Passions of Chelsea Kane Part 8

"I picked them up here and there."

"Mostly there," Judd muttered. It was Tuesday. He had wanted work on the farmhouse begun on Monday. He didn't know when Chelsea would be back and wanted work under way when she showed. It was, a matter of pride with him. When he did things, he did them well. Annoyed with Russ for letting him down, with himself for taking the job so seriously, and with Chelsea Kane for insisting that it be done in the first place, he strode across the road to where the men were milling. "You guys have a problem with this job?" "Yeah," one said. "He didn't tell us it was here."

"Only a crazy man would work on this house," another said. A third said, "He thought he was safe taking a crew from another town, but we ain't stupid or deaf.

We heard of this place. h.e.l.l, if he won't go inside, why should we?"

Judd thought about that for a minute before 172 The Pa.s.sions of Chelsen Kane ng to Russ. Keeping his back to the men and voice low, he said, "They say you won't go de. Is that true?" ss's face grew red under his tan. "No need for "to 90 inside. They're the ones doing the work." ome on, Russ." told ' to start with the roof. That's not even e." -"And they're too spooked to do it." Judd was dis- t . "Big bruisers, and they're spooked by kids' ies. You could set an example, y'know. Go on 'ide, then come out and show them you're still @[email protected]'You go inside"

". did. With you. Yesterday." ' "Yeah, and I had the heebie-jeebies all night," s argued. "I'm not doin' it again." He held up a d. "When you told me about this job, I said I'd and that's what I've done. You want to fire me m the other jobs, fine, but if you do, I'm takin' my n with me. So where'll that leave you?" Up s.h.i.t's creek, Judd knew. The partnership ers had been signed, the clock was ticking. The hed at Moss Ridge had to be completed before the uipment arrived, same with the downtown office, A'they didn't want to fall behind. There were other rews, some even hungrier for work than Russ and ' men, but Russ was good. In all Judd's experience ith him, this was his first letdown. Judd glanced beyond Russ to where Hunter stood aning against the side of the Plum Granite truck. e walked over, tucking his hands in the. back of his eans. "What do you think?" he asked in a voice that wouldn't carry beyond where they stood. "I think you've got a problem." 173 Barbara Deunshy "Me? Try us. She wants the house done."

"She asked you to arrange it," Hunter said. "I'm not involved."

"Sure you are. You're the one behind the rumors. But you're no dummy.

And you're no country hick.

There's no such thing as ghosts, and you know it." Hunter's face hardened. "You're saying I made it all up?"

"No," Judd answered. He had to be careful. Sometimes the slightest thing could set Hunter off, and he would disappear for days. But Judd needed his help. "I'm saying that you were a little boy when you heard those voices. No one had heard them before that, and it's questionable whether anyone has heard them since."

Hunter's mouth was set in so much the same straight line as Oliver's often was that just then it was easy to believe them father and son.

"So?"

"So," Judd said, "You were the first to report the voices, you could be the first to say they're gone."

"But I don't know that they are gone. I'd have to go in there to find out, and I'm not doing that."

"Scared?"

"No. Smart." "You said It yourself, the voices never hurt anyone."

"That's because people run off when they hear them."

"When they imagine they hear them," Judd corrected. Hunter gave a scornful shrug.

"Why tempt fate?"

"Because that's your specialty. You've been doing it all your life. You never studied in school until the night before exams.

You bounce checks 174 Ihc Paswons of Cbeism Kane week before payday. You drive your cycle like ere's no tomorrow. Even the way you left that ack and headed for the main road when your t.i.ter died-most five-year-olds would have put until someone came."

"No one would've come. No one ever came." Judd heard the bitterness, but he had a point to ake. "You left that shack. You'd never been in in your life. You'd never been in the company other people. But something made you wander own that road.

You've got guts, Hunter. You may e foolhardy sometimes, and stubborn as sin, but u've got guts. You tempted fate when you left that ack, you tempt fate every time you spin out up on ben Road, so are you tempting fate this time? Are u goin' into that farmhouse or not?" Hunter's face was stony. "She had no business uying the place."

