The Best-Made Plans Page 4

  “It must have been the extra Danish I had for breakfast,” Kaitlyn lamented. “Sorry about your bench, Steph.”

  The knot of men down on the sand had obviously heard the commotion. Penn called, “Is it safe to come up, or are you going to dismantle the rest of the deck, too?”

  “Damned builders,” Stephanie muttered. “They don’t have to do quality work these days because there just aren’t enough of them to go around, so even the incompetent ones stay busy.” She scrambled up and tried to peer under the broken bench.

  Marcus bent over Kaitlyn anxiously. “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride.” She held a hand up to him for assistance.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t move just yet. Not until we’re certain that you’re uninjured.”

  Before Marcus had finished his sentence, Penn hauled Kaitlyn unceremoniously onto her feet, nudged Stephanie aside and ducked under the splintered bench to see what had broken loose. A minute later he pulled himself out with a grunt of disgust. “If the rest of this deck is built the same way,” he warned, “I’d check on my insurance coverage, Stephanie.”

  There were tiny surprised shrieks and a rush of feet as most of the crowd deserted the deck. Penn looked startled. “I didn’t say it wasn’t safe,” he called.

  “It sounded like it,” Kaitlyn said grumpily. She gingerly started to dust off the seat of her shorts.

  “Watch out; you’ve got splinters all over,” Penn said. “Here, let me.”

  She wheeled around. “Thanks anyway. I can take care of it.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned to the sole remaining woman on the deck, who was still sitting placidly in her lawn chair. “Too bad you didn’t have your camera today, Jill. That would have made a great action sequence.”

  “It was a moment straight out of low-grade comic film,” she agreed.

  “Video would have been a nice touch. But I’d rather do stills myself.” He stretched out a hand to help her up.

  Jill complained, “You’re going to make me move? A woman in my condition? Surely it’s safe here now that everyone else is off the deck.”

  “It’s time to light the bonfire, anyway. When is the baby due?”

  “About three weeks. And it’s babies, by the way — plural.”

  Kaitlyn said, “You sound a lot calmer about it than when you first told me.”

  “Well, it’s either two humans or one small hippopotamus, so if I have my choice—”

  “That’s our girl, always seeing the positive side of things.” Kaitlyn tried to crane her neck far enough to see the back of her shorts. Were there really splinters?

  Marcus was still fussing. “Are you certain you’re not hurt?”

  Penn didn’t say a word, but the look he shot at Kaitlyn was incredulous — as if he didn’t quite believe Marcus’s concern could be real. It made her feel cross, and she said shortly, “I’m fine. Let’s go down to the bonfire, all right?”

  The sun had just dropped behind the wooded rim of the hills, and so the light that remained in the little valley was soft and pale and dappled by the long shadows of the trees. Flames were already beginning to lick greedily at the kindling under the stack of driftwood. The adults settled themselves in chairs and on blankets, while the older children began to perform what they fondly thought was a war dance around the fire.

  “Where did you guys find all the firewood, anyway?” someone called from across the circle. “Did you chop down Sentinel Oak?”

  There was a chorus of chuckles and quick retorts.

  “—the one landmark of Springhill?”

  “And ruin all the fun our kids will have up there someday?”

  “Our kids? They’d never dare!”

  “On second thought, cutting it down isn’t a bad idea.”

  Marcus said calmly, “Sentinel Oak? I don’t think I’ve heard about that.”

  Kaitlyn managed to suppress a groan. “Later,” she said, under her breath.

  Marcus frowned.

  “It’s a lovers’ lane,” Penn explained helpfully. He’d speared two hot dogs on a peeled sapling stick and was dangling them over the flames. “Hasn’t Kaitlyn taken you up there yet? How long have you been in Springhill, anyway?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Just take the ring road around town and turn off at Blackberry Hill— What on earth is the matter with you, Kitten? That’s a horrible noise you’re making.”

  Kaitlyn jumped up and stalked off without a word.

