be the one working there."
She smiled. "By doing what? Failing miserably?"
"Not miserably," he said. "Just look at the deal I struck with
you. I'd say I proved myself with that."
"We're not going to agree on what's going on here, are we?"
He shrugged. "Probably not."
"Then let's have lunch. Gram's set the dining room table. She seems to
think this meeting requires more formality, being strictly business and
all."
Trace chuckled. "Is she as ticked at me as your dad is?"
"Pretty much."
"Then this should be fun," Trace said, holding the door, then
following her inside.
*
* *
To Abby's regret, Gram was nowhere in sight when they
reached the dining room, and the table had only been set for two. Trace grinned
when he saw it.
"Now, isn't this an interesting turn of events?" he murmured.
"Could it be that your grandmother's matchmaking?"
"Absolutely not!" Abby said fiercely.
"Because you're married? At least I assume with kids, there must be a
husband in the picture."
"There was," she admitted, regretting the divorce for a fleeting
moment, if only because she sensed the existence of a husband would get that
wicked gleam out of Trace's eyes.
"Separated? Divorced?" he asked, as he removed containers of chopped
salad from the bags he'd brought. Without asking, he went about dishing the
salad onto the formal, gold-trimmed china Gram had put on the table.
"Divorced," she said, gritting her teeth against the personal turn
the conversation was taking. "Look, we're here to discuss the inn, not my
life."
"Just catching up," he said, as he reached into a second bag and
removed a container of what appeared to be the yacht club's decadent chocolate
mousse, one of Abby's all-time favorite desserts. Sometimes that mousse had
been the only way Trace or her family could lure her into that stuffy
atmosphere. They'd even ladled an extra dollop of whipped cream onto the top,
just the way she liked it.
She frowned as he set it in front of her place. How had he remembered that? And
why had he bothered? Was this just another way to get to her, to throw her
off-kilter right before he hit her with some other blow she wasn't expecting?
She waited warily until he sat down, then asked, "What's going on here,
Trace?"
He regarded her innocently. "We were supposed to meet over lunch. I
brought lunch. I don't see anything sinister in that. In fact, I thought I was
being downright considerate given that your kids are sick. Twins, right? I
think that's what Liz said."
"Carrie and Caitlyn," she said tightly, still not entirely trusting
all this thoughtfulness. "They came down with the measles yesterday. In
fact, they should be waking up soon from their naps, so we need to get our
business out of the way. Did the board meet?"
"They did."
"Don't make me drag this out of you. Just tell me what they decided."
"Everything remains in place, as long as you're on board."
Abby wasn't sure why she'd been hoping for a reprieve. Maybe she'd thought that
collectively the board might see through Trace's scheme and overrule him.
Obviously she hadn't taken into account his persuasiveness or his
determination.
Swallowing her desire to start another argument she wouldn't win, she leveled a
look at him. "How do you see this working? I do have a career, Trace, and
it's in New York. I can easily oversee all the expenditures from there, stay on
top of payments and so on."
He shook his head. "Not good enough. Come on, Abby, you know Jess. The
second your back is turned, she'll go right back to her impulsive spending, and
you'll be scrambling to cover for her."
She regarded him earnestly. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen. You have
my word on it."
"Not good enough."
She bristled at that. "Excuse me?"
"I've had some experience with how unreliable your word is,
remember?"
"That's ridiculous. It's another situation entirely. And besides, I never
gave you my word about anything ten years ago."
"You told me you loved me. I took you seriously."
"I did love you,"
She smiled. "By doing what? Failing miserably?"
"Not miserably," he said. "Just look at the deal I struck with
you. I'd say I proved myself with that."
"We're not going to agree on what's going on here, are we?"
He shrugged. "Probably not."
"Then let's have lunch. Gram's set the dining room table. She seems to
think this meeting requires more formality, being strictly business and
all."
Trace chuckled. "Is she as ticked at me as your dad is?"
"Pretty much."
"Then this should be fun," Trace said, holding the door, then
following her inside.
*
* *
To Abby's regret, Gram was nowhere in sight when they
reached the dining room, and the table had only been set for two. Trace grinned
when he saw it.
"Now, isn't this an interesting turn of events?" he murmured.
"Could it be that your grandmother's matchmaking?"
"Absolutely not!" Abby said fiercely.
"Because you're married? At least I assume with kids, there must be a
husband in the picture."
"There was," she admitted, regretting the divorce for a fleeting
moment, if only because she sensed the existence of a husband would get that
wicked gleam out of Trace's eyes.
"Separated? Divorced?" he asked, as he removed containers of chopped
salad from the bags he'd brought. Without asking, he went about dishing the
salad onto the formal, gold-trimmed china Gram had put on the table.
"Divorced," she said, gritting her teeth against the personal turn
the conversation was taking. "Look, we're here to discuss the inn, not my
life."
"Just catching up," he said, as he reached into a second bag and
removed a container of what appeared to be the yacht club's decadent chocolate
mousse, one of Abby's all-time favorite desserts. Sometimes that mousse had
been the only way Trace or her family could lure her into that stuffy
atmosphere. They'd even ladled an extra dollop of whipped cream onto the top,
just the way she liked it.
She frowned as he set it in front of her place. How had he remembered that? And
why had he bothered? Was this just another way to get to her, to throw her
off-kilter right before he hit her with some other blow she wasn't expecting?
She waited warily until he sat down, then asked, "What's going on here,
Trace?"
He regarded her innocently. "We were supposed to meet over lunch. I
brought lunch. I don't see anything sinister in that. In fact, I thought I was
being downright considerate given that your kids are sick. Twins, right? I
think that's what Liz said."
"Carrie and Caitlyn," she said tightly, still not entirely trusting
all this thoughtfulness. "They came down with the measles yesterday. In
fact, they should be waking up soon from their naps, so we need to get our
business out of the way. Did the board meet?"
"They did."
"Don't make me drag this out of you. Just tell me what they decided."
"Everything remains in place, as long as you're on board."
Abby wasn't sure why she'd been hoping for a reprieve. Maybe she'd thought that
collectively the board might see through Trace's scheme and overrule him.
Obviously she hadn't taken into account his persuasiveness or his
determination.
Swallowing her desire to start another argument she wouldn't win, she leveled a
look at him. "How do you see this working? I do have a career, Trace, and
it's in New York. I can easily oversee all the expenditures from there, stay on
top of payments and so on."
He shook his head. "Not good enough. Come on, Abby, you know Jess. The
second your back is turned, she'll go right back to her impulsive spending, and
you'll be scrambling to cover for her."
She regarded him earnestly. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen. You have
my word on it."
"Not good enough."
She bristled at that. "Excuse me?"
"I've had some experience with how unreliable your word is,
remember?"
"That's ridiculous. It's another situation entirely. And besides, I never
gave you my word about anything ten years ago."
"You told me you loved me. I took you seriously."
"I did love you,"
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