A Family Likeness

“The house was built by Josiah Edgewood,” she began. “Josiah was a Scottish nobleman and adventurer who came out to Canada when he was a young man and discovered gold up north in the Caribou region. Josiah made a fortune at his mine and fell in love with the area. He picked the Okanagan Valley for its spectacular scenery and mild winters, and started trying to convince his new wife to come and join him here.”

“But she wouldn’t?” the young bride asked, still looking up at her husband as if unable to believe that any woman would be reluctant to follow her man to the ends of the earth. He dropped a kiss on her nose.

“She was afraid. Poor little Lady Edgewood,” Gina said. “She was barely out of her teens and quite frail, and she thought this whole country was overrun with wolves and grizzly bears. She refused even to consider living in the wilderness unless Josiah could provide her with some decent accommodation.”

“So he built this big house?” the groom asked.

Gina smiled. “Wait till you hear the story. Josiah moved the house. Most of this is the original Edgewood Manor from the family estate near Kilmarnock in Scotland. Josiah had the whole structure dismantled and every piece marked. It was shipped across the ocean in crates, a proceeding that took several years to accomplish. The house was reassembled like a huge jigsaw puzzle right here on the shores of Okanagan Lake. All to please his darling Elizabeth.”

Both young people gazed at her, enchanted. Gina understood their rapt expressions, because she, too, always felt a little thrill whenever she thought about Josiah’s great venture.

If she could ever meet a man like that, a real man with a generous spirit and a strength to match her own, maybe then she wouldn’t be so reluctant to share her life…

“So what happened?” the girl asked. “Did Elizabeth come and live here with him? I hope she didn’t die on the ship coming over and leave him all heartbroken or anything.”

“She certainly didn’t,” Gina said cheerfully. “She arrived to find her manor house completely reproduced on the shores of a Canadian lake, right down to the chandeliers and the stained glass on the stair landings. She was so happy she gave Josiah a big hug and a kiss and settled right in to have babies.”

“How many?”

“Eight. Six girls and two boys. She became the queen of local society and a generous patron of the arts and charities, too. She lived in the house until she died more than seventy years later. That was about 1960, I believe.”

“What happened to the house after that?”

“It went through some pretty hard times,” Gina said. “None of Josiah Edgewood’s offspring wanted to live here, so they tried various money-making projects, like opening the manor up for day tourists and dividing it into apartments. Both the value and appearance declined rapidly, and about fifteen years ago they decided to put it on the market.”

“And?” the young man asked, toying absently with a strand of his wife’s long blond hair.

“And I bought it,” Gina said. “I’d just finished a degree course in hotel management. I was on my summer vacation, like you are. I came out to Azure Bay with a friend to spend a day swimming and lazing on the beach, saw this tumbledown old place and fell in love at first sight. I knew it would be perfect for a bed-and-breakfast, which was something I wanted to run.”

“But you must have been so young!” the bride said in awe. “Younger than we are, even. How could you ever buy a big place like this?”

“Well, for one thing, I had a small inheritance from my grandmother.” Gina’s voice was offhand, but her stomach tightened at the memory of that awful time. “And the bank was really impressed with my plans for restoring the building and developing a business.”

“Bankers aren’t all that easy to impress.” The young doctor looked at her with frank admiration. “Nowadays it seems they only lend money to people who already have lots.”

Gina gazed across the rippling turquoise waters of the lake. “I know. It all happened so long ago the details are pretty hard to remember. But I managed it somehow,” she said with forced casualness. “So, you two are off for a swim?”

“If the water’s warm enough. Yesterday it still felt like ice.”

Gina laughed at the girl’s expression. “Okanagan Lake is more than eighty miles long from one end to the other, you know, and it’s mostly fed by snow melting up in the mountains. The water doesn’t really warm up for another month or so. But with the hot weather we’ve been having, it should be getting tolerable.”

“Jenny’s just scared of the lake monster,” her husband said, ruffling his wife’s hair fondly. “What’s his name again?”

“Ogopogo,” Gina told him. “Lots of the local people say they’ve seen him. He’s supposed to be about sixty feet long, quite playful, with several humps and a head much like a horse.”