"But she did. It's done. She wants to live here, And she's expecting us to make that possible. It's ,'straightforward work. It won't look real good if we an't do it."

"Russ is the one who can't do it."

"But we're the ones in charge." He took a new tack. "You've been wanting more responsibility.

Here's your chance. Take over for Russ. Be the general contractor for this project." Hunter made a face. "Are you nuts?"

"No, not nuts. It makes sense." The more he thought about it, it did. "You know what has to be done. You spent thirteen years living with Hibbie Mayc.o.c.k and his sons, and they did a whole lot more than quarrying. Hibbie was the best carpenter around. So you know carpentry, and you know roofing. And don't tell me you didn't moonlight as an 175 Zwbara Defimby electrician to buy gra.s.s-even if Oliver did buy you outta that charge-because I won't believe you. You're the most mechanically inclined person at the quarry, and you're good with the guys. You could lead them just as well as Russ can." "Great," Hunter said. "Give me the cutting shed." What Judd gave him was a short shake of his head. "We need you here." He paused, then added, "Look, none of us wants her around. None of us wants her owning a piece of the company, but the fact is that she does, and there's nothing we can do about it except work our b.u.t.ts off for a year and do things better than her. Are you helping?"

"This place isn't part of the deal."

"No, but you'd really impress her if you did it."

"Why in the h.e.l.l would I want to impress her?" he asked with such disdain that Judd felt a twinge of relief. He didn't know why. He certainly didn't want any part of Chelsea Kane, and he hadn't thought Hunter would, but the possibility, vague though it was, must have registered in the back of his mind. Now he set it aside and focused on the practical. "Because she's a good contact. Think about it, Hunter. She's an architect. She knows of projects right and left. Prove yourself a skilled craftsman, and she'll remember you. She might have a friend who needs your services. She might be your ticket out of here."

"Who says I'm looking for a ticket out?" Judd didn't answer. It seemed that every Notcher, at some time in his or her life, looked for a ticket out of the town that was so small and parochial. College had been Judd's ticket. Same with Hunter. But they'd both come back, each to his private h.e.l.l. Judd couldn't believe Hunter didn't 176 nm Pa.s.sions of Cbomw Kane days.

orried you can't do it?" he goaded. If all else there was still the dare. can do it," Hunter said, -but his eyes had d past Judd and were focused on the farme. d imagined he saw a flicker of fear, something the look on Hunter's face when Chelsea had first she was buying the place.

He wondered if r had ever really heard voices and, if so, what . them up-not that Judd believed for a e that they were real. But Hunter might. cleared his throat, looked at the ground, and even more quietly, "I'll go in with you if you . I was in there yesterday. It's empty, unter. as stone." He raised his head. "Well?" can go in myself," Hunter said. His eyes were as t at Judd had ever seen them and more wild. t if I do, this is my baby, mine all the way. The man can't take it away from me. Is that a deal?" Judd could hear Oliver's panicked voice saying, deal? What in the devil did you make a deal for? can't do that work. He ain't never done that rk. Wouldn't put it past him to fix things so's the lets all flush every time you flip on the lights." If ne was capable of doing that, Hunter was. But dd knew he was also capable of keeping the men line and getting the work done well and on time. It eemed only fair to finally give him that chance. "It's a deal," he said, and would have put out his , to shake on it if Hunter had been anyone else.

"But Hunter wasn't a toucher. Everything about him said "hands off."

Judd and everyone else in town took that literally. "So, when'll you start?" Brashly, Judd thought, Hunter said, "Now." 177 Harbam Deanday "How you going to get the men inside?" Hunter stared at him for another minute, his eyes even wilder than before. Then he broke into a determined stride in-the direction of the house. He didn't stop when he reached the men and the trucks, simply ordered, "Start unloading that stuff," and strode on, leaving Judd behind, hoping he'd done the right thing. On Friday morning, at six-thirty on the dot, aerobics began in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the church. Donna was in her usual place in the back row, doing warmups with the others to a slow beat, when Chelsea appeared at the door. Immediately she straightened, smiled, and waved. Looking relieved to see her, Chelsea moved quickly around the others, dropped a small canvas bag against the back wall, and t ook up position beside her. "How are you?" she asked. Donna made an okay sign with her hand and mouthed, "When did you get back?"

