Читать книгу The Mummy Proposal - Cathy Thacker Gillen - Страница 7

“Not exactly child-friendly, is it?” Brooke observed, walking through Nate Hutchinson’s multimillion-dollar residence an hour later.

The ten-thousand-square-foot abode had a postmodern edge to it. Everything was black or white. Glass tables and lamps abounded, as did expensive statues and paintings. The overall impression she got was sleek, cold and sterile.

Nate shrugged. “It’s an investment. I bought it as is. It can all be changed.”

He glanced over at Landry and his great-grandmother. The teen was glumly inspecting the marble-floored foyer and sweeping staircase. Jessalyn was sitting wearily in the formal library, off to the left. Cane in hand, she kept a worried gaze on the boy. Probably wondering, Brooke thought, if Landry was going to be able to accept his new living arrangements.

“Obviously,” Nate continued, oblivious to the concerned nature of Brooke’s thoughts, “we’ll set a budget that is appropriate for the scope and scale of this house.” He paused, close enough now that she took in the fragrance of his soap, cologne and heady male essence. “I’m going to need it done as quickly as possible. Two weeks, at the outside.”

Brooke shook off the tantalizing fragrance of leather and spice. “That’s a tall order.”

He eyed her with lazy assurance. “I’m not worried. You have a reputation for providing your clients with the home environments they always dreamed of having, in record time.”

Brooke could not contest that. She was good at what she did. She worked hard to keep at a minimum the chaos and disarray that went along with redecorating. Usually, however, the homes were not nearly this large. A feeling of nervousness sifted through her. “It’s going to require a lot of time on your part, as well,” she warned.

He regarded her with maddening nonchalance. “I don’t move furniture.”

Famous last words, Brooke thought. No one got through a major upheaval of their personal belongings without eventually having to heft or slightly reposition something. It didn’t matter how many professionals were hired. At the end of the day, there was always something that wasn’t quite right. Something that begged the owner to reach out and touch and, in the process, claim it as his or her own. But figuring Nate wouldn’t understand the need to put his own signature on the place if it were truly to become his home, she let it go for now.

Giving him the smile she reserved for her most difficult and demanding clients, she tried again. “I meant you’re going to have to sit down with me—pronto—and talk about what kind of style you envision having here.”

Brooke turned as she saw Landry heading up the staircase.

Nate lifted a staying hand. “It’s okay. He’s going to have to explore the place sometime.”

Meanwhile, Brooke noted, the seventy-nine-year-old Jessalyn appeared to be drifting off to sleep …. “So when can we get together to do this?” she asked.

“How about tonight?”

If only that were possible, she mused, as anxious to get a head start on this task as he. “I have to pick up my son at summer camp.”

“Bring him, too. Say around seven? We’ll all have dinner. If you want, you could even move your things into the caretaker’s house at that time.”

Brooke had heard Nate moved fast. His indefatigable drive had turned his solo financial advising practice into a firm with six thousand top-notch certified financial planners, and a national reputation for excellence.

She gazed up at him. “I know you want to get this done,” she began.

“It’s important for Landry that this feel like a home instead of a museum,” Nate said.

Brooke couldn’t disagree with that. “But there’s such a thing as moving too fast. Decorating decisions made in haste are often repented in leisure.” And she had her own problems to triumph over, starting with her promise to reconfigure her priorities and bring balance back into her life.

Nate brushed off her concern with a shrug. “I’m counting on you to help me avoid that.”

The doorbell rang before she could answer him.

Nate moved to get it.

A stunning ebony-haired woman in a Marc Jacobs suit strode in, cell phone and briefcase in hand. She was in her mid-thirties, of Asian-American descent.

“Brooke Mitchell, my attorney, Mai Tanous. Mai, this is Brooke Mitchell.”

Mai nodded briefly in acknowledgment, then leaned toward Nate. “We need to talk.”

NATE HAD AN IDEA of what Mai was going to say. He also knew she would be much more circumspect if they weren’t alone. He motioned for Brooke to stay put, and regarded Mai steadily. “I presume you brought the papers?” he asked in a voice that tolerated no argument.

Mai cast an uncertain look at Brooke, as unwilling to talk business with an audience as Nate had presumed she would be. “Yes,” she said politely. “I did. But—”

He held up a hand, cutting off her protest. “Then let’s sign them so Jessalyn can go home. She’s exhausted.”

Exhaling in frustration, Mai frowned. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He nodded. For a moment Mai seemed torn between doing her job and being his friend. Finally, she pivoted and headed for the library, where Jessalyn was seated. As Brooke and Nate entered the room, the elderly woman roused.

Mai extended a hand and introduced herself. “Mrs. Walker, are you sure you don’t want to have your own attorney present?”

Jessalyn waved off the suggestion. “I trust this man every bit as much as my late granddaughter did. If Nate says he’ll do right by Landry, then he will.”

“I would still feel better if we slowed down a bit,” Mai said. “Perhaps began the process with a simple visit.”

Nate gave his attorney a quelling glance. “I told you it wasn’t necessary,” he stated firmly. “Now, if you have the Power of Appointment papers …”

Her posture stiff, her expression deferential, Mai opened up her briefcase, extracted the documents. “Basically, this agreement states that Landry will live with Nate now. It gives Nate the power to take him to the doctor, and to school or camp while he is in Nate’s care. In the eyes of the law, however, Landry’s great-grandmother, Jessalyn Walker, will remain his legal custodian until the court transfers custodianship to Nate.”

