“I’m straightforward to a fault,” he said.
“It’s what people wanted today. Needed, maybe. You’ve been in the trenches as a start-up entrepreneur.”
“I have scars, you mean.”
She smiled. “You love your scars.”
Her eyes were half closed, shining in the glow of the revived fire. Gabe noticed the empty wineglass on the blanket next to her. “How much wine have you had?”
“One-and-a-half glasses. Not enough to wander off into the woods and get eaten by a bobcat.”
“Wouldn’t want that. Did you drink alone?”
“Unless my woodland friends opened a bottle up in the pine trees. There’s an abundance of squirrels and chipmunks out here. And I heard an owl.”
“I heard one last night,” Gabe said. “I thought you’d go out with friends. You could have joined us. We all assumed you were tired and had other plans.”
“Both true. It’s fine, Gabe.”
“You do have friends here?”
“I do. I’m still settling into new routines, but, yes, I have friends.”
“I like Russ. He and Kylie are new to town. You all seem to have hit it off. Are they friends or just clients?”
“The friendship came first. It’s probably easier to be friends when you’re planning a fun party than doing other client-based services. Knights Bridge has been keeping me busy lately, but I don’t work exclusively here or even in the area.”
“You’re doing well on your own,” he said.
“Thank you, yes, so far, so good. Buying a house was a big step for me, but I’m saving now for a trip. It killed me to give up traveling when I was broke—well, once I acknowledged I was broke. Technically I was broke and traveling. If I had room on my credit card for airfare and a decent hotel, off I went.”
“But never to Wyoming,” Gabe said quietly.
He thought he heard her breath catch. “No,” she said. “I did poke you in the eye with that, didn’t I? Sorry. I was taken aback about the party, I guess.”
“Mark and I could have handled that better. He didn’t know what he was stepping into.”
“It all worked out,” Felicity said.
“Are you happy?”
She stared straight ahead at the fire. “If I say yes, what will that mean to you?”
“That you’re happy.”
She glanced at him. “That simple, huh?” She faced the fire again. “Well, I’m happy right now, at this moment. That doesn’t mean I don’t have wants.”
A couple of ways he could take that, but Gabe decided to be careful, a little judicious for a change. “But you’re where you want to be, doing what you want to do.”
“I could do without a mosquito finding me—” She stopped herself, sighing. “I’m being flippant. Sorry. Yes, Gabe, I enjoy my work, and I love living out here on the river.”
“I always had a feeling you’d appreciate this place. I made a few suggestions to Mark about what kind of house would work here, the light, the views of the river. He was more into the technical aspects of the design and construction.”
“He made sure the house wouldn’t fall into the river,” Felicity said.
Gabe laughed. “Something like that. I considered buying him out while we were building. I had it in my head I could loan or rent the house to family and friends, stay here when I was in town, but it wasn’t practical at the time. I never saw myself spending much time in Knights Bridge, and I’d just had a start-up go bust and was throwing myself into the next one.”
“The one that just sold for a gazillion?”
“Not a gazillion but yes, that one. Instead Mark bought me out.” Gabe steadied his gaze on the flames. “I had you in mind when I made my recommendations about this place. I’d ask myself, What would Felicity want in a house?”
He turned to her in time to see red spread up her neck and into her face. It had nothing to do with the heat of the fire. He’d hit the wrong notes in his comments. She swooped to her feet, grabbed her wineglass and glared down at him. “Ruin the place for me, why don’t you? Damn, Gabe. Now I get to sit out on the deck and wonder if you figured out it would have a nice view of the river.”
Hell.
“This is my house now,” she said. “Mine. There are no Flanagan ghosts here.”
He said nothing as she spun around and stormed across the yard to the house. He heard her pound up the steps to the deck, tear open the French door and bang it shut. Since the windows were open he heard her bedroom door slam shut.
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the sweat. He’d screwed up. Being in front of young, eager would-be entrepreneurs had stirred up every hope, dream, insecurity, regret and frustration he’d had when he’d started out. Being around people he knew and respected, who were making a difference here in his hometown, living full lives, happy—he’d thought about his tarp-covered furniture at his sterile condo in Boston, a metaphor for his life.
He’d assumed Felicity would get where he was coming from, but how could she? He hadn’t explained himself, had he?
“Idiot.”
He hadn’t tried to bring her into the conversation, or to take into account or ask what she might be thinking.
He could do better.
He walked barefoot across the cool grass and up to the deck, hesitating before he went inside. He continued down the hall to her room. Her door was shut. “Felicity...” He took a breath. “I made assumptions. It didn’t occur to me you have a genuine attachment to this place. I should have asked.”
She ripped open the door. “For about thirty seconds I let myself believe—I don’t know what I let myself believe. You’re not here because of me, and that’s fine. It really is. You want or need or whatever to relive your past before you go back
