The Next Always, Page 26

  them. They’re real cute, and they’re soft and they don’t smell bad. Can’t we have a puppy? Please, Mom, can’t we?”

  “Another one?” She opened her eyes wide, feigning shock. “Two aren’t enough?”

  “What two?”

  “Those two.”

  And, another moment, she thought. The moment when she told herself whatever the puppies did, however many times she had to clean up after them, roll out of a warm bed to let them out, it would be a small price to pay for the look of stunned, radiant joy on her little boy’s face.

  “They’re ours?” His whisper echoed with that same joy.

  “Ask Beckett. He’s the one who got them—and wore me down.”

  Three faces turned up to his while the puppies nipped and licked. “You got them for us?” Harry managed. “For us to keep?”

  “Well, they’re brothers.”

  “Like us!” Liam shouted.

  “Yeah, and they needed a good home. They needed some friends who’d take care of them, feed them, play with them, love them.”

  “I love them.” Murphy crawled over to hug Beckett’s leg. “I really, really do.”

  “Love takes some work.” Beckett crouched down. “Even when you’re tired or busy. It means making sure they get enough to eat and drink, fresh air, company. Are you up for it?”

  “I promise.”

  “Well, I guess you get to keep them.”

  “This is the best ever. Thanks.” Liam threw his arms around Beckett, then dashed to do the same to Clare. “Mom, we got puppies.”

  “You got them for us,” Harry repeated, and finally gave Beckett his angel smile. “We’ll take good care of them, always.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “Why don’t you take them out back,” Clare suggested. “Show them the ropes.”

  “Come with us.” Murphy tugged on Beckett’s hand. “We’re going to show them ropes. What are their names?”

  “They need good ones, so you guys better think about that. I’ve got some stuff for them out in the truck. I’ll come out after I bring it in.”

  “I’ll help you bring it in.” Harry got to his feet.

  “I could use a hand.”

  Liam and Murphy ran toward the back, calling the dogs to come, already trying out names while Harry walked out front with Beckett.

  Clare stood, absorbing love—and, studying the scattered dog hair and little dribbles of pee on her floor, thought, yes. Yes, a very small price to pay.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TWO DOGS.” AVERY ARRANGED CHEESE ON A PLATTER FOR the gift shop opening. “I can’t get over it. Zero to sixty, Clare, that’s you.”

  “It feels like it. Yesterday morning all I had to do was get three kids ready for school, fed, lunches or lunch money distributed. This morning, after I found them all piled—three kids, two dogs—in Murphy’s bed, I had three kids to get ready for school, who all thought they really should stay home to take care of the dogs. That’s after getting up twice last night to let the dogs out.”

  “Their bladders will get bigger.”

  “Let’s hope. Then there’s the make sure they’re fed and watered, let them out, let them in, let them out. Then I feel guilty because we’re leaving them alone in the backyard, so I have to go check on them before I come to work, then again at lunch. Now Mazie’s dealing with all of them until I get home from the opening. I should probably run home to check again.”

  “They’ll be fine. Kids and dogs, they’re a natural unit. I’m looking forward to meeting them. What are their names again?”

  “I think, after much discussion, debate, false starts, we’ve settled on Ben—as in Kenobi—and Yoda.”

  “Nice.”

  “Sorry I’m later than I planned.” Hope hurried back to the kitchen. “We had more deliveries come in. You’re busy out there,” she said to Avery.

  “Big Friday night crowd, punched up, I do believe, by the opening. People want to check it out, and figure they might as well grab dinner first.”

  “Symbiotic, as desired. What can I do?”

  “I guess we can start taking the trays down, that way Madeline can have everything in place.”

  Trays in hand, they went out the back.

  “I can’t believe it’s almost November.” Hope shook back her hair as the evening breeze caught at it. “I feel like I just moved to town.”

  “We finish October with a bang with trick-or-treat night,” Avery reminded her.

  “Then, bang again, it’s Thanksgiving, then Christmas.”

  “Oh, don’t say Christmas.” Clare shut her eyes briefly. “I have so much left to do.”

  “Then New Year’s,” Hope continued, “and we’ll be fussing with the opening for the inn. They’re really making progress with The Courtyard. Tile work, too. You need to see. Maybe we can run over before this starts.”

