Chapter 1
1994, Virginia
“Are you sure you’re okay, Dad?”
Tony Riordan shifted the cellular phone to his other earand stretched out the kinks he’d accumulated over the pastfive hundred miles. “I’m fine, honey. I told you. I justwanted to check in with you now that I’m here.”
“Do you know how long you’re going to be?”
His attention briefly strayed to the old brick house thatstood alone at the edge of town. “As long as it takes, Iguess. I’ll know better soon.”
There was a brief pause, during which Tony could envision his seventeen-year-old daughter staring at the pond outtheir kitchen window. She’d be twisting that strand of dark brown hair in one hand as she talked and chewing her bottom lip. A dead giveaway that she was worried. He couldn’tblame her. He guessed there should have been a better wayto explain this than, “I’m not sure why I have to go, but Ido.” But then, maybe some day somebody would teach fathers better ways to deal with overprotective daughters.
“No wild parties while I’m gone,” he teased, knowingjust how she’d react.
“Oh, Dad.”
He grinned. Right in one. “I love you, punkin. Tell Gramwhere I am and that I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Call me tonight.”
“I’ll call you tonight.”
An overprotective, overcurious daughter. He pitied the poor guy who ended up falling in love with her.
“I love you, too, Daddy. You be careful.”
Tony fought the urge to laugh. That could be taken somany ways, especially from Gina Marie Riordan. “I will.Bye, sweetie.”
He closed up the phone and turned again to consider thebuilding he’d spent the afternoon searching for. An old plantation home, narrow and brick with a wraparoundporch and a bouquet of chimneys, it commanded the fore-front of a bucolic setting of huge old pecans, oaks and willows, lush grass and three smaller outbuildings spreadbehind like children under the wings of a prim mother. Tonyliked it, all grace and simple lines with big windows and an abundance of flowers along the walks and a swing in one ofthe trees. The sign out front read The James River Inn.Luncheon And High Tea. B And B Opening Late Summer.
On the car radio, the news anchor was giving an updateon the escalating situation in North Africa, where UNtroops were preparing to intervene in a bloody invasion.U.S. carriers and ships were massing in surrounding seas,cargo planes lifting off from bases on the East Coast, andevery spare minute of CNN’s time filled with footage ofbristling armament. Here in this somnolent afternoon,though, the James River Inn stood like a testament to tranquility and history. Here the troubles of the world didn’tseem to invade.
Tony checked his watch. He was a lot closer to high teathan lunch. He could just imagine how well he’d blend inwith all those ladies lifting their Wedgwood china. It didn’treally matter. He’d come too far to turn away now. He’drisked too much to wait any longer to close this particularbook.
It had been fall when he’d stood with his hand up to thewarm, black granite. Fall when he’d sought out Smitty’sname, standing there in fatigues he hadn’t worn in years,bracketed by men he’d sought out of his past like old dreamshalf-remembered.
It had been fall, and he’d finally had enough of thenightmares and the shakes and the sudden, unexplainedrages. He had gained so much in his life—a successful business, a secure life, a daughter who kept him on his toes and broke his heart at regular intervals. Yet he hadn’t enjoyedit anymore. And so he’d begun his pilgrimage to put oldghosts to rest. To complete a very long circle and get on withhis life.
It had been the fall, and now the summer was breathingdown his neck. The Virginia woods were thick and heavy, the crops coming up, the skies tumescent with rain clouds.It had taken him this long to find this place, the last of histasks.
He should have jumped right out of the car and headedup the walk. It should be so simple. An introduction. Anexplanation. A message and then home.
It took him ten full minutes to gather the courage to simply open the door.
Around him other cars were pulling into the little gravellot at the side of the restaurant. Women filtered by in onesand twos, laughing, their heads together, their dresses pastel and gauzy so the breeze could tease them. There was a lotof laughter around the restaurant. Tony took a deep breathand decided there wasn’t anything else he could do but goon in.
Climbing on out of his sports car, he took a minute to givehis left leg one last stretch before heading on up the porch.He hoped the dress code for the restaurant included khakis and a blue gabardine shirt. Otherwise he’d have to hunt upsomething flowery and flowing to go with his tea.
The porch was wooden and creaked pleasantly under hisweight. The front door, behind which all those brightlydressed women had disappeared, was vintage, heavy andornate. Tony opened it and stepped inside.
“Oh, hi. Can I help you?”
For a minute, he thought Gina had somehow beaten himhere. Then he let his eyes adjust to the interior light and sawthatthisdaughter was younger and fairer. A pixie with redhair and pale eyes, she stood at the front desk with a startled expression and tentative smile, her own outfit decidedly darker and punker than those of her guests.
Tony gave her a bright smile and saw hers widen perceptibly. “This is a great-looking place. Do you serve food withyour tea?”
Her giggle was disarming. Especially on a child who worenothing but black. “Of course. That’s the most importantpart. Would you like, uh, tea?”
