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He wrote like a typical guy, she decided. He printed, but it wasn’t particularly legible. The name Jason Frick topped the short list. His area code suggested he was from the Bay Area, which was just a couple of hours away. She recognized it because so many of her patrons came from there.
Was Frick a friend of Mr. Taylor’s, or a business associate? The other names were male, too, also from the Bay Area. Peter Viselli and Dom Chandler—although Dom’s name was crossed out.
Eve “accidentally” ran her finger over the mouse section of the laptop while dusting, hoping his screensaver would dissolve into whatever he’d been working on, but it didn’t. The demand for a password popped up instead.
She didn’t protect her own computers with a password, even the one she worked on here at the B and B. But there was hardly any crime in Whiskey Creek, and she had nothing to hide.
So who was this Mr. Taylor?
Obviously someone who lived in the city.
Knowing she didn’t have long before Cheyenne or Deb came to find her—or Brent Taylor returned—she replaced his towels and minicontainers of soap, shampoo and conditioner and threw away the ones he’d used. Then she ran a vacuum over the carpet.
When she was finished, she could hear Deb speaking to some guests in the hall. The usual morning sounds made her feel a bit embarrassed for poking around Mr. Taylor’s room. Had she crossed the line? Was she acting like a stalker?
She really needed to get a life, she told herself, and, for the first time ever, considered hiring someone to run the inn for a few months so she could try something else before settling down for good and letting her life harden like cement.
Maybe last night was a sign that she needed to broaden her horizons, embrace change, try new things.
Maybe if she didn’t, she’d regret it later. Cheyenne would be having her baby soon. It wasn’t as if they’d get to work together after that, anyway. Or at least not for a while—
“Hey.”
Eve jumped and turned to see the very person she’d been thinking about standing at the door. “What are you doing up here?” she asked. “You’re not supposed to be climbing the stairs.”
“Who said? The exercise is good for me, as long as I don’t fall.”
“Falling’s what I’m worried about.” After trying for two years to get this baby, and resorting to what she’d resorted to, Cheyenne would be devastated if she lost it.
“I’m being careful. I just wanted to let you know...” She winced as if what she had to say wouldn’t be welcome news.
“What?” Eve prompted.
“Your parents are back.”
Eve’s hand flew to her mouth and she spoke through her fingers. “No!”
“Yes. They’re waiting downstairs in the small parlor. They feel terrible that they didn’t make it in time for your birthday, so they had the part for the RV flown in, which cost them a lot more, and now they’re anxious to give you their present.”
Her parents were too good. They had to be the best, most supportive people in the world, which was partly why Eve felt so embarrassed about her recent behavior.
“You don’t think they’ll hear about last night....”
“No! Of course not! Who’d tell them?” Cheyenne plastered a reassuring smile on her face, but Eve could see right through it.
“You do think they’ll hear.”
She let her smile wilt. “I’m afraid they might. We are talking about Noelle. When Kyle dropped by to give her his spousal maintenance, she had that other waitress over—Casey? He said they were talking and laughing about...the situation.”
Casey hadn’t even been working on Thursday night.
Eve closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to get out of this town. She felt trapped, stifled. As much as she loved Little Mary’s and Whiskey Creek and all the people she’d grown up with, she needed something new. But it seemed odd that this realization had burst upon her so suddenly. Did other people question where they were in life at only thirty-five? Was she having a midlife crisis before she ever hit midlife?
Maybe she should take whatever money she’d saved and travel across Europe....
“I’ll finish up,” Cheyenne said. “What’s left?”
“Nothing.” As Eve wound up the vacuum cord, she thought once more about telling Cheyenne that Brent Taylor was the man she’d slept with, but changed her mind. She didn’t want Cheyenne to find out that he’d lied to her about his name. And even if he didn’t check out today, he wouldn’t be in Whiskey Creek for long.
“Want me to go down with you?” Cheyenne asked. “Would that help you face them?”
“No. I’ve got to put the vacuum away first—and I’m not going to let you carry it down those stairs so don’t even offer. Just tell them I’m coming.”
