Avery waited until he’d ushered Ian into the private suite above his office before he spoke. “We’re in deep shit. Jillian arrived unexpectedly this morning.”
“Yes,” Ian said as he dropped his duffel. “I nearly ran into her on the road up here. We spoke briefly.”
Avery’s eyes narrowed on him. “You talked to her? She knows you’re here?”
“She knows I’m here. She doesn’t know who I am. The cars weren’t damaged—thanks to some pretty fancy maneuvering on her part. And she was in a great rush to get to Belle Bay, so we didn’t get to the exchanging names and insurance companies part. No need. We were fine. The cars were undamaged.”
Avery drew in a deep breath. “Please sit down. Would you like something to drink? Water, beer, wine? I usually know how to greet guests better than this.”
And that told Ian more than each of their previous conversations just how concerned Avery was about the series of unsettling incidents that had recently plagued Haworth House.
“Water would be great.”
He followed Avery into the kitchen of the suite and accepted the bottle of water the man retrieved from the refrigerator.
“Why is Jillian here?” Ian asked.
“She was supposed to return next week to close on a new property she purchased in Belle Bay. She plans on opening her own antique store there. But yesterday, a Colonel Jenkins called her and requested a meeting. He and his son are buying a string of small hotels along the Carolina coastlines. The places are in need of updating and they’re interested in hiring Jillian as a chief consultant. But first they want to see what she’s done with Haworth House. She changed her plans immediately. Haworth House is a testimonial to her talent. What you see in the lobby and the dining room, as well as the guest rooms—she designed it all. She searched for and acquired the antiques herself. When they get here tomorrow, the place will knock their socks off.”
As Avery talked, Ian noticed the admiration and the love in the man’s voice. The two had never been romantically involved, but Avery and Jillian had been friends for a long time. He knew from the original research he’d done that Avery had a long-term relationship with a man named Matt Trudell.
“So how do you want to handle this? Should I just tell her who I am and say I’m taking a little vacation?”
Avery frowned. “The first thing she’ll do is call Naomi. Then Dane will call you wanting to know why you’re really here. I’ve met your brother. He’ll probably want to cut short his trip and join you.”
The scenario Avery was painting was more than a strong possibility, Ian thought.
“I think we ought to go with your original idea,” Avery continued. “You’re a writer, and you’re here to research Haworth House. Your book will tell the true story of why Hattie settled here and why she remained a recluse all those years, etcetera, etcetera. It gives you a good excuse to ask questions and snoop around the place. I’ve already let some of the staff know, and they’re willing to talk to you.”
“Fine.”
Avery met his eyes. “There’s another reason I don’t want Jillian to know who you are and why you’re really here. This meeting tomorrow with the Jenkinses could be a huge turning point in her career. I don’t want her worried about something that may turn out to be nothing. Reese is filming her first TV show in L.A. Naomi is with Dane, and I’ve never seen her so happy. I don’t want any of them distracted if I’m just making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Got it.” Ian twisted the cap off his water bottle. Posing as a writer would be his first experience masquerading as someone else. It was a technique his brother Dane used all the time, and Ian was looking forward to the challenge.
“I don’t see a problem going ahead with our plan,” he said. “Jillian and I were two strangers meeting after an accident that didn’t happen. I’ll try to keep my distance, keep a low profile. If she asks, I’ll use the cover we’ve decided on.”
“In your favor, you don’t look like an investigator.”
Ian glanced down at his well-worn T-shirt, his threadbare jeans and grinned. “Dane says I’m going through a late rebellion stage. I worked five years behind a computer at the CIA in a suit and a tie.”
“Ah,” Avery said. “A research geek.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Avery’s booming laugh filled the room. “Hell, no. I’m an avid fan of Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan, and that’s what he was.”
Ian grinned. “I’m a fan of Jack’s, too.” He set his water bottle down. “Let’s say you’re not making a mountain out of a molehill. What do you think is going on here?”
Frustration flickered across Avery’s face. “All of the incidents so far seem to have been targeting the hotel. Some guests were upset when the air-conditioning system was off for a day, and it may have resulted in some bad word of mouth. But if the chef hadn’t discovered the poisonous mushrooms or if that woman had seriously injured herself when she took that tumble down the stairs, the publicity could have seriously damaged the reputation of Haworth House. The hotel could have taken a huge hit financially.”
Ian nodded. “So the Brightman sisters may have an enemy who is upset with their success.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. But I can’t think of who that might be.”
“Then the sooner I get started the better. What’s my writer name by the way? You’ll have to register me under it.”
“Any objection to going with Jack Ryan?”
“None at all.” But as Avery moved past him, Ian put a hand on his arm. “Just put me in a room close to Jillian’s. In the event you’re not being paranoid, I’d like to be close in case the threats escalate.”
Avery’s expression hardened. “You think she might be personally in danger?”
“You’re afraid of that, too,” he said. “That’s part of the reason you don’t want the sisters informed about the threats. If they thought the hotel was really in danger, they’d all come back.”
Avery studied him for a moment. “I’m glad I called you, Jack. Let’s get you registered.”
3
AS JILLIAN STEPPED OUT of the law offices of Bisson and Tanner, she barely restrained herself from doing a happy dance right there on the sidewalk. Ever since she’d decided that interior design was where her true talents lay, she’d been dreaming of eventually opening her own store. But it hadn’t been until she and her sisters had bought Haworth House and turned it into a hotel that she’d started to believe she could turn her particular dream into a reality.
Oh, she knew she was taking a risk—starting a new business venture so soon after opening the hotel. But once she’d seen the Kellys’ bookstore on Main Street and discovered that it was available, she simply hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to buy it ahead of schedule. A whole two years ahead of schedule.
Walking to the edge of the sidewalk, she glanced up and down the main street of the small village that was becoming so familiar to her. The sharp, sudden blast of the ferry’s horn had her turning right to watch it pull away from the dock. Brightly colored umbrellas adorned the patio of a restaurant close to the water. Across the street from where she stood was the crowded coffee shop, Uncommon Grounds, with its green-and-white-striped awnings. In the block up from that was a gift shop and a bank, and directly across from the real estate office was what was going to be her new antique store.
Just thinking