Hotel Ladd (21 page)

Troy glanced over his
shoulder at the blue neon sign,
Whiskey
Joe’s
. Lighting up the front of the cement
building, the letter “e” blinked on and off. No sense in going back
in. There was nothing of interest for him in there. Everything he
cared about just drove out of the parking lot and out of his life.
Disgust roiled in his gut. Because he was a dog. A selfish dog
taking pleasure in another woman’s flirtations.

Troy wrapped a hand around
the back of his neck and hung his head. Need coursed through him.
He needed Casey, needed her connection. He needed the sweet love he
knew she felt for him. He wanted tonight to be special.
Thanksgiving had been a horrible letdown for her. She’d hated it.
He’d hated it. Everyone probed and pushed. No one could leave well
enough alone.
It’s not too late. You can
still go to college
.

He didn’t need college to do what he
loved. He needed his woman by his side while he worked the job he
loved. He needed her support, her belief in him. But she had left
him. Lifting his head, he stared into the black of night.
Loneliness snaked in. He needed a drink.

Chapter Seventeen

Sitting alone in a corner
booth, the restaurant fairly clear at this hour on a Sunday
afternoon, Casey was lifeless, her expression dull, lackluster. The
girl looked as if someone had died. Delaney’s heart caught.
Was she okay? Had something horrible
happened?
Hurrying over, Delaney exclaimed,
“Casey, what’s the matter?” The girl looked up at her but didn’t
say a word. Delaney dropped to a seat, urgency clawing at her. “Has
something happened?” Casey gave a tiny, pathetic nod. “What?”
Delaney asked, pulse thumping in her chest at the lack of
information.

“
I broke up with
Troy.”

She broke up with
Troy
. Relief streamed through Delaney’s
body, clearing out the panic. It wasn’t anything serious. Well,
serious to Casey. Delaney reached a hand across the table. ”I’m
sorry.” Tears swamped her eyes. Delaney wanted to know what
happened, she wanted to demand details, but the utter despair
staring back at her prevented even the first probing
question.

Casey looked away. A heavy tear pushed
free, rolling down her cheek. The diner walls echoed family and
kinship, red-checkered curtains and bright red booths emphasized a
mood of jovial hospitality, none of which spoke to a girl nursing a
broken heart.

“
Do you want to talk about
it?” Delaney asked, unable to squelch the mother in her. If it were
Felicity sitting here, she’d offer an ear and a shoulder to cry on.
She’d want to know everything so she could begin the process of
healing.

Caution entered Casey’s gaze. “I don’t
know...”

Delaney smiled. “I’m a good listener. I
care about you both.”

Casey lowered her gaze and Delaney held
herself in check. She did care about Casey whether the girl
believed it or not. She held no ill will toward her and Troy—well,
he was like one of her own.

“
He was with that Jillian
woman.”

The name cut her in two.
“Jillian?”

Casey nodded. “At Whiskey Joe’s. They
were together.”

“
Oh, no.” Delaney replied,
upset that Troy would let himself be drawn in by that creature,
while at the same time, it didn’t surprise her. Jillian was here
for one reason and one reason only: destroy Ladd Springs and
everyone around it. Dialing back her personal feelings, Delaney
asked, “Are you sure? It sounded like you and Troy were doing so
well, and if you ask me, I don’t think that woman is his type.”
Casey smacked her with a knowing glance before turning away and
Delaney felt the blunt force of truth. Troy had been with Loretta.
Why not Jillian? Although she hated the reality of the male libido,
it was the quiver to Casey’s lips that broke Delaney’s heart.
“Oh,
sweetheart
.”
She rose from her seat and changed sides, pushing onto the bench
with Casey. Slipping an arm around her, she instinctively pulled
her close. “It’ll be okay,” she assured her, knowing no such thing
but understanding the girl needed comfort, needed to believe in
hope of some kind. Casey dropped her forehead to Delaney’s shoulder
and began to sob. Narrow shoulders shook as her muffled cries
increased.