Cheyenne gave her a quick hug. “You’re in your thirties. If they do hear about last night, they probably won’t say anything.”
Of course they wouldn’t. They weren’t intrusive. It was what they’d think that troubled Eve.
Again, she felt a desperate need for more space, a change of scenery, a chance to figure out if the person she’d become was the person she wanted to be. Maybe she’d been treading water, hoping for the kind of love some of her friends had found, but it didn’t look as though that was going to happen for her. At least not here... Maybe it took her thirty-fifth birthday to make her realize she had to go in a different direction.
She listened to Cheyenne’s footsteps recede. Then she lifted up the vacuum. But before she could collect her cleaning bucket, she noticed the luggage tag on Brent Taylor’s suitcase and set the vacuum down.
There was his personal information. She should make a note of it in case there was some reason he didn’t want to give it out. Say...if the FBI happened to be looking for him. If she was going to be stupid enough to sleep with a stranger, a possible fugitive from the law, she should do what she could to point the police in the right direction if they came knocking at her door.
But the tag didn’t say the suitcase belonged to a Brent Taylor, or even a Jared. Taylor Jackson was written in the same handwriting as the names on the pad. There was no address. Just a number, which she keyed into the notes section of her phone.
Had he borrowed someone else’s luggage?
It was possible. But the fact that he’d used two names already gave her the feeling it was more significant than that.
What was going on with this guy? Last night he’d been the perfect lover. Attentive and responsive. The more she remembered about being with him, the more convinced she became that he’d provided the best sex she’d ever had. He’d seemed to enjoy himself, too. Yet this morning, after everything they’d done, he would scarcely give her the time of day, had acted particularly odd when she asked for his full name and, even though he’d said he was Jared, he’d checked in as Brent Taylor and his bag indicated it belonged to a Taylor Jackson.
Knowing she had to go and greet her parents, she grabbed her cleaning stuff and hurried out, closing the door behind her. But as she descended the stairs, she figured she was probably lucky that Jared or Brent or Taylor—whoever he was—didn’t want anything more to do with her.
4
“Honey, we’re so sorry we missed your birthday. I can’t believe we had engine trouble!” Eve’s mother looked genuinely distraught as she pulled Eve in for a hug. “We got back as soon as we could.”
“You shouldn’t have gone to the extra expense of having that engine part flown in,” Eve said. “I can’t believe you did. I assumed we’d just celebrate whenever you could get back.”
Her father embraced her as soon as her mother let go. “Your birthday’s in December, so that means it can get swallowed up by the holidays. We try not to let that happen. You’re too important to us.”
She cringed as she thought of Noelle and the pleasure she was likely taking in ruining Eve’s reputation. “Thanks, Dad.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and jingled his change. “The B and B looks great, by the way. You’ve done an outstanding job, created the very picture of a Victorian Christmas.”
They’d been in Texas for three weeks, having Thanksgiving with her brothers, who now owned a bar together in Austin. “Better than usual?”
“I’d say so,” he replied.
“It’s the new icicle lights,” she told him. “They’re pretty hanging from such a steeply pitched roof.” She’d hired a company to hang those lights, and all the others on the exterior. But she and Cheyenne had done everything else. The tree alone had taken one full day—the Sunday after Thanksgiving, when they traditionally made the switch from harvest decor to evergreen and holly. The day after that, she’d added wreaths with red ribbon at every window, garland above each door, on every mantel and around every banister and mistletoe hanging over the tables in the dining room. This was usually Eve’s favorite time of year. The entire town waited to see what she’d do with the inn, and she took great pride in making it stand out like a beacon of hope for the weary traveler—or even just the weary of heart.
“It’s everything,” he said. “We drove past A Room with A View. It can’t even compare.”
Because the owners didn’t understand how the beauty she created encouraged the whole town to stop and reflect. Her competitor gave the season a passing nod by putting up a bunch of plastic Santas and reindeer and hanging giant ornaments from the tree in the front yard, all of which looked tacky rather than elegant. But as Eve followed her father’s eye to the candles she’d placed so they could be seen from the street, she didn’t feel the wonder and magic she used to feel. She was afraid she might be going through the exact same motions for the rest of her life—only without Cheyenne, because she knew that Cheyenne wouldn’t work at the inn forever.
