“That’s my call, too.”
Lips pursed, she met his gaze. “This isn’t exactly good timing for you, either, is it? You’re trying to work on your restaurant.”
“What can I say? Shit happens.”
Her smile this time was warmer than it had been. “You’re too damned reasonable.”
“Sorry.”
Her brows lifted faintly, and she studied him for a lengthy moment. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
He hesitated briefly before saying, “Neither did I.”
A grin lit up her face. “So you really did miss me.”
“More than you know,” he murmured with an answering grin.
“I probably shouldn’t say it, but same here. I haven’t been sleeping too well.”
“I probably shouldn’t say it, but I’ve hardly slept at all.”
“So you’ve been thinking about me,” she purred.
“More or less constantly. And for your information, it’s annoyed the hell out of me.”
“So I maybe should compensate you in some way-you know-for your annoyance.”
His smile was wicked. “We could talk about it.”
“Talk?”
“Whatever. You decide.”
“I already have,” she murmured. “Come.” She put out her hand. “We’ll go fill Chris in on all the sordid details, and then we’ll deal with our mutual annoyances and/or desires. ”
His hand closed over hers as she moved away. “Deal-making. Sounds good.” He grinned. “FYI, I’m gonna be a pushover on these negotiations.”
“For some reason I thought you might be.”
“Does my impatience show?”
She laughed. “Like flashing neon. Which reminds me- on other more practical matters-we’d better get Janie’s splashy Hockney painting out of the barn. She doesn’t think Leo will notice it’s gone, but I’m not so sure.” She turned to him. “Do you have room at Deer Lake for a bigger than life-sized painting?”
“It’s an old place. The ceilings are pretty high. We’ll figure out something.”
“If it’s old, does it have those nice porches?”
“Wraparound screened porches, babe. Does that make you happy?”
“Yeah. And you coming back makes me happier.”
“I’m glad.”
She shot him a look. “Is this a karmic moment of complete harmony?”
“It sure feels like it.”
“Yeah it does,” she murmured, swinging his hand, deciding this wasn’t the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Most definitely.”
Thirty
Jake’s aunt’s place on Deer Lake was what would have been called a cottage at the turn of the century. The large, two-story Victorian house was poised on the heights overlooking the lake, the grass newly mowed, the flower gardens immaculate, the siding freshly painted in a typical turn-of-the-century color: pale blue with white trim.
“Someone’s definitely paying to keep this place maintained, ” Liv murmured as she stepped out of Jake’s car. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. It looks the same as ever,” he said with a noticeable satisfaction. “I spent some happy summers here as a kid. Come on in, we’ll give Aiko a call and tell her how good everything’s looking.” He nodded at Matt, who was running toward the lake, Janie and Roman in hot pursuit. “I know
“You think?” Janie had complained they’d had to literally drag Matt out of the water whenever they wanted to come back from the beach.
“I’m not a betting man, but I’d bet on that one. Let’s get the place open before Chris and Amy get here. We’ll find a place for that painting.” Chris and Amy were bringing the Hockney painting and Janie’s considerable luggage in the back of their pickup truck.
After unearthing the key from under some gingerbread trim on the back porch, Jake opened the door and walked in. The kitchen was huge, and with the exception of new appliances, it appeared largely untouched since the house had been built. A large wooden table, used as a work surface from the evidence of hard wear apparent on its maple top, held center stage. Surrounded by chairs, it must have served for informal dining as well.
“I love old houses,” Liv murmured, thinking of all the people who must have gathered around that table over the years. “I bought my farm largely because of the house. Think of the memories.”
“Including mine,” Jake agreeably said. “I like that nothing ’s changed. I like that it’s been in the same family all these years. My uncle’s grandfather built it in 1904. The date’s penciled on a closet wall upstairs.” He held out his hand. “Come. I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“A workman left his signature on a timber in my barn, too,” Liv said, following Jake into the dining room. “Every time I see it I feel connected to the history of my place. Wow-is that a real Remington sculpture?”
“I don’t know-maybe-actually, I think it is.”
Apparently the original owner had a couple of nickels to rub together, Liv decided. Not that a lake cottage of this size didn’t give one a clue.
They moved through a dining room with a built-in buffet and sideboard that were fashionable at the turn of the century and entered an enormous bow-shaped room that conformed to the curvature of the lakeshore. A wall of windows offered glorious, panoramic views of the lake.
“How lovely,” Liv said, with a modicum of awe. The cabin she’d spent summers in as a child would have fit in this room. Not to mention the furniture looked like something out of an old
“The upstairs isn’t so decorated,” Jake said, recognizing the note of wonder in her voice. “It’s more summer camp stuff.”
He took her upstairs to see the bedrooms on the second floor.
“Summer camp it might be,” Liv noted, as they returned to the ground floor. “But it’s definitely not Girl Scout camp on Fenske Lake.” The decor reminded her more of a Martha Stewart summer camp: the kind with painted metal beds, white wainscoting, linen curtains, homespun bedspreads, woven rugs, and wicker furniture, all color- coordinated with the paint on the walls. “Everything’s so perfect. It looks as though it’s hardly been used.”
“Actually, it has been. But my aunt had all the bed linens and curtains redone ten years ago or so, and lately, there haven’t been many guests.”
“If I have to be away from my vines,” Liv said with an approving survey of her surroundings, “I certainly can’t complain about the accommodations.”
“Hopefully, this won’t be a lengthy stay. Leo should be calling soon.” Jake shrugged. “He can decide to settle or not, and I’m guessing he’ll settle.”
“I don’t know if I’m that optimistic. Still, Roman knows the man better than we, and
“Fucking a. Wouldn’t you?”
“I guess. So what-two, three days?”
“Sounds about right. Which doesn’t give us much time for a vacation,” he said with a grin.
“I hope your idea of a vacation and mine are the same,” she murmured, smiling back.
“I guarantee they are.”
“Such assurance.” But her voice was sportive rather than displeased.
“Let’s just say, I’ve gotten to know you. And since I braved armed desperadoes to be with you,” he said, grinning, “I’m figuring we might as well have a good time. Sit down, relax; I’ll go get us some food. Then no one has
