Unforgettable You Read online

  “Your home is comforting. Being here…it’s comforting. That doesn’t make sense,” he said with a smile. “But it’s true.”

  He shifted for a few seconds before flicking his gaze to her. When he did, she smiled softly, the same kind of smile she gave to her mother-in-law when she started feeling overwhelmed by something. Moving around the counter, she sat next to him. “You’re from the Midwest, aren’t you?”

  “Indiana,” he confirmed.

  “Well, that explains it. Returning to the quiet of rural living after so much time in the city feels familiar,” she said.

  “I guess,” he said and took a big drink from his glass. He winced as he set his glass down. “Remind me to order some real wine.”

  She chuckled. “I’ll have you know that comes from a local winery. It’s won awards.”

  “It’s an acquired taste, then.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Will finished his drink and nodded toward the stove. “What are you making?”

  “Oh.” She jumped up and rushed to check the temperature of her milk. “Yogurt.”

  “You won’t forget my biscuits and gravy, right?”

  She glanced back and grinned at him. “Not a chance.”

  He creased his brow. “Am I making more work for you by asking?”

  Focusing on her task, Carrie shook her head. “You didn’t ask. I offered.”

  “Because I asked—” he started.

  “I don’t mind,” she said. The truth was, had Juliet demanded it or Donnie insisted, Carrie would have felt put out. She would have resented the request. But the way that Will’s eyes had lit with the hope of having a homemade breakfast had made her want to make biscuits from scratch.

  “Well, can I help?”

  She stopped stirring her starter batch into the warm milk. “Help…what?”

  He shrugged and then smiled. “I don’t know. I felt like I should offer.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “You’re lucky I haven’t kicked you out of my kitchen yet. Guests aren’t usually welcome here. There’s absolutely zero chance that I’ll let you cook anything.”

  “One of those controlling types, huh?”

  “Only in the kitchen,” she said lightly. The words had barely left her mouth before she realized they could easily be taken out of context. Rather than look at him to see if he’d caught on to that, she focused on putting the yogurt into the oven to incubate.

  “Well,” he said when she turned around. “If I’m going to be hanging out in here with you, I’m definitely buying better wine.”

  Carrie chuckled as he bid her a good night. Once he was gone, she took a drink from her glass. “It’s not that bad,” she muttered to herself.

  Chapter 3

  Laughter filled the living room as Mama finished telling one of her stories. Three days into their stay at the inn, and sitting in front of the fire listening to the elderly woman talk about her past had become one of Will’s favorite parts of his stay in Iowa. He was amazed that she could recount something so vividly that happened forty years ago but, according to Carrie, couldn’t remember that her son had passed away three years ago.

  When the laughter faded, Carrie set her wineglass down. “Mama, it’s getting late.”

  Doreen sighed. “That means she’d like me to go to bed and leave you young people alone.”

  “That’s right. You’re embarrassing me,” Carrie teased. She stood and waited for Doreen to rise beside her. The pair bid the group good night and headed upstairs.

  Will admired the way Carrie patiently walked next to the slower woman. An unexpected flash of guilt hit his gut. Several years ago, his father had been diagnosed with kidney failure. Will had paid the medical bills and hired a nurse to help his parents. He’d felt that had been enough. Watching Carrie take such good care of someone who wasn’t a blood relative stirred something inside him that didn’t sit well.

  He’d been in the middle of a film when his father had become ill. His older brother had assured Will there was nothing he could do, and Will had accepted that at face value. He hadn’t been there when his father’s health took a sudden turn for the worse. The next time he’d seen his dad was at the man’s funeral.

  He should have been there. Film budget and deadlines be damned. He should have rushed home and spent time with his father while he could. Though his mom assured Will it wasn’t his fault, the guilt Will felt weighed on him more and more with each passing day. Seeing Carrie with Doreen seemed to magnify all that.

  Will had chosen his career over his family. His mom could reassure him all she wanted, but Will knew it and his brother knew it too. Their relationship had never been the same since. Brian hadn’t come out and said what he was thinking, but the rift that had always been between them had grown into an uncrossable chasm.

  Will was yanked from his thoughts when Grant announced it was his bedtime as well. Left alone, Will reached for the script he’d been reading when the gathering started and began leafing through the pages. The lines were as flat as the page they were printed on. He frowned as he tossed the papers aside.

  Rising from the sofa, he walked to the mantel to look at the photos resting there, many of which were obviously originals from decades prior. A picture of Carrie and a man dressed for their wedding caught his attention. Carrie’s smile was genuine in the picture; the happiness she felt radiated from her. As he took in the soft curve of her oval face, he thought she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Even on her wedding day, she hadn’t caked her face with makeup. She was clearly comfortable with her looks, which was something he didn’t see much of in his line of work.

  “Still up?”

  Will looked over when Carrie walked back into the room. “You were a lovely bride.”

  She smiled as she moved to look at the photo he was holding. He swayed slightly when she leaned in close enough for him to inhale her scent—a sweetness that unexpectedly stirred something inside him. He glanced at her, but she was focused on the photo. She seemed completely unaware of the effect she’d had on him.

