That Summer Thing

She shook her head. “That won’t happen. I think it’s probably a good time for me to take a break from working in college athletics, anyway. I plan to do some clinical work.”

“I bet Julian Bennett would find a permanent spot for you if you asked him.”

“My home is in Iowa,” she reminded him gently.

He smiled. “I know, but you can’t blame a brother for trying.”

Their conversation was halted as Grace announced it was time to eat. Dinner turned out to be a bit chaotic as the five little girls chattered and giggled their way through spaghetti and meatballs. By the time it was over, Beth was convinced that her sister-in-law had her hands full and didn’t need to worry about another houseguest, even if that guest was family.

She brought up the subject as she and Grace finished cleaning the kitchen. “I think I should check into a motel—just for the weekend.”

“You will not,” Grace stated emphatically.

“She will not what?” Ed asked, coming into the kitchen.

“Beth wants to go to a motel for the weekend.”

“You already have a full house,” Beth told her brother. “You don’t need me.”

“Yeah, we do. To help clean up,” Ed teased.

“I can do that without putting someone out of a bed,” Beth said.

“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Ed returned.

“Yes.” She set her dish towel aside. “You’re not going to be offended if I go to a motel, are you?”

“No,” her brother replied slowly, “but it doesn’t make any sense to pay for a room when you have a place of your own at your disposal.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“The Queen Mary. Thanks to Abraham Steele, it’s half yours.”

Beth shook her head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t sleep there.”

“Why not?”

“You need to ask?”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Because of Charlie?”

She hated the way her stomach muscles tensed at the mention of her ex-husband. For fifteen years she’d been able to pretend that Charlie Callahan didn’t exist. But now, thanks to one legal document, the window to that corner of her memory was reopened. A beneficiary of Abraham Steele’s last will and testament, Beth was now in the uncomfortable position of being in a partnership with a man she hadn’t expected to ever see again.

“I told you I wanted to sell my half to him,” she said as calmly as possible.

“Yes, but right now that half belongs to you and you have a right to use it. Besides, Charlie’s not even going to be in Riverbend this weekend. I talked to him yesterday and he told me he was going out of town. Some builders trade show in Indianapolis.”

She chewed on her lower lip. Using the houseboat would solve the problem of where she was going to sleep tonight. And it would be nice to have a quiet room all to herself where she wouldn’t feel she was inconveniencing anyone.

“Why are you hesitating? You have every legal right to use the boat, Beth,” Ed assured her.

This wasn’t about her rights. It was about memories. Ever since she’d learned she’d inherited the houseboat, unwelcome images had begun creeping into her consciousness. Too much had happened on that houseboat, things best forgotten.

“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea, that’s all,” she told him. “I can go to a motel.”

“Trust me, Beth. The Queen Mary is nicer than any motel around here. Abraham completely remodeled it before he died.”

Which meant she might not even recognize the place. Maybe she could stay on the boat and not be plagued with memories of the past. “Don’t I need a key or something?”

“I have one.” Ed disappeared, only to return a few minutes later carrying a small key ring and a black leather-bound folder. “You’ll need this, too.”

“What is it?” she asked as he handed her the folder.

“All the information you’ll need to use the boat. I’ve already looked at it and it’s pretty self-explanatory. Basic stuff about the water and electricity. There are diagrams in there, as well.”

Seeing the amount of information in the folder added to Beth’s trepidation. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I don’t know the first thing about houseboats.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go with you to Steele’s marina and answer any questions you have. Do you remember the way, or do you want me to drive and you can follow in your car?”

“I remember where it is, but I’m not sure I should drive my car.” She went on to tell him about the engine light coming on.

“Why don’t you leave it here and I’ll take a look at it in the morning?” he suggested. “I can drive you to the marina tonight and pick you up in the morning.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Are you sure you won’t stay with us?” Grace asked as they prepared to leave.

Beth was tempted to take her up on her offer, but she knew she couldn’t. Like it or not, the houseboat was the best place for her to sleep this weekend. She would just have to do what she’d done for the past fifteen years. Forget about that other long-ago night she’d spent on the Queen Mary.

Forget about Charlie Callahan.

CHAPTER TWO

JUST AS IT HAD BEEN all those years ago, the Queen Mary was docked at the small private marina just south of town. As Ed’s Jeep traveled across the gravel road with nothing but blackness on either side of it, Beth tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shiver. She couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d been down this road. She’d been with Charlie, on her way to what he’d promised would be a night she’d never forget. Little had either of them known how true those words would be.

“Here we are,” Ed announced, turning into a small parking lot. “If you wait a second, I’ll get a flashlight and light the way.”

She did as he suggested, remaining in the Jeep until he’d retrieved a portable lantern from the back. As she climbed out of the vehicle, he aimed the beam of light toward the ground. “Watch your step.”

Beth stayed close to him as he led her onto the pier and over to the houseboat. “So this is it?” she said, thinking that it didn’t look as big as it had when she’d been a teenager.

“Like I said, it’s changed since you were last here. Abraham spent a pile of dough remodeling it. Wait until you see all of the conveniences he added.”

Beth saw what her brother was talking about when they stepped inside. The salon had a white leather sectional sofa that allowed occupants a good view of the water, as well as the big-screen TV built into a cabinet against one wall. Next to it was a stereo system and a VCR. All the windows had custom-made deep blue drapes that matched the carpet beneath her feet.

“This is nicer than my apartment,” she said, admiring the oak cabinetry in the galley. She fingered the shiny black front of a microwave suspended beneath one of the cabinets.

“The guy had the bucks to spend and he liked nice stuff.”