  “That sort of conduct is really quite unbecoming, Caldwell,” she heard Marcus say as she left the circle of firelight. “As well as insulting to Kaitlyn, of course.” It sounded like a warning.

  There was a small, constricted silence, and then Penn said sadly, “You’re quite right, Marcus. I just don’t know what comes over me at moments like these.”

  Kaitlyn gritted her teeth and walked a little faster, her feet grinding into the sand. He doesn’t know what comes over him, indeed! He’s a troublemaker, that’s what’s wrong with him. He always has been one — doing things like talking me into wearing roller skates to the prom, and engineering the collapse of the homecoming queen’s throne — just because he likes to see what will happen next. Damn him, why couldn’t he just stay away from here?

  She picked her way across a damp patch of sand and climbed onto a large, flat rock that overhung the edge of the water. She pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her knees, and listened to the water lapping against the shore beneath her.

  He couldn’t come between her and Marcus unless she let him. Marcus was annoyed with him, that was obvious, but he wasn’t taking Penn seriously. If she could just stay calm, in a few days Penn would be gone.

  But in the meantime…

  She heard his step on the sand, soft though it was. Penn had always moved like a wild creature through the twilight. She stayed very still on her rock, not even turning her head, hoping to somehow go unnoticed.

  He climbed onto the rock beside her with a stalk of grass in his hand, and began thoughtfully chewing on it.

  “You’ll give yourself liver flukes.” Kaitlyn didn’t look at him. “I suppose you came after me to apologize?”

  “Not at all. I wasn’t doing anything to be ashamed of. I was just giving your Marcus a verbal tour of the highlights of Springhill, Kitten.”

  She said, between her teeth, “Damn it, Penn, would you stop calling me that?”

  “Why? Because it reminds you of Sentinel Oak and all the fun we used to have up there?”

  His voice was cool, and she instantly regretted losing control of herself and letting him guess that it bothered her — not only the name, but the memories. “Not at all,” she said firmly. “Because nothing ever happened at Sentinel Oak that was worth talking about.”

  “That’s true. There were always too many people up there. Everything exciting happened right here at the lake, didn’t it? Watching the moonlight on the water — and listening to the thunder in the hills—”

  His hand came up to fling the stalk of grass out into the dark water, but instead of dropping back to his side, his fingertips came to rest on the curve of her cheek, turning her face to his.

  There was one instant when she could have screamed, or pulled away from him and jumped from the rock. She could have unbalanced him with a shove. She could have—

  But she didn’t. Some nerve deep inside her seemed to have short-circuited and left her incapable of motion, or of feeling anything except the horrible fluttering at the base of her throat that kept her from drawing enough breath to protest.

  Her lips felt stiff as cardboard under his gently questing mouth. It was like experiencing the very first kiss of her life all over again — with all the uncertainty, the hesitancy, the creeping fear that somehow she wasn’t doing it quite right.

  Then something changed, and her lips softened and warmed and seemed to melt against his. Penn made a little animal sound of satisfaction, and his hand slipped from her face to the nape of her neck, to pull
her more closely against him and deepen the caress.

  Some last fleeting instinct of self-preservation warned her, and she ducked away from that possessive hand. She rubbed the back of her fingers against her mouth, only half-conscious of what she was doing.

  “Trying to get rid of the taste of me?” he asked softly. “You can’t do it that way, Kitten.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” she said fiercely. “Just leave me alone, Penn. Go away.” She jumped from the rock to the beach, landing awkwardly with a jolt to her ankle. But she swallowed her gasp — it was mostly fear, anyway, not pain — and started back up the beach to the safety of the firelight.

  The party had shattered into small knots of people spread across the beach, some still at the fire, others at the picnic tables or relaxing under the trees, and she passed a half-dozen groups in her search for Marcus.

  When she spotted him, she dropped to the sand beside him with a sigh of relief, before she had a chance to think about how strange her haste would look — or to wonder if there was some obvious sign she should have wiped away. There was no need to worry about smeared lipstick, for she wasn’t wearing any. But what if the hint of Penn’s aftershave was clinging to her now?

