Sweet Laurel Falls by RaeAnne Thayne Page A

his answer. He chose his words carefully. “I’m not sure yet. I was
thinking about sticking around for a week or two, until after the holidays.”
    For all their surface resemblance, the two women had completely
disparate reactions. Sage grinned at him with delight, while Maura looked as if
Dermot had just fed her a teaspoon full of alum with her tea.
    “That’s great. Really great!” Sage enthused. “I was afraid you
were leaving today.”
    “How can you spare the time?” Maura asked woodenly. “You’re a
big-shot architect, just as you always dreamed.”
    “It’s a slow time of year for me, which is why I was able to
accept the lecture invitation. After the holidays, things will heat up. I’ve got
a couple of projects in the region, actually, one in Denver and one in Montana,
and a big one overseas in Singapore coming up, but my schedule is a little
looser than normal this month.”
    Maura stirred her tea, then took a cautious sip before speaking
in a polite tone that belied the shadow of dismay he could see in her eyes. “Do
you really want to spend that much time in Hope’s Crossing?”
    He shrugged. No doubt she was thinking his presence would ruin
her whole holiday. He didn’t care. He wasn’t really in the mood to play nice,
not after she had kept his daughter from him for nineteen Christmases. “I was
thinking maybe Sage and I could take off for a few days to Denver to study some
of the architectural styles.”
    “Really?” Sage’s eyes lit up as if he had just handed her keys
to a brand-new car. “That would be fantastic! I would love it.”
    Maura avoided his gaze to look out the window, and he could
almost taste her resentment, as thick and bitter as bad coffee. When she finally
looked back at the pair of them, she offered up a small, tense smile.
    “That would provide a good chance for the two of you to spend
some time together. If you do stick around, there are plenty of things to do
around here as well. Art galleries, restaurants, hundreds of miles of
cross-country ski trails. I’m sure you remember how lovely the canyon can be
when it has fresh powder. Of course, that’s what all the skiers love too, and
what brings them here in droves.”
    It was another caustic dig, another reminder of what had
finally forced him to turn his back on Hope’s Crossing—his father’s final,
vicious betrayal and the gross misuse of land his mother had intended to leave
to him.
    Eventually he would probably have to drive up to the ski resort
to see for himself how greed had destroyed his mother’s legacy. But not
today.
    “We should go up for the Christmas Eve candlelight ski,” Sage
exclaimed. “We haven’t done that in a few years, have we, Mom? It’s so beautiful
to watch all the little flames dancing down the mountainside.”
    “That sounds great,” Maura said.
    Not to Jack. The last place he wanted to be on Christmas Eve
was up at the ski resort. He started to give some polite answer when his
attention was caught by someone else coming into the café. He couldn’t see the
man’s features from here when he turned away to speak to Dermot, but something
inside Jack froze.
    He didn’t need to see him clearly to know who was currently
trying to push around the restaurant owner, despite the futility of anyone
thinking they could intimidate Dermot Caine.
    His father.
    The biggest son of a bitch who had ever lived.
    Dermot cast a quick look in their direction and grabbed Harry’s
arm, obviously intent on steering him the opposite way.
    “Hold your horses. Let me at least take my coat off, you daft
Irish fool.”
    Those were the first words he had heard his father speak in
nearly two decades. He was taken completely by surprise at the twisted, complex
mix of emotions that washed over him like flood waters through a rain-parched
arroyo.
    At the overloud voice, Maura turned around to follow the sound
of the commotion. When she turned around, he didn’t detect any hint of surprise
in her