"Last night. Late. I wasn't sure I'd make it here so early, but I really need the exercise." Donna thought she looked tired. She was pale, though since Donna hadn't seen her without makeup before, she had no way of knowing whether that was her natural coloring. If so, it wasn't unbecoming. She simply looked more vulnerable than before. Her hair, which was pulled away from her face into a high ponytail, leaving her features open, enhanced the impression. It was a different side of Chelsea Kane from the one she had previously seen. Unfortunately the rest of the members of the cla.s.s hadn't seen any side of Chelsea Kane before 178 The PASWORS of Ofeblea Kane d were interrupting their warm-ups to shoot curi- glances her way.

Recalling Chelsea's self-con-'sciousness, Donna motioned that they should continue. When she resumed her own stretches, ,@':Chelsea joined her. The stretches went well. Chelsea was limber, though that came as no shock. Well before Donna saw it in her movements, she could have guessed it from her shape. She was a sleek swirl of neon pink and black in her exercise tights and tank top. Had the woman carried any flab, it would have. showed. No doubt, Donna mused, the others in the room were thinking the same thing, some with admiration, some with envy. The nine others there ranged in age from twenty-seven to sixty-eight. Some were slim, others we e not. None looked as striking as Chelsea. Certainly none had as stylish exercise gear. Most wore loose T-shirts and shorts in colors far more muted than Chelsea's things. Donna wasn't sure she would feel comfortable wearing anything so bold. She wasn't sure she had the courage. The beat picked up, and the group moved into the first routine. Chelsea faltered, then caught up, faltered, then caught up. Not wanting to stare and make her any more uncomfortable than she was, Donna focused on the instructor, who was calling out the steps in advance and with more detail than she normally did, for Chelsea's benefit. Chelsea made it through the first number, then the second. By the time the music segued into the third, Donna could see that she'd begun to relax. It wasn't that she was. .h.i.tting the steps any better, but she seemed to have decided that whatever she did was fine, as long as she kept moving. By the time the beat slowed into cool-downs, 179 Awsbam Demmghy Chelsea was looking as warm as the rest. As soon as the music ended, she took a towel from her bag and blotted her face, neck, and throat. Donna did the same with the hem of her T-shirt, which was pretty much what the rest of the cla.s.s did. Then she caught Chelsea's eye. "Okay?" she mouthed.

Chelsea grinned. "Great. Fun." She took a deep breath, drew herself straighter, and put a hand on her stomach. "Good workout." Taking her arm then, Donna led her to where the instructor was unplugging her ca.s.sette player. Ginny Biden was the wife of a college professor who taught in Manchester. She was in her thirties and had a young baby at home. The early morning cla.s.s was perfect for her, since her husband could be with the baby while she taught, then she could be with the baby while he taught. Although, she was nowhere near as slim as aerobics instructors on television, as Norwich Notch wives went, she was lively, which was why Donna brought Chelsea to her first. Chelsea extended her hand. "Chelsea Kane. Hi. Great cla.s.s." "Welcome," Ginny said. "Was it too much, too fast?"

"A little. But that's okay. I'll catch on."

"You're new in town, aren't you?"

"Uh-huh." "Just visiting?" she asked with an expectant look at Donna. Donna started to shake her head when Chelsea said, "Actually, I'll be living here for a while. I'm working with Plum Granite." Ginny's eyes suddenly widened. "Chelsea Kane. 180 ift ra.s.siong of Chchwa K=w're Chelsea Kane. Wow, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinkit must be too early in the morning." She looked und, nervously, Donna thought.

"Have you met e others?" In various stages of recovery, the others were all king at Chelsea. They had heard her name now. I ey knew who she was.