  Marcus turned to her. “You’re all right, darling?” But there was nothing more than affectionate concern in his voice, and her heart gradually slowed from pounding panic to normal. She squeezed his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

  “It’s a beautiful night. I see now why you like the lake so much.”

  He trusts me. He loves me. He likes the things I like. He’s solid and reliable. How could I ever have doubted my feelings for him?

  “I thought you would. I’m glad.” And then she leaned a little closer, and murmured, “Perhaps we can have a cabin here someday, darling — when we’re married?”

  CHAPTER 3

  She overslept the next morning and was jolted awake by a thump in the attic directly above her bedroom. “Great,” she muttered. “I’m glad that Mother is developing some enthusiasm for this move. But why at this unholy hour?” Then she looked at the clock on the night table and climbed out of bed. It wasn’t all that early, and she had tuxedos to check on. Then the florist wanted her opinion on how he should anchor the bouquets that Sabrina wanted to float in the Harts’ swimming pool....

  A bright-eyed little dog climbed out of his basket in the corner of the kitchen and pranced across to greet her, yipping happily as if seeing her was a once-in-a-lifetime surprise.

  Kaitlyn was not flattered. “Schnoodle, please,” she said wearily. “Mother will hear you and come down, and you know I can’t talk sensibly till I’ve had some caffeine.” She patted the dog until he calmed down, then put him out into the garden, and as soon as the coffee maker had finished its cycle she poured herself a cup and went out into the sunshine herself.

  Schnoodle looked up hopefully when she appeared, but when he saw that she wasn’t carrying any promising plates or baskets or platters — only a notepad and pen and a calendar — he went back to snuffling along the edges of the flower beds.

  The air was already warm, threatening a breathlessly hot day, but the flagstone patio was still pleasantly cool under her bare feet. Kaitlyn sat down at the glass-topped table with her cup cradled in one hand and the blank notebook before her and began to tear off sheets of paper to make lists. “Things to do today,” she muttered. “Things to box up for my apartment. Things to buy so we can pack everything else.” She paged through her calendar and sighed. There wasn’t a blank day in the next two weeks, even before she penciled in time for apartment hunting and packing. Why couldn’t this move have waited till next month when no one seemed to require her services?

  The garden gate creaked, not its usual single rasping protest but a repeated, rhythmic pattern. Kaitlyn leaned around an azalea bush and said, “Must you encourage that thing to make noise?”

  Penn didn’t look up. He was exercising the gate, inspecting the hinges. “It could be fixed, you know.”

  At the sound of his voice, Schnoodle’s nose came up out of a patch of periwinkle and began to twitch excitedly. The twitch grew into a shudder that racked him from ears to tail, and the shudder was followed by a peal of shrill, yapping barks that had roughly the same impact on Kaitlyn as fingernails scraping on a blackboard.

  “Schnoodle!” she said sharply, “cut that out before you wake the neighbors!”

  The gate stopped creaking, and Penn said, almost at her elbow, “Schnoodle, old fella — do you remember me?” He stooped to scratch the dog’s ears, and Schnoodle abased himself on the flagstone path, wriggling and panting and grinning as only a mixed-breed schnauzer could.

  There had never been anything Schnoodle wouldn’t do, if it would win Penn’s attention for him. Some creatures have no pride at all.

  Penn stopped scratching the dog and straightened up. He looked taller than ever today, she thought, but that might only be because his cutoff jeans and half-buttoned shirt left so much more of him visible this morning. Even his chest was tanned under the curls of dark hair. And his knees were nicely browned, too. How had he managed that? Working as a lifeguard?

  “So, do you want me to fix it?”

  Kaitlyn shrugged. “The gate? Don’t bother. Let the new owners worry about it.” If she had hoped to surprise him, she was mistaken.

  “Yes, I heard the house sold. I don’t understand how the newspaper makes any money in this town. Nobody needs to read it. It’s funny, though, how no one told me about your engagement till last night. I’d have expected to hear that the minute I hit town.” He looked innocently inquisitive, as if he seriously expected an answer.

