The Daughter He Never Knew Page 4

  “She’s got it all figured out, eh?” said Bart. “Just like her mother?”

  Lila nodded. “Yes,” she replied. “Katie’s got it all figured out and likes the plan very much.” And why not? Adam Fielding was a wonderful father to Sara, who’d raised her all alone after losing his wife. As young as she was, Katie understood that.

  Bart clutched his empty pipe, pointed the stem at her. “You know what they say about the ‘best laid plans,’ don’t you?”

  “These plans are carved in concrete,” Lila replied. “And unless Sam or Matt says anything about Katie…” She stared at Bart, then sighed in relief when he shook his head.

  “There’s no man more honorable than Sam Parker,” said Bart. “He won’t say anything.”

  Finally, Lila felt a genuine smile appear. Her grandfather was right. Sam was one in a million. She glanced at Bart and grinned. A little too much leprechaun in him, but she’d keep him. She placed a list of names in front of him and stood up to leave. “You’ve got calls to make.”

  “Any special ones?” asked Bart.

  Lila frowned. “What do you mean… Oh! Possible candidates for Sea View House?” She placed her hands on her hips and forced herself to tease him. “Don’t you think you’ve already used up the quota for good luck in that house? What was it? Three marriages within a year? You can’t do better than that. You’d better give it a rest before the luck dries up.”

  For a second he looked concerned, and she couldn’t restrain a giggle.

  “So you’re thinking I’m a bit daffy, are you?” Bart shook his head slowly. “No, lassie. The luck is there for all with open hearts…and especially for those with hearts that need healing.”

  Her laughter vanished. She thought of Matt Parker and Laura, who’d dealt with breast cancer, then rented the first floor of Sea View House. She thought of the young widower, Daniel Stone, and his Sea View House neighbor, Shelley Anderson, who’d fought like a tiger for custody of her kids. And then there was Rachel Goodman who’d come back to town and wound up sharing Sea View House with Jack Levine. They’d gotten married last month during spring break, bought Matt Parker’s old house and remained in Pilgrim Cove.

  Lost in thought, Lila absently tapped her lip. Her granddad was right about one thing. Everyone who’d lived in Sea View House had needed healing. And had received it.

  Everyone…except her. The big house on the beach had been her house, too. Once upon a time. She knew it well. She and Jason had made love there. Conceived Katie there. Listened to the music of the ocean there. It had been a special place to her in the past, and had remained special as long as Jason’s promise to return had kept her going. But Lila had received his message loud and clear. And she’d moved forward with her life.

  Now she avoided Sea View House as much as possible, thankful that Bart enjoyed handling the leases. He was the one who selected the tenant and decided how much rent to charge on the sliding scale established by the Adams Family Trust, owner of the property.

  She felt her grandfather studying her. The Quinn prided himself on his gut instinct for people, and she could hide nothing from his discerning gaze. For the very first time since Katie had been born, she regretted sharing a home with him.

  AT LEAST the Diner on the Dunes hadn’t changed much. A one-story white clapboard structure with an upper row of small round windows like portholes, reflected the nautical theme. Below the portholes were big picture windows before the walls continued to the ground.

  Jason pulled his car into the spot next to the Parker Plumbing van the morning after his visit to the cemetery and his family reunion at Matt and Laura’s new house, which was his dad’s house, too. He’d had a wonderful evening, considering all he’d absorbed during the day. Laura was a great woman, and anyone could see how crazy Matt was about her. And Brian! He shook his head in remembered awe, regretful that he hadn’t been around to watch the boy grow up.

  Of all the surprises, however, perhaps eight-year-old Casey was the most fun. “Uncle Ja-Ja-son looks a lot like you, Dad,” he’d said to Matt. “But I-I-I don’t think he’s as smart as you.”

  “No?” replied Matt. “How come?”

  “’Cause you never get l-l-ost. And Uncle Ja-Jason almost never got f-found.”

  A poignant silence had followed, though Casey hadn’t noticed. The boy kept on chatting away, directing his remarks at his uncle. “But now you know where we are, don’t you? You won’t forget?”