  When she did look up and catch his gaze, she scrunched her nose a bit. “I look so damn young in that picture. It wasn’t that long ago. Life certainly has a way of changing quickly, doesn’t it?”

  Her smile faded, and Will sensed sadness come over her.

  “Are you going to be up long?” she asked before he could point out the change in her. She stepped away from him and started straightening the pillows on the sofa, fluffing each one and setting them in a row.

  “Uh, I’ve got a pretty long scene to prepare for tomorrow, but those lines…” He frowned at his script lying on the sofa. “I can’t get them. They aren’t resonating with me.”

  She put the last pillow in place and then started gathering glasses. “I don’t know how you can possibly remember all that. I’m lucky to know my name half the time.”

  “Would you help me?”

  Her eyes filled with curiosity. “Help you what?”

  “Read lines with me.”

  “No.” She laughed quietly and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Please,” he all but begged. “I need help.”

  “Really, Will. The only time I even attempted to act was in a sixth-grade rendition of Snow White. It didn’t go well.”

  “I’m not asking you to act. I only need you to recite the lines.”

  Carrie shook her head. “I’d only confuse you more.”

  “I am completely lost already.” He swiped his script from where he’d left it. “It would help me tremendously.”

  “Can’t you act like you know your lines?”

  He smiled at her teasing before holding the pages out to her and giving her his most irresistible smile. Few people could defy him when he put on his charms. For a moment, he thought she might be in the minority, but then she gave in with a dramatic sigh.

  “Fine,” she muttered, putting the glasses back onto the coffee table. “But I’m not going to be
much help.”

  “All I need you to do is read what’s on the page and tell me if I get something wrong.”

  Taking the papers from him, she cleared her throat as she eased down onto the couch.

  “Start here,” he said, tapping at a line on the page.

  Carrie inhaled deeply before reading. “So here you are again, Mr. Jennings.”

  “No, no. You have to sound flustered.”

  She lifted her brows at him. “Flustered?”

  “I’m chasing after you, and you find it incredibly annoying.”

  “You just told me I don’t have to act.”

  “This isn’t acting,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s enunciation.”

  She knitted her brows together into an exaggerated scowl. “So here you are again, Mr. Jennings.”

  “Much better.”

  She glanced up at him from the script in her hand. “That is not your line.”

  “Oh, right.” Will scratched his temple lightly, as if that might trigger his memory, and then laughed. “I can’t remember.”

  “Alas, it would appear the fates have—”

  “This is terrible,” Will said, cutting her off.

  She scoffed and lowered the pages. “I told you I’m not good at this.”

  “The script,” he corrected. “The script is terrible. The movie is going to be terrible.”

  Carrie lowered the paper onto her lap. “Then why are you doing it?”

  Will didn’t know the answer to that. He knew what he was supposed to say. “The hottest director, the hottest actress. Put a little life back in my career. At least, that’s what my agent said. But honestly, I don’t know. Things haven’t been going well for me lately, so I thought signing on to this film would give me a much-needed boost.”

  “Even though you hate it?” she asked.

  “I don’t hate it.” His denial didn’t sound the least bit convincing. He exhaled heavily and tried again. “I’m unmoved by it. This script makes no sense to me.”

  Carrie scanned the words on the page. “It’s a romantic comedy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you expect to find deeper meaning in it?”

  He laughed softly, but it wasn’t with humor. His laugh held a sad kind of acceptance. “No, I wasn’t looking for deeper meaning. I’ve been at this a long time, you know. It used to feel like I was doing something with my life. I thought I was making a difference somehow. I’ve come to realize that was very presumptuous of me.”

  She was silent for several long moments, clearly processing his confession. “Why do you say that?”

  “Did you see the last film I made?”

  She grimaced, and he knew she had. He’d jumped at a project in a futile attempt to stay busy. His agent had warned him against it, but Will had been determined to do the indie film. That was just one mistake in a long string that had plagued him since his father’s death.

  “It was awful,” he said so she wouldn’t have to.

  “It was”—she paused—“lacking something.”

  Will grinned as he repeated her assessment. “Lacking something?”

  Blushing, she looked down. “So you’re making a movie you don’t like because you no longer trust your instincts?”

  “I didn’t…” He stopped when he realized her assessment wasn’t completely off the mark. “I guess. I wonder sometimes if I’ve overstayed my welcome. Maybe it’s time for me to look into a new career.”

  She widened her eyes before hesitantly asking, “Such as?”

  He shrugged. “Other than a few shitty jobs to feed myself, I’ve never really done anything else. All I know is that this isn’t what I was hoping it would be.”

  “The job or the lifestyle?”

  Again, she seemed to have been able to see through to the heart of the issue when he was still trying to deny the truth. “Both, I guess,” he admitted softly.

  “What would you like to do?”