They were, nearly to a man, wary. Hoping to lessen that wariness by virtue of her wn acceptance, Donna took Chelsea's arm again , led her from one to the next. There were no vhandshakes, just an exchange of names and nods. Chelsea's nods were accompanied by smiles; the -others were sober. None was more sober than the very last. She was white-haired, the oldest in the group, the most pet.i.te, and, though she determinedly attended every cla.s.s, the most fragile-looking. Taking the utmost care to properly articulate her. words and modulate her tone of voice, Donna said aloud, "This is my mother, Margaret Plum. Mother, this is Chelsea Kane." Chelsea was visibly startled. She gathered herself quickly, though, and did offer her hand then. "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Plum. I had no idea you'd be here."

"Nor I you," Margaret said.

Proper lady that she was, she put her hand in Chelsea's, though even Donna could see how tentatively. Her hand seemed feeble. In keeping with that, her face was ashen. "Are you all right?" Donna signed, but Margaret's eyes were on Chelsea. "Do you do this often?" Chelsea asked.

"Yes," Margaret answered. "That's wonderful."

"I like being in church."

Her hand shook as she 181 lowered it to her lap. Worried, Donna touched her arm and signed again, "Are you all right?" She knew that Margaret wasn't pleased with the partnership agreement and wished she had been able to prepare her for Chelsea's appearance. But Donna hadn't known Chelsea was coming until she had appeared at the door. "I'm tired," Margaret said, her eyes still on Chelsea. "I think I'd like some breakfast."

"Should I walk you home?" Donna signed, but Margaret turned around midway through the question and started off. Chelsea looked after her. "Is she ill?" Donna shrugged, then repeated the gesture when Chelsea turned to her. But Chelsea seemed to have forgotten about Margaret. "You speak well," she said. When Donna shook her head, she insisted, "You do. I hadn't realized you could. It must have been difficult to learn." Donna shook her head, then cupped her ear and nodded. "You could hear once? What happened?" She waved a hand to indicate nothing of consequence, certainly nothing she wanted to discuss, and quickly looked at her watch. It was seven-fifteen. Matthew would be furious if she wasn't in the kitchen with breakfast cooking by seven-thirty. She gave Chelsea an apologetic look. "Go on," Chelsea said. "Will you be in the store later?" Donna nodded. "Can I stop by?"

Donna nodded more enthusiastically, gave Chelsea's arm a squeeze, and, with a wave, headed 182 "M Pa.s.simm of the door. Less than fifteen minutes later, she put a large ug of strong black coffee before her husband and ood back by the kitchen counter to watch and t. He hadn't come home until after midnight, and en his tread on the stairs had been heavier than ual. One look at his eyes this morning explained at. He was hung over. There was a faint tremor in his hand when he @raised the mug.

He took a drink, lowered the mug, his elbow on the table, and rested his forehead .,-on the heel of his hand. He sat that way for a full five minutes, during which time Donna didn't move. She "watched his face, wanting to see his lips when and if he spoke. If she wasn't alert and missed something he said, he would be angry. His anger wasn't a pleasant thing. His hand fell away from his head. He took another drink of coffee, then looked at her. "This tastes like mud." "It's just strong," she said. He winced. "Don't yell." She knotted her hands in her lap.

Volume was always a problem, always a problem, particularly with Matthew. Most people understood that since she was deaf, she couldn't hear her own voice. But not Matthew. He wanted her to speak as though she had no problem at all. Had he been a compa.s.sionate sort, he might have tried reading lips or understanding sign. He had actually done both when they'd been courting, but with the placement of a ring on her finger, that had stopped. She was left with little choice but to point 183 Narhmrs Degaghy and gesture, or talk. None of those was ideal, but when it came to stone deafness, nothing was ideal. "Where's the paper?" he asked, looking grim. The newspaper was on the table not far from where he sat. She slid it closer. He unfolded it, stared at the front page, pushed it away. "You going to the store?"

