The High Price of Secrets(85)

                The current affairs piece was wrapping up and Tamsyn forced her attention back to the screen.

                “And do you have a name for the center?” the presenter asked.

                “Yes, I do. I’m naming it for a very special woman. To honor her strength and my love and admiration for her, I’m calling it, Tamsyn’s Place.”

                Tamsyn didn’t hear whatever it was the presenter said next. All she could hear were Finn’s words repeating in her head as she tried to comprehend the enormity of his action in wanting to name the center after her. She didn’t deserve the accolade. She would have thought, after all they’d been through, the last thing he’d have wanted would be the constant reminder of her in his life. But it seemed she was very wrong. And if she was wrong about that, maybe she’d been wrong about other things as well.

                She looked at the documents poking out from her handbag lying on the hotel bed—the copy of legal title to the land her mother had left her, and realized why looking at it caused that niggling sense of familiarity. It was the land Finn had tried to get for the easement—the one he needed for the road to Tamsyn’s Place. And as she stared at the papers, she knew what she needed to do.

                More, she now knew exactly where her place was. And maybe in going to claim it, she could stand to be spontaneous just one more time after all….





                                      Twenty-Four

                The persistent hammering at the front door woke Finn from his slumber on the couch where he’d collapsed last night. The racket matched the hammering in his head.

                Last night, all his duties to everyone else behind him for a while, he’d done some serious damage to a bottle of whiskey and now he was paying the price. Still, it had been worth it for the brief oblivion it had given him. He mourned Ellen, but he was dying inside for what he’d done to Tamsyn and for how his choices had lost her from his life for good.

                He caught sight of himself in a wall mirror and made a sound of disgust. He looked terrible. Hair unkempt, clothing slept in, face unshaven. Maybe he could just scare away whoever was at the door without having to speak—something he was sure would make his head ache even more.

                Finn swung the front door open with a growled greeting and felt the world tilt at his feet when he saw Tamsyn standing there. He rubbed his eyes—clichéd, he knew, but he couldn’t quite believe what he saw.

                “You look like hell,” she said, walking past him and into the house before he could say anything. “We need to talk.”

                “By all means, come in,” he said, closing the door behind her and following her down the hall to the kitchen.

                He stood there, saying nothing, just drinking her in as she moved around the kitchen preparing a fresh carafe of coffee. She was a sight for sore eyes and he was glad those sore eyes didn’t deceive him, but what the hell was she doing here?

                Once the coffee was brewed, she poured them each a mug and handed one to him.

                “Drink,” she ordered then went to sit at the casual dining table in front of the French doors.

                He joined her and took a long draw of the life-sustaining brew. She’d made it strong. Good, he had the feeling he’d really need his wits about him for whatever came next.

                “I have a proposition for you,” she said, pulling a sheaf of papers from her voluminous handbag and setting them on the table.