Reunited with the Billionaire Read online

  “Move back here, you mean.”

  “Right. I keep forgetting you lived in Cooper’s Corner as a kid.”

  “Yeah.” Clint opened the back door and motioned Seth to move ahead of him. “I was here till I was nine, and all those years, I don’t ever recall a woodshed roof collapsing because of the snow. But then, I was only a kid. I guess I didn’t pay much attention to those things.” He toed off his boots, shrugged off his coat and hung it on a peg beside the door. “Take off your jacket,” he said as he washed up at the utility sink, “and sit down.”

  Seth glanced down at his feet. “My boots are going to leave tracks on the floor.”

  Clint grinned. “That’s one of the benefits of a stone floor. Nothing ruins it. Go on. Take a load off while I pour us some coffee.”

  “Sounds good.” Seth took his turn at the sink. “If you have some paper and a pencil, I’ll work up a rough estimate of building a new shed.”

  Clint took a notepad and pencil from the counter and put them on the table. “What about fixing up the old one?”

  “Well, I’ll give you a rough idea of that, too, but it probably makes sense to start from scratch.”

  While Seth made his calculations, Clint poured coffee and piled scones on a plate.

  “Okay. Here’s what I figure it’ll cost you, both ways.” Seth turned the pad toward Clint, who frowned as he read the numbers.

  “So cheap?”

  “Of course.” Seth reached for a scone from the plate Clint had placed on the kitchen table. “You’ll do it yourself. Zero labor costs.”

  “Hey. I didn’t mean—”

  “Come on, man. You know you’re just looking to put me out of work.” The men grinned at each other.

  “Hey, Castleman,” Clint said in a Western drawl that would have made John Wayne proud, “are you tellin’ me this town ain’t big enough for the two of us?”

  Both men laughed. They’d fallen into the friendly routine ever since Clint and his sister inherited Twin Oaks and decided to convert the old house to a bed-and-breakfast. Clint was an architect by training and had always gone in for hands-on participation in the projects he designed. He was a more than competent carpenter, but he cheerfully admitted he couldn’t hold a candle to Seth when it came to things like cabinetry or furniture making.

  “Okay. Thanks for the estimate.”

  “No problem. I can even give you a couple of recommendations to some lumberyards where you can buy well-seasoned wood.” Seth bit into the scone and rolled his eyes. “Did you ever think about opening a restaurant, adding a little class to the valley? I know, I know. Cooking’s just a hobby, but you’re damned good.”

  “That’s just what we need, all right.” Clint smiled, amused. “A gourmet restaurant to compete with the ones in Lenox. I was surprised enough when that new place opened in Stockbridge. What’s it called? The Purple Panda?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Clint looked at him. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just…I was just remembering that I ate there the other night.”

  “And? How was it?”

  A sudden image of Wendy’s face, pale and distraught as she looked up at him in the darkness of the parking lot, flashed through Seth’s mind.

  “It was—it was okay, I guess.”

  “Not exactly what you hoped for, huh?” Clint shrugged. “Well, that’s life. Lots of things aren’t quite what you hope they’ll be.”

  Seth nodded. “No,” he said softly, “they aren’t.” He looked up. Clint was eyeing him with concern. “Hey,” he said briskly, pointing his finger at a glass-fronted cabinet. “I just noticed—is that new?”

  Clint smiled. “Maureen picked it up a couple of weeks ago. Nice, huh?”

  “Very. You’ve done great things with this room.”

  “Well, she gets all the credit. She was right. I mean, we both agreed to keep the stone floor, but pulling down the wallboard was Maureen’s suggestion.”

  “Who knew we’d find that great fireplace, and all this old brick?”

  “Our guests seem to like it, the feeling that you can step back in time without giving up twenty-first century comforts.”

  “Bookings are good?”

  “They’re great. First the leaf peepers, now the skiers. We’re off to a good start.” Clint pointed to Seth’s cup. “How’s the coffee?”

  “Your one failing in the kitchen, right?” Seth teased. “It’s good enough so I figure it must be Maureen’s.”

