True Love Read online

  Ken chuckled. “I miss you already. So get some sleep and call me after you meet Montgomery. I want to hear every word of what happens.”

  “Love ya,” she said.

  “Love ya back,” he replied.

  Chapter Four

  “I’ve decided to leave tomorrow,” Jared said to his grandfather Caleb. It was early evening and they were in the kitchen of Kingsley House. Jared had just returned from his fishing trip and hadn’t yet showered and changed. “I’m going to clean these fish, take them out to Dilys in the morning, then leave the island.”

  “Wasn’t your original plan to stay for the summer? Didn’t you have some work to do here?”

  “Yeah, but I can do it in New York.” Jared pulled the fish out of a bucket and tossed them onto the drainboard.

  “It was about some house, wasn’t it?”

  “I have a commission to design a house to be built in L.A. for some movie stars. That the marriage won’t last two years is none of my business. I thought I told you about this.”

  “I remember you said that in New York you had so many responsibilities outside of designing that you could no longer think. You said you wanted to spend a year on Nantucket.… What was that saying you had? Something about roots.”

  “You know I said that I wanted to get back to my roots.”

  “I believe the word was ‘needed.’ You needed to find where you belong. Is that right or have I contracted some illness that distorts my mind?”

  “You’re too old for any disease.” Jared was dirty and tired and hungry and angry. Yes, he’d planned to stay on Nantucket for the whole summer, but then his aunt had left his house to … to her.

  “So you’re running away,” Caleb said. He was standing by the kitchen table and glaring at his grandson. “Abandoning young Alix.”

  “I think of it as a sort of protection. You, better than anyone, know what my life’s been like. Does she deserve that? Besides, it would be better if she never found out who I am off the island. As a student, she probably thinks I’m a hero. I’m not even close.”

  “So now we hear the truth,” Caleb said softly.

  “What did you think? That I was afraid she’d ask me for my autograph? I wouldn’t mind that.” He gave a half smile. “Preferably on some body part. But not this girl.” He got up to start cleaning the fish, but changed his mind. Instead, he went to the tall cabinet by the refrigerator and poured himself a rum and Coke. “What happened to all the limes that were in here?”

  “I ate them.” Caleb was glaring at his grandson.

  “Never a straight answer from you.” Jared drank deeply, poured himself another one, then sat down at the table and looked around at the kitchen.

  “Thinking of tearing it out and putting in granite countertops?” Caleb asked.

  Jared nearly choked on his drink. “Where did you hear that piece of blasphemy?”

  “Just something someone said. Maple cabinets and granite countertops.”

  “Stop cursing!” Jared said. “You’re turning my stomach. This kitchen is perfect just as it is.”

  “I remember when it was put in,” Caleb said.

  “The Fifth, wasn’t it?”

  “The Fourth,” Caleb said, referring to the number on the end of the names of the eldest sons. His son with Valentina, back in 1807, had been named Jared for Caleb’s middle name, Montgomery because it was her last name, and Kingsley for Caleb’s family. Even after all these years, what she’d had to do to get that last name for their son still sickened him. Since that time Caleb had made sure that Valentina’s choice of name had been honored, with each succeeding eldest son being named Jared Montgomery Kingsley. This one, the most obstinate of the lot, was the Seventh.

  “I’m sure you know who did what.” Jared was still looking around the old kitchen.

  “Are you trying to memorize the place?” Caleb asked.

  “Considering all the things I’m not supposed to tell Victoria’s daughter, I think it’s better that I don’t come back. At least not while …”

  “While Alix is here?” It was easy to hear the disapproval in Caleb’s voice.

  “Don’t start on me again!” Jared said. “I’m not a teacher and have never wanted to be.”

  “Didn’t you have teachers?” Caleb asked.