  “I won’t forget,” Jason had promised, picking up the little guy and swinging him around. And he couldn’t forget to attend the baseball practice his nephew had that afternoon. It seemed he was expected to make up for lost time by attending every activity his family was involved with while he was in town.

  Right now, the only event ahead of him was breakfast at the diner with his dad and a group of his dad’s cronies. He walked to the entrance and went inside.

  Business was brisk, with people waiting to be seated. His stomach rumbled as he inhaled the aroma of rich coffee.

  “Right this way, Jason,” said a petite blonde. “The boys are expecting you.”

  Jason studied the older woman who crackled with energy. “Dee? Dee Barnes? You’re still bossing this place?”

  “Dee O’Brien now.” She nodded at the big guy on the end of the circular booth she was leading him to.

  “The Chief? You and the chief are married?” Rick O’Brien had been chief of police all during Jason’s childhood. Every kid knew him. And had been lectured to more than once by him.

  “Sweetie, it’s been a crazy year for weddings around here,” Dee said. “But I’ll let them fill you in.”

  He stared into the faces of men he recognized, but struggled to remember their names. There was Ralph Bigelow from the electric company, Lou Goodman—Rachel’s father and high-school librarian. Doc Rosen…

  “What are you doing here in the middle of the week, Doc? Shouldn’t you be in Boston with your patients?”

  “Not anymore,” Doc replied, while chuckles came from the others around the table.

  Jason looked at Joe Cavelli from the garage, and Mike Lyons, an environmental engineer. “Still working for the aquarium?” asked Jason.

  “After a fashion,” the genial man replied.

  And next to his dad sat Bart Quinn, whose blue eyes studied Jason greeting the group. Jason extended his hand to Bart and was jolted at the power of the man’s response.

  “Sit down, sit down. Take a load off. And let’s get a good look at you.” Bart Quinn’s big voice.

  With one sentence, Jason felt like a kid again. And then everyone was talking at once. Asking questions about him. Updating him about the town. Somehow breakfast platters appeared along with two pots of coffee, with the chief’s wife directing the table service.

  “So, Dee,” said Jason when there was lull. “I meant to ask, what’s with the sign on the door? Who are the ROMEOs?”

  “You’re sitting with them,” said Bart. “Take a look.” Quinn pointed at the Reserved sign in the middle of the table, which was almost lost among the napkins, cutlery and dishes.

  “Retired Old Men Eating Out. ROMEOs.” Jason looked at the eight men with him. “You guys?”

  Sam clapped him on the back and looked at his friends. “We’re a semiretired bunch. We work a little, volunteer a little and spend the rest of our time keeping Pilgrim Cove in order.”

  Nods all around. Then Bart focused on Jason once more. “Time doesn’t stand still, boyo. But you know that now. And it’s too darn precious to waste.” Quinn’s voice was strong with meaning. The table became quiet, the silence a bit uncomfortable. Bart didn’t seem to notice. “So when are you moving back home?”

  Covering his surprise, Jason pushed his coffee cup away, curious to see where Quinn was leading. “What makes you think I am?”

  “Because, my lad,” said Bart, “every single person you love lives here. And every single person who loves you lives here. And if that’s not reason enough, then I’v
e lived seventy-six years as a fool.” The old man paused for breath. “And Bart Quinn is no fool.”

  Jason had been around creative people long enough to recognize that Bart was putting on a show. A damn good one. And Act II was coming up.

  “And because I know you’re a smart fellow—smart enough to find your way home, finally—I’m going to make you a deal you can’t refuse while you make your arrangements to move back.”

  The play was getting better and better. Jason was starting to enjoy himself.

  “It’ll cost you a few bucks, but I’m the one taking all the risk,” Bart said.

  What was Quinn talking about now? Jason glanced around the table. Every ROMEO was eyeing every other one there.

  “Spit it out, Bartholomew,” Jason said.

  The old man waited a beat. “Sea View House.”