Fran stepped out of the kitchen and
caught sight of them, but Delaney warned her off. They needed to be
alone. Casey needed to be alone. Fran respected the request and
kept her distance, though she was clearly upset by the scene. Casey
was her great niece. She was family, which meant it was her duty to
come to her aid.

Smoothing a hand over
raven-black hair, Delaney lingered on the notion. Casey was
her
family, too. First
cousin, once removed. Or were they second cousins? Delaney didn’t
know and she didn’t care. Casey was family and without Felicity
here, the girl felt like a daughter. She was going through a hard
time and needed the comfort of someone who cared. Taking in the
diner, mostly vacant after the Sunday supper crowd, Delaney
wondered where Annie was. Did she know her child was hurting? Had
she offered the support Casey so desperately needed?

Delaney didn’t have a lot of answers.
What she did have was a warm body and a ready ear, and if that’s
what Casey needed at the moment then that’s what she’d provide.
She’d call Annie later and let her know—if she didn’t already—and
if she became angry over Delaney getting in her business, then so
be it. Casey was fragile. Only six months since Casey’s overdose,
Delaney feared the breakup with Troy could cause a relapse.
Teenagers were sensitive that way. They lived and died by their
relationships, and if Troy had really rejected her the way she
claimed he did, then Casey was ripe for a bout of
depression.

Jillian. The mere thought of the woman
made Delaney’s skin crawl. She was out to cause trouble and Delaney
didn’t like her being here one bit. She was selfish and ruthless
and vindictive. She was out to hurt Nick and that alone was enough
to warrant ill-will. Though if Delaney were sitting in church,
she’d have to admit that part of her was jealous. Jillian was a
beautiful. Nick had obviously thought so, dating her for over a
year. They’d been lovers, a couple.

Delaney closed her eyes,
shoving visions of the two of them together from her mind. Could
Jillian get him back? Could she wield whatever powers she used on
Troy to get Nick back into her arms? A shudder raced through her.
Tightening her hold on Casey, she knew that Jillian was not only
beautiful but worldly and rich—everything she was not. A sharp
longing stabbed at her. She wished Nick wasn’t so far away. He’d
called this morning, promised he’d be home soon. He was still in
Africa but getting on a plane in the morning to come back home.
Delaney’s heart swelled. He’d used the word
home
. Home—as in the two of them being
a family.

Nick had proposed but she had no ring.
He was looking, he said, for the perfect diamond for the perfect
woman, insisting only the best would do. Nerves percolated deep in
her belly. He insisted they marry during the grand opening of
Serenity Springs in a lavish show of their partnership going
forward. Absently, she fiddled with the gold pendant at her neck.
Nick had it designed for her, made from the gold they discovered on
the property. It was a wishing well, a symbol representing the
power of the mind, their hopes and plans for the future.

Part of her liked the idea of hosting
their wedding during the grand opening. It would publicly signal
the beginning of their future together. Another part of her felt
swallowed up, buried by the development going on around her.
Workers scoured the property like ants, grading the land with heavy
machinery, combing sections of dirt to leveled perfection. They
were discreetly marking hiking trails, ensuring guests would not
get lost as they explored the mountainous land of Tennessee. They
were creating a Meditation Trail, setting the groundwork for a
riverfront restaurant Malcolm planned to call On the Fly. He even
planned to build a fishing hut and place it steps below the
restaurant, along the river’s edge so guests could catch their own
meal!

Then there was the hotel. Delaney
couldn’t imagine how he was going to fit a fifty room hotel in the
space he’d carved out, plus a spa down the hill, but he seemed
confident it could be done. But it wasn’t her concern. She was in
charge of the horses, given free rein with regard to how she wanted
the stables built. It was a thrilling prospect and one she dove
into with joy. Working with an architect, she had designed them
with all she could ever want or need. From quality to convenience,
Delaney tried to think of everything. She couldn’t wait to share
her passion for the animals with guests from all over the
world.