  “And so does she!” Jared groaned. “Look, I’ve spent the last few days thinking this through. I can’t live up to what these students expect of me. They expect me to be a fount of wisdom, which I’m not. Tomorrow I’ll ask Dilys to introduce this girl to Lexie and Toby. The three of them can be friends. They can have lunch together and go shopping. They’ll be fine.”

  “So Dilys will mother her and Lexie will befriend her. And you’ll run away and hide.”

  For a moment Jared’s face turned red at the accusation, but then he smiled. “That’s me. Yellow-bellied coward. Terrified of a girl with a T-square. But then, she probably doesn’t even know what one is. I’m sure she’s up on the latest CAD system, the latest everything that is modern and high tech. She probably has some kit that has a dozen roofs, twenty doors, and sixteen styles of windows. They’re little punch-out shapes and she puts them all together to form buildings.”

  Caleb’s anger showed in his eyes. “I’m sure she’s just like that. I think you’re right and you should run away and never even meet her.” With that he disappeared.

  Jared knew he’d angered his grandfather, but that was nothing new. He’d been doing that since he was twelve years old.

  He knew he should get up and start cleaning the fish, but he sat at the table and looked across the room at the old stove. He could imagine some student of architecture coming up with a design for a sleek new kitchen. An eight-burner Wolf with three ovens. Tear out the wall and put in a Sub-Zero fridge. Take out the sink with its porcelain backsplash and long drainboards and put in some stainless monstrosity.

  No, he couldn’t bear having to explain to some architecture student why that shouldn’t be done. He couldn’t—

  “Hello.”

  Jared turned to see a pretty young woman standing in the doorway. She was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, her long hair pulled back off her face. She had big, greenish eyes with thick black lashes, and a truly gorgeous mouth.

  “I thought I heard voices,” she said, “but I assumed it was someone in the street and didn’t pay any attention. But then a picture fell off a wall and some dirt fell down in the fireplace and that made me look up and—” She broke off to take a breath. Be cool, she told herself. This is him. This is … She couldn’t think of anything else to call him, but Him. Capital H.

  He was looking at her as though she were a ghost, as though she weren’t quite real.

  Alix had to work not to gush about how much she loved his designs, admired what he’d done in the architectural world, to ask what was he working on now, did he have any words of wisdom for her, and could she please, please, please show him the chapel she’d designed?

  She suppressed all that even though her heart was pounding. “I’m Alix Madsen, and I’m staying here for … for a while. But I guess you know that. Are you Mr. Kingsley? I was told that you would take care of the house if it needs repairs.” She thought it would be better to let him introduce himself.

  He liked her curvy little body. “Yeah, I can fix things.”

  Alix searched for something else to say. He was still sitting at the table, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had on the same clothes he’d been wearing when she’d seen him get on the boat days before. They were dirty and she could smell the fish on him. But even with his scraggly beard and long hair he was still formidably good-looking. Maybe right now he was a bit intimidating in the way he was scowling at her, but then maybe he hadn’t expected her to be there. She couldn’t help glancing at his lower lip. It was exactly as she remembered, had dreamed about, written about.

  When she made herself look away, she saw a pile of striped bass on the drainboard. “You’ve been fishing,” sh
e said.

  “I was just going to clean them. This sink is bigger than mine in the guesthouse, but I wouldn’t have come in if I’d known anyone was here.”

  “My friend Izzy and I came earlier than we’d planned, and she left this morning,” she said. The intensity of his gaze was making her so nervous that she needed to be busy. As she walked across the kitchen she could feel his eyes on her. Without thinking, she opened the third drawer down and got out a steel mesh glove and an old knife with a long, thin, flexible blade. “You mind if I help?”

  “Knock yourself out.” He was surprised that she knew where the glove and knife were kept. “I take it you’ve been through the house thoroughly.”

  She took a fish head in her gloved left hand and cut down to the backbone. “Not really. I’m an architecture student and I’ve mostly been working since I got here.” She paused to give him time to say something, preferably to tell her who he was. But he was silent. “Anyway, I didn’t see all of the house.”