“Have you ever seen him?” Jenny asked.

Gina smiled. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’m not telling. Hurry up and go for your swim, or you won’t be back in time for tea.”

“I love teatime,” the husband said with enthusiasm.

“Forget the tea and cakes,” his wife teased. “The sherry’s what he really likes.”

The young man grinned, then ran off along the path to the beach, laughing as his wife came scrambling after him.

Gina watched them until they disappeared behind a rocky promontory. At last she turned and headed back up to the house, climbing the stairs to the gold room with its piles of wallpaper scraps.

SOON SHE WAS ABSORBED in her task again, lulled by the mechanics of the job, the careful measuring and fitting and the almost magical transformation as the fresh new paper covered the faded walls.

Gina hummed softly, thinking about curtains. The old lace panels looked limp and discolored against the new paper. Maybe she’d make a set of white priscillas for the window seat. Or some muslin panels on fling rods, trimmed with macramé lace…

She frowned, considering, and took a step closer to examine the window frame. In most of her decorating projects, she tried to stick to an authentic Victorian look, which was in keeping with the rest of the house. But window coverings, those were a real challenge.

She preferred a light fresh look in draperies, something that let in the marvelous scenery and the fragrant breezes from the garden and the lake. She hated the Victorian habit of swathing windows in yards and yards of heavy brocade and damask, often further cluttered with fringes and valances, all designed to keep the sun at bay. She paused to look out the window, pleased by the sights and sounds of her little world. Far below on the beach, she could see the honeymoon couple lying on the beach, stretched out on their dark blue Edgewood towels, their hands touching.

The elderly couple had left the sunroom and were strolling in the garden, admiring the geraniums. No other guests were in evidence, although five of Gina’s nine rooms were currently occupied. People tended to scatter after breakfast, off exploring the countryside or visiting one of the resort towns along the lake.

But they were usually careful to get back in time for afternoon tea, served with cakes and sherry in the wood-paneled library. This charming custom had been established with great success during Gina’s early years at Edgewood Manor, and was one of the features that brought people back year after year.

Through the open window, she could hear a gentle medley of sounds. Bees hummed drowsily among the flowers in the garden, Mary’s pudgy poodle whimpered somewhere nearby—obviously still suffering from hunger pangs—and sea gulls cried around the dock.

It was heaven, Gina thought, absently fingering one of the lace panels. The place was simply heaven.

“Hello?” a voice said behind her, startling her. “Are you Gina Mitchell?”

She dropped the curtain, whirled around—and found herself staring in confusion at one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen.

CHAPTER TWO

GINA STUDIED the newcomer. He appeared to be about forty, no more than average height, but powerfully built. He wore casual pleated slacks and a white polo shirt, and had curly dark hair, heavily frosted with gray at the temples. His face, with its finely chiseled features and clear intelligent blue eyes, was severe in repose, despite the fullness of his lower lip. She thought his mouth hinted at a sensual nature, well controlled but very intense.

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” His tone was courteous. “My name’s Alex Colton. I phoned earlier to say I’d be coming out this afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s right. My housekeeper mentioned your call. But I’ve been so busy today I forgot all about it.”

Colton looked around at the wet scraps of paper littering the hardwood, then at the flowered walls, now almost completely covered. He turned back to Gina with a smile. “It looks great. You’re quite the decorator.”

The smile surprised her. It transformed his face, driving away the severity and making him seem happy, almost boyish. But as suddenly as it had appeared, the smile faded and the severity returned.

Or was it sadness? Gina wondered. If a woman lived with this man, she’d probably spend a lot of her time trying to make him smile.

Gina wiped her hands briskly on her shorts and moved past him to the door. “My housekeeper mentioned that you were interested in renting a room?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I wanted to discuss terms,” he said. “If you have a few minutes to spare.”

“I always have time to spare for business.”

Gina led the way down the stairs, conscious of Alex Colton just behind her. For such a powerfully built man, he had a tread as light as a cat.

