Down by the River Read Online Free Page A

the inn, she’d simply walk out on him. Jack Teague was exactly the sort of man she always carefully avoided.

C HAPTER 2
    J ack Teague’s day, before encountering Grace Conley, had started well. Earlier in the morning, he’d put together a good sale of two pieces of adjoining mountain lands over in Wears Valley with friend and Realtor Kendrick Lanier, helping the acreage go into the hands of a buyer who would wisely build on the land. They’d written land-protective conditions into the agreement, and the acreage high on Eagle Rock Mountain would now be protected from overdevelopment.
    Jack had shaken hands with Kendrick as he left his friend’s home office at his sprawling country house on Saddle Ridge. “We did well, friend,” Jack had said, giving Kendrick a slap on the back along with his handshake. “It’s a pleasure having you in the realty business over here in Wears Valley. I could never get any cooperation from the Inmans, who owned your realty business before, with any joint efforts to try to protect the environment.”
    â€œI want to do my part to preserve the beauty of this area,” Kendrick had replied. “As does Rosalyn.”
    Jack had watched Kendrick’s arm curl affectionately around his new wife’s waist. He and the former Rosalyn McCreary had only been married a year now. It seemed a good match. Jack had always thought Rosalyn a fine, handsome woman, but he’d respected her husband Radnor McCreary’s memory too much to make a pass at her when she’d been widowed. Besides, there had been the children. Jack drew the line at getting involved with women with young children. It wasn’t right somehow.
    As Jack left, he’d seen Kendrick and Rosalyn’s pretty little daughter, Caroline, out in the yard working in a flower bed near his car. She had looked up at him and smiled as he came down the driveway. At thirteen, just budding, she was pretty as a picture, Jack thought.
    â€œYou’re going to knock the boys dead soon, sweetheart.” He’d stopped beside Caroline and leaned over to take her hand and kiss it. “You’re turning into a lovely young woman.”
    She had blushed. “You said that at the wedding last year.”
    â€œDid I? Well, it was true then, and it’s true now.”
    Caroline had bitten her lip and studied him. “Are you really a gigolo, Mr. Teague?”
    Jack had bristled. “Who told you that?”
    â€œSomeone in the valley. It doesn’t sound very flattering. I think it means you like the girls.” She’d dropped her eyes.
    â€œIt doesn’t mean that at all, but people use the word to mean that.” He had considered whether to tell Caroline what the term meant.
    She had a right to know if she planned to bandy the word about. “Technically, a gigolo is a man kept as a lover by a woman, Caroline. Usually a young man.”
    â€œOh, well, that wouldn’t be right about you at all,” she’d said with candor. “I mean you’re not kept. And, you’re a father, too. Plus you’re old . . . I mean older.”
    Jack had winced at her honesty.
    â€œWell, whoever told you that term, you tell them what the word really means.”
    â€œI will.” She’d nodded solemnly. “Nobody likes to be called names not polite or true.”
    â€œI agree.” He had tweaked her cheek. “You and your brother come down and tube with my girls some day. The river runs right behind our house.”
    She’d brightened. “We will, Mr. Teague. Thanks.”
    Jack had left her to her weeding and started his drive down the mountain. He frowned, remembering her words. He’d been called worse names in his time, he knew. Usually, he laughed them off, but lately he hadn’t been able to laugh things off so easily. Maybe Caroline was right. Maybe he was getting old. Hitting his fiftieth birthday last year had caused him to take