Home Sweet Home (7 page)

Andi felt simultaneously comforted—and completely out of her element.

She hadn’t come home for more than a night or two in ten years, but as she turned around to look out at the rising sun sparkling over the blue water, memories rushed over her.

Waking up to go meet Nate out on the beach to pick blueberries for her mother’s blueberry pancakes. Warm summer nights in front of a bonfire, roasting marshmallows with Nate, digging deep sand tunnels and laughing when adults who walked by in the dark fell into them. Saturday afternoon sailing races in her Sunfish on perfectly still days where she and Nate practically had to paddle their way around the buoys. Sitting out on the end of the dock on Adirondack chairs, watching the sun fall behind the mountains, making up stories about the images they saw in the clouds.

She’d expected her father’s memory to assault her at every turn. But amazingly, apart from the leather chair in the living room, she saw Nate in the house around her more than she saw her father.

Nate was the one who she had always gone to after her father left again.

Nate was the one who had comforted her, soothed her.

Her heart squeezing, she exited the porch and headed around to the back of the house, across the lawn that led to her grandmother’s cottage behind the big house. Andi saw the top of a large straw hat in the field of yellow and white chrysanthemums before she saw the rest of Evelyn.

Her grandmother looked just right among the blooms, as pretty as any of the flowers, as much as part of this land as it was part of her.

“You’re not from here…you were never from here.”

Nate’s words whiplashed through her head again. She shook it to try and get them out, but they were already lodged way too deep.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Last night Andi had decided she would work things out on her own. But it turned out she was defenseless against her grandmother’s very real concern. Feeling like a little girl coming to cry on her grandmother’s shoulder with a skinned knee, she said, “Nate and I had a big blowup last night.”

Her grandmother handed her the shears, and Andi was glad to turn her focus over to the beautiful mums for a moment rather than her too-strong feelings for Nate.

“I know how much you’ve always cared about him. Do you want to talk about it?”

No. She wanted to pretend none of it had ever happened.

“I’m working on a new project. It’s the reason I’m here actually. I have a client who wants to build some residences on the lake. Nate doesn’t think they’d be good for the town.”

“And you do?” There wasn’t any judgment on her grandmother’s face.

Andi dropped the stems into the basket on the grass. “Very much so. Not just because of the money they will bring the town, but because of the new life it will give to the waterfront. That old carousel is nothing but an eyesore.”

Evelyn stiffened. “I thought you were talking about some new buildings. What do they have to do with the carousel?”

Suddenly Andi had that same feeling from the night before with Nate. The one that told her she should not just tread carefully, but probably not tread at all. But yet again, she’d already said too much to turn back.

“That’s where my client will be building the condos, Grandma. Where the carousel is sitting.”

“No, they can’t do that. Absolutely not.”

With that, her grandmother turned and walked away. Stunned, confused, Andi picked up the basket of flowers and ran after her.

“What’s wrong, Grandma? It didn’t seem like you were upset about the condos until I mentioned the carousel.” Worse, she had looked disappointed, as if she expected better from her own granddaughter.

“Buildings, shmildings. Go ahead and build whatever you want. But why would you even think about removing that carousel? Don’t you realize how important it is to everyone?”

What was her grandmother talking about?

“Nobody has even gone over and looked at that thing in twenty years.”

“
That thing
is important and magical.”

Andi felt the power of conviction behind Evelyn’s words. But that didn’t mean she understood where it had come from.

Trying to be gentle despite the fact that she had no idea why her grandmother was getting so wound up, she said, “I’m sure it used to be really magical, Grandma, but it’s in such a bad state now that I’m afraid it would take a great deal of money to restore it.” And there was no way she was going to be able to get the money to do that out of the Klein Group, not when putting in a new boat dock made a whole lot more sense for the town and for the people who would buy the condos.

The set of her grandmother’s face was stubborn. “Well, then you’ll just need to figure out a way to make it work. Isn’t that what you do?”

Maybe it was something in the water around here that had everyone acting so nuts. Andi would have to remember to stick to bottled.

“I’ll talk to the builders,” she said, careful not to make any promises she couldn’t keep. “But honestly, I doubt they’re going to get behind the idea of incorporating the carousel into their plans.”

She couldn’t picture it, couldn’t see a way to make it work. Not when the whole point was to move the town forward rather than back into the past.

“It has to work, Andi.”

“Why is the carousel so important to you? What is so magical about it?”

“Yesterday when we were in the store, I told you about falling in love with knitting. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do, Grandma.”

“I didn’t just fall in love with knitting. I fell in love with Carlos, too.”

“Carlos?”

Her grandmother smiled. “Why don’t you follow me to my cottage, and we can sit down and relax a bit while I tell you a little story.”

Emerald Lake, 1941

Evelyn was coming home from a planning meeting for the new exhibit at the Adirondack Museum when she first noticed the man talking to her father.

He had jet-black hair, a little too long, just starting to curl at the base of his neck. He looked strong, his muscles a little too big. His skin was dark, and one more breathless glance told her his eyes were blue with thick, dark lashes.

He was quite simply the most beautiful man she’d ever set eyes on, even in his ratty sweater that was starting to unravel at the wrists and the neckline.

The wind blew colorful leaves down from the trees, but although it was a strangely cold fall day, Evelyn felt overheated.

She guessed the man was one of the jack-of-all-trades who had come into town to see if anyone had work. The locals had likely sent him to her father, who was building a new wing on their mansion on the water. Evelyn knew her father was paying these men pennies and that they were glad to have this money.

