drive.