“You told us you’re planning to go to San Francisco with your friends tonight,” her mother said, “so I was hoping we could have you over for dinner tomorrow after you get off work. I’ll make your favorite cake, the carrot one, and get some ice cream.”
“Of course,” Eve said. “Thank you. That sounds delicious.”
“And...” Her mother rummaged in her huge purse and finally pulled out a small, wrapped gift. “I’d like you to open your present right now, since you couldn’t do it yesterday.”
Guilt for behaving in a manner that would reflect poorly on her parents once again swept over Eve. What had she been thinking last night? She’d acted no better than Noelle....
“Go ahead,” her father urged as her mother handed her a small box.
Eve hoped it wasn’t expensive. Her parents often tried to do too much. But as soon as she tore off the wrapping and opened the gift, she could see that it was pricy. A gold watch, with diamonds around the face. “Wow,” she breathed.
“Do you like it?” The twinkle in her mother’s eye showed how excited she was to give her daughter such a wonderful gift.
“I love it,” Eve said, “but...it’s too generous. You guys have to be careful now that you’re retired, especially with what we’ve been through trying to save the inn. You don’t have the savings you used to—”
“Don’t worry about that,” her father interrupted. “You deserve whatever we can give you. You’ve worked so hard, been the perfect daughter.”
Perfect. That word pricked her conscience, and she went over and closed the door. “I really love the watch. It’s beautiful.”
Her mother and father exchanged a look. “But...”
They’d heard the resignation in her tone.
“I’m definitely not perfect. As a matter of fact, I’ve done something I need to tell you about before you hear it from someone else.”
She felt bad about the fear that entered their faces, and the way they sank slowly onto the sofa. “Good. I was going to suggest you sit down.”
“Is it that bad?” her mother asked.
“It’s nothing to be proud of.”
Her father seemed baffled. “What could it be? We know you. We know who you are.”
“You don’t know this. I went out last night...by myself and...and got a little drunk.”
They sat blinking at her, saying nothing. No doubt they could tell there was more coming.
“And I met someone,” she continued. “A...a stranger. He was handsome and charming and he’d also had too much to drink.”
“You’ve met someone?” her mother echoed.
The hope in that question didn’t make this any easier. Her parents wanted her to marry and start a family almost as much as she wanted the same thing. Grandchildren had been mentioned on a number of occasions. Since her brothers were fifty and fifty-two, one an avowed bachelor and the other divorced without children, her parents probably wouldn’t have any grandkids unless they came from her—although they viewed Cheyenne as a daughter and were excited to welcome her first child into the world.
“No. Not really,” Eve said. “It’s not what you might think.”
“Then what is it?” her father asked.
Throwing back her shoulders, she blurted out the truth. “I took him home with me.”
There was a moment of awkward silence. Then her father cleared his throat. “Eve, we’ve never gotten involved in your personal life. I mean, in that part of your personal life. This isn’t something you have to report to us, especially at thirty-five. In fact, I’d prefer not to know, and I think I can speak for your mother on that, as well.”
Eve couldn’t help smiling at his response. “I wouldn’t have said anything except...I’m afraid you’ll hear it around town in the next few days, and I didn’t want you to be blindsided. Or disappointed,” she added, “but there’s no way to avoid that now.”
“I see,” he said. “And why would someone tell us? Why is it any of their business?”
“It’s not. But Noelle Arnold works at Sexy Sadie’s and—”
“Ah, I see,” her mother piped up. “Olivia’s sister is spreading the news.”
“Yes.”
Her mother frowned. “I’ve never thought very highly of her.”
That was a scathing rebuke, coming from her sweet mother. “You’re in good company,” Eve responded.
“So...that’s it?” her father asked. “That’s what has you so upset?” He studied her carefully. “It doesn’t get any worse, does it?”