  “But you saw the kitchen.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know where he was going with this. She clamped her hand on the side of the fish and cut from the head down to the tail.

  Jared got up and went to stand next to the drainboard as she flipped the fish over to cut the other side. He watched as she pulled the fillet away, leaving the skin attached at the tail. A few more quick slices and the fish was done, perfectly filleted.

  He leaned back against the sink. “Who taught you to do that?”

  “My father. He loves to go fishing, so we went.”

  “Was he any good?”

  “Excellent.” As she spoke she picked up another bass off the counter.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “That would be nice,” she said. Inside, she was jumping up and down. Jared Montgomery is making me a drink. Can I put this on my résumé?

  “I’m afraid I don’t know how to make appletinis.”

  At his condescending tone, the elation left her. She was glad she had her back to him, as she couldn’t help the frown that ran across her face at his put-down. “That’s okay. Since I got to Nantucket all I’ve wanted to drink is rum. I like it with Coke and lots of lime.”

  It was Jared’s turn to frown. It’s what he drank, when he wasn’t sipping rum straight, and it’s what his aunt Addy liked the most. Rum was what all the Kingsleys, male and female, drank.

  “So what do you do?” Alix asked, and held her breath. How would he describe himself and what he did?

  “I build things,” he said.

  “Oh?” Her voice went up an octave. She lowered it. “Design and build?”

  “Naw. I’m not fancy. I just run around in my pickup and build what I can.”

  Alix paused in slicing the fish. It looked like he didn’t plan to tell her who he was. But did he have to flat-out lie? Did he actually think that a student of architecture wouldn’t know who he was? Wouldn’t recognize him? Could he be that naive? On the other hand, maybe he was just being modest. “Do you work here on Nantucket?” she asked.

  “Sometimes. But I have a company off-island.”

  “Do you?” She’d been in the lobby of the building in New York where his office was. Security wouldn’t let her get on the elevator, but she’d run her fingers over his name on the directory.

  “Yes, and I need to get back to work, so I’m leaving the island tomorrow morning. I probably won’t be back while …”

  “While I’m here?”

  He gave a quick nod.

  “I see,” Alix said, and she was very much afraid that she did understand. She’d been told that “Mr. Kingsley” would be on the island all summer, but it looked like he’d decided to stay away. Why? Did he really have a job that needed to be done? Or was he leaving because he didn’t want to be near a student? But maybe he didn’t want to brag. Perhaps if she encouraged him he’d open up. “My father’s an architect and he’s done a lot of construction,” she said. “What are you working on now?” She heard him pop the top on a can of Coke.

  “Nothing important.”

  “Who designed what you’re building?”

  “Nobody anyone’s ever heard of.”

  “Since I’m involved in architecture, I may know of him.”

  “They probably got the plan out of a magazine,” he said. “Here’s your drink. Want me to finish the fish?”

  “Sure,” she said. As she removed the glove and passed it to him, she took the drink he held out and met his eyes. What a liar, she thought.

  What a beauty, he thought.

  She went over to the table, sat down, and watched while he filleted the fish. Odd, she thought, that he cut it exactly the way her father had taught her to do it. Not a single stroke was different. There was a long, awkward pause. Maybe it would help if she directed him toward the small structures she’d seen hanging in his studio. “Nantucket is beautiful,” she said.

  “It is.”

  “Too bad you’re not staying. I’d love to see more of the houses on the island. Actually, I like any buildings. Well, with the exception of concrete block structures, and a few others. Anyway, I saw what I think were two garden sheds on Main Street that took my breath away. White, octagonal, green domed roofs, linked by a garden seat. Quite extraordinary.”

  Jared said nothing. He wasn’t about to get rooked into being a tour guide. She’d find out his profession soon enough, then she’d turn into a human question machine and drive him crazy. “How’s your drink? Too strong?”

  “I was wondering if you’d put any rum in it.”