  “She insisted on making it,” Clint confessed. “I wanted her to stay in bed, but no way would she do that.”

  “She’s feeling better today?”

  “Yeah. Almost a hundred percent, she says. But she’ll need to get off her feet every now and then for a few days—when I can convince her to do it.” He hesitated. “Is there a way for me to build the new shed so the roof’s really tight?”

  Seth studied his friend closely. “Clint, what’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing. I guess I was a city boy for a lot of years. You live in a big city, you learn to be suspicious of damn near everything. Besides, what do I know about snow on a roof?”

  “A lot, I’d bet.” Seth kept his eyes on the other man’s face. “An architect would know about rafters and roofs and bearing loads.”

  “Theory isn’t the same as reality.”

  “That’s true. These scones, for instance.” Seth reached for another buttery biscuit. “They don’t taste anything like the ones I buy at the supermarket.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t buy ‘em there. Stop by here and take home a doggy bag whenever you like.” The men ate and drank in silence for a couple of minutes. Clint got up, went to the stove, got the coffeepot and topped off their mugs. “You know, when Maureen and I first talked about opening this B and B, if anybody had asked me how to keep a houseful of guests happy, I’d have said, `Give ‘em comfortable rooms and good food.’“

  “Why do I hear a `but’ coming?”

  “But,” Clint said, “I’d have been wrong. Nice rooms, homemade breakfasts are part of it, but there’s more. People are on vacation. They want to feel as if they’ve gotten away from their real lives.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning they need TLC. Tender loving care.”

  “Ah. A piece of chocolate on the pillow at night.”

  “More than that. A pot of coffee on the sideboard in the gathering room. An urn of tea, maybe another one filled with hot water and some packets of hot cocoa, especially in the evening when they feel like sitting around and winding down. A glass of wine, some crackers…”

  “Yeah. I heard. The license came through, huh?”

  “Yup. And it’s worked out just fine. All we’re serving is wine, brandy and cognac, but that’s what folks want when the fire’s going in the gathering room.”

  “Well,” Seth said, crumpling his napkin and putting it on his plate, “it sounds as if you’ve got the TLC thing under control.”

  Clint grinned. “We’ve just got one problem. We’re making our guests feel comfortable, but we’re shorthanded. I want Maureen to take it easy for a while—and if you quote me to her, I’ll deny everything.”

  Seth laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “Actually, I’ve hired someone to come in evenings. You know, take phone calls, pour some vino, make sure the coffee’s hot, chat with guests who feel like chatting—”

  “And leave alone the ones who don’t.”

  “Uh-huh. Like Rod Pommier. The guy sure keeps to himself.”

  “Well, I can understand it,” Seth said “The media drove him crazy in New York. Anyway, he’s not around now, is he? He told me he was going to spend a few days in Vermont.”

  “Right. I forgot, you’re doing that chalet he bought. How’s it going?”

  “Terrific. Pommier’s the best kind of client.”

  Clint laughed. “An absent one.”

  “No, seriously. The guy knows what he wants and what he doesn’t
want. He trusts my judgment and he can afford to make that chalet into something special.” Seth took a swallow of his coffee. “So, did you run an ad in the paper for help?”

  “Didn’t have to. You know how it is in this town. Say something to someone, the wind picks it up and it spreads. Matter of fact, she starts tonight.”

  “Well, that should help smooth things for you.”

  “Oh, it will. Now, if I could just find a way to keep Randi and Robin occupied for more than five minutes at a clip….”

  “Maureen’s twins?” Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Those little girls have more energy than a tornado.”

  “That they do, and here’s another reality bite. It’s tough to say `no’ or `in a minute, sweetheart’ to three-year-olds.”

  “In other words, you need a baby-sitter.” Seth thought about Clint’s twelve-year-old son. “What about Keegan?”

  Clint shook his head. “Keegan already helps out with the girls, and he’s got homework. The thing is, the girls are late-to-bed types. Always have been. From six to seven o’clock is when their energy levels are highest. I just need a breather once in a while. You know, find some way to keep one eye on them and one eye on business.”

