“I know it’s not easy for you to lie to your mother about the state of the inn’s finances, but it’s only a matter of time before it’s running in the black,” Abby continued. “Which reminds me, Mallory, the kids, and I are in the two-bedroom suite. So between us and the Sisterhood, there’s no room at the inn. At least you won’t have to lie to your mother if they planned on staying.”
There were twelve guest rooms at the inn but only nine were available for rent. Ellie, Joe, and the judge occupied the other three. Mallory, Sadie and Abby’s best friend, could have filled the two-bedroom suite with her family alone. Mallory and her husband Gabe, the chief of police, had six children between them—five boys and a six-month-old daughter.
“It’ll make it easier to lie to her, but it’s still a lie. It’s not like you guys are staying all night,” Ellie said as she walked from the dining room into the reception area.
“Who says? We’re planning on celebrating with you and Joe after your parents—”
An alarm emanating from the pocket of Ellie’s peacock-blue slacks interrupted Abby. A chorus of shrill beeps went off simultaneously in the dining room. Sadie had set up the group alert on their phones to warn of Ellie’s parents’ impending arrival. Members of the Sisterhood, who were stationed at the entrance to Highland Falls, had issued the warning.
Abby leaned back, calling into the dining room, “Fifteen minutes to showtime, ladies.”
Ellie retrieved her phone and glanced at the text on her screen. “This isn’t good. My mother brought reinforcements. My sister, Bri, and her husband are following behind in their SUV.”
“Don’t buy trouble. They might be on your side,” Abby said.
“Maybe Bri, but not her husband. Richard is in lockstep with my mother about everything. Bri won’t stand up to either one of them.”
Bri had married Richard two years ago. Other than their wedding and a disastrous Christmas visit that same year, Ellie hadn’t spent any time with the couple. She’d taken an almost instant dislike to the investment banker. Her parents, especially her mother, fawned all over the man. Even Ellie’s brother, who was usually a good judge of character, seemed to like her sister’s husband. But while they saw what Richard wanted them to see, Ellie saw what he tried to hide.
“If anything, my mother brought Bri to bolster her case for putting Grandpa in a home.” Ellie’s sister was a family therapist.
Ellie pushed her worries aside, smiling as she approached the registration desk. Mallory’s seventeen-year-old stepson from her first marriage, Oliver, had volunteered to staff the front desk for the afternoon. He looked like British royal Prince William and had the accent to go along with his good looks. “Oliver, have you seen my grandfather?”
“He left with the judge about twenty minutes ago.”
“Did they happen to say where they were going or when they’d be back?” Ellie asked, a sinking feeling coming over her at Oliver’s head shake.
“I’ll get Gabe to put out an alert. They couldn’t have gotten far,” Abby said, head bent over her phone.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Oliver. I should have kept a closer eye on my grandfather.” She knew how Joe felt about the upcoming confrontation with her mother.
Oliver frowned, and Ellie briefly closed her eyes. He hadn’t voiced the thought out loud; she’d read his mind. She was psychic. No one other than her mother and Sadie knew of her abilities, and that’s the way she meant to keep it. Although her grandmother might have an inkling since Ellie had inherited the gift—curse—from her.
“I’ll check if the truck’s in the parking lot.” Ellie headed for the door. Her grandfather and the judge used the inn’s truck whenever they went into town. But Jonathan knew how important today was. Surely he wouldn’t aid in her grandfather’s escape.
As she opened the door, Ellie glanced back at Oliver and clearly saw an image of her grandfather with a bottle of beer and a cigar in his hands. Joe had sworn Oliver to secrecy. It wasn’t something Ellie could ask about without revealing her own secret.
She stepped onto the wraparound front porch. The wooden rocking chairs were empty, the plaid woolen blankets folded neatly over the arms undisturbed. A quick scan of the packed parking lot on her right revealed the red truck was still in its spot.
She walked down the steps, taking the meandering cobblestone path bordered by rhododendrons. Come June, they’d be a sea of purple flowers. As she rounded the inn, the sweet scent from a cluster of mountain magnolia trees greeted her. She looked out over the rolling green lawn to the two empty Adirondack chairs on the dock. Not completely empty, she thought, spying a beer bottle and a cigar on the arm of a chair.
Making her way down the sloping lawn to the dock, she called, “Grandpa Joe! Judge!” Her voice echoed off the sapphire-blue lake. But other than three quacking ducks paddling through the lily pads on her left, no one responded to her calls.
She picked up the half-empty beer bottle and the cigar from the chair, wondering if, like a dog, her highly tuned sixth sense would twig to her grandfather’s whereabouts with a sip of his beer or a puff on his cigar. At this point she was willing to try anything and stuck his half-smoked cigar between her lips. She took a deep pull, but other than a faint whiff of its sweet, peppery scent, she got nothing.
The rough rumble of an engine distracted her, and she turned. A man sat astride a black Harley wearing a leather jacket. His face obscured by a black-visored helmet, he looked big and bad, and her heart began to race. Not from nerves but from attraction. She knew who he was, and not because of her psychic abilities. Nate Black was the one person she couldn’t read.
Focused on him as she was, it took a moment for her to realize he wasn’t alone. A petite woman got off the back of the motorcycle. Ellie stared in shock when the Betty White look-alike removed the helmet from her head.
It was Agnes MacLeod, her grandmother. “Granny, what are you…” Nate removed his helmet, and Ellie instantly lost her train of thought. His wavy dark hair—longer than she remembered—brushed the collar of his leather jacket, his ruggedly handsome face half-hidden behind a beard. At the flash of his strong white teeth through that dark, heavy beard, she nearly tripped over her own two feet.
Way to play it cool, Ellie. She was acting like the thirteen-year-old geek she used to be if the coolest guy in high school had just smiled at her. His smile widened, fine lines crinkling the corners of his dark eyes, and she found herself smiling in return. Hopefully just a nice, friendly smile and not one that betrayed the Oh my Lord, you are so flipping hot I want to kiss you thought currently running through her brain.
“Hey, Ellie. How’s it going?” he said, swinging a muscled, jean-clad leg over his motorbike.
Her knees went weak at the sound of his deep, sexy voice saying her name. She rolled her eyes at her reaction. She had to get a grip. And get out more. There was no way Nate Black should affect her like this. She was a mature, self-possessed woman, not some starry-eyed teenager in the throes of her first crush. She needed…to say something.
“Hi, Nate. It’s nice to see you again.” She offered her hand to the man now standing beside her grandmother, because that’s what a composed thirty-three-year-old woman would do. “Oh,” she said upon noticing the cigar between her fingers. She transferred it to her other hand, the one holding the half-empty beer bottle. “It’s not what it looks like. I was just”—she couldn’t say trying to get a read on my grandfather’s whereabouts—“picking up after Joe.”