The man suddenly looked at her over her father’s shoulder, and a powerful current, a rush of something she didn’t understand, passed between them.

Her father shifted, clearly sensing someone was behind him. Evelyn tucked her head down and moved swiftly toward the house. Her mother intercepted her just as Evelyn stepped into the kitchen and started taking off her hat and gloves and jacket.

“Oh, there you are, honey. I was thinking, it’s such a cold day, and the men out there are working so hard. Would you mind putting together some sandwiches and hot drinks for them?”

Evelyn nodded, responding with a calm, “Of course, Mother,” even as her heart raced.

Maybe she would find out his name. Maybe she’d get to speak with him.

Thirty minutes later the tray of snacks and drinks was ready. Putting her jacket and hat and gloves back on, she headed out of the house and across the wide stretch of grass that led to the construction area. There were usually a half-dozen men working, but there was only one there now.

The beautiful man in the ratty sweater.

A sudden vision came at her of a new sweater, one she would make for him, a complicated Fair Isle made up of blues and whites to pick up the color of his eyes.

She’d been full of anticipation about the chance to see him up close, but now that it was just the two of them she was nervous. Skittish. Normally composed and sure of herself, Evelyn was thrown off by her own uncertainty around this stranger.

“Hi.” The one short word sounded squeaky to her ears. She cleared her throat to try and fix it. “You looked cold. I thought I’d bring out some coffee. Some food, too, if you’re hungry.”

She put the tray down on a makeshift table made out of plywood, then stepped back.

The man’s blue eyes darkened for a moment before he simply nodded. “Thank you.”

She let his low voice rumble through her as she watched him move to the tray and pour himself a cup of coffee. His hands were big but not rough like a laborer’s would be.

Why, she suddenly wondered, was he here doing this work? And where had he come from?

She felt his eyes on her again, just before he said, “You look cold. You should run back inside.”

It was true—she was getting cold. But it was the way he’d said “run back inside” that had her stubbornly staying right where she was. She wasn’t a little girl with pigtails. She was eighteen years old, old enough to get married and have her own house if she wanted to.

Certainly old enough to carry on a conversation with one of the men working for her father.

Shrugging, she said, “I’ve spent all day inside. It’s nice to be out here. And so beautiful.” She looked up at the thick canopy of the maple tree above them. “Look at that tree, at those amazing reds and yellows.” She took a deep breath of the sweet, crisp air. “And the air smells so good.”

“How long have you lived here?” The slightly rough edge in his voice was tempered by something smooth that whispered over her skin.

“My whole life. Why do you ask?”

“You act like you’ve never seen your own land before.”

Evelyn’s back immediately went up again. First he had treated her like a child. Now he was implying that she didn’t pay any attention to her surroundings. Worse still, she didn’t know how he kept managing to ruffle her feathers—everyone knew she was unruffleable!

“I’m busy with school and helping my mother’s charities. There are a lot of needy people out there who need my help. I can’t waste my day staring at trees.”

“Ah.” He nodded, his eyes darkening, his full mouth going taut for a split second. “Charities.” But then, as if he was trying to be kind to the poor little rich girl, he looked out over the lake in front of her house and said, “You’re right. It really is beautiful.” His eyes met hers again. “Almost more beauty than a man can take in.”

There was no reason she should think he was talking about anything but the trees and the lake.

But for a moment it felt like he was talking about her.

Not knowing how to deal with a sudden flare of attraction that was so much bigger and brighter than anything she’d ever felt before, even as her cheeks flamed, she found herself admitting, “I really should get out more.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

That was when she realized that something had shifted between them. Instead of treating her like a little girl, instead of letting her get away with her previous excuses, this beautiful stranger was actually forcing her to dig deeper.

And he acted like he cared about her answer.

She shook her head, realizing she didn’t have a good answer. “I don’t know. It just never fits into my plans, I guess.”

“Or maybe,” he said softly, his blue eyes even darker now, “something out here scares you?”

That was when she jumped to her feet. Because even though she instinctively knew this man would never harm her, her reaction to him was scaring her.

“I think I hear my mother calling.”

His mouth quirked up into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’d better run back to her, then.”

She was almost on the grass when she had to turn back around one more time. “I don’t know your name.”

He remained silent for a long moment. Finally he said, “Carlos.”

It wasn’t until she was back in the house, closing the door on the trees and the lake and the mountains again, that she realized she hadn’t told him her name.

Her sisters, Celeste and Rose, were sitting in the living room giggling over something when she walked in. Dazed, Evelyn tossed her hat onto the love seat, then promptly sat down on it.

“You look funny,” Rose said as Celeste tried to yank the hat out from beneath her rear end.

Celeste, the mother hen of the group, put her hand on Evelyn’s forehead. “You’re hot. You should lay down.”

Evelyn would have pushed her sister away, but she was still too caught up in thinking about the man outside.

Carlos. His name was Carlos.

Still, Evelyn hated being told what to do. “I don’t need to lay down.”

Unfortunately, Celeste hated not being listened to just as much. “Remember what happened the last time you got a fever?”

Instead of responding to her sister’s question, Evelyn said in a slightly higher pitched voice than normal, “I’m going to make a sweater.”

Her sisters looked at each other in surprise. “But you don’t like knitting. Why would you want to make a sweater?”

Evelyn stood up and walked into the sewing room. She quickly found several skeins of blue and white yarn and her mother’s book of knitting patterns. Her heartbeat kicked up as she imagined the beautiful man wearing something she had made with her own hands.

“He needs this sweater.”