Loving Lizbeth

By Ruth Ryan Langan

Book Two in The Sullivan Sisters Series

Reserved innkeeper Lizbeth Sullivan isn't prepared for the feelings unlocked by guest Colin St. James. But he's filled with a sense of wanderlust, and she has already settled into her dream life in a small town. Can two such opposites ever find true love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Ryan Langan
• Release date: Apr 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463264140

Ruth Ryan Langan

New York Times best-selling author Ruth Ryan Langan, who also writes under the pseudonym R. C. Ryan, is the author of over 100 novels, both contemporary romantic-suspense and historical adventure. Quite an accomplishment for this mother of five who, after her youngest child started school, gave herself the gift of an hour a day to follow her dream to become a published author. Ruth has given dozens of radio, television and print interviews across the country and Canada, and has been quoted in such diverse publications as THE WALL STREET JOURNAL and COSMOPOLITAN. Ruth has also been interviewed on CNN NEWS, as well as GOOD MORNING AMERICA.

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Prologue

Dublin, Ireland—1997

Grandpa Sully. Nine-year-old Lizbeth Sullivan’s hazel eyes were damp with tears. Her sad voice was little more than a hushed whisper. Why are Mom and Daddy sending me away to boarding school? Did I do something bad?

Don’t be silly, LizzyBeth. Her grandfather used his pet name for his adored granddaughter as he drew her into the circle of his big arms. They have to leave for Paris to start another hotel, and they worry that they’ll be too busy to see to you and your sisters. It takes a lot of hard work and time to get a new business like ours up and running smoothly.

But I could help. And so could Alex and Celeste. Lizbeth and her sisters always worked in the family hotels when they were home on holidays. It was not uncommon to see a ten-year-old standing on a ladder, washing windows. Or a nine-year-old in the kitchen, helping the salad chef. Or an eightyear-old dusting furniture.

Patrick Joseph Sullivan, who was called Paddy by his friends and Grandpa Sully by the three little girls who adored him, tousled her yellow curls. I know you could help. And so could your sisters. But you can help even more by being good little girls and going off to school without a whimper. Can you do that, LizzyBeth?

But I’ll miss you and Grandma. And Alex says we’ll all be separated once we get to that fancy school. She’ll be in class with the bigger girls. And Celeste will be in with younger ones. And I’ll be… Her lower lip quivered. …all alone with strangers.

Now, LizzyBeth, I taught you better than that. Come on now, lass. What’s the Sullivan motto?

She swallowed back her tears and lifted her chin. At a Sullivan Inn, there are no strangers. Only people we have yet to meet.

That’s my girl. Now go pack your bags, luv. And when you kiss your parents goodbye, don’t burden them with tears. He tipped up her chin. Promise?

I…promise, Grandpa Sully.

She scampered up the stairs of the grand old hotel they currently called home. True to her word she held back her tears. But that didn’t stop her from feeling the pain.

Oh, why couldn’t they be a normal family like everybody else? With a house and a yard and neighbors? When she got old enough, Lizbeth vowed fiercely, that’s what she would have. A lovely, cozy home, filled with all the things that had special meaning to her. And when she found such a place, she’d never ever leave it.

1

Stafford, New Hampshire

Lizbeth Sullivan hated weeds. Especially weeds that sank their roots in her tidy vegetable garden. She’d spent the better part of an hour on her hands and knees in the dirt, pulling out the villains. Now, as she sat back on her heels, she felt a sense of satisfaction at the neat little rows of babies. She knew it was silly to think of beets and carrots and onions as her babies, but that’s what they were. Along with the glorious peonies that had burst into bloom in a sunny spot alongside the white picket fence. Soon, as spring danced into summer, there would be lovely purple bearded irises, and a wonderful old climbing rose that produced hundreds of glossy white blooms each year.

Lizbeth loved each of the distinctive seasons here in the little town of Stafford, New Hampshire. But of all the seasons, spring was her favorite. With its warm days and chilly nights, and its oftenfickle moods, there were few tourists. It meant, of course, that she had to be a bit more frugal until the arrival of summer, with its long, lazy days and endless string of vacationers in search of anything distinctly New England. Then the town of Stafford and her bed-and-breakfast, the cozy Stafford Cottage, would be filled to capacity. Though she would be busy from dawn until dark, it would be satisfying work. She loved sharing her home with the people who would come to her as strangers and leave as friends. There was an added bonus, of course. She would also be able to set aside enough profits to make the changes she was already planning on the east wing of the sprawling old house.