  “And a hell of a picture that makes, Cooper.” Both men chuckled. Seth lifted his mug and drank the last of the coffee. “How about if I lend a hand?”

  “You?”

  “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m great with kids. I volunteer an afternoon each weekend at Ski Wee—the ski program for kids, up on the mountain. And Randi and Robin know me. They like me.”

  “Like you? They worship you. They’re out with Maureen or they’d be doing everything but climbing inside your toolbox.”

  “Wrong. Randi did climb into it last time I was here. So, what do you think about me coming by to help out for a while?”

  “I don’t know, Seth. That’s an awful lot to ask.”

  “Okay. You’re right. It is too much to ask.” Seth’s lips twitched. “You’ll just have to pay me…say, a couple of scones a night.”

  Clint tried to look serious. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t always have scones on hand. Could we negotiate? Would you settle for blueberry muffins? Or banana bread? That’s what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

  Seth stood up and put out his hand. “You drive a tough bargain, Cooper.”

  “Yeah,” Clint said, clasping Seth’s hand in his, “so do you, Castleman. Seriously, though, this is great. But don’t feel you have to come by all the time. Two evenings…” He grinned. “Three evenings a week would be terrific.”

  “No problem.”

  “I mean, I know you have other things to do with your nights.”

  Seth’s smile faded. “Not really.”

  “What about Jo Cabot?”

  “That’s over.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I thought you and she—”

  “So did I, for a while, but then I realized I wasn’t…she wasn’t…” He cleared his throat and reached for the toolbox he’d brought with him. “Got to run. I promised a guy over in New Ashford I’d stop by and give him an estimate on an extension.”

  “Sure.”

  The men walked to the back door. Seth took his jacket from a wooden peg and slipped it on.

  “Well, I’ll see you whenever you get the chance to stop by.”

  “How’s tonight sound?”

  “It sounds great. Maybe this place will seem less like bedlam with my nieces driving you nuts and somebody in the gathering room letting the guests do the same thing to her.” Clint winked. “Only kidding. Guests at Twin Oaks never drive anybody crazy.”

  “But if they do,” Seth said, “don’t let it be the owners, huh? Who’d you hire, anyway?”

  Clint stepped back as Seth opened the door.

  “Oh,” he said, “we hired the Monroes’ daughter. Her name’s Wendy. Do you know her?”

  “Yes,” Seth said calmly, as if his gut hadn’t just tried to tie itself into a knot, “I do.”

  “She’s perfect for the job. She was a champion skier—had a nasty accident that ended her career, poor kid. I guess you know that.”

  “Yeah.” Obviously, Phyllis and Philo Cooper were slipping if Clint didn’t know that Wendy had once been Seth’s girlfriend.

  “She’s been living in Europe. Gives her a nice sophisticated touch. Besides, if people have questions about skiing in these parts, she can answer them. She made a point of saying she didn’t expect to be in town very long, but I figured, what the heck, maybe she’ll change her mind.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Seth warned.

  “Maureen said the same thing. Well, at least this gives us time to look for another person.”

  “Right.” Seth zipped his jacket and put on his gloves. “See you later, Clint.”

  “Fine. Oh, and Seth?”

  Halfway down the porch steps, Seth looked back over his shoulder.

  “Thanks. You can’t imagine what this means to me. You offering to come by in the evenings.”

  “I’m sure I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,” Seth said, and half expected a bolt of lightning to strike from the cloudless sky and turn him into a puddle of melted flesh and bone.

  * * *

  GINA STOOD IN THE DOORWAY of Wendy’s bedroom, watching as her daughter slipped on her new black cashmere turtleneck, then ran her hands down the front of her equally new white wool pants.

  “You look lovely, sweetie.”

  “Thanks.” Wendy caught Gina’s eye in the mirror and smiled. “I’m glad we finally got to that mall.”

  “Me, too. Wasn’t it fun?”

  “It was great.”