Serenity
Springs
. It was an overwhelming, yet
intriguing prospect to watch the transformation from wooded
landscape to Harris Hotel. She wanted to discuss the hotel name
with Nick when he returned home. She had an idea and hoped he’d go
for it. A squiggle of nervous excitement scraped her sympathy for
Casey.
Home
.
Everyone needed a place to call home. Delaney gave a gentle squeeze
to Casey. “Are you hungry?”

Casey sniffled and shook her
head.

Delaney stroked her arm, settling her
gaze on a plate of cold food before them. With French fries visibly
hardened, yellow cheese congealed to a meat patty, the meal was
totally unappealing. “You have to eat.”

“
I’m not hungry,” came the
mumbled reply.

“
Wanna go for a walk?”
Walking always made Delaney feel better. “We could hike through the
property, talk about what you want to do with your
land.”

Casey lifted her head, her bleary-eyed
tear-stained face inches from Delaney’s. “My mom wants to
sell.”

Delaney expelled a breath.
“What?”

“
We can’t afford to build a
house on it.”

“
But you can’t sell—that’s
Ladd land. It’s been in the family for generations.”

Casey slumped back onto her shoulder,
rolling her head to face outward toward the restaurant. “I don’t
want to be a Ladd. I hate my father.”

Delaney grunted. A thousand thoughts
flashed through her mind’s eye like a bad horror movie. Jeremiah
was a louse. He was an arrogant, self-centered, egotistical man who
cared nothing about his family. She could understand Casey’s
feelings toward Jeremiah, but Annie going to sell? After how hard
she fought to get the land, claiming she wasn’t interested in
money, only the legacy due her daughter? Delaney had believed money
was Annie’s intention from the start. She had no desire to mix with
the Ladd family, no desire to live on the land. She wanted the
money.

Fury branded Delaney’s
heart. No. Absolutely not. She would not let Annie sell. It took
everything Delaney had to allow Felicity to sign those papers
granting half of the property to Casey. She only did so because it
was the right thing to do. Casey was Jeremiah’s daughter and thus
entitled to the family legacy that was Ladd Springs. Annie wasn’t
entitled to a
cent
.
Besides, who would she sell to?

A sudden fear thrashed her
bones, her muscles went slack. There was only one person possible.
Jillian Devane.
It explained her presence
in town
.

“
My life sucks.”

The frank comment pulled Delaney back
to Casey with sketchy focus. “No, Casey, don’t say that. You’ve hit
a rough patch, but you’ll get through it, you’ll see.” Delaney
prayed it was true. She prayed Casey would not take this as a
reason to take drugs again to drown her numb sorrow. Drawing the
hair away from Casey’s face, Delaney gazed into blue eyes and
realized the pain went deep. This was no ordinary teenage crush.
This was serious—at least on Casey’s part. Delaney hoped Troy felt
the same. He couldn’t be interested in Jillian. Not really. Could
he?

“
Hi, Dell.”

Jerking her head up at the sound of the
male voice, she gasped. “Jack.”

“
Long time no
see.”

A torrent of emotion choked the words
from her. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. Jack Foster was
standing before her, in the flesh. His wavy brown hair was cut
shorter now, but his eyes were the same. They looked at you and
through you. Ten years and everything came flooding back to her—the
fights, the alcohol—even his cologne was familiar, a musky, earthy
scent that incited a visceral recoil. Delaney swallowed back a host
of feelings—anger, confusion, curiosity, disbelief—and asked, “What
are you doing here?”

Jack smiled, sporting the same mocking
gleam she remembered during their bouts. It was a look of sheer
contempt, a look that demeaned and ridiculed. “It’s Thanksgiving,
remember? I’m here to see the family.”

Delaney couldn’t refute the notion,
though she bet the Fosters weren’t overwhelmed with joy. Mrs.
Foster, especially. She hated the way her boys sullied the
reputation of their family during their younger days while Mr.
Foster abhorred the lack of discipline. To him their behavior
represented a lack of respect for the community, a community he
served proudly with his bank. “I meant standing at my table,” she
said, embarrassed she sounded so weak.