She could see it in her mind. If she could remove the walls between two of the smaller bedrooms, she could have her own master suite, equipped with a private sitting room and small office, apart from the rest of the house. It would give her the privacy she craved, while keeping her close enough to see to the many needs of her guests.

Though she was eager for the changes, she wasn’t impatient. Anticipation, she realized, was half the fun. Maybe that was why she loved springtime so much. While enjoying it, she could also look forward to the season that followed.

She scooped up the last pile of weeds and tossed them into the wheelbarrow. Getting to her feet, she brushed a lock of hair from her eye before peeling off her damp garden gloves.

A voice from behind had her turning around abruptly.

I’m looking for Lizbeth Sullivan.

The man facing her wore a faded denim jacket, jeans and mud-caked work boots. He was tall enough that she had to tip her head back to see his face. It was worth the effort, since his eyes were an incredible sparkling blue and his smile was as warm as the sun. His cheeks and chin sprouted a stubble of beard, adding a rough edge to his appearance. His dark hair curled damply, no doubt from being tucked under the hard hat he held in his hand.

You’ve found her. I’m Lizbeth Sullivan.

He cocked a brow before offering a handshake. Colin St. James. Bill and Sue Yardley suggested I might be able to rent a room from you while I work on their place.

You’re handling the renovations on the Yardley house?

Yeah. His smile grew. What a great old place. I think I’m going to love working there. He glanced around the tidy yard. This looks great, too. Do you think you could put me up for the next month or two?

A month or two? She knew her jaw dropped. She hoped he hadn’t noticed as she carefully composed herself. But even as she thought how she would enjoy spending the money, she was mentally reminding herself that a laborer could hardly afford what she would be forced to charge. That’s going to be awfully expensive. Have you checked the motels outside of town? Some of them are fairly inexpensive, and might charge even less by the month.

He shook his head. Not interested. This place is just too convenient to pass up. I could oversleep and still get to work on time.

Do you do that often? Oversleep?

His smile was quick and engaging. Not as a rule. In fact, I’m an early bird. But I like this location. I’ll be able to walk through the town and get a feel for the people and their surroundings. That’s important when you’re making major changes in a residence. Besides, my specialty is restoring antique buildings. I don’t think I could stand to spend my nights staring at faded drapes and what passes for motel art on the bland walls.

Lizbeth couldn’t help laughing. I know what you mean. I suppose it’s one reason why I love this old place. There isn’t a bland wall to be found.

It occurred to Colin that the proprietor wasn’t bland either. He didn’t know which was more beguiling. The way her hair had slipped loose of its combs to dip over one eye, or the smudge of dirt that stained her pretty pink cheek. In the sunlight her eyes were amber, ringed with a darker shade of honey.

The way he was staring at her sent a rush of unexpected heat curling along Lizbeth’s spine. He had the most amazing eyes. So intense, they seemed to see clear through her.

Just then a man in a U.S. Postal uniform came whistling up the walk. Afternoon, Beth. He glanced at Colin, expecting an introduction.

Jack Nowack, this is Colin St. James. He’s going to be working at Bill and Sue Yardley’s place.

The mailman nodded a greeting to Colin. Heard they were going to start remodeling. Nice to meet you.

He turned back to Lizbeth. Got a letter from your sister up in Snug Harbor. How’re the newlyweds getting along?

Lizbeth smiled as she accepted her mail. I’ll read her note and let you know tomorrow, Jack.

He touched the tip of his cap. Much obliged, Beth. Nice meeting you, Colin. How long you think you’ll be staying?

Colin shrugged. Could be a month. Could be longer.

Good. You’ll like it here in Stafford. The mailman started whistling as he walked away.

Lizbeth smiled. If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a tour and you can decide if it’s worth the fortune I intend to charge you to stay at Stafford Cottage.

She lifted the wheelbarrow and pushed it to a small potting shed before leading the way to the back door, where she slipped out of her garden shoes before stepping inside. She was pleased to note that Colin St. James removed his work boots before following.

Inside, several loaves of date nut bread were cooling on a rack beside the stove. The kitchen was perfumed with the fragrance of them. Colin paused a moment to study the rainbow of light that spilled through a stained-glass panel above the sink and sent colors dancing across the hardwood floor.

