Abby picked her up and swung her around.
"We are free, Chloe. Free!"
"Put me down."
Abby put her down and went for the phone.
"Mom?"
"Abby?"
"Yeah. It came. They found nothing."
Her mother was entirely too calm.
"I told you you would be fine."
"I know. Aren't you excited?"
"No, I knew it would be OK. Would you like to go to dinner? My treat. I found a few Easter things for Chloe. I think you'll like them. We'll go to Sammy's."
"OK. It's sort of appropriate, isn't it? If it was Brad."
"I'll pick you up."
Abby hung up the phone and picked up the letter again. She tucked it away in her purse to share with her mother over dinner. The shining gold letters on the card caught her attention. On the back under the gold embossed lettering, which Abby thought must have cost a fortune, the letter had been sealed with an ancient crest in red wax. Abby got a butter knife from the drawer to lift the seal, so as not to crack it. The trembling of her hands exerted the right amount of pressure; the wax lifted easily off the paper. The card was the same cream color of the envelope. The writing was in script:
Mrs. Lachlan MacLeod
Requests the honor of your presence
for
Easter on the Lawn
Easter Sunday afternoon, 2:00 pm.
Her mother arrived carrying an Easter hat and gloves in a plastic bag before she had time to wonder at the invitation.
"Look at this..."
Abby handed the invitation to Helen and took the bag.
"Gramma! Gramma!" Chloe bounded into the room and ran into Helen's legs. Helen handed the invitation back to Abby unread.
"I'll look at it in a minute." She picked the child up and stuck her on a hip.
"Look what I have for you, baby girl."
"Oh, Mom, they're perfect. You always buy her the nicest things. I really appreciate it, you know."
"I thought she could use it for Easter."
"Or maybe this Easter on the Lawn thing," Abby suggested.
They rode with Helen over to Sammy's. It had been a while since Abby had been there, but now she had no reason to feel intimidated. It didn't matter if Brad showed up. She was cleared. The parking lot showed a good crowd, but wasn't too full. It doesn't matter anyway. Let 'em look.
Perhaps there was a window seat left.
Abby saw Duncan's gray pickup truck parked at the rear of the building as they walked into the restaurant.
Her heart soared. She could see Duncan now. There was no more need to avoid him in the hallways.
"Hey, y'all!" Sharmagne called from behind the counter. "Y'all want a window seat?"
They nodded their heads yes. Sharmagne grabbed a couple of menus and a wooden box highchair and led the way to a table for four under a plexiglass eave.
"It's seafood night."
Again Abby was facing the window. In the fading light she could see behind her in the glass. She was glad not to have to keep an unconscious lookout for Brad. She scanned the reflection for Duncan. She couldn't see him. He must be stuck on the other side of the bar. No matter, she could see him when the time was right. Now she had no need to rush. The future lay before her bright with possibilities.
Helen caught her eye by weaving her body back and forth.
"I don't think he'll be back here."
"I wasn't looking for Bradley."
Abby leaned toward her mother over the table. "I think I saw Duncan's truck when we came in."
Helen's eyes filled with glee.
"Do you see him here?"
"No, he must be on the other side of the bar."
Helen began searching, her eyes darting here and there. The years dropped from her face when she was playful, and Abby was thankful at that moment for everything. Her eyes filled with tears. She squeezed them closed long enough to clear the liquid.
"Well, I'm gonna go to the bar. I'll be right back."
"OK, honey."
Abby chose a pre-warmed plate from the stack sitting on the side of the counter that held the hot food items. She kept her eyes down at first. If he was indeed on this side of the bar she didn't want him to think she was spying on him. A spoonful of mashed potatoes and a couple of fried clams later, she dared to look up through the sneeze shield. Across the room he sat with a heaping plate, laughing with Ruth Abercrombie.
Chapter 33
Ice-hot humiliation speared through Abby cutting off her rosy visions of the future.