"Soon," she answered, taking extra care with her voice. "Monti's there now." Monti was Matthew's older brother. With Emery serving as postmaster, t e everyday running of the store fell to his two sons. Matthew gave her an angry look. "I don't want Monti opening the store. How many times do I have to tell you that? Monti doesn't know what in the h.e.l.l he's doing. I want you over there right now." She had taken a quick shower and thrown on a robe. It would be another ten minutes before she could be ready to leave the house. Still, she nodded and untied her ap.r.o.n. She had barely slipped it over her head when Matthew's hand hit her hip. Her eyes flew to his mouth. "I want a couple of fried eggs. Make them runny, not hard like last time. And some biscuits. And juice." Putting the ap.r.o.n back on, she turned to the refrigerator, but she had no sooner taken out the eggs and put the skillet on to heat than Matthew hit her again. "The video salesman is coming today. Double the order on the new releases.

People want to watch those movies, and we don't have enough of them."

She nodded. "And get rid of those wooden mushrooms in the front window.

They look awful." He pulled the paper 184 The Pa.s.sibw of Cheinn JLUW again. nna rather liked the wooden mushrooms. They part of a larger display of fruits and vegeta- ,,all made of wood and sold as kitchen accents. hew's mother had bought them from a crafts rative several towns over, and though Lucy notorious for her staldness, Donna had agreed her on this choice. Plenty of other people did, if healthy sales meant anything. But Donna had intention of pointing that out to Matthew. It uld be sure to cause a fight. Far better, she knew, leave the wooden mushrooms on display and if he complained again, defer to Lucy. She turned and cracked three eggs into the skil- filled a large gla.s.s with cranberry juice, and put biscuits into the toaster-oven. Taking silverware an a napkin from the drawer, she set a place at the ,.

Matthew knocked her arm. His mouth was angry. ou changed detergents again, didn't you." She had switched to a brand with a fabric to make the ironing easier. He flicked his fingers against his collar. "This shirt smells like flowers. How can I go to work smelling like flowers? People will think I'm a pansy."

"No, she mouthed, crinkling her nose and shak Ing her head. "No smell."

"I can smell it, I tell you. It's even worse than the stuff you've been wearing lately.

What is that stuff?" It was toilet water, part of a collection that the store had just begun to stock. The scent was floral, with a touch of the exotic. Donna remembered what Chelsea had said about advertising scrunchies by wearing them. That was what she had intended with the toilet water, and it worked. She had sold three 185 zarbara Lkosghy bottles in the past week to women who liked the scent on her. She liked the scent, too. It took her places, conjured up images of fine restaurants, rooftop apartments in the city, limousines. It reminded her of Chelsea. "It sells," she said. He made a face. "I don't give a tinker's d.a.m.n if it sells. Don't wear it."

"Customers like it."

"It makes you smell like something you're not." It made her smell like something she wanted to be. She had a right to dream. "But I like it!"

"Don't yell!" he bellowed, and turned away in disgust. Heart pounding, Donna turned back to the stove. She put his eggs and biscuits on a plate and put the plate and the juice on the table before him. Then she retreated to the sink to wash the skillet. When she felt a hand on her arm, she jumped. It was Joshie, looking troubled. No doubt he had heard his father's bellow. Her heart ached. "Is everything okay?" he signed.

"Everything's fine," she signed back, and smiled. "Dad's in a bad mood again?"

"He didn't sleep well."

"Where was he last night?"

"Playing cards with Junior and Cal," which was as good a guess as any. She had long ago learned not to ask Matthew where he was going or where he had been. He liked his freedom, he had informed her soon after they married, and given that he'd been a bachelor for so long, she tried to understand. Occasionally that had been hard, such as when she'd gone into labor with Joshie and Matthew was nowhere to be found. Occasionally it 186 The Fa.s.s10AW Of Cbelses KMW , embarra.s.sing, such as when friends looking for him at the store and she had to little lies to cover both for him and for her ignorance. e did play cards with Junior and Cal. Junior n was George's son and had been Matthew's friend for years.

