River Road(7)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

“I’m thrilled, of course, that he doesn’t intend to rip out my throat,” Lucy said.

“He hasn’t gone for anyone’s throat for at least a week.” Mason tossed the gleaming wrench into the air and caught it with a barely noticeable twist of his wrist, making it look easy. “Heard you were in town to clean out your aunt’s place and put it on the market.”

“That’s the plan.” She stopped rubbing Joe’s ears and straightened.

She was determined to remain as cool as Mason. It wasn’t easy. She was still struggling to get past the shock of coming face-to-face with him. She had expected to see his uncle behind the counter when she walked into the hardware store.

The possibility that she might run into Mason while she was in Summer River had occurred to her, but she had dismissed it as extremely remote. According to the last update from Sara some six months ago, Mason was in Washington, D.C., where he and his brother ran a very expensive, very low-profile, very sophisticated private security consulting business.

“How long will you be around?” Mason asked.

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. She made a show of glancing at her watch. “Less than three minutes into this conversation and already it sounds like an interrogation. In hindsight I may have made a mistake when I advised you to go into law enforcement all those years ago.”

“You made the suggestion. I’m the one who made the decision.”

What in the world was that supposed to mean? she wondered. Suddenly she got that faint, tiny little inner ping of knowing, the same sensation she experienced when she was closing in on a missing heir. Something bad had happened to Mason Fletcher. She would have bet good money that it was linked to his career path. And, being Mason Fletcher, he was taking full responsibility for the decision that had sent him down that road. Mason hadn’t changed, she thought. He was the kind of man who would always take full responsibility—even for stuff that, technically speaking, wasn’t his responsibility.

She sought a neutral topic of conversation.

“I’m glad to see that the hardware store survived,” she said. “When did your uncle buy it?”

“A few months after he retired.”

“It’s the last store on the block that was here when I used to visit Aunt Sara. This town has really changed.”

Most of the old, traditional stores on Main Street had been replaced with upscale shops and trendy eateries. Fletcher Hardware—bordered on one side by a wine shop and on the other side by an art gallery—was a stubborn anachronism.

Mason surprised her with a wry smile. “Welcome to the new, improved wine-country boutique town of Summer River. But in case you’re wondering, the old Summer River is still here, just beneath the surface.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning it’s still a small town. News travels fast.”

Lucy nodded. “Which is how you knew that I was here.”

“A lot of people know you’re here, Lucy,” he said.

She raised her brows in polite inquiry. “Is that a warning?”

“Maybe. The fact that you are Sara’s sole heir has stirred up some deep waters.”

“Yes, I know.”

She had been ignoring phone calls from lawyers and realtors for more than a month while she considered how to deal with her inheritance.

“That’s why I asked you how long you plan to stay,” Mason said.

“The answer to your question is that I don’t know how long I’ll be in town.” She was determined not to let him intimidate her. “A couple of weeks, I think. I need to make arrangements to pack and move my aunt’s belongings, and then I have to get the house ready to put on the market.”

“The place should sell fast,” Mason said. “It’s a real nice little example of the Craftsman style, and one thing that has come out of Summer River going upscale is that property values have skyrocketed. Folks looking for a weekend house in wine country love that kind of architecture. But the real value is in the property.”

“The old orchard?”

“It’s prime vineyard land. Worth a bundle in this market. Every new Silicon Valley billionaire wants to open his very own winery and put his name on a label. It’s a major status symbol.”

“I noticed that most of the orchards and farms are gone.”

“They’ve been disappearing for years. I’m surprised you didn’t know that. But then, you never came back to visit Sara after you left thirteen years ago, did you?”

The comment, freighted as it was with stern disapproval, hit her like a bucket of cold water. Anger flashed through her.

“Okay, that answers one question,” she said.

“What?”

“I knew the town had changed, but when I walked in here I wondered if you had changed. Clearly the answer is no. You are still in the habit of jumping to conclusions, assuming the worst and giving lectures.”

He thought about that for a moment and then inclined his head half an inch. “You know what? You’re right. Maybe I did jump to conclusions. So why didn’t you come to visit your aunt for the past thirteen years?”

“What makes you so sure I haven’t been back here?”

“Deke mentioned that you never returned.”

“Your uncle implied that I ignored my aunt all these years?”

“He just commented that you hadn’t come back, that’s all.” Once again Mason tossed the steel wrench casually into the air and caught it with fluid ease. “He said you never returned after that summer when I pissed you off by yanking you out of the party at Harper Ranch Park.”

That stopped her. “The old Harper Ranch is now a park?”

“The town took it over a couple of years ago. Grass, picnic tables, a ball field, playground, dog-walking areas, the works. You wouldn’t recognize the place.”

“I see. Well, as it happens, your uncle is right. This is the first time I’ve returned to Summer River since that night.”

“Why?”

She gave him a serene go-to-hell smile. “It’s really none of your business, is it?”

“Nope, just curious.”

Thirteen years ago everyone said you didn’t want to mess with Mason Fletcher. Nothing had changed except that he was now the man she had known that he would become and then some. It was as if he had been tempered in fire like the steel blade of some ancient sword. Everything about him had gotten harder, stronger, more relentless. The sharp planes and angles of his face had become fierce. Time had added some sleek, solid muscle and endowed him with the confident air of a man who knows what he wants, what he will tolerate and where he draws the line.