Of course. Ruth. She was more in his league. Flashy, self-confident. Certainly capable of meeting physical needs that Abby was not prepared to deal with until after she was married.
It had been foolish of her to think of Duncan MacLeod, the most eligible bachelor in town. He wouldn't be interested in an employee—an employee with a child, no less.
She gathered some more odds and ends for Chloe to nibble on and retreated to her table.
"Did you see him?" Helen's eyes were full of mischief.
"Yes. He has a date."
"You probably misunderstood. Why would Duncan MacLeod, the richest guy in town, bring a date here? I mean, it's nice and all... " Helen's eyes still reflected playful mischief.
Abby felt no hope.
"I don't know. It isn't any of my business," Abby said. "I'll be right back."
This time, as she filled a plate for herself, she could not force herself to stop looking at the couple. They were sitting at a table next to a window. The blinds were drawn. Duncan's bit of plaid hung out of his jacket pocket. Ruth looked more like the porcelain doll Abby had always associated with Ruth. They did not see her. They were too absorbed in conversation and laughter to notice her staring. She walked away when Duncan reached over and placed his hand on Ruth's folded arm.
"I think I have to stop coming here," she told Helen when she returned with a scanty plate of food.
"Things are not always what they seem," her mother reminded her. Then she got up to retrieve dinner for herself.
"Well, at least you don't have to worry about Social Services anymore," Helen said as she scooted back into her chair. The mirth was gone from her eyes.
"I told you."
"Like I said. Things are not always what they seem, Abby."
"I know that, Mom. But this is pretty clear. Maybe that's what this invitation is all about." She laid the creamy envelope on the table.
"Nah," Abby recanted, "it's too soon for all that."
"What do you mean?" Helen asked.
"She's still married." Poor Charlie, Abby thought, no one could compete with Duncan MacLeod.
"Well, that makes things difficult."
"Let's not talk about them anymore. Where did you go today?"
They spent the rest of their dinner pleasantly engaged in talking about shopping and other safe subjects.
Lying in bed that night, Abby buried her hopes of Duncan MacLeod. She convinced herself that she had misread everything he had ever said. Surely all he ever meant to be was her friend. She was miserable, but she knew she would get over it. She would have to. Life goes on.
She was cleared of any wrongdoing as far as Chloe went, and she had a good job, despite the dodging she would have to do to avoid Duncan. The Lord was still on His throne. All in all, things were looking up.
Monday morning she was sitting at her desk reminding herself that things were looking up, when a patch of plaid, framed by Duncan MacLeod, stood in front of her.
"Hello," he said.
Abby's breath still caught when she looked into his brown eyes. It would go away in time, she reminded herself.
"Hi."
"Care to walk with me?"
"Well"—she waved over her desktop that was filled with invitations and other paperwork—"I am a little busy."
"Exactly. I'd like an update." He turned on his heel and headed out. Abby followed close behind.
"I have meetings all day, so we'll
talk while we walk.”
Duncan listened as she told him the preparations she had made. She had followed his instructions impeccably: the caterer, the people she'd invited, the responses. Out of the hundreds of invitations, seventy percent had responded affirmatively. It would be a large crowd. Good.
"Listen, for the entertainment, I don't know if Andrew has talked with you yet, but I asked him to sing and play. It's an old family tradition."
"I was hoping we could get him to play the pipes." She dazzled him with her smile.
Now came the hard part. They were standing by his truck in the parking lot. He had given himself plenty of time for this talk. He had meetings, but they didn't begin for another hour.
"On a different subject," he began. Abby looked him in the eye, the jade of her eyes luminescent.
"I have to tell you—the other night, at choir practice, I was on the stairs. I heard you tell the others about the Social Services investigation."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I am sorry. I did not intentionally listen in. It was just one of those things—I had hold of the doorknob—I should have just come in. I'm sorry."