  Kaitlyn sipped her coffee and turned back to her lists. Masking tape, string, marking pens... “Amazing, isn’t it, how gossip works?” she said sweetly.

  “I suppose I really should apologize to Marcus for trespassing on his territory last night.” He pulled a chair around and sprawled in it.

  “Please don’t bother.”

  “Oh? Why not? Don’t you want him to hear about that kiss?”

  Kaitlyn shrugged. “It was nothing worth talking about.”

  Penn tipped his chair back on two legs and murmured, “How long have you been engaged, anyway? I thought, myself, that Marcus looked a little stunned last night, as if the whole idea was news to him. I’ve got it! You proposed to him instead of the other way around, didn’t you?”

  The back screen door slammed, and Audrey appeared. “Look what I found, Kaitlyn. Oh, hello, Penn! It’s your blanket, darling, the one you wouldn’t go to sleep without when you were little.”

  Kaitlyn looked at the scrap of worn, grayish flannel with distaste. “Throw it away,” she recommended.

  “No, dear. You’ll feel differently about it when you have children of your own, and they have blankets. I’ll put it in the box with your baby gowns.”

  Kaitlyn sighed. “Is that what you’ve been doing this morning, Mother? Preserving my baby clothes?” Left to herself, she thought, it would take Audrey years to clean out the house.

  “No, I was looking for my wedding dress, actually. Not that I expect you’ll want to wear it, Kaitlyn, but I was just feeling a little sentimental after you and Marcus told me your news last night.”

  Penn’s grin lighted his face and danced in his eyes, and Kaitlyn thought about breaking her coffee cup over his head in retaliation.

  “That changes your plans, doesn’t it, Audrey?” he observed. “I suppose you’ll be looking for an even smaller place since Kaitlyn will be moving in with Marcus.”

  Audrey looked startled. “Oh, she wouldn’t do that before the wedding.” She stopped, and finally added, uncertainly, “Would you, dear?”

  “My mistake,” Penn said smoothly. “Of course she wouldn’t. And it’s going to be a big wedding, I’m sure. When will it be?”

  “We haven’t talked about it,” Kaitlyn said reluctantly.

  “Amazing. I’d have thought that would be the firs
t thing to discuss. After an engagement ring, of course,” he added, with a meaningful glance at her bare left hand.

  Her fingers clenched hard on the handle of her cup.

  Penn eyed her white knuckles and said, “Well, I must be running along. Actually I just stopped by to tell you if there is anything I can do to help with your move, Audrey, please let me know. That gate, for instance.”

  “Oh, can you stop that horrible creaking, Penn?” Audrey sounded almost worshipful. “It’s so difficult these days to get a handyman for little jobs like that, but it annoys me so.”

  “It will only annoy you for thirteen more days, Mother,” Kaitlyn said under her breath, but it was too late. Audrey followed Penn to the gate, saying something about the downspouts, and the two of them disappeared around the front of the house, leaving the gate swinging and creaking.

  At Kaitlyn’s feet, Schnoodle whimpered a little and looked around nearsightedly.

  “Serves you right,” she told the dog unsympathetically, and got up to close the gate. “You shouldn’t have assumed he’d stick around forever.” She looked unseeingly across the brilliant beds of daisies and the heavy masses of blooms on the climbing roses. “Nobody should ever depend on Penn. Life is much easier that way — without expectations.”

  *****

  She ran into Penn again that afternoon at Springhill Hardware. She never would have gotten into the checkout line behind him if she’d seen him first. However, she wasn’t looking at the other customers; she was trying to review her list while balancing half a dozen rolls of packing tape and the dispenser to apply it, a carton of assorted labels, a ball of twine and two pairs of scissors. Once in line, she could hardly turn around and fade back into the aisles; it would have looked suspicious. So she stood there with her arms loaded and watched while he reopened the long-dormant Caldwell charge account.

  “Pretty heavy-duty tools to fix one small gate,” she observed as the clerk was writing up his purchases. “I can understand the hammer, but do you really need a wrecking bar to take the hinges off?”