The room was large enough to accommodate a huge table on which rested a marble slab. The kind used to cool fudge in an old-fashioned candy shop. In the center of the table was a low bowl of flowers. There were more flowers on the countertop and the windowsill.

Across the room a wood fire burned on the grate of an enormous fireplace. A loveseat was positioned in front of it to absorb as much warmth as possible.

Lizbeth paused. I need to wash up. If you follow that hallway, you’ll find yourself in the main parlor.

Thanks. Colin was still smiling as he ran a hand along the ornate wood molding that trimmed walls papered in shell-pink silk moire.

Minutes later he stood in the parlor admiring the ivory-inlaid desk that had to be at least two hundred years old.

He turned when Lizbeth entered. This is a beautiful piece. Did it come with the house?

She shook her head, pleased that he’d noticed it. No. I found that in Maine, and had it shipped here. It cost way too much, but I simply couldn’t resist.

I can see why you had to have it.

Flushed with pleasure she took a seat and indicated the chair across from her. She’d taken those few minutes of privacy to figure out just how much she’d need to charge and still show a profit, while keeping the price low enough that Colin St. James would be able to take home a paycheck when his work here in Stafford was finished.

In season I charge sixty-five dollars a night for a single. But since this is our off-season, and you’ve indicated that you might like to stay for a month or two, I think a thousand a month is a fair price. That’s half the regular fee. That will include meals, of course. And the use of the laundry facilities.

He nodded. That’s more than fair. He pulled a credit card from his wallet and handed it to her.

She opened a guest book to a blank page and turned it toward him. Would you like to sign the guest register?

She processed the credit card and handed it to him. When she glanced down, she noted the bold handwriting. It seemed to suit the man. At least what she’d seen of him so far.

If you’d like to get your luggage, I’ll show you to your room.

A few minutes later she watched through the window as he strolled to his truck and lifted two huge suitcases as easily as if they weighed nothing at all.

Again he left his boots at the door before following her up the stairs. He gave an admiring glance at the grandfather clock on the landing, chiming out the half hour.

What great chimes.

She paused and nodded. It chimes on the half hour, and counts out the time on the hour. My Grandpa Sully gave it to me as a housewarming gift. It belonged to his father. He said he hoped it would remind me that time can be used wisely or foolishly. The wise person spends time pursuing those things that bring joy, and never wastes time dwelling on unhappiness.

Sounds like good advice. As he turned away Colin ran his hand along the mahogany handrail, worn smooth through the ages.

Here you are. She stood back while he stepped inside.

His slow gaze took in the huge four-poster bed, covered in a warm burgundy plaid coverlet, and the wide window seats covered in the same fabric. Firewood was stacked neatly alongside the fireplace, with logs and kindling already in place on the grate.

Are you sure you weren’t expecting guests?

She dimpled. In my business I have to be prepared. Will this suit your needs?

He nodded, and she could see the pleasure in his eyes as he studied the mahogany Hepplewhite desk, the eighteenth-century armoire, the comfortable wing chair and ottoman, and beside it a table and reading lamp.

The bath is equipped with both a shower and whirlpool tub.

I’m sure that didn’t come with the house.

She laughed. I had to add a few modern amenities if I wanted to keep my guests happy.

The whirlpool will come in handy after a day of heavy construction work.

Will you be doing the work yourself?

I’ll have a crew. But I know I’ll be working right alongside them. It’s costing the Yardleys a lot of money to restore their house, and I intend to see that they get their money’s worth.

That’s nice to hear. I know their family home means a lot to Bill and Sue. It’s been in the Yardley family for almost two hundred years. She turned away. I’ll leave you to settle in. Dinner will be ready around six. But if you’d like to relax in the library, I’ll have some nibbles and cocktails available. At the bottom of the stairs turn right. It will be the first door on your left.

When she was gone, Colin opened his first suitcase and began hanging clothes in the armoire. As he did, he couldn’t help chuckling to himself. When Bill and Sue Yardley had recommended this place, he’d expected the proprietor to be a fussy old woman. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might be spending the next month or more in the company of someone as fascinating as Lizbeth Sullivan.

He suddenly realized that not only was his work promising to be satisfying, but his off-hours might be equally challenging. He was definitely looking forward to his time spent in Stafford, New Hampshire.

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Lizbeth put away her garden