She was not making this any easier for him, standing there with her arms folded. He couldn't read her. The jade had turned to stone.
"The reason I'm telling you now is because I want to offer you my help. If I can do anything—"
"It's over." Abby didn't move. "I was cleared."
"You must be relieved."
"I am."
"Well, I guess you won't need my help then." He looked at the ground.
"No, I won't."
"If it turns out that you do—you know, for something else—my brother is a lawyer. And if you need any help, all you have to do is tell me."
He'd never felt so awkward in all his life.
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Now if there isn't anything else, I'll get back to work."
"Sure thing."
She walked away from him, slowly, head high. When she went into the building, he turned and got in his truck. He would give anything to know what she was thinking. Why had she not told him about the investigation? he wondered for the thousandth time. He knew that she wasn't going to accept his help, but at least now she knew that he was there to help if the situation got worse. And it was going to get much worse if what Ruth had told him was the truth, and he was willing to bet it was. He started the ignition. Now he had forty-five minutes to kill before his meetings at the fishery.
Chapter 34
Abby couldn't think. She walked deliberately back into the building and took her seat at her desk. Her brain was in a fuzz. She wished that it didn't happen every time she was caught off guard.
Duncan knew about Social Services. No wonder he dumped her for Ruth Abercrombie. Of course, he didn't know what kind of life Ruth had been leading. Was he another one of her conquests? Well, even if he was, it was none of her business. She wouldn't tell anyone what Ruth had confessed to her in private.
Besides which, she had no right to be jealous anyway. He was not hers, and never would be. She just needed to get over it and move on. Perhaps she should consider looking for a new job. This one was great for perks, but the atmosphere was becoming treacherous. She surveyed the cluttered piles on her desk.
Well, she wasn't going anywhere for a while, not with a grand opening on Friday. And the band letters had started to come back for the Old Thyme Festival. It was going to be a busy summer—much too busy to be worrying over Duncan MacLeod.
Chapter 35
“Douglas, is that you?" Erin called from the doorway of the spacious kitchen.
"Yes, Mother," he answered. Douglas's speech had gotten formal during law school. Erin found the stiffness irritating. Mother indeed.
"Come in here, will you?"
Douglas entered the room before Erin could rejoin Andrew at the round table set in the bay windows. She loved sitting there in her garden without the muss of dirt under her feet and mosquitoes buzzing around her ankles and elbows.
She saw the boys exchange questioning looks.
"Sit down, Douglas. I want to talk to you and your brothers."
"Jeez, Ma—lighten up," Andrew said grinning at Douglas, who sat down.
"Hush. I will speak to Angus later." Again the two exchanged glances. Erin had a brief stab of pleasure. She had her boys with her. Poor Pat. Her children had gone off. Both of them lived away from home. Now her husband was in the ground. They shared that. The brilliance had gone out of Erin's life; it lay buried with Lachlan. But her sons were home, even restless, wild Duncan. He was her concern now.
"We need to talk about Duncan."
"Are ya' taking to gossip, now, Ma? I for one would love to know what has crawled up his—" He cut himself short.
"Andrew."
"All I meant is he's been surly. Damn hard to get along with."
"Let Mother speak, Andrew." The gavel dropped in Douglas's voice.
"Hush, both of you." Erin paused. "What have you found out about Abigail Ericksen?"
Douglas's face went blank.
"How do you know about that?"
"Never mind about that." She knew her middle son, a skeptic from birth, made worse with education, was always looking into the backgrounds of the people and businesses with whom the MacLeod's came in serious contact. Of course he'd been looking into the background of Abigail Ericksen. She was not going to explain why she knew that Abigail was important to Duncan. There were some things a mother didn't need to explain.
Douglas considered for a moment and then said, "It won't do any harm to tell you that she is exactly who she says she is."
"Whoa—that's deep," Andrew quipped.
"Good. That's all we need for the present."
"Andrew, what song have you chosen for the grand opening?" Erin said.