  “I love this space.” Clare paused on the pretty patio behind the gift shop. It makes me wish I could do something like it at home.”

  “Why don’t you?” Avery said.

  “Money comes to mind first.” Clare waited while Avery balanced her trays to open the back door. “But I might just start a patio savings fund.”

  As they went in, Madeline, chestnut hair tumbled, earrings swinging, strode down the short steps to the office. “Hi! Avery, this looks great. I’m so excited. My girls are up there—they’ll give you a hand putting everything where I’ve set up.”

  “Madeline.” Clare took a deep breath. “It smells wonderful in here.”

  “Between the candles and the diffusers—Inn BoonsBoro label there. We’re featuring the Marguerite and Percy pomegranate scent tonight; we can’t miss.”

  “Oh, talk about looking great.” Clare paused in the kitchen nook. “It’s so clever. It makes me want to completely re-outfit my kitchen. I love that pitcher, oh, and these bowls! I’m going to be doing a lot of my holiday shopping here.”

  She wandered through, passing off the tray, studying the pretty displays of jewelry, the vibrant art, the gleaming pottery. “You’ve done an amazing job.”

  “I want this.” Hope stood in front of a painting where cherry blossoms in full bloom spread over a blue sky and reflected dreamily in a rippled pond. “I want this for my apartment. I want to look at spring every day.”

  “I love it.” Avery glanced at Clare, got the nod. “It’s perfect, and sold. Clare and I want to give you a housewarming present when you take up residence at the inn.”

  “Really? Oh boy. I’ll take it.” She wrapped her arms around their waists. “You’re the best.”

  “I can put a red dot on the title card, noting it’s sold—if you’re sure.”

  “Absolutely,” Clare told Madeline.

  “First sale! That isn’t from me, my girls, Justine or Carolee. Ladies, we’re in business.”

  “What else can we do—besides spend money?” Avery asked.

  “Honestly, we’re pretty set. Nervous, excited, but set.”

  Avery checked her watch. “We’ll come back in twenty, just in case. I’ve got my cell if you need anything sooner. Let’s run across the street so Hope can show off.”

  “I’m already seeing a half a dozen things I know we’re going to want at the inn when we start accessorizing.” She was still trying to scan when Avery pulled her out the door. “I’m going to go back tomorrow with a notebook. Did you see that bamboo bowl? That’s perfect for the kitchen island.”

  She dug out her keys. “We can go in the front. The doors should be in next week, and I got a look at the reclaimed teak benches Justine bought for the porch.”

  She locked up behind them. “Let’s go up. They finished the tile in Nick and Nora. You’ve got to see it. I do a walk-through every night after the tile crew leaves. I know Beckett does one, but I feel like I should—plus I get to see everything that was done that day.”

  “Have you . . .” Clare glanced toward Elizabeth and Darcy.

  “I’ll catch her scent now and
then, or hear a little something. But I think she’s a bit shy around me yet. Just look at this. Isn’t it spectacular?”

  The back wall shimmered with sea blue glass tiles, floor to ceiling, a stunning contrast for the chocolate brown floor. Large tiles of brown-on-brown tuxedo stripes added a touch of sophistication to the other walls.

  “I never would have thought to put these colors together,” Clare realized. “They’re wonderful—elegant, modern, a little glitzy, I guess.”

  “Exactly so, and it’ll play off the chocolate brown ceiling and soft blue walls in the bedroom. And the lights? Terrific. Crystal chandelier over the tub, crystal sconces flanking the mirror.”

  Hope laid a hand on her heart. “I swear, I fall a little more in love with this place every day.”

  “I’m in love with Beckett.” As her friends turned, Clare let out a half laugh. “Wow, that sort of blurted, didn’t it?”

  “In love, love?” Avery asked. “Like the big L?”

  “That’s the one.” As Hope had, she laid a hand on her heart. “I didn’t think—or believe—I’ d be in love again. Not all the way through. I guess I didn’t believe I could go all the way through twice. It’s not the same as it was with Clint. I don’t think it can be or should be. But it’s just as much, as deep, as real. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

  “You and Beckett.” Avery blinked damp blue eyes. “In big L love.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about him. I think it’s safe to say little l on his part. We’re a lot to take on.”