Calvin Ball was another old , the store's accountant, brother to Donna's her-in-law. They rarely played until midnight, ugh, particularly during the week. Moreover, a had spotted Junior and Cal without Matthew en enough at night to know that there were other ngs Matthew did. She wasn't sure she wanted to what they were. "I like that perfume," Joshie signed now. "I don't ow why Dad's so upset. You smell good." Donna put her arms around Joshie and drew him to her in a quick hug. She didn't know why she'd n graced with such a precious son, but not a sin- ..gle day pa.s.sed when she didn't say a prayer of thanks that it was so. Even now, with the crown of is head reaching her cheekbone, she wag acutely aware that the days of hugs were numbered. He was twelve and nearing p.u.b.erty. Soon he would be wanting freedom, too. She only wished Matthew set a better example. The thought of Joshie staying out until all hours doing G.o.d only knew what gave her a chill. She held him back and signed, "Your dad is sensitive to things like smells. Maybe he'll get used to this one."

"It's different. It's nice to be different sometimes. I wish Dad would be." Donna shot a look at her husband. He was wearing a pair of slacks and the cotton shirt she had 187 Bwfwu Delk2olky pressed the night before. That was his uniform. He riarely wore anything different.

She hadn't seen him in a suit in years, which was a shame. Even with the ten pounds that had settled around his middle since their marriage, he remained a handsome man. His hair was smooth and white blond, his features patrician. When he wanted to charm, he could do it with a smile. Joshie was Farr blond, but his features were Plum rough, and he wore gla.s.ses. Donna loved his looks, gla.s.ses and all, and though she doubted he would ever be handsome In the cla.s.sic way Matthew was, that didn't matter. What he lacked in looks, he made up for in sweetness.

"How was aerobics?" he signed. "Fine. Guess who was there?" When he shrugged, she finger-spelled, "Chelsea Kane." His eyes grew round. "Was she driving the Jag?"

"She came over from the Inn. I didn't see any car."

"It's real pretty. So's she. The guys at school all think so, and half of them haven't even seen her, but Tom and Ethan have, and they've been talking. They say it's about time we got someone like her up here.

Their moms say she's snotty." Donna was about to say that Chelsea Kane wasn't snotty at all when Joshie's eyes darted to his father, who looked enraged. She caught Matthew's words midsentence. "... doing that to me. If you have something to say, speak. You talk with your hands so I can't follow. Well, I won't have it. I won't be excluded from conversation in my own home. What do you think this is, a private party for two?"

"Please, Matthew," Donna said quickly, "Joshie signs to help me. We weren't saying anything we 188 nm Fa.s.siong of Cheamw Kmw -didn't want you to hear."

"He's not deaf. He can speak perfectly well." To ".,Joshie he said, "You speak when you have something to say. You understand that, boy?" Joshie nodded. Donna clasped the back of the boy's head. "Go ,, now. They'll be waiting for you." She watched him run off. Matthew tore off a hunk of biscuit, covered it with egg yolk, and pushed it into his mouth. He was still chewing when he tore off another hunk. "What in the h.e.l.l is he doing working for the town when he could be working for us?"

"It's the playground." The town ran programs every summer that amounted to free day camps for the children. "Joshie's a counselor. He's good with the little ones."

"He could be good with a broom, too, if he practiced once in a while." He mopped up yolk. "We could use the help. He could be loading up orders, taking out trash, and dusting shelves. Times are tight. We have to work harder." He stuffed the doused biscuit into one side of his mouth and talked out of the other. "We can't afford to bore people with wooden mushrooms or make them sick with perfume." Donna felt a sudden intense annoyance. That Matthew should have the gall to criticize her use of toilet water, while he sat there stuffing food into his mouth like an oaf, amazed her. He pushed his plate away and finished his coffee. Then he stood and faced her. His eyes were bloodshot but direct. "Chelsea Kane checked into the Inn last night. They say she'll be here a while. You know what that means?" it meant, first off, that Matthew had been some- 189 Barbam Delhzwhy where near the inn last night. Late. It also meant that he had communicated with someone who had seen the books there, probably Sukie Blake, who clerked at the desk after hours. That made Donna nervous.