“Isn’t that enough?” she said, surprised that they weren’t more upset themselves.
“Honey, everybody makes a mistake now and then,” he said. “It’s not up to us to judge you or to...to tell you how to run your life. We had our chance to guide you when you were little, and we did our best. Now you’re in charge, and while I can’t say I’m happy about what you did last night, I can understand how it happened and why.”
“It’s not as if your father was a virgin when he met me,” her mother said. “He slept with loads of women.”
“Adele!” her father snapped, obviously appalled. Then Eve had to laugh and, once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. She recognized how her parents felt about her confession, because she felt the same about what her mother had just revealed. She didn’t want to view either one of them as sexual in any way, not even with each other.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she wiped away the tears streaming down her face. “I don’t mean to laugh, and I don’t want you to think I’m not taking what I did seriously, but—”
Her mother got up to hug her again. “I’m glad you can laugh. Let it go, honey. We know it hasn’t been easy watching all your friends get married. We were as disappointed as you were last year when things didn’t work out between you and Ted. He’s a good man. But there’ll be someone else, someone very special.”
She caught hold of her mother’s arm before Adele could release her. “What do you think about me...going somewhere else and...trying something new?”
“You mean leave Whiskey Creek?” her dad asked.
“I love it here, but...I’m not sure it’s the only life I want to know.”
This seemed to sadden them more than the news of how she’d spent last night. Her brothers had gone to Texas A&M on football scholarships, then joined the air force and never returned to California. Her parents often lamented how little they saw of Darren and Dusty.
“We would certainly miss you,” her father said. “But we don’t want to hold you here if it’s not where you want to be. We don’t want Little Mary’s to hold you here, either.”
She glanced around. She loved the B and B almost as much as she loved them. But there had to be some way to vanquish the dissatisfaction that had crept into her life and seemed to be growing stronger by the day. She didn’t want to wake up one morning when she was sixty-five and wonder why she’d never made a change.
“You’re not saying... Should we put the inn on the market?” her mother asked.
“No, no. Nothing that drastic,” she said. “I’m just thinking of hiring someone to run it for a year so I can try something else before I settle down, you know?”
Her parents wore somber expressions as they nodded. “We understand. And we want whatever will make you happy,” her father said.
Eve couldn’t imagine she’d be happy leaving Whiskey Creek. Besides her parents, she had so many good friends here—and she’d be the godmother to Chey’s baby, which would bring a great deal of joy into her life. But would that be enough? Suddenly, it felt as if she was living off the crumbs of other people’s lives and trying to tell herself that she would be content with that indefinitely. “We can talk more about it after the holidays.”
Her mother managed a smile. “So there’s no hurry?”
“None whatsoever.” Eve held up the watch. “Thanks for this. I’ve never seen anything quite so lovely.”
“You’re ten times as lovely,” her mother said.
She made a face. “Oh, yeah? Be prepared for the rumors that are swirling around town.”
“No one can change our opinion of you,” her father insisted.
Cheyenne walked into the parlor almost as soon as Eve’s parents left. The Christmas music playing in the dining room grew louder when the door opened, causing Eve to look up. She was sitting on the antique Eastlake chair she’d purchased from an estate sale in Sacramento last year. She’d been gazing down at her new watch, thinking about how lucky she was to have such wonderful parents and wondering if she’d be doing the right thing by leaving them. She had a responsibility to herself but, since her brothers seemed to feel no obligation to their aging parents, she had to make sure they were happy and well cared for, too.
They had their RV, however. They could come and see her....
“How’d it go?” Cheyenne asked.
“I told them I slept with a stranger,” Eve said.
Her friend stopped in her tracks. “Are you kidding?”
“No. I figured it would be better for them to hear it from me.”
“But they might never have heard it at all!”
“I didn’t want to take that chance.”
“I see,” Cheyenne said slowly. “That was probably wise. How did they take the news?”
“Much better than I expected. I guess I underestimated them.”
“Or you set even higher standards for yourself than they do.”
Cheyenne took the seat opposite her. “Is that your present?”