  “Clare, he’s been sweet on you forever.”

  “That’s a different thing. Little l—that’s pretty terrific. I’m not looking for more from him, for promises and absolutes. Like I said, it’s different this time. I understand more than I possibly could have at sixteen. I’ve got more to risk.”

  “And to offer,” Hope added.

  “Yeah, I do. But . . .” She thought of Beckett’s words the night before. “Love takes work. A woman, three kids—and now two dogs? A lot of work. I’m happy the way things are. I’m so happy, so grateful to feel this again. To know I can.”

  “I love that feeling.” Remembering, Hope sighed. “I miss it.”

  “I guess I have, too, and didn’t realize it. And it’s a little scary this time. It may sound crazy, but I kind of like that it is. It adds an energy.”

  “If you’re happy,” Hope decided, “we’re happy.”

  “I’m very happy. I’m in love with a really good, interesting man who enjoys my kids. That’s pretty damn amazing.”

  “I’ve always admired your taste in men,” Avery told her.

  The bathroom window shot open, and the air that blew in carried the scent of honeysuckle.

  “I’d say she does, too,” Hope murmured.

  JUST ONE OF the things Clare loved about Boonsboro, and that made her glad she’d brought her kids home to raise them, was the community feel. As she stood in the new gift shop, sipping wine from a little plastic cup, she saw or spoke to more than a dozen people she knew. She watched them wander, form and re-form into groups, share news, opinions.

  Avery’s father—a big man with his wild red hair and trim beard threaded with glints of pewter—eased his way over to her. Clare tipped her head toward his broad shoulder.

  “Look at you, all dressed up.”

  He flushed, sweetly shy. “Justine said no work clothes.”

  “I should say not, when you’re one of the featured artists.”

  His flush deepened; his big feet shuffled. “Oh, I’m no artist. Just a welder with time on his hands.”

  “Willy B, it takes more than some welding skill and spare time to create those metal sculptures. And the clocks are just wonderful. You know Hope’s already earmarked that one”—she gestured—“and the cattails for the inn.”

  “She’s going to put that stuff in the inn? Really?”

  “She wants the clock for the dining room, in front of the stone arch. People who stay will see your work.”

  “Isn’t that something?” He let out a short, baffled laugh.

  Avery squeezed her way through the crowd. “Lay off the crab balls for now. We’re nearly out. They’re bringing down more.”

  “It’s a nice crowd,” Clare commented. “Madeline looks thrilled, and a little dazed.”

  “I should step outside. I feel like I’m taking up half the room all by myself.”

  “You stay right where you are,” Avery ordered her father. “Madeline wants you to talk up the potential customers, tell them about your artistic process.”

  “Oh now, Avery.”

  “Oh now, Willy B.” She poked him in his wide chest. “I’ve got to check the other trays. Don’t you let him run away, Clare.”

  “I have my orders.” She gave Willy B a shrug, but took pity on him. “We could step right outside though. Plenty of potentials out there getting fresh air.”

  “It’s nice to see people come out like this.” He took a breath when they stepped out to the sidewalk.

  “It is, isn’t it? I was just thinking how nice it is to see so many familiar faces, have a little time just to chat and catch up.”

  She scanned the little groups, so intent on the people around her she didn’t notice the car parked half a block down—or Sam Freemont behind the wheel, watching her.

  “How are those boys of yours? I heard you got a couple new family members. Justine mentioned it,” Willy B added.

  “They’re in boy heaven, and for now, at least, being very responsible about taking care of the puppies. I have to admit they’re more fun and less work than I imagined—again, for now.”

  “You won’t regret it. I heard Beckett picked them up.”

  “Brought them into the bookstore,” she confirmed. “Trapped me.”

  “You know, Justine’s pretty pleased that you and Beckett are going around together. She’s fond of you and those boys.”

  “I know. And speaking of them, I have to get home, relieve Mazie.”

  “So, the minute I turn my back, you move in on my territory.” Beckett stepped out, gave Willy B a light punch on the arm.