Sukie Blake wouldn't fool around with Matthew-she was engaged to Joey Dodd-but she had friends who would. "It means," Matthew went on, "that she'll be back and forth here, just like she told Ollie. She'll come to us for her things, if she knows that we have what she needs. We've got to let her know that. Her business is important. She's half of your father's company now. We have to stay on her good side. We have to impress her, and that means no cheap perfume. Do you understand what I'm saying, Donna?" The toilet water in question was far from cheap, which Matthew would have known if he bothered to study the books. But Donna wasn't about to tell him that-or to tell him that Monti knew, because he did study the books, or to tell him that women liked fine perfume.

Matthew didn't take well to criticism, and Donna wasn't inviting his wrath. If she were the only one involved, she might have. But there was Joshie to consider. Matthew's ill will was h.e.l.l on him. She would do most anything to avoid it. 190 ten HELSEA STOOD IN THE ATTIC, PUSHED THE curls off her damp forehead, and looked around with satisfaction. The s.p.a.ce was beginning to shape up. The first time she had seen it, it had been dark and littered with papers, old books, and sc.r.a.ps of material.

It had reminded her of her parents' attic in Baltimore, which even now awaited her attention. She figured she would tackle it at some point during the summer, but she wasn't looking forward to it. The memories were happy ones; having to box them up was sad. She thought about that while Oliver's men cleaned the attic, and she insisted that things be crated and put in the bas.e.m.e.nt rather than thrown out. History wasn't something to be taken lightly. She was sure that someone would find meaning in the contents of those boxes one day. Cleared of the rubble, the attic had grown larger, and that was before the aged rafters were reinforced, insulated, covered with Sheetrock and plastered. Four skylights had been installed, opening the 191 attic to the sun.

Likewise, full-size windows replaced miniatures beneath the gables.

Unfortunately light was one thing, air circulation another. Though those windows were wide open, the air barely moved. At the sound of footsteps on the spiral staircase, she looked back. Judd's dark head emerged through the newly created stairwell, followed by the rest of him, and for a minute she could only stare. She didn't know what it was about him-Lord knew she had known men more cla.s.sically handsome and cultured-but Judd Streeter was something else. All she had to do was to catch sight o if him, and regardless of how distant he was, her pulse sped. It was speeding now. Worse, she felt tongue-tied. So she just smiled, then tore her eyes from his and looked around the room again.

"Everything okay?" he asked in a voice that was as naturally deep as he was naturafly male. She nodded. "Lookin' good." She studied the skylights. They still had the manufacturer's label on them. "Amazing the difference two weeks can make." She flattened her damp palms on her T-shirt, which was hand-painted, long and stylish over capri4ength leggings. "Add a little paint, carpeting, and some furniture, and I'll be able to work." She dared a look at him then. He was standing with his hands on his hips-not skinny hips, but narrow in relation to his shoulders-a.s.sessing the newly plastered ceiling and walls. His expression was serious, his profile as strong as the rest of him. "It's hot as h.e.l.l up here," he said. "You need a ceiling fan." 192 The pa.s.sions or chefs" KMW She could see that he was warm. There was a sheen of sweat on his face, his neck and throat, and , forearms. The rest of him was covered by a sweat-splotched workshirt and jeans. It was just another day at the quarry. Say something, she told herself. Say something brilliant. But she couldn't think of a single brilliant word.

In desperation, she turned to the weather. "I thought New Hampshire would be cooler than Baltimore. Is this global warming?" He met her gaze. "It's summer." She swallowed. "Can your men work in the heat?" His expression turned dry in reminder of the deal she'd made with Oliver. He nodded slowly. "That's good," she said. Needing a breather from the intensity of his eyes, she went to the window and, tucking herhands under her arms, looked down on the slate roof and ivy-colored walls of the small house. that was the Norwich Notch Post Office. Beyond that was the widow's walk atop the historical society, beyond that a stand of lush-leaved oaks. The town was lovely. She just wished it were a few degrees cooler. "How's the car running?" he asked. "It's great," she said without turning. She had left the Jaguar in Baltimore and bought a Pathfinder. Judd had driven her to pick it up-in the Blazer, which turned out to be his. He had also driven her around town numerous times, shuttling her from the office to the quarry, to Boulderbrook, and back.