  Will tried to imagine what he could do. He didn’t have any skills outside of the industry, none that would give him the ability to start over. He was staring down forty years old. That was hardly the time to be reevaluating his entire existence. “Maybe something behind-the-scenes. I could direct or…write. I’ve always wanted to write.”

  When he refilled his glass of wine, she picked up her glass from earlier in the evening and held it out to him. Will smiled, happy that she was asking for more. He’d given Donnie a list of wines he wanted sent to the inn, and they’d magically appeared that morning. He’d picked out a few bottles of red for the sole intent of proving to Carrie that her local winery wasn’t as good as she insisted. “This wine is better than that bottle we shared the other night, isn’t it?”

  Carrie laughed. “Much better. Do you think that will give your projects more meaning?” she asked as he filled her glass.

  “Maybe,” he said so quietly, he doubted she heard him. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading. He’d spent far too much time trying to avoid his inner demons to simply lay them bare so easily. “What about you? You must have some plan for life after this.”

  Creasing her brow, she asked, “Life after what? You mean after Mama?”

  “Not to sound callous,” he said hesitantly, “but yeah. Are you going to keep running the inn?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked into her glass as if in contemplation.

  “I ask because… Well, to be honest, you don’t seem to enjoy it much.”

  Carrie laughed, and that blush returned to her cheeks. “It shows?”

  He held up his fingers with as much space between them as he could manage. “Just a little.”

  “I’ll have to work on that,” she said as the color in her cheeks deepened.

  “Why are you doing it?”

  “It’s not the work, Will. I don’t mind the job. It’s…everything else. I came to work here when I was eighteen. It was more than a job. My mom passed away when I was young, and my dad, hard as he tried, never really knew what to do with a daughter. Doreen took me in and taught me how to run this place. When Mike and I got married, she really did become my mother. It wasn’t long after Mike was gone that I noticed her starting to forget things. Within a year of his death, she got her diagnosis. It’s up to me to care for her, but it’s also up to me to care for this old house. It gets to be a little much sometimes, that’s all.”

  He nodded. “I imagine it does. That’s a lot for one person to tackle alone.”

  “I want to keep her here as long as possible,” Carrie said as she swirled her wine. “That, unfortunately, takes money, and I’d stopped taking on guests some time ago. Donnie’s offer came at a time when I really needed it.”

  “But it’s a lot of work,” he offered.

  Carrie laughed lightly. “Yeah. It’s a lot. But don’t worry,” she said, darting her eyes to his. “I can handle it.”

  “It’s wonderful what you’re doing for her. Very noble.”

  “Noble?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It is.” He debated how much of his own struggles to share. She’d already figured out that he wasn’t keen on making this movie, but that was minor compared to the secrets that really pressed on his soul. “My father was ill for quite a while before he passed away. I didn’t make time to go see him.”

  Carrie sat quietly for a few moments before gently saying, “It’s not easy to see someone you care about struggling.”

  “No. But that’s not why I didn’t go home. I…I was working, and that seemed more important.”

  “You regret that,” she pointed out.

  Will nodded. “Yeah. I made a mistake.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Carrie said softly. “We’re human, Will. It’s what we do. We screw up and we learn and then we do better. Hopefully.”

  “Hopefully,” he said.

  Will hated seeing the sadness in her eyes, but he’d noticed it from the moment they’d met. Now, he was starting to understand why he felt so connected to her. His grand
father had told Will a million times when he was growing up that everyone was fighting a dragon nobody else could see. Will had only just begun to really understand what his grandfather had been trying to teach him.

  After a moment, he reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the most uplifting conversation we could have.”

  She shrugged as if to dismiss his apology, but when she looked at him, the depth of emotion in her eyes let him know he’d hit on a topic she didn’t want to delve into. “It’s not like I don’t think about it from time to time. Life changes. You gotta roll with it, or it’s going to take you down. Why put it off, right?”

  “Right. Why put it off? So, uh, what was that line again?”

  She laughed as she picked up the script. “This really is terrible.”

  He grinned as the misery on her face eased. “I know.”

  Carrie sat straight up in bed. There was nothing worse than the high-pitched screaming of a smoke alarm in the middle of the night. The irritation the sound caused lasted only a moment before fear kicked in.

  The smoke alarm was blaring in the middle of the night!

  Kicking the blankets off her suddenly energized body, she jumped out of bed and ran to her bedroom door, jerking it open.

  “What’s going on?” Grant asked.

  “Go,” Carrie instructed. “Get out.” When she started to go the other way, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. She looked back to find Will staring down at her. “Mama!”

  While everyone else headed for the stairs, they went to the end of the hall. Doreen’s door was wide open with no sign of the woman inside the room.

  “Oh, God.” Carrie turned, pushing past Will and running to the stairs. Please, please, please…

  She was certain that Mama had done something to set the house on fire. Carrie had feared this for a long time. She’d hidden matches, lighters, and replaced all the candles with battery-operated imposters. Doreen couldn’t be trusted with open flame. She was too forgetful. Too clumsy. Too untrustworthy. But now the house was on fire.