ceiling in the dining room. Beckett headed up to the third floor, but paused on two when he smelled honeysuckle.
“Like that, do you?” he murmured, and walked down to Elizabeth and Darcy. “She doesn’t look sad anymore.”
On impulse, he walked into the room, then out onto the porch. He looked out on the town, the line of Main Street with its shops and houses, its covered porches and bricked sidewalks. And beyond it to the glint of fields, the rise of hills, the ring of mountains rolling to the blue autumn sky.
“This is good.” He didn’t know if he spoke to himself, the building, or the ghost. It didn’t matter. “This feels right.”
Others had stood on this spot when the street had been a wide dirt road carrying horses, carriages. When soldiers came to fight in those fields, those hills and mountains. It stood while the dead were buried, and the grass grew green over them.
“Did you?” he wondered, thinking of the honeysuckle. “Did you stand here? When? Did you come in a carriage or in a car? How did you die? Why do you stay?”
Not ready to share, he thought. Women knew how to keep their secrets.
He glanced down toward Turn The Page. Too early for Clare to be in, he thought. She’d be getting the boys ready for school, dealing with breakfast and backpacks.
Did she think of him during her morning routine? Would she look out her office window and wonder what he was doing, how soon they’d see each other?
Did she sometimes ache at night wishing for him the way he wished for her?
He liked to think so.
He saw one of the operators unlock the front door of Sherry’s Salon, then glance over—then simply stand and stare. It made him grin as pride rushed into him.
We’re not done yet, he thought. She needs lights and benches, planters—and so much more. But when she’s dressed for the party, she’ll be the belle of the ball.
As he walked back in, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Just a blur that seemed to shimmer in the air—there, then gone—as he turned toward it.
The door he’d secured swung back open.
He took a quick step back as his heart jolted. He’d have sworn he heard the faintest whisper of a laugh.
“Yeah, funny.” He moved over, shut the door again. The minute he started out, it opened again.
He closed it; it opened.
Maybe she liked the fresh air, or the view, but he couldn’t play this game all morning.
“Okay, look, I can’t leave it open. Remember the pigeons—and the pigeon shit? Let’s not give them an invitation to move back in.”
As he watched, the door opened a couple inches—like a tease—then shut.
“Thanks.” He waited a moment to be sure before backing out of the room.
He’d just won an argument with a ghost, he decided on his way upstairs. That had to be one for the books.
Just after nine, his day got another boost when his cell phone rang and he saw the bookstore on the display. He set his measuring tape aside.
“Hi.”
“Oh, Beckett, it’s beautiful. I just got in, came up to my office and glanced out the window. I swear I did a double take.”
“We took the tarp down a couple hours ago.”
“I know you told me what it would look like, and I saw a little, but it’s just so much more. I’m watching people walking or driving by stopping to stare.”
“So am I. I just walked out on the second-floor porch.” He lifted his hand, grinned.
“Hold on a minute.”
He heard some rustling, a muttered curse. He heard—and saw—her office window open. She leaned out— pretty as a sunflower—and made his grin widen.
“Hi, Beckett,” she said in his ear.
“Hi, Clare.”
“You must be on top of the world.”
“On top of Main Street, anyway. Come on over, see it from here, because it’s pretty damn terrific. And you’ve got to see downstairs, the tile work.”
“I can’t this morning. I’ve got a ton of paperwork I didn’t get done last night due to a history project, multiplication tables, a science quiz, and a bad dream.”
“Science quizzes give me bad dreams, too.”
“It wasn’t that. It was the aliens with octopus arms.”
“That’d do it, too.”
“Liam. He was freaked enough to wake his brothers, and Murphy decided that made it a fine time to play. Anyway, I have to catch up this morning. Then we have a bus tour coming in, so I’ll just have to admire the fabulous Inn BoonsBoro from here.”
It just wasn’t enough, he realized. Seeing her, talking to her, with Main Street between them. “Tell you what, bring the kids in after school. We’ll give them a tour, then take them for pizza.”
“Homework.”
“You’re such a mom. After homework.”
“They’d love it, but the way things have been going, it could be around four thirty before we make it.”
“I’ll wait.”
Ryder’s voice boomed up the stairs. “Beckett, goddamn it, where are those measurements?”
“Looks like we both better get to work. Thanks for the great view. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Clare. It was nice seeing you.”
He spent the entire day on a high, and the high kicked up a notch every time he had to go out and someone stopped him to talk about the inn. He continued to ride it at the end of the day when the crew knocked off.
He held the usual end-of-day meeting with his brothers to confirm the next day’s business and strategies.
“Let’s take this over to Vesta,” Owen suggested. “A day like this deserves pizza and beer.”
“Can’t. Clare’s bringing the kids in to take a tour, then we’re heading over for pizza.”
“See what happens when you get hooked up?” Ryder shook his head, sadly. “No more time for pizza and beer with your brothers.”
“Beck’s a family man now,” Owen said soberly. “You’d better start thinking about beefing up your retirement plan and life insurance.”
“Kiss my ass. And I’m not a—”
“No more poker tournaments, no more partying.” Ryder gave Beckett a sympathetic rap on the shoulder. “And you can forget the tittie bars, man. It’s all about saving for that vacation at Disney World now. Poor bastard. Come on, Owen, we’ll eat and drink his share.”
“His oats.” Owen sighed as he walked out. “They have all been sowed.”
“Assholes,” Beckett called out, laughing it off. But the ragging comments gave him a little twinge between the shoulder blades.
“Just jealous because I have a woman.”
He looked down at his clipboard, tried to concentrate on what needed to be done the next day, and through the week.
He wasn’t a “family man.” Jesus. He liked the kids, a lot. They were great—interesting, fun, smart—and he liked hanging out with them. But he didn’t know anything about being a family man. He knew about being a brother, a son, so he knew about family, and how vital it was. But he didn’t know anything about being, sort of, in charge of one.
He was just seeing Clare, just in the beginnings of a relationship with Clare. Sure, her kids were part of that —he wasn’t an idiot. But they were just pals, he and the kids.
