Small-Town Secrets

Wednesday afternoon HE'D THOUGHT he was ready for this. The years away should have inoculated him against the emotions surfacing now--loss, pain, guilt and the familiar edgy tension that Kendall Van Allen had always inspired. He thought he'd dumped the baggage he'd been carrying when he left Sturgeon Falls seven years earlier. He thought he'd gotten on with his life. He was wrong.Gabe rolled his BMW to a stop on the smooth driveway and studied Van Allen House. The fresh coat of creamy yellow paint, the green and rose of the contrasting trim and the flowers massed around the house all glowed in the sunlight. The house had certainly changed. Had Kendall changed as much? Would she welcome him? Or merely tolerate him? Maybe he should have stayed away from her. The dedication committee had made the reservation, but he could have declined. Maybe he should have booked himself into one of the other B and B's. Sometimes old wounds were better left alone. No. He got out of the car and shut the door. He'd run away seven years ago, and he'd regretted it ever since. He was done with running away. The dedication of the high-school football stadium to Kendall's late husband, Carter, had brought him back to Sturgeon Falls, but that wasn't the only thing that was going to happen this weekend. Kendall would need his help. Even though she didn't know it yet. THE DOOR KNOCKER SOUNDED just as Kendall was pulling on her black slacks. Shoving her feet into her image-enhancing Bruno Magli pumps, she finger-combed her short hair and then buttoned her blouse as she hurried down the stairs. The guest the dedication committee had booked into her bed-and-breakfast was right on time. The tall, lean figure of a man was visible through the frosted-glass panels in the front door. Kendall took a deep breath, checked one last time to make sure all the buttons on her blouse were done up, plastered a smile on her face and opened the door. "Welcome to Van Allen House," she said to her prospective guest's back. He was looking out over the expansive front lawn, hands in the pockets of his elegant charcoal slacks, apparently studying the formal garden. Then he turned to face her. "Very nice, Kendall.You've done a lot of work. It doesn't look like the same place." The shock of recognition hit her like a blow. Even after seven years, his black hair and blue eyes, his sensual mouth and beautiful face were unmistakable. Her smile vanished. "Gabe?" "Hello, Kendall." Her hand curled around the door. "What are you doing here?" "I have a reservation. Compliments of the dedication committee." "You'remy guest?" "In the flesh." She itched to shut the door in his face. But the bill for the hot-water heater she'd just replaced still sat on the desk in her office. Even though she wanted nothing to do with Gabe Townsend or the memories that clung to him like stubborn cobwebs, she stepped aside and opened the door wider. "Come in." He strolled into the foyer, his curious gaze registering everything, from the slightly threadbare rug on the floor to the faint depression in the plaster left by her daughter's soccer ball to the pictures of ancestral Van Allens that lined the wall alongside the stairs. She closed the door a little harder than necessary. "Why did you come here? What do you want?" He dropped his leather suitcase. "Other than a room? A 'hello, Gabe' would be nice. "Welcome back to Sturgeon Falls' would be even nicer." "If you came to Sturgeon Falls looking for a welcome from me, you're out of your mind," she said, moving to the small office she'd set up in a closet beneath the stairs. "There's nothing here for you." "The committee made the reservation," he said. "Maybe they thought it would be nostalgic." "I'm not much for nostalgia." She studied him, noticing the confident way he held himself, registering his assumption that heWatson, Margaret is the author of 'Small-Town Secrets', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373781164 and ISBN 0373781164.