“He was a vet,” she said, and tamped down the eartharound her last plant with care, even though her hands had begun to tremble.
It didn’t take much, she thought miserably. She’d felt sogood for a few minutes. So carefree, and now he was going to force her back down that damn tunnel.
Once again, Tony surprised her. She expected him to pry,to placidly demand explanations she didn’t want to offer.
Instead, he merely nodded and took a second to look up at the sun.
“It’s gonna be a nice day.”
Claire’s heart stuttered in relief, and she fought anotherurge to weep. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to reachup and touch his hand so he knew that his gift was understood. It was too soon, though. It was too soon.
“Yes,” she admitted, never noticing the sun that dappled her or the breeze that turned the leaves. “It’s going tobe a very nice day.”
He lowered his gaze to her, wrapped her in the soft greenof his eyes, and smiled. And Claire, who had kept her witsthrough twenty-three years of trauma, lost her way. She tumbled into the depths of those eyes like a diver discovering the wonders of the ocean. She sought comfort andstumbled over an unexpected joy.
Joy. Dear God, it had been so long since she’d felt anything like that. Since she’d felt anything that wasn’t wrappedin a layer of guilt or frustration or disappointment.
But here beneath her tree, with her nightmares only hoursaway, she suddenly stumbled onto delight. She even toyedwith the narcotic of anticipation.
She knew it couldn’t last. It never did. She got momentswith the kids, flashes with the inn, nudges with her friends.At the corners of night, though, the truth always waited.Jimmy was always there to remind her.
And yet it wasn’t night. It was daylight, and a handsomeman was smiling at her. A man who could brighten her daysand ease her nights. A man who knew her so well he knewjust what not to say if she needed. For just this moment atleast, she chose to hold on to the joy and ignore the pain.
“As you can see,” Claire was saying as she opened another door, “we had to take it all the way down to studs insome places.”
He wanted to reach out and finger her hair. It glowed inthe dusty, half-lit rooms, a self-contained fire in the shadows. Gold and red and subtle, shifting amber. Fragile huespainted with precious gems, and Tony wanted to fingerthrough it like a cascade of old treasure.
He wanted to make her laugh.
“How many bathrooms did you want in?” was all hecould think of to say.
Claire shoved her hands into her jeans pockets and considered the old wooden skeleton that made up most of thesecond floor of the James River Inn. “I don’t know, maybe three. Maybe five bedrooms, with one en suite and the restsharing. Is it possible?”
“Anything’s possible,” he assured her, his hands itchingfor the tape measure Gina was bringing him from home. Hecould see old rooms rearranged, new rooms taking shapefrom the ruins of the old house. He could see Claire’s eyeslight with discovery as the design materialized around her.“I’ll really dig into the structure after all your lunch guestshave left. You still have the plans from when you did thedownstairs?”
She nodded, her eyes soft and dreamy as she surveyed theplastic drop sheets and shaded windows. “I even drew upsome preliminary sketches of my own.”
“Do you know what a load-bearing wall is?”
Claire turned on him, and Tony lost even more groundbefore the surprising glitter of humor in those blue eyes.“Of course I know what a load-bearing wall is.”
He grinned back at her. “In that case, I’d be happy tolook at your sketches.”
She huffed at him and shut the door again. “Just a weebit patronizing, aren’t you?”
“Just proving my worth.” He wanted to kiss her. He hadsince he’d seen her lift her face out in that yard so the sunsank into the sweet depths of those eyes. Since he’d seen hersmile at her son and lost his heart. “You wouldn’t want acareless contractor, would you?”
Claire preceded him down the stairs that separated thefoyer from the tearooms. “My son assures me I’ll acceptanybody with a T square and a deal.”
“Not if the rest of these buildings are any indication.”
Claire looked back up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”
Tony saw the pride in her expression, the proprietary delight, as if it were one of her children they were talking about. He saw again the sadness that never left the depthsof her eyes, as if nothing could touch it, nothing could eraseit, and he ached for it.
I’ll make you sing, Claire,he wanted to say. “I’ll make you the best darn B and B in the state,” he promised instead.
I’ll show you that sadness is something to be shared.
