The Cottages On Silver Beach. RaeAnne ThayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
into a review of his latest book. Elliot listened, nodding in all the right places, though he looked uncomfortable, and Megan had the distinct impression his attention wasn’t wholly focused on the other woman’s words.
She was trying to figure out a way to step in and distract Verla when a familiar pickup turned in to the parking lot and pulled up next to them.
Megan swore under her breath, wanting to kick herself. She’d never told her brother Elliot was renting a cottage at the inn. She had meant to the moment she realized who had made the reservation, but somehow she could never quite bring herself to raise the subject, knowing it would lead to an uncomfortable discussion.
She should have. She should have called him right away. If she had, she might have avoided what was bound to be an awkward confrontation now.
Elliot spotted the pickup truck almost as soon as she did. He tensed slightly, a reaction she had a feeling he would have had regardless of who was driving, until he could establish there was no threat.
He didn’t know her brother was driving. He couldn’t, she realized, her mind quickly racing for the best way to avert a scene between two men who had become outright hostile to each other after Elizabeth disappeared.
The moment Luke parked the pickup, Cassie jumped out and rushed over to her, full of energy and excitement and life.
“Aunt Meg, guess who gets to be the starting pitcher at tonight’s game?”
As always, her heart overflowed with love for this girl. She couldn’t imagine ever loving a child of her own womb as much as she did her niece and nephew.
“Um, Miranda.”
“As if! She’s too busy making sure she doesn’t break a nail. No! It’s me. Last night at practice, Coach Hunter says I did such a good job as the relief pitcher that she’s willing to take a chance. Are you coming to watch?”
“Of course. You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
She loved small-town ball games. It was one of her favorite aspects of living in Haven Point.
“What about you, Bridger?” she asked her nephew as he and Luke approached them. “Are you playing tonight, too?”
“Sore subject,” Luke said, with a warning look.
Because of the angle of the shrubs, he couldn’t see Elliot yet, she realized. If only she could keep the two men apart.
“It’s not fair.” Her nephew pouted. “I’m ready. My arm doesn’t even hurt much anymore. The cast has been off for two weeks.”
Bridger had broken his arm a few months earlier in a bad tumble while spring skiing at the end of the season. He wasn’t handling being benched very well.
“Coach said you can play in two more weeks.”
“By then, it will be too late. We’re losing every game and won’t have any chance of playing in the league championship.”
“But if you let your arm finish healing all the way, the doctor said you won’t need surgery on it,” she reminded him.
“I guess.”
“Thanks for letting them hang out here this morning, especially on such short notice,” Luke said. “I know it’s Saturday and you have plenty of things to do for your photography exhibit.”
He appeared distracted—nothing new for him—and still hadn’t yet noticed Elliot. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he didn’t even see the other man and simply climbed back into his pickup and drove away?
“No problem. I’ll put them to work.” Through her nerves, she managed to muster an evil grin. “We’ve got weeds to pull.”
“Sorry. I wish I could help,” her nephew said, putting on an apologetic expression that didn’t fool her for a minute. “If I can’t play baseball, I guess the doctor wouldn’t like me pulling weeds either.”
“Does that mean I have to do all of it by myself?” Cassie’s eyes widened and her shoulders slumped dramatically.
Megan patted her niece’s shoulder. “We’ll work together. Don’t worry.”
“Guess I’d better get going. Those rooms won’t clean themselves,” Verla finally said. Luke glanced in her direction and she knew the moment he spotted Elliot. Shock flickered in his eyes, replaced by an angry hardness that he quickly concealed.
“Elliot. I hadn’t heard you were in town.”
“I only checked in last night.”
There it was. Meg closed her eyes briefly then opened them to find her brother gazing between the two of them in shock.
“You’re staying here? At the inn?”
“Yes. In one of the cottages. Right next door to Megan, actually.”
Luke’s expression darkened further and tension seemed to broil off the two men, thick and heavy like the August sky above the lake just before a thunderstorm.
“Hi. I’m Cassie Hamilton and this is my brother, Bridger. I’m nine and he’s seven and a half. He always gets mad if I forget the half.”
To her surprise, Elliot’s features softened a little as he looked at the girl. “Hi. I’m Elliot. And the half is very important.”
“That’s what Bridger says. He says we’re only eighteen months apart, not two years, and I don’t have to be so bossy all the time.”
“That’s probably true. But sometimes you have to take charge, when it’s the right thing to do.”
“That’s what I always say. Like if he was just about to sit on a big spider, I would have to be bossy and tell him not to.”
“Somebody has to make the hard decisions and say what needs to be said. But it doesn’t always make you the most popular person, I’m afraid,” Elliot said.
“Hey, I hurt my arm, too. I was skiing and I fell. What did you do?” Bridger asked.
Elliot glanced down at his sling as if he’d forgotten all about it. “Long story. It was a work thing. Nothing as fun as skiing. But it’s fine, really. Sorry about your baseball game. You’ll be playing again before you know it.”
Bridger seemed to take comfort in that and Elliot gave a general wave to the group. “I should go. Bridger, Cassie, it was nice to meet you.”
A moment later, he took off in the direction of Cedarwood Cottage, leaving a tense awkwardness behind him.
The children didn’t seem to notice anything. “Can we go make waffles in the breakfast room before we start weeding?” Bridger asked his father.
“If it’s okay with Megan.”
“Please, Aunt Meg? Can we? We only had cereal at home,” the boy said, looking disgusted at the apparent dearth of culinary options available to him that morning.
“It’s fine,” she said. “We’re only half-full, so there should be plenty of breakfast left.”
“I’m heading that way,” Verla said. “Here. You can help me push the cart.”
The kids jumped in willingly and headed for the door, chattering to the housekeeper about school getting out in only a few more weeks and what they planned to do with their summer vacation.
The moment they were out of earshot, she braced herself as Luke turned on her, his features tight. “Elliot Bailey? Seriously, Meggie?”
“What should I have done? He booked online before I knew what was happening. Even if I had known, I couldn’t legally refuse to rent to him simply because I don’t like the man.”
“This isn’t about whether Elliot could win a popularity contest with the Haven Point Helping Hands.” Luke glowered