"It's a sea song. About a young girl whose man goes off to sea. While he's gone she weds another. When the seafaring man comes back he wants his girl. She goes with him. Once they've gone out to sea she becomes lonesome for the first man she married. Then the boat sinks, and they all die."
"Perhaps you should choose something less tragic," Erin suggested.
"Yes, Andrew. We don't want people getting the idea boats aren't safe," Douglas said.
"Lighten up, Doug. It's just an old folk song," Andrew said.
"Andrew, perhaps you should sing one of our songs. The wedding song," Erin suggested.
"But we don't just sing that one anywhere, do we? I thought it was just for weddings."
"Not always. It's one of our stories, and I think it's a good time to hear some of the old songs. It would please your father, Andrew, and me as well."
"If you feel that strongly about it, Ma, I'll do it for ya'. Duncan's givin' me a free hand. I can sing what I like."
"Thank you, Andrew." She reached across the table and put her hand over his. He grinned.
Chapter 36
Friday morning, streamers were hung from the light poles to the stone building. Boys from the caterer arrived and began unloading tables from a white box van. A couple of crewmen unfolded the first of two large blue-and-white striped tents. Abby could feel the energy of the excited people. It was going to be a big bash. The town of Ocean View had few notable events, and this year, this would be one of them. A reporter from the local weekly roamed around taking pictures. Later they would have a brief program rehearsal.
The program would be short, consisting mostly of a speech by Duncan, and Andrew would sing. It would give the whole presentation a good Scottish flavor.
The caterer was the oldest and best in Ocean View. The guests from near and far were in for a treat.
Two large tents were erected: one for receiving guests, and one for the large reception. The grills were warming up at the back of the catering tent. The smell of barbecue rode on the breeze.
Kay trudged by Abby carrying one of three large boxes of information packets. Debbie came by lugging another. They would be helping
in reception. Abby followed.
"Didn't you say you had three of these boxes?" Kay asked.
"Yes. Didn't you see them in the office?"
"No. Just these two," Debbie said.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep," Kay tossed out as she headed back toward the building. Abby followed. She was sure she had brought all the brochures from home. She had taken all the packet materials home and worked on them there. It was so much easier to spread everything out on the floor and fill the envelopes that way. Once she had completed them, she alphabetized them and filled three boxes. Then she had hauled the three boxes to her trunk one at a time.
Abby searched her office and the outer office. She popped her head into Angus's space and even Andrew's. Nothing. She must have left them at home. She had no choice but to go get them. She told Debbie where she was going and hopped into her car. They could not do without the packets. She had packed ones for each company and one extra for those who might show up unexpectedly. The box containing those for their clients was missing.
From the street, she could see a newspaper-type advertisement hanging out of the mailbox. She parked in her allotted space and got out. She hurried to the mailbox to retrieve the junk mail feeling a little guilty for doing her own personal business on company time. She stopped short when she saw an envelope tacked to her front door.
The tack popped off the door easily. In she went.
There it was—the box. Somehow she had managed to leave it right there by the door.
Abby put her keys and junk mail on the counter and opened the envelope that had been stabbed to her door. The paper cut her thumb as she peeled the flap open. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and fumbled the letter out of its envelope. It was a subpoena. She was to be in court in two weeks. Bradley Ericksen was suing for custody of Chloe.
Abby felt a cool wave pass through her neck and drift down her spine. She folded the papers and put them in her pocket. She hefted the box and put it on the backseat of her car. She went back in after her keys, locked the door, and drove back to work. She would have to get an attorney. She would ask her mother to recommend someone. She could ask Pat. Duncan had told her that his brother was a lawyer. She wondered just how many brothers he had. Anyway, she couldn't ask him to help her. He had his own troubles, and she had vowed to stay away from him. He had done enough for her and Chloe. He had given her a good job, and the least she could do for him was repay his kindness with freedom. No, she would do this herself.