“That window is magnificent,” he said, gazing upward. “Do you happen to know who did the stained glass?”

Gina paused in the foyer by the newel post, fingering an intricate carving of grape leaves in the polished oak. For the second time that afternoon, she told the story of Josiah Edgewood and his reluctant bride.

Colton stood above her on the stairs and listened in apparent fascination, emotions playing visibly across his face. The man was such a good audience that Gina had to force herself to stop talking. She felt as if she could go on for hours, telling him stories about the house and its history, enjoying the way his eyes lit up and that elusive smile touched his mouth.

“Well, it seems my wife was right, as usual,” he said at last. “I think this place is going to be perfect for us.”

His wife.

Gina was surprised and a little annoyed with herself for her swift surge of disappointment. After all, she was hardly the sort of woman who looked on every man as a romantic prospect.

She led the way across the foyer and into her office. Moving behind the broad oak desk, she gestured to one of the leather chairs nearby and reached into a drawer for the reservation book. Her guest settled in a chair and examined the placid scene beyond the window.

“When were you and your wife thinking of coming to stay with us, Mr. Colton?”

He glanced at her, looking startled and unhappy, and turned back to his study of the yard. “What’s wrong with that dog?” he asked.

Gina followed his gaze, watching as Mary’s fat white poodle lumbered past the window and settled near a clump of pink alyssum, whining piteously.

“She’s hungry,” Gina said. “Her name’s Annabel and I’m afraid she’s on a diet.”

“She certainly should be,” Colton said with another of those brief shining smiles. “But she doesn’t seem to have a lot of willpower, does she?”

“Not a lot,” Gina agreed. “Annabel doesn’t believe in suffering silently.”

She stole a glance at her visitor, who was still watching the dog. He looked so intrigued that once again she had to suppress the urge to keep talking, to tell him all about Mary and Roger and their running conflict over the care and feeding of Annabel.

“We’re getting a lot of bookings for the summer,” Gina said, studying her reservations again. “But we have a few weekend rooms left in June, and a fair number of openings in the fall, though Christmas is already—”

“I want the whole summer,” he said abruptly.

Gina looked at him in astonishment. “The whole summer?”

“That is, if the place looks as great under close inspection as it does on first impression.”

She fingered her pen nervously. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr. Colton, that our prices are…somewhat higher than normal accommodation rates in the area.”

“About a hundred and fifty dollars a day,” he agreed calmly. “My wife had a brochure about the place, and I hope it isn’t too far out-of-date. Are those .prices still accurate?”

Gina nodded. “There’s quite a lot of variation from room to room,” she said. “Some of the smaller rooms are less than a hundred a day, but the attic suite, for instance, is two-fifty.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because of its size and the amenities. There’s a wood-burning fireplace, a king-size sleigh bed on a platform fitted with steps, a large antique bathroom with a two-person whirlpool tub and a covered balcony overlooking the lake.”

“Sounds like a honeymoon suite,” he said.

“Often it is.”

“And is the attic suite occupied at the moment?” he asked.

“There’s a young couple from Minnesota staying there for the weekend. They’ll be gone on Tuesday.”

“Well, it sounds beautiful, but probably not exactly what I’m looking for. What about that room you were working in?”

“That’s the gold room,” Gina said. “It’s about midrange. It has leaded-glass casement windows, a gas fireplace and a small balcony. It’s a hundred and seventy.”

“And if I took it for two months? Would I have to pay—” he paused a moment to think “—ten thousand dollars?”

“Of course not. I could offer a substantially decreased rate for a long-term stay. And all our guests are treated to a wonderful three-course breakfast and an afternoon tea in the library.”

Colton leaned back in his chair. “Would the gold room be free for the entire summer?”

“I think I could make arrangements to have it available,” Gina said, keeping her face carefully expressionless. She could never recall having a room booked for sixty consecutive days to the same person. A stay at Edgewood Manor was usually an expensive luxury for her guests. It was a chance to escape from the real world, to be pampered by the staff for a few days and swathed in the sumptuous elegance of a bygone era.