Eve handed over the watch so Chey could take a closer look. “Stunning, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous!”
“They’re such great parents.”
“You just made a mistake, Eve. We all know what you’re really like,” Cheyenne said, giving back the watch.
Eve smiled at the compliment. Her friends and family all thought they knew her, but she wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore. Who was the woman who’d let go of all inhibition and thrown everything she had into making love with a complete stranger?
* * *
Rex was in his room, packing up his stuff, when he received a call from Marilyn. He thought maybe he’d accidentally skipped a check he was supposed to sign, and hoped it wasn’t because she’d run into trouble with her car. Her engine had started fine when she gave him a ride to Sexy Sadie’s to pick up his Land Rover....
Pausing to sit on the edge of the bed, he hit the answer button. “’Lo?”
“You’re never going to believe this,” she said.
After what he’d been through in his life, he could believe just about anything. But he tensed, wondering if she’d run across proof that The Crew was indeed coming after him. “What is it?”
“I got a call from Scarlet Jones, the photographer from San Francisco.”
He let his breath slowly seep out. “I provided security for her some time ago.”
“You remember.”
“Of course.” After splitting off from Virgil back east, where they’d run the same kind of business, he’d hung out his own shingle here in the west and she’d been one of his first clients. “She was getting some strange mail, felt she was being followed. What’s going on with her now?” He knew everything had been okay after his contract ended because he’d checked in with her periodically, although not in the past year.
“Apparently she’s being harassed again. The first incident happened a few months ago, in September, when she received an email containing a picture of a man’s penis.”
“So this guy’s another Anthony Weiner? That’s not particularly creative.”
“She forwarded it to me. What he sent wasn’t particularly impressive, either.”
Rex had to chuckle. “Sounds like he should have stolen more than Anthony’s idea, maybe something from a porn site. But if this happened in September, why’d Scarlet wait so long to contact us?”
“The threats she got before never amounted to anything. She thought if she ignored it, this would go away, too.”
“Let me guess—it hasn’t.”
“No. It’s getting worse. But what I don’t understand is why whoever it was stopped in the first place.”
“Maybe the guy went to prison.”
“That would explain it. Because he’s taking up where he left off, except the letters she’s receiving are even more personal,” Marilyn said. “One mentioned a mole on her, um...”
“Breast? Ass? What? You’re seldom at a loss for words.”
“It’s somewhere even more intimate.”
“So whoever is doing this has been quite close to her.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Or talked to someone who has.”
“That’s just...creepy.”
“At least it narrows the list of potentials. She still has no idea who it might be?”
“No. She says that none of her past lovers would do anything like this.” She cleared her throat. “You, uh, weren’t aware of the mole?”
“I don’t get sexually involved with our clients. You know that.”
“I do. But I thought this client might be an exception. She’s extremely attractive. And she’s not married.”
He had a soft spot for Scarlet, but she was more like a younger sister to him. When he’d watched over her before, he’d still been in love with Laurel, Virgil’s sister, but he wasn’t remotely tempted to change his relationship with Scarlet, even now. “You said it was getting worse. What else has happened?”
“Yesterday someone broke into her house and urinated on her bed. That’s why she finally called.”
“Was anything taken?”
“Several pairs of underwear.”
What he’d just learned made Rex itch to get back to work. It had always bothered him that the police hadn’t been able to find the guy who’d tormented Scarlet. “What’d you tell her?”
“I said I’d be happy to arrange for a bodyguard until the police can find out who’s behind it, but when she realized the bodyguard wouldn’t be you, she started to cry.”
This type of security was very up close and personal. He could see why she’d want somebody she already knew and trusted.
He wished he could help her, but he couldn’t ask her to sit tight and wait until he felt safe to return to the Bay Area. He couldn’t drag her around the Sierra Nevada foothills with him while he tried to keep a low profile, either. He was about to say he was sorry but there was nothing he could do when a flyer he’d found pinned to the public message board at the local coffee shop popped into his mind. It had advertised rooms for rent in a private residence....