She kept thinking that she would get used to him, that the novelty of his looks would wear thin, but that wasn't happening. She didn't understand how she could be six weeks pregnant, feel nauseated most of the time, 193 Barbam Deffngky and still find a man attractive. She told herself it was wrong. She told herself it was unhealthy. She told herself it was ludicrous, given her mission in the Notch. Still, her blood rushed faster when he was around. She tried to ignore him, but that was hard to do. His eyes were dark and direct. She could feel them on her back even now. Never one to be selfconscious, she was so with him. She was sure he could read every thought in her mind, including the lascivious ones. It was all she could do not to squirm. "When are the computers coming?" she managed to ask. "Any day."

"Good." She'd had him order one for her. "I could use mine as soon as possible. I've been writing letters by hand, but I want to do follow-ups and mailing labels by computer." She ' from the window and gestured toward a spot beneath one of the skylights. "I'm putting my drafting table there.

It's being delivered this afternoon. Do you think one of the men would set it up for me? I have to be in Manchester all afternoon, but I'd like to use it over the weekend." "It'll be set up," he said. Much as she cursed the attraction she felt, Chelsea was finding Judd's competence to be welcome. With so many things on her mind-getting business for Plum Granite, keeping up with Harper, Kane, Koo and her own designing, overseeing work on Boulderbrook, not to mention working out every morning, falling into bed exhausted every night, and somewhere in the middle brooding about Kevin, missing Abby, worrying about her 194 The Pa.s.sioam or Cjmhwa KMW and wondering who had wanted her to have @,silver mu ic box key it was good to know that i'he could ask Judd Streeter to do something and "have it done. "You I k tired," he said. Her eyes flew to his face. She felt a catch insidethose eyes touched her-and swallowed again. "I'm , e. "Maybe you're working too hard." She thought of the deal. "is that wishful thinkling?" She wiped her forehead with her arm. It really K was warm. He was right about the fan. "Sorry to dis- appoint you, but I'm okay. A little heat never hurt anyone." His eyes were steady on hers. "The city is airconditioned. Do you miss it?"

"No. The nights here are cool."

"It would cost a fortune to air-condition this house."

"No one's saving we should."

"You may, after a week working up here."

"I can hack it," she said, but she was having trouble breathing, and it had nothing to do with Judd's presence. Her lungs seemed filled with hot air and plaster dust. Intent on seeking relief, she crossed to the spiral stairway and wound her way to the second floor. Men were at work there, painting the walls. The smell of the paint was overpowering. Pa.s.sing through what would soon be Fern's office, she continued on down the front stairs. On the stone steps outside, she finally found fresh air. She went down the front path, taking one breath after another. When she reached the sidewalk, she leaned against the low fence post. 195 Bmimilra Deffughy She felt him come up behind her, not so much a rising of hairs on the back of her neck as a tingling along her spine. She didn't look around. She didn't dare. Knowing he was there was bad enough. She gestured toward the women on the green. All had broad-brimmed hats on their heads, spades in their hands, and flats of impatiens on the ground by their knees. "They're out en ma.s.se today."

"That's the garden club," he said. "They're getting ready for the Fourth." She thought of Kevin and Abby and all the fun Fourths they'd had at Newport. It hurt to think that Kevin didn't want to preserve the tradition. Even Carl had other plans this year. She took another breath of the Norwich Notch air. "You folks go in for the Fourth in a big way."

"Yup. Pancake breakfast at the church, box lunch at the school, barbecue on the green at night." She could have sworn she heard sarcasm in his voice and looked up at him. "Don't you like it?" His face gave nothing away. "It's fine. But you'd be bored."

"Bored? With nonstop activity?" Everywhere she went in town there were notices for holiday events. Among those on the agenda were a parade, a beauty pageant, a trash-and-treasure sale, an art show, a basketball game, anda dance. She didn't know how anyone could be bored. "It's pretty exciting for a newcomer." He eyed her strangely. "You're not seriously planning to hang around for it, are you?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I thought you'd be taking off."