Sometimes travelers from faraway places such as Australia or Japan stayed for a week or more if they had a particular interest in the Okanagan region. But a booking of two months was simply unheard-of. It would require some juggling on her part and moving of guests to other rooms. But she had nothing on file to indicate that anybody had specifically requested the gold room, so it should be all right…

While she was examining the reservation book, Colton startled her again.

“Before you get too involved in that,” he said, “I probably should mention that I’ll be needing another room, as well.”

“Two rooms? For the entire summer?” Gina looked up at him sharply.

He was sitting in relaxed fashion in the leather chair and had returned his gaze to the window. The afternoon sunlight etched his profile softly with gold.

Gina felt a rising annoyance.

This had to be some kind of scam. Maybe he was a journalist, planning to do a sensationalist article on inflated accommodation prices in resort areas, without the slightest concept of how much it cost to operate a huge old place like this.

“Look,” she began stiffly, “if you’re trying to make some kind of point, I’m not sure I understand what it is.”

He turned in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Gina’s anger faded to uncertainty once more. His gaze was so clear and honest, his face quietly appealing. “We don’t normally have such extended bookings,” she said at last. “A stay at Edgewood Manor is a weekend luxury for most people, Mr. Colton. It’s not the kind of place where people tend to book a room for two whole months. And,” she added, looking down at her reservation book to avoid his thoughtful gaze, “certainly not two rooms.”

Colton sat forward in his chair. His face suddenly looked tired and drawn. “I see. But it’s allowed? I mean, you’ll still rent me the rooms if I want them?”

“Why do you need two rooms?” Gina asked bluntly.

“My daughter will be spending the summer here, as well. She’s fourteen.”

Gina still felt nervous and uncertain. She couldn’t seem to read the man, couldn’t determine if he was utterly sincere or merely feeding her a line for some obscure reason of his own.

She decided to play along and see what happened. Maybe he really was on the level. And renting two rooms for the whole summer was certainly profitable for her…“All right.” She consulted the book again. “But there’ll be a problem, I’m afraid, if. you want your daughter in a room adjoining yours. On the second floor we only have the blue and gold rooms and the Edgewood master suite, which is quite expensive and also heavily booked.”

“Well, what about the blue room?”

Gina shook her head. “A number of couples have strong emotional attachments to the blue room. It’s already reserved for quite a few weekends this summer. If your daughter stayed there, she’d have to move out at regular intervals to a different room while the blue room was being used.”

Colton shook his head. “Oh, she wouldn’t care for that, I’m afraid. Like most teenagers, Steffi travels with a lot of stuff. It takes a small army to move it.”

Gina examined the reservation book again. “Let’s see. Fourteen years old…” she murmured thoughtfully. “Maybe she’d like the patio room. It’s on the main floor, with a French door opening onto the terrace. It’s readily accessible to the beach path, and it’s also one of the smaller, less expensive rooms. You can see the door to it over there, in fact.”

She gestured out the window toward the side wing of the mansion. There was a door at ground level across the leafy yard, with leaded-glass panels set into rails of antique brass that winked brightly in the sunlight.

Colton’s eyes sparkled with interest. “May I see the room?”

“Of course.” Gina got up and led the way out of her office, conscious again of him following close behind. “It’s quicker to go out through the back,” she said, opening a door into a wide hallway floored in oak and smelling deliciously of fresh bread.

“What a heavenly aroma,” he said, sniffing in pleasure.

“Mary’s baking this afternoon. She’s the cook and housekeeper. That’s the kitchen,” Gina added as they passed a big airy room full of glass-fronted cabinets. “Guests are welcome to drop in and visit while Mary’s working. And she’s always very generous about sharing her recipes.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

Gina nodded. “I’ll introduce you on the way back. Hello, Roger,” she said as the caretaker passed them, carrying his freshly carved spindle and a can of wood stain.

Roger smiled at Gina and Alex Colton, his face creasing with warmth. “I have to match the wood stains,” he told them, brandishing the spindle. “It usually takes about seven attempts before I get it just right.”

“That’s Roger Appleby,” Gina told her visitor as the handyman vanished into the foyer. “He looks after things for me around the hotel. He also plays wonderful music on a hundred-year-old cello.”

