blue notepaper. It was folded once, the crease worn because he’d opened and closed it so many times. He opened it now, and read the rounded, almost childish handwriting with the ease of someone who had long ago memorized the message.
Griffin
,
I must see you. Meet me at the old barn at noon
.
Caroline
He closed the note and returned it to his desk drawer, then leaned back in his chair and stared out the window.
It was raining again.
“Damn this rain,” Scott McKenna said.
“You live in Oregon,” Holly reminded him. “It rains a lot here.”
“Too much. I should go back to San Francisco.”
“Where it doesn’t rain at all, of course. And where there are earthquakes to boot. Besides, you’ve lived here for twelve years. Your roots are here.”
“Are they?”
Holly looked up from the keyboard and watched him for a moment. He was standing at the window of his study, gazing out at the drenched garden beside his house. He was a strikingly handsome man, with dark hair and hooded gray eyes, and there was something remote in the very way he stood. He always looked alone, she thought, even in a crowd. It was something she had noticed about him from the first day they’d met.
“Well, the majority of your money’s here anyway,” she told him. “You have to run things.”
He turned his head and looked at her, that direct, measuring stare that no longer unnerved her. “You could handle most of it alone,” he said.
“What, you mean the stores, the greenhouse, the lumber mill,
and
the new wing for the clinic, to say nothing of The Inn? News for you, boss—I don’t want to handle it all.”
Scott smiled slightly. “I know. But you could.”
“Yeah, right.” She finished entering figures from her clipboard into the computer on his desk, and said, “Okay, that’s everything, I think. All the estimates and bids, the materials lists, including the list from the medical supplier. Cost of grading, even landscaping.”
“Thank you, Holly.”
“No problem. I don’t mind, Scott, really.” She might have said more, but the door opened just then and Scott’sdaughter looked in. As always these days, Regan was solemn, her dark blue eyes large and unreadable.
“What is it, Regan?” Scott asked a bit abruptly.
“Mrs. Ames says I can stay up tonight and watch all of that movie if you say it’s all right.” Her voice was flat, without expression.
Scott didn’t ask what movie, he merely nodded. “It’s fine.”
Without another word, Regan departed as suddenly as she had arrived.
Holly sat back in his desk chair and looked at her employer. He was gazing out the window once again, his aloof expression daring her to comment. Never one to refuse a dare, Holly said, “Does the housekeeper always supervise Regan after Mrs. Porter goes home?”
“She doesn’t need much supervision,” Scott replied coolly. “She’s an independent child, you know that.”
“Independent, sure. She also lost her mother three months ago. Have you talked to her?”
“What would you have me say to her?”
Holly gave a helpless shrug even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I don’t know. All I
do
know is that she adored Caroline—and I’ve never seen her grieve for her mother. Not the day it happened, not at Caroline’s funeral, not anytime since. Has she cried at all?”
Scott didn’t answer immediately, but finally said, “I don’t know.”
“Scott—”
“Holly, I can’t change my nature just because I’ve suddenly become a single parent. Regan was close to Caroline, but never to me. I’ll do everything I can for the child, but I can’t take Caroline’s place.”
She had known him for eight years, but looking at him now, Holly had no idea what—if anything—he was feeling. He had always been somewhat remote with his daughter, but hardly more so than he was with most other people; perhaps it
was
his nature.
“I know it’s none of my business, Scott, but I can’t helpbeing concerned. If you
Griffin
,
I must see you. Meet me at the old barn at noon
.
Caroline
He closed the note and returned it to his desk drawer, then leaned back in his chair and stared out the window.
It was raining again.
“Damn this rain,” Scott McKenna said.
“You live in Oregon,” Holly reminded him. “It rains a lot here.”
“Too much. I should go back to San Francisco.”
“Where it doesn’t rain at all, of course. And where there are earthquakes to boot. Besides, you’ve lived here for twelve years. Your roots are here.”
“Are they?”
Holly looked up from the keyboard and watched him for a moment. He was standing at the window of his study, gazing out at the drenched garden beside his house. He was a strikingly handsome man, with dark hair and hooded gray eyes, and there was something remote in the very way he stood. He always looked alone, she thought, even in a crowd. It was something she had noticed about him from the first day they’d met.
“Well, the majority of your money’s here anyway,” she told him. “You have to run things.”
He turned his head and looked at her, that direct, measuring stare that no longer unnerved her. “You could handle most of it alone,” he said.
“What, you mean the stores, the greenhouse, the lumber mill,
and
the new wing for the clinic, to say nothing of The Inn? News for you, boss—I don’t want to handle it all.”
Scott smiled slightly. “I know. But you could.”
“Yeah, right.” She finished entering figures from her clipboard into the computer on his desk, and said, “Okay, that’s everything, I think. All the estimates and bids, the materials lists, including the list from the medical supplier. Cost of grading, even landscaping.”
“Thank you, Holly.”
“No problem. I don’t mind, Scott, really.” She might have said more, but the door opened just then and Scott’sdaughter looked in. As always these days, Regan was solemn, her dark blue eyes large and unreadable.
“What is it, Regan?” Scott asked a bit abruptly.
“Mrs. Ames says I can stay up tonight and watch all of that movie if you say it’s all right.” Her voice was flat, without expression.
Scott didn’t ask what movie, he merely nodded. “It’s fine.”
Without another word, Regan departed as suddenly as she had arrived.
Holly sat back in his desk chair and looked at her employer. He was gazing out the window once again, his aloof expression daring her to comment. Never one to refuse a dare, Holly said, “Does the housekeeper always supervise Regan after Mrs. Porter goes home?”
“She doesn’t need much supervision,” Scott replied coolly. “She’s an independent child, you know that.”
“Independent, sure. She also lost her mother three months ago. Have you talked to her?”
“What would you have me say to her?”
Holly gave a helpless shrug even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I don’t know. All I
do
know is that she adored Caroline—and I’ve never seen her grieve for her mother. Not the day it happened, not at Caroline’s funeral, not anytime since. Has she cried at all?”
Scott didn’t answer immediately, but finally said, “I don’t know.”
“Scott—”
“Holly, I can’t change my nature just because I’ve suddenly become a single parent. Regan was close to Caroline, but never to me. I’ll do everything I can for the child, but I can’t take Caroline’s place.”
She had known him for eight years, but looking at him now, Holly had no idea what—if anything—he was feeling. He had always been somewhat remote with his daughter, but hardly more so than he was with most other people; perhaps it
was
his nature.
“I know it’s none of my business, Scott, but I can’t helpbeing concerned. If you
Similar Books
