Inner Harbor. Lois Richer
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Responsibility was the one thing he always failed at. This wouldn’t be an emotional commitment, it would be business. “It wouldn’t have to be anything personal.”
She choked. Russ moved to stand beside her.
“That didn’t come out right,” he muttered. “I meant that it’s just—”
“Business? Yes, I guessed you’d say that. Let me explain this to you.”
He noted the way she smothered her emotions, her fingers clenching at her sides.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she explained in a quiet voice. “I’d like to help you out, if I could. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal for you to want your inheritance.”
He frowned. She did understand—at least as much as he’d told her. But it wasn’t the money—
She read his face and rushed to finish. “I can’t help you. Not that way. I am not marrying you. Wharton shouldn’t have asked me.”
“Asked you? But—” He stared at her, understanding dawning. She had known. “He wrote you?” Russ murmured.
She nodded.
“Yes. I didn’t get the letter until after he’d died. At first I didn’t connect you with his R.J.” She looked sad for a moment. “But this is not even up for discussion. I’m Drew’s temporary mother. Think about him. How would I explain such a thing to him? No. Drew needs security from me, not a whole new set of changes.” She shook her head vehemently, obviously appalled at the thought of being tied to Russ.
“You said they’d found a relative.” Russ caught her frown of dismay. “You’ll only have yourself to think about when he leaves.”
“I’ll deal with that when it happens.”
Something on her face told him she didn’t want to contemplate Drew leaving. Why was that?
The telephone broke the silence. Annie grabbed the receiver off the wall.
“Hello?”
“Annie.”
Russ was standing near enough to hear a man’s voice.
“Which date did you prefer? Day after tomorrow?”
“I—uh, that is, I haven’t had a chance to look at your notes yet. I just got back from choir practice.” Annie turned her back to Russ. “I’m glad you found a buyer, but I don’t really think they need me to decide whether or not they want my mother’s house.” She held the phone away from her ear, wincing at the jovial tone.
“They claim they do. I want to get this settled, strike while they’ve got their loan approval. We’ve waited a long time for a hot prospect, Annie. Let’s not lose them. I’ll tell them we’ll meet at the house this Tuesday after lunch. Okay?”
Russ thought Annie looked like a hunted fox. She glanced here and there around the room as if a sudden way of escape would open up.
“Unless you want it sooner?”
“No! Tuesday’s fine, I suppose. I just don’t see why they want me there.” She snuggled the phone close, but Russ didn’t even pretend not to listen. The conversation was fascinating, at least Annie’s side of it was.
“Oh, they saw that, did they? Well, I guess if they like it—”
The person on the phone kept talking.
“Everyone?” She seemed to shrink a little. Her voice rose. “I don’t want to be the object of people’s gossip. I want my personal life to be private.” She sighed at his guffaw. “Yes, I know. Privacy is impossible in Safe Harbor. All right. Goodbye.”
She hung up the phone, but stood staring at it for several moments. Eventually she moved to the table, but only to stack the rest of their dishes. Russ watched her stuff the white crockery with its delicate blue flowers into the dishwasher.
“Is everything all right?”
She looked at him, gave a half laugh that was not at all amused. “No. Absolutely nothing is all right. But I’ll manage. I always do.”
He got the impression she wanted to do much more than manage. What had happened to cause that sheen of happiness he thought so much a part of her fade away after one phone call? Where did she go when her eyes glazed over and her face stiffened into that mask of rigid self-control?
A sound broke the silence between them. Russ started out the door, twisted his head, noticed she wasn’t following.
“Annie?” She blinked, focused on him. She looked sad, about to burst into tears. He walked back, brushed a hand against her cheek. “I think someone needs you.”
“Oh. Okay.” Annie nodded, turned, walked through the doorway.
Russ followed her.
“Yowl!”
He quickened his step. Uh-oh. He’d meant to explain first.
A man with gray-streaked hair, granite jaw and midnight blue eyes that begged for their help waited in her foyer.
“She won’t leave me alone,” he muttered. He seemed glued to the spot.
“Who won’t?” Annie frowned, her eyes sliding down his frame until they arrived at the monstrously huge body of a marmalade-colored cat curled around his feet, purring a loud contented rumble. A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “Oh, I see.”
“I’m not very good with cats,” he murmured, his face pinched in distressed lines. “Usually they don’t like me at all.”
“Well, this one does.”
“Apparently.” The man tried to move, but the cat counteracted his motions with her own.
Russ stood silent, watched as Annie tried to figure out a way to free her guest from its clutches.
“Were you wanting this place in particular, or did she chase you in here?”
“She was here when I arrived. But the sign says no pets.” His words sounded hesitant, confused. His eyes revealed little of his thoughts. “I’m Nathan Taylor. I’ll be coming to Safe Harbor for the next several months, but only on the weekends. I’d like to rent a room.”
“Wait a minute.” Annie studied him more closely. “I remember you. The man who saved Aidan. You were at my grand opening.”
His face darkened with embarrassment. “Yes.”
“I’m glad to see you again.”
She did look happy, Russ decided. The glare he’d been favored with had disappeared, replaced by a friendly smile.
“Well, we can certainly accommodate you here. As soon as we free you, that is.” Annie glanced at Russ.
He did his best to hide his guilt, but he knew from the furrow of her eyebrows that she’d seen some flicker of it in his face.
“I—er, I may be able to help.” He walked over and scooped up the monster cat. Instantly at peace, Marmalade curled herself over his shoulders and settled down to sleep. “I’m afraid she’s mine,” he admitted quietly.
“What?” Annie frowned at him. “But surely Felicity told you our policy of no pets.”
“Yes, she did.” Oh, why hadn’t he explained the cat’s presence earlier? Now it looked like he’d been trying to slip one past her. Which he had.
“You knew? Then why—”
“I thought that if I explained, you’d understand. She’s completely house-trained. She doesn’t scratch things or tear up shoes. Mostly she sleeps.” He shrugged, trying to appeal to her decency and love of animals, though to be frank, he wasn’t certain she did like animals. She certainly kept well out of reach of his cat.
“Marmalade