“I’m liking this place more and more,” Alex Colton said, smiling down at her.

The two of them went out the back and down the broad steps to the yard. Annabel caught sight of them and trotted awkwardly across the lawn, gazing up at them with wretched appeal.

“She looks even fatter up close,” the man said, bending to pet her.

Gina watched, liking the way he caressed the dog. His hands looked strong and competent, but very gentle. She realized she was staring and turned away quickly to cross the yard, heading for the shaded flagstone terrace.

“Is all the landscaping authentic Victorian, too?” he asked.

“Most of it. Lady Edgewood had a lot of shrubs brought over from Scotland, and they do quite well in this climate. There’s even some heather growing on the slope up there. Of course, I’ve added other perennials, and Mary has a big garden that provides most of our vegetables during the summer. And we make all our own jams and preserves.”

“Enchanting,” Alex Colton said sincerely, looking around at the shimmering lake, the blue-shadowed mountains on both sides of the valley and the roofs of the little town of Azure Bay in the distance. “Really beautiful. I think this summer is going to be good for us.”

Gina watched him, struck by the sadness in his face. He looked utterly worn-out, she thought with a rush of sympathy, despite his obvious physical strength.

“I was sure,” she muttered, rummaging in the pocket of her shorts, “I had a master key somewhere. Now what did I…”

Gina felt a growing embarrassment as he watched her place the contents of her pockets, item by item, on a stone retaining wall. There were two polished stones that she’d found on the beach that morning after her swim, as well as a piece of flint that could possibly be a chipped arrowhead, and a length of bent wire she planned to use on the shed door until Roger could find a lock.

But the key didn’t emerge. She went on lining things up on the wall, ignoring his amused glance.

A lottery ticket she hadn’t found the time to check on yet, two feathers, a recipe for peach chutney jotted on a table napkin, a couple of pieces of toffee wrapped in gold foil, a tiny plastic replica of Batman, a pocketknife with a wooden handle, a miniature compass in a gold case—

“A compass!” he exclaimed, picking up the little object. “Does it work?”

“Of course,” Gina said briskly. “Ah, here’s the key,” she said in relief, sweeping the other things back into her pockets.

“Why do you carry a compass?”

“You never know when you might get lost in the woods around here. A compass is a really handy thing to have.”

His eyes sparkled. “You’re just like a ten-year-old boy. Pockets full of interesting stuff. I like that, Miss Mitchell.”

He handed Gina the compass and she returned it to her pocket, trying hard to look like the mature and professional manager of a successful business. But it had been so unnerving to have him examining that row of objects.

She resolved to clean out all the junk from her pockets as soon as Alex Colton left and to try harder in future to refrain from picking up every interesting thing that caught her eye.

“Is the patio room occupied at the moment?” Colton asked. “I’d hate to barge in on somebody.”

Gina shook her head. “There was a couple here for two days, but they left yesterday morning. I’m afraid they complained to Roger that Annabel was making a lot of noise,” she added.

“Steffi is going to love Annabel,” Colton said with a fleeting grin. “Although,” he added, “there’s a very real danger she might be tempted to sneak some food to the poor thing.”

“Oh, goodness, I hope not.” Gina unlocked the door. “Roger does that all the time. Mary gets very upset with him.”

“I think,” he repeated, following her into the room, “I’m really going to like this place.”

He was immediately charmed by the patio room, which had a curtained window seat, a walk-in closet and a small en suite bathroom.

“Perfect,” he declared. “I’ll take this room, as well as the gold room, all right?”

“You haven’t even asked about the price,” Gina said, leading the way back into the yard.

“I’m sure you’ll be fair.”

Gina paused by the retaining wall and looked up at him. “How can you be sure of that?”

He hoisted himself onto the stone ledge and smiled at her. “Because you carry feathers and a compass in your pocket.”

She hesitated, feeling awkward.

“Sit here with me, Miss Mitchell,” he said, patting the sun-warmed stone beside him. “I do have a few more questions about the hotel.”