  His world crashed. Waves pulled him under. Sea View House. Making love to Lila. Moonlight on her hair. On her gorgeous body. Walking the beach, hands intertwined. So in love with her, he hadn’t considered another relationship since.

  But how did the old man know about Sea View House? He inhaled deeply, then asked, “Why Sea View House?” His voice cracked; he coughed quickly to cover it up.

  “That’s an easy one to answer,” replied Bart, his tone gentle now. “You qualify.”

  WHATEVER THE MYSTERIOUS qualifications might be, it didn’t sound as though Bart knew anything specific about the part Sea View House had played in his and Lila’s lives. Next to him, however, Jason heard his dad murmur Bart’s name and saw him shake his head. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Merely providing opportunity,” Bart replied. “Jason will have to provide motive.”

  What were the men talking about now? Jason was about to ask when his cell phone vibrated. Before he answered it, however, he heard his dad say to Bart, “You’ve provided Maggie with plenty of motive— Motive to kill you.”

  Bart nodded. “I suppose it’s a chance I’ll have to take.” He didn’t seem too worried.

  “Your daughter might not be the only female in your life to feel that way,” Sam replied.

  With his ear to the mobile, Jason didn’t hear Bart’s reply or the men’s further conversation. Instead, he heard his agent’s voice, and was surprised.

  “Mitch! What are you doing up so early? Must be only, what? Six o’clock on the coast?”

  “It’s still dark,” came the husky reply, “so I figure, why should I be the only one getting calls so early? I’ll call J.J. and wake him up, too.”

  “Much too late for ‘early’ around here. I’m already at breakfast, surrounded by a bunch of ROMEOs.”

  “Romeos? You auditioning for Shakespeare now? Forget it. Hollywood’s crawling with wannabe actors. They don’t need you!”

  Jason laughed. He could always depend on Mitch to be quick on the uptake. “The youngest ROMEO in this group is about—” Jason looked up at the men “—let’s just say they qualify for senior discounts.”

  “So you’re with your dad, huh? How’s it going?”

  “Good, Mitch. Some unhappy surprises, but generally good.”

  “Glad to hear it. And here’s more good news. Radio stations have been promoting like crazy and the phone calls from listeners are out of sight. When the CD goes on sale, you’ll be covered in platinum. Now, what do you think about that?”

  “If your prediction is true, you can thank Luis Torres.”

  “Bull! He can thank you!”

  Jason chuckled. Mitch Berman’s belief in him had never wavered. “Let’s say we’re a good match,” Jason replied.

  “You are,” said the agent. “But it wasn’t an accident. You studied the guy’s voice and wrote with him in mind. Just like Paul Anka did for Frank with ‘My Way.’ That’s what’s happening here with you and Torres.”

  Inside himself, Jason knew it, too. He’d written “At the Water’s Edge” from his heart, but had wanted Luis Torres to sing it. “And your point is?”

  “My point is that I’ve gotten calls… No, we’ve gotten calls. Two agents of big-time stars. They recognize talent and want to know what else you’ve written. And…get ready for this…Disney is looking for songs for several projects. I called and told them to send storylines.”

  Jason had hoped his career would grow, but hadn’t expected any of this so soon. “I just got here, Mitch. And I still have a lot of unfinished business to take care of.”

  The sudden silence at the table caused Jason to glance up. Eight pairs of eyes stared at him, his dad’s creased with worry. Eight pairs of ears were tuned to every word. ROMEOs knew no shame.

  “Can you hold them off for a while?” Jason said into the phone.

  As he listened to his agent’s excited protest, his thoughts whirled, but then he managed to relax. “Just a minute, Mitch. We might have a solution, or the means to one, sitting right at this table.”

  Sure, the solution might kill him. But what the hell? He couldn’t walk out on his dad again, not so soon. Matt would be pissed, too, not to mention disappointing his nephews.

  He looked at Bart Quinn. “I’d have to haul in a piano so I can work—which for me is day or night, so a motel won’t do. If you have no objections to that, then draw up a lease—for any house you’ve got available.” It was a last desperate effort to divert the Irishman.

