Free The Inn at Eagle Point by Sherryl Woods Page B

doesn't, waffles sound good," Abby replied.

They were silent until they got to the café in the next block. When Abby
reached out to open the door, Jess put her hand on top of her sister's, then
waited until Abby met her gaze. "I really am sorry for what I said."

Abby sighed. "I know."

Jess studied her sister, then grinned. "Bet I know something you don't know."

"What's that?"

"Trace Riley still has the hots for you."

"You're crazy."

Jess shook her head. "Know something else? I'm almost a hundred percent
certain it works both ways."

Abby drew herself up until her back was ramrod-straight, her expression regal
and dismissive. "You could not be more wrong."

Jess wasn't impressed by her sister's performance. "We'll see."

In fact, watching the two of them trying to deny what was obvious to any
observer, might be just about the only amusing part of this entire messed-up
situation.
    *
* *
    Abby was in no mood for the interrogation that awaited her
at home. Gram and Mick were going to insist on hearing every detail about the
meeting, and she wasn't sure she had the stomach for filling them in. Of
course, it had occurred to her more than once that one sure way of extricating
herself from the situation would be to let her father step in. Even Jess had
mentioned that possibility, though she'd looked thoroughly defeated when she'd
said it. Abby had known right then that she couldn't do it.

When she got to the house, she found Mick on the porch looking more frazzled than
she could ever recall seeing him. There were unidentifiable stains on his
shirt, his complexion was pale and he was leaning over the railing drawing in
deep breaths.

"Dad?" she asked, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

Color flooded his cheeks.

"Dad, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"With me? Nothing. It's the girls. Both of them started complaining of
headaches and looked glassy-eyed right after you left here this morning. I
figured they didn't get enough sleep last night, but your grandmother seems to
think they both have the measles. She said you didn't get them
vaccinated."

"That's right—at the time the thinking was that the MMR vaccine might
overwhelm an immature immune system, and there was even a theory it caused
autism. I didn't want to take the risk. How are they now?"

"They're asleep, so I came out here for a couple of minutes."

"You probably ought to shower and change your clothes," she said,
astounded by the obvious signs that he'd pitched in and helped. "I'll go
up and take over from Gram. I'm sure she could use a break, too. I wish you'd
called me."

"We agreed that the meeting at the bank was too important to be
interrupted. Besides, we've both had plenty of experience with sick kids
before. They weren't in any danger," he said defensively.

"I know that. Thanks for taking care of them."

"Part of the job," he said with a shrug. "You want to tell me
how the meeting went?"

"I really want to check on the girls first."

He nodded. "Of course you do. You need anything, holler."

Inside, she was on her way upstairs when she met her grandmother coming down.
"I'm so sorry you had to deal with all this. If I'd had any idea they'd
even been exposed to measles, I wouldn't have brought them down here to
visit."

"Pretty hard to keep children from getting sick when they're around other
kids. Tricky with two of them, especially. It's a good thing your father was
here. Did you see him?"

"He's on the porch. I think seeing them sick rattled him more than he
wants to let on."

"No one wants to see someone they love in pain," Gram said.
"Your father's no tougher than the rest of us on that score."

"Well, as soon as I've looked in on the girls, I'll come down and make you
both some lunch or some tea, whatever you want."

Upstairs, she changed quickly into shorts and a blouse, then slipped into
Connor's old room and noted the pile of dirty sheets beside the door. She'd
take those downstairs with her and get them into the washer. Kneeling between
the twin beds, she was