  “I’ve got no defense against a pretty woman. Sure looks good over there.” He lifted his bearded chin toward the inn. “Tommy’d be real proud.”

  Willy B had been his father’s best friend, since both of them had been boys. Had wept unashamed at his funeral, Beckett remembered. And very likely missed Thomas Montgomery as much as his wife and sons.

  “Yeah, I think he would be. I think he’d have enjoyed a night like this.”

  “He’d’ve loved it. Wouldn’t mind a chance to see what’s what inside that place.”

  “Anytime you want,” Beckett told him. “You know that.”

  “I’ll be stopping by then, ready to gawk.”

  “Willy B.” Justine came to the doorway, hands on hips. “You get back in here and mingle.”

  “Oh now, Justine.” He blew out a breath. “No point arguing. Hope to hell I don’t knock something over.”

  “He’s the cutest man,” Clare stated when he trudged back in.

  “He’s six-five and probably goes two-sixty or better. How can he be cute?”

  “He just is. I’ve got to get home, as much as I’d like to stay. Don’t forget, I’ll be by at seven tomorrow.”

  “Wait, wait.” He took her arm, shook his head. “You’re not driving home by yourself.”

  “Beckett, it’s not even a mile, straight down on Main.”

  “I’ll follow you, make sure you get in all right, give Mazie a lift home. You heard what Willy B said. No point in arguing.”

  She considered it foolishly overprotective, especially when he insisted she come with him to his truck in Vesta’s lot so he could drive her the short distance to her van in back of TTP.

  She knew he waited while she locked up so gave the porch light a quick flick off and on. He tapped the horn before easing out of the driveway and making the turn to drop Mazie at home.

  From acr
oss the street, a few doors down, Sam watched the house, noting how the front washed with light as Clare went to the door—as the babysitter came out a few minutes later.

  He considered and stewed, saw the backyard flood with light. Letting the mongrels out, he mused.

  Dogs and security lights. Were those for his benefit? Did she think he was a fucking burglar?

  It was no way to act, no way to treat him. Montgomery’s doing, he decided. She was just too soft, too accommodating to tell that interfering bastard to mind his own business.

  He’d take care of that. Take care of her.

  He knew what she needed. A man of means, of style, of stature. One who could put those kids in a good boarding school so she didn’t have to work so hard. A man who could take her places, show her off.

  She’d see. He’d make her see.

  He settled in, watching the routine of lights going off, going on.

  He sat for nearly an hour, watching her lighted bedroom windows, and longer still after the windows went dark.

  When he drove away, he had a plan.

  SINCE MOST OF the men were busy, Beckett helped muscle the first tub to the second floor. In any case, he wanted to see how Lizzy liked it. Once they’d set the white slipper tub in place, he lingered. Light, warm colors, he thought, studying the tile work, a more traditional feel than some of the rooms. A nice contrast, he decided, with the deep tone of the old rubbed-bronze fixtures, and the charm of the telephone-style floor faucet for the tub.

  He waited, but apparently Lizzy was withholding judgment until the plumber finished it off.

  He went down—and up again countless times, hauling tubs, toilets, faucets, shower systems. All meticulously labeled, he noted, by either his brother or Hope.

  On what he prayed was nearly the last trip, he saw Hope outside the on-site storage unit with a clipboard.

  “Didn’t know you were here.”

  “I’ve been down at the other storage. We finally have room in there. I’m checking off here, then I’m going to go through, make sure all the fixtures are in the right rooms.”

  “They’re marked,” he reminded her. “We’re putting them in the right rooms.”

  “So you say.” She grinned at him. “I have to see for myself. There are a lot of pieces to each pie. Shower system, sink faucets, bath faucets, towel warmers, P-traps, vanity mirrors, robe hooks.” She lifted one elegant eyebrow. “Should I continue?”

  “No, because I’ve muled that and more in and up.”

  “It’ll be worth it.” She lowered her clipboard, adjusted her intricately tied scarf. “Besides, you’ll be able to relax on your hot date tonight.”

  “Where am I going?”

  She laughed. “For me to know and you to find out. Oh, I had this idea.” She opened a purse the size of a small planet, pulled out what looked like a little diary or journal, with stylized fairies on the cover. “I’m going to run this past