  Was “great” overdoing it? Maybe, but it made Gina smile back at her. The smile was definitely preferable to the look her mother had been giving her lately, the wary kind parents usually reserved for small children in potentially dangerous situations.

  “Gina? I can’t find any cookies. Gina? Honey? Do you know where the cookies are?”

  Her father’s voice rose plaintively up the stairs. Wendy smiled. Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “Honestly,” she said, “men can be such babies.”

  “Gina?”

  “I’ll be right there, Howard.” She stepped into the room and gave Wendy a quick hug. “See you downstairs.”

  “Okay.”

  Wendy sat down on the bed and pulled on a pair of well-worn hiking boots. Of all the things she’d figured on dealing with during her visit here, the one thing that had never crossed her mind was how difficult it would be to have left her parents’ home a teenage girl and returned to it an adult.

  “Where are you off to?” her father said in the evening if she put on her coat and headed for the door, and she’d have to explain that she and Alison were taking in a movie or going for a drive. It was silly but she resented it. It was like stepping back a decade—except now, her father didn’t smile, tell her to enjoy herself, and then remind her, as if she’d ever forgotten, that she had to be up early for practice.

  Wendy went to the dresser and picked up her brush.

  Still, dealing with her father was easier than dealing with her mother. Gina probably asked her if she was okay a dozen times a day.

  Wendy sighed and ran the brush through her hair.

  Actually, she couldn’t blame her. The scene her mother had stumbled across outside the restaurant the other night had to have been unsettling, to say the least, and Wendy knew she hadn’t improved things by refusing to discuss it.

  “I’m here if you want to talk,” Gina kept saying.

  What was there to talk about? She’d made a fool of herself, or maybe it was Seth who’d made a fool of her. Either way, she was determined to put him out of her mind, not just out of her life.

  Wendy checked herself one last time in the mirror, then made her way down the stairs. Her father and mother were in the kitchen. Gina was pouring coffee; Howard was seated at the counter, munching on oatmeal cookies
and reading the paper.

  “Okay.” Wendy put on her jacket and plucked her mother’s keys from the hook on the wall where house keys and car keys hung. “I’m on my way.”

  Her father looked up. “You sure you want to go ahead with this job, Wendy? I told you, Gil—the orthopedist I ski with—Gil says Pommier’s gone up to Vermont for a few days.” He frowned. “I don’t know what he expects to find on the Vermont slopes that he can’t find here.”

  “Longer, steeper, more challenging runs,” Wendy said lightly as she slipped on her coat. “Daddy, honestly, this is perfect. When Pommier does get back, he won’t be able to avoid me.” She smiled. “I’ll serve him coffee or tea or whatever he wants to drink until he’ll agree to give me five minutes of his time just to get rid of me. Besides, I really want to do some kind of work. I’m not accustomed to doing nothing all day.”

  “Nothing?” Gina snorted. “An entire afternoon doing leg lifts and riding on that stationary bike isn’t my idea of `nothing.’“

  “See you guys later,” Wendy said quickly, and headed out the door.

  Outside, she paused just long enough to take a deep breath of the cold air. The night was a dark colander, with stars piercing the inky bowl of the sky. That last night she’d spent with Seth, nine years ago, had been just like this, the air crisp, the stars dazzling against the endless darkness.

  Wendy got behind the wheel of Gina’s car and backed out of the driveway.

  Main Street was silent. It had been that night, too, with nothing but the sound of the tires on the wet road and the soft music coming over the truck radio.

  They’d driven to their special place on Sawtooth Mountain, and all the way there, Seth kept asking her if she was cold. How could she have been cold, when she’d known what would happen as soon as he parked? As soon as he took her in his arms and kissed her? Touched her? As soon as he opened her jacket and she opened his shirt, her fingers trembling, her heart racing, and…

  …and why was she thinking about Seth?

  Too much time on her hands, that was why. The best thing she’d done was find herself a job. She’d fill at least a handful of empty hours each day by doing something useful and pleasant. What could be unpleasant about chatting with guests, or taking phone calls, or seeing to it that the coffeepot was full?