  But Quinn’s eyes brightened. “Everything else is rented, boyo, so Sea View House it is. With an open-ended lease.”

  The Realtor was pushing it. “A month should be long enough for me to produce something.” He glanced at Sam.

  His father’s smile reinforced Jason’s decision. “I’ll work here, Mitch. A month in Pilgrim Cove should keep us right on track.”

  LILA STRODE TO HER CAR, the keys to Sea View House dangling from her hand. She shook her head in disbelief. Her granddad really did have the luck of the Irish. Hadn’t they just spoken about finding another special tenant for the place? And in just twenty-four hours, Bart had found one.

  The sunny day was accompanied by a brisk ocean breeze. Too gusty for her granddad, or so he’d said. She bit her lip. Sometimes the arthritis in his knee kicked up, and because he didn’t want to admit it, he looked for the means to avoid abusing the joint. And then there were times—she gripped the keys in frustration—that she could hardly believe he had arthritis at all! She’d put nothing past her grandfather when it came to getting his own way.

  She slipped behind the wheel and pulled out from the curb, sighing in resignation. Her granddad loved his family so much, he’d go to any lengths to help them. When she and her mom had fought constantly after Katie’s birth—Maggie trying to take over, and Lila trying to be independent—Bart had insisted Lila and the baby live with him. And Lila’s dad had backed him up. Maggie needed to be a grandma, and Lila needed to learn how to be a mom. Both men had been right, and it had all worked out beautifully.

  She and her own mom maintained a good relationship. Her dad had helped Maggie to accept the new arrangement. The saddest one at the time, she’d thought, was her thirteen-year-old brother, Steve. He was fascinated by the newborn and wanted Katie and Lila to stay at home.

  Katie had certainly been surrounded with love from the moment she’d been born, with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, as well as a mom who adored her.

  And soon, she’d even have a daddy.

  Lila turned onto Beach Street and studied the two-and-a-half-story saltbox on the corner. Sea View House had a majesty to it, with its gray weathered shingles, a deep porch reaching across the entire front of the house, and a white picket fence where a mass of red roses would soon be in bloom. It was one of the few houses divided into two apartments.

  She checked the slip of paper Bart had given her. This man was renting the first floor, also known as the Captain’s Quarters. Oh…he was paying the full price! No wonder her granddad wanted to close this deal. She had all the information she needed to speak intelligently about the house except the man’s name. She shrugged
. In the real-estate business, she met new folks every day and had enough experience to avoid awkward moments over introductions.

  A dark sedan was parked in the driveway, but as Lila pulled up behind it, she saw the car was empty. No big deal. If she’d been a first-time visitor, she’d explore the beach, too.

  She grabbed her purse, put on her sunglasses and made sure the key was in her pocket. Then she started down the driveway toward the back of the house. The wind was stronger here, and she wished she’d brought a rubber band to hold back her hair. The new tenant wasn’t on the back deck, nor in the yard. She continued toward the sand, instinctively inhaling the unique fragrance of salt and sea, listening to the sound of the waves.

  The low tide meant the water’s edge was a long way off. In the distance, however, she saw someone looking out over the ocean. One hand rested on his hip, while something dangled from the fingers of his other hand. Probably his shoes. He’d never hear her voice over the sound of the wind, so she didn’t bother to call out. Instead, she’d wait a minute for him to return before attempting to walk on the loose sand in her pumps.

  She was rewarded almost immediately when he turned around and saw her. He waved, and she held up the key. He started toward her.

  Broad shoulders in a dark shirt or sweater—she couldn’t tell which—lean body with dark hair blowing in all directions. Dark glasses hid his eyes—a smart move against the glare of both the sun and water. As he got closer, she saw a scruffy beard and a slow smile cross his face.

  “Hi,” she called, when he was in hearing range. She waved the key. “Quinn Real Estate. I’m Lila Sullivan.”

  Had he hesitated before continuing toward her? “I know,” he said, slowly removing his sunglasses.

  Dark eyes. Just as she remembered. Just like Sam Parker’s. And Matt’s.