The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“Abby … don’t go because you’re mad. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what you were getting into. We are friends. I made a mistake, that’s all.”

“I’m going because I have business to tend to.” Which was a lie and they both knew it. She hadn’t had any plans to leave until the last five minutes. And he had to go and make it even harder than it already was. When had she started to get so attached to this place?

She got out and slammed the truck door shut. He rolled down the window. “Hey, Abby?”

She looked up into the cab and felt that same little jolt of electricity she felt every time their eyes met. She hated that feeling. It made her feel weak and vulnerable.

“Will you text me when you get there? It’s a really long drive. Just so I know you got there okay.”

She nodded and turned away quickly, taking one step and then another away from the truck so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears in her eyes before she resolutely blinked them away.

Tom had disappointed her tonight. Bitterly. So damn him. Damn him for doing that and then acting like he cared. There hadn’t been anyone to care whether she came or went for so long. And she didn’t want to rely on him. If there’d been any doubts, tonight had erased them all. He wasn’t over Erin. And she couldn’t have feelings for a man who didn’t respect her enough to shoot straight and be honest. It wasn’t much to ask.

Putting some distance between them was the best idea she’d had all week.

CHAPTER 13

It didn’t make sense that a rundown mansion that she’d occupied for less than a month should feel like home, but it did. Abby braked her car partway up the drive and simply looked, marveling at the changes only a few weeks had wrought. The white exterior seemed whiter somehow, perhaps because of the roof, the new black shingles shining in the June sun. The trim around the windows had been painted a creamy tan that mimicked the original colors, and the front columns had been treated to white paint while a darker stain had been applied to the porch floor. Even the overgrown ivy had been trimmed back, and alre

ady it looked far healthier. All in all the house was looking rather grand and even a bit welcoming.

Abby let off the brake and drove the remainder of the way to the house, anxious to get inside and see what other changes had taken place while she was gone.

The front lawn was freshly mowed, and as she parked and got out of the car she saw a huge urn of spiky grass, begonias, and trailing lobelia taking up one corner of the floor of the veranda. Climbing the steps, she spied a plastic stake in the planter holding a card. Curious, she plucked it from the holder and opened the tiny envelope.

Welcome home.

That was all it said but Abby knew in an instant who’d put it there. Tom. The realization sent something strange curling through her. She hated what he’d done. She’d told herself a hundred times that any fanciful thoughts she’d had about him were over. She supposed the urn was his way of apologizing for the party. A garden planter wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was thoughtful and suited the corner perfectly. It was better than flowers. It was … personal. What was more disconcerting was that he’d somehow known she’d prefer it. She stared at the card again before tucking it into her pocket, where it rested warmly against the denim of her jeans. He was making it hard for her to stay mad at him.

She’d texted Tom to say she’d be back today, just to make sure that there wasn’t any renovation going on that required her to be out of the house. In a way she’d half expected him to be here when she arrived, but this was better.

It gave her time to just be alone with the house. To allow herself to feel whatever it was she felt about it. Fear? No. Even with the unexplained occurrences, there was no fear. There was a sense of restlessness—no surprise there. She usually felt like she had one foot out the door no matter where she lived. She didn’t want to stay anywhere too long, or get too attached. At least now she recognized why. She’d had a chance to think about it during her trip home. It was too easy to get emotionally invested. It wasn’t worth the heartbreak in the end when things went sideways, which they always did. How many times had she heard promises that this was the last time they’d move, and how many times had she been let down? The simple fact was, throughout her life, the people she’d loved had left her in one way or another. And each time that happened, they took a bit of her with them. She couldn’t afford to lose too many pieces.

The time away had reinforced that gut feeling she’d had ever since leaving Halifax. The city simply wasn’t home anymore because there was nothing—no one—keeping her there. The whole time she was packing up her apartment, she’d wanted to be back here in Jewell Cove. Even with the mess of feelings she had for Tom, she’d been itching to return. To finish going through the boxes in the attic. To clean out the rose garden and see the flowers blooming again.

This house—the one she’d resented when she’d first arrived, the symbol of the family who’d cast her off—was starting to feel like a home. And she had no idea what she was going to do about that.

She slid the key into the lock and opened the door.

Tom and his crew had been busy.

The floors were absolutely stunning. The richly colored stain was varnished and shone like brand-new, leading into the drawing room and dining room before continuing through the great hall toward the library. The furniture had all been cleaned and placed back in the rooms. It was going to look fabulous when the rugs were back from the cleaners, and with things so close to perfect Abby realized that she’d have hurry up and order new draperies for the windows. With everything being spruced up, the old ones looked shabby now.

One of the tables from the library had been placed in the hall and on the top was a cordless phone sitting on its base. There was a label on the handset with the number written on it. If the phone was hooked up, Abby wondered if she now had Internet. It would be great not to have to use her cell phone for everything or drive into town for Wi-Fi. The data package charges for using her phone were so prohibitive. Not that she had to worry about money right now, but it still seemed exorbitant. She wasn’t used to living with disregard for dollars and cents and didn’t want to ever be that way, either. Having lots of it didn’t mean she should be wasteful.

She took a few minutes to peek through the rest of the downstairs. The chandelier was missing from the hall, but a note beside the phone explained. Found a guy who can convert the light. It’s going to be great!

Smiling, she tucked the note in her pocket with the floral card and moved on. The new pedestal sink had been installed in the downstairs half bath, the silver-and-gold faucet gleaming beneath a new light fixture. Best of all was the mirror, a rectangle of glass framed by an elegant swirl of what looked like distressed brass. There was a sticky note on the mirror and she leaned closer. If you don’t like it, it said, we can take it out.

She wished she didn’t like it, but she did. The old-fashioned elegance fit with the décor perfectly. More than that, the little notes Tom had left behind made it feel like he was right there, giving her a tour. They weren’t love notes, but they felt intimate. Damn him. Just when she was determined to steel her heart, he had to go and do something endearing.

The kitchen was a mess; she’d packed everything in boxes and the cupboards had been uninstalled in preparation for the new ones. On the fridge was another sticky: Sorry for all the mess. It’ll be worth it. Promise.

She crossed the hall to the library, an inexplicable warmth filling her as she stood in the doorway, anxious to see if there was another note for her. Maybe Tom wasn’t here this evening but his presence was. It was in everything he’d accomplished in her absence. And he’d made sure of it by leaving his little missives in each room, making it impossible for her to forget that he’d been here, every day, wandering through her rooms and bringing to life the plans they’d come up with together. If it was an apology, it was a damn good one. Better than meaningless words. Tom backed it up with action. It was hard to resist that.

She swallowed against a lump in her throat. It was odd. She’d never felt closer to someone, and still so far away, too. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t rid herself of the knowledge that Tom and Josh had been in love with the same woman. Erin must have been some woman to inspire such devotion—such passion—in both men.

Abby wondered what it would be like to have that sort of female power. She couldn’t compete with that, even if she wanted to. The cold truth was that no one had ever wanted her that much. No one had fought for her because she hadn’t been worth fighting for.