  “That’s—” Surprise made him stop talking.

  “That’s what?”

  “It’s just that that’s what my aunt used to say.”

  “Oh,” Alix said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. Reminders of her must be painful.” She hesitated. “She was a nice woman.”

  “You remember her?”

  Alix was startled at his question and wasn’t sure what to reply. “I was here when I was four. Do you remember a lot from when you were that young?”

  A happy family, he thought. Father alive; mother alive. There were no clouds in their lives back then. “I remember this house,” he said, “and I remember Aunt Addy being in it.”

  There was a softness in his eyes that made her want to tell him the truth. “Did she sit in the family room and make something with her hands?”

  For the first time he didn’t look as though he’d just eaten something sour. “She did embroidery, and there are framed pieces around the house.”

  “And in the front parlor she had ladies to tea. I remember little cakes with yellow icing roses.”

  “Yes,” Jared said, smiling. “She loved yellow roses.”

  “You must miss her a lot,” Alix said softly.

  “I do. I spent the last three months of her life with her. She was a grand lady.” For a moment he looked at Alix. “You know how to fillet fish, but do you know how to cook them?”

  “I’m no chef but I do know how to fry bass. And I can make hush puppies.”

  “With beer or milk?”

  “Beer.”

  “And cayenne pepper in the batter?”

  “Of course.”

  “There isn’t much food in this kitchen, but I have onions and cornmeal in the guesthouse.”

  Alix realized that he was asking her to dinner. “Why don’t you go get them and I’ll …” She shrugged.

  “That sounds good.”

  The instant he was out the door, Alix ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Her suitcases had arrived but she hadn’t unpacked them. And the bags of clothes Izzy had bought for her were on the floor. But it would be too much to change clothes. Too obvious, too eager.

  She ran to the bathroom to put on a little mascara and a blot of lipstick. Why was her face so shiny?! She used the pretty compact her mother had given her and toned down her skin.

  She got back to the kitchen just as he opened the door. Their eyes met, but Alix turned away, her heart seeming
to flutter. Too soon, she told herself. Too soon after Eric, too soon after meeting this illustrious man, too soon for everything.

  He had a paper bag full of exactly what she needed to make hush puppies the way her father had taught her. It was interesting that he had the ingredients in his kitchen. Self-rising cornmeal and self-rising flour weren’t usually to be found in a bachelor’s kitchen.

  Without thinking what she was doing, she reached up and pulled a big porcelain bowl out of the cabinet, then took a wooden spoon from a drawer.

  “For someone who doesn’t remember when she was four, you do seem to know where things are.”

  “I do,” she said. “Izzy said it was creepy so I’ve kept quiet.”

  “I’m not easily creeped out,” he said as he handed her an egg.

  “Are you sure? What about horror movies? Or ghost stories?”

  “Horror movies, especially ones with chain saws, turn me into a whimpering jellyfish, but ghost stories make me laugh.”

  Alix was pouring oil into a deep saucepan. “Laugh? Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

  “I believe in real ones, not the chain-rattling kind. So tell me what you do remember. Places? Things? People?” He was watching her intently as she mixed the batter.

  “Some of all of it, I guess. I remember this kitchen well. I think I used to sit—” She put the bowl down and went to the table with its built-in seat. Beneath it was a drawer and she opened it. Inside was a thick tablet of drawing paper and an old cigar box that she knew was full of crayons. He peered over her shoulder as she lifted the cover of the pad.

  The drawings Alix had done as a child were still there—and each one was of a building. Houses, barns, windmills, a rose arbor, a potting shed.

  “It looks like I haven’t changed,” she said and turned to look at him. But he had walked away, and his back was to her. Again he was making sure she knew that he wanted nothing to do with her as a lowly student of architecture.

  Part of her wanted to say that she knew who he was, but the bigger part didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she knew. If he wanted to think he was anonymous, so be it. She went back to the stove.