“Why can’t we just make Nate Landry’s legal custodian now?” Jessalyn asked impatiently.

Mai regarded the elderly woman gently. “The court will need to be certain this arrangement is in the best interest of your great-grandson.”

Nate noticed Brooke visibly react to that admission.

“I don’t see why, since Nate has agreed to be the father that Landry needs.” Jessalyn appeared upset.

Mai knelt in front of her and took her hand. Looking her in the eye, then explained, “The authorities are still going to want home studies to be done by social workers, and reports given to the court, recommending placement. But that won’t happen until the petition for custodianship is filed with the court. And in fact—” the attorney gave her hand a final pat and stood, addressing all of them once again “—I would suggest that until Landry settles in a little bit and feels like this is something he wants, too, that we hold off on taking him before a judge. And instead just let him live here for a few weeks and get used to things, before we actually petition the court to begin the process to make it permanent.”

Although Brooke had said nothing during this whole exchange, Nate noticed that she seemed to agree with Mai on that. Probably because she was a mother herself and understood how unhappy Landry was right now ….

No one there seemed to have confidence that Nate could make the teen any happier. When it came right down to it, he wasn’t certain, either. His own familial background left a lot to be desired, in that regard.

Jessalyn studied Mai with faded blue eyes. “You’re worried what will happen if Landry decides he doesn’t want to live here with Nate, aren’t you?”

As direct as always, the lawyer nodded, her expression grim.

“Why don’t I check on Landry?” Brooke interjected helpfully.

Appreciating her discretion and sensitivity, Nate shot her a grateful glance. “Good idea.”

She slipped out. The mood in the room was somber as Jessalyn and Nate read and signed the legal documents Mai had drawn up. Finally, it was done. Everyone had a copy of the Power of Appointment to take with them.

“Obviously,” Nate told Jessalyn, “you are welcome to call or come by at any time to see Landry. And I’ll make certain he visits you at the retirement village, too.”

“Thank you,” Jessalyn said, her eyes moist. “And thank you for coming to our aid. Especially under the circumstances.” Her words were rife with meaning only Nate understood.

Reminded of the situation that had prompted him to cut ties with Seraphina and her grandmother, Nate bent and clasped the elderly woman’s frail shoulders in a brief hug. “I wish you’d come to me sooner,” he murmured in her ear.

Jessalyn looked at him. “You know why I didn’t,” she retorted, just as quietly.

Nate did. He exhaled deeply. Before he could reply, Brooke appeared in the doorway.

“A small problem,” she said with a rueful twist of her lips. “I can’t find Landry anywhere.”

MAI STAYED WITH a visibly upset Jessalyn Walker. Brooke and Nate split up. She covered the east half of the house, while he covered the west. Both were diligent in their search. Neither found a trace of the wayward teen.

Mute with worry, they headed out to the lagoon-style swimming pool, complete with elaborate greenery. He wasn’t there. Ditto the sport court. The detached six-car garage. The only thing left was the caretaker’s cottage.

“Naturally,” Nate murmured, as they approached the porch of the ranch-style domicile and spied Landry settled in front of the television inside. “He’s in the last place we looked.”

“And also,” Brooke noted thoughtfully, “the most eclectic.”

Unlike the house, Brooke observed, which had been decorated with style and cutting-edge decor in mind, the cottage was a ramshackle collection of mismatched furniture and odds and ends. It was, in short, a designer’s nightmare—and a disgruntled teen’s hideout.

Surprised and a little disappointed to suddenly find herself in the same situation she had endured in her youth, she pivoted toward Nate. He stepped nearer at the same time. Without warning, she was suddenly so close to him she couldn’t avoid the brisk masculine fragrance of his cologne, or the effect it had on her senses. Turning to her cool professionalism, she stepped back slightly. “This is where you wanted me and my son to stay?”

Nate’s brow furrowed. Obviously, he saw no problem with the arrangement, but was astute enough to realize she was momentarily disconcerted. Not just at the obvious discrepancy between this and the main house, but what the decision obviously said about his estimation of her. This was no cozy abode, or the sort of lodging suitable for a respected colleague. Rather, it was a place for a servant one didn’t care much about. Worse, there was a thick layer of dust on every surface, which would play havoc with her son’s asthma.

“It doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in forever,” Brooke stated grimly. And Nate had wanted her and her son to stay there that night!

“I apologize for that,” Nate murmured, clapping a hand on the back of his neck. “I was unaware.”

Typical man. Brooke sighed in displeasure. This job hadn’t even started yet and it was already a mess in practically every respect. She had half a mind to forgo the lucrative contract and walk out.

“I suggested it because it was separate from the house, and therefore private. I hadn’t really thought about the condition of the place or the decor. I haven’t used it in the two months I’ve lived here. Nor has anyone else, since I don’t employ any live-in help.” Nate took another look through the window. “But I see why you’re less than tempted to accept. I guess for someone like you, who pays attention to the aesthetics, these accommodations could be …”

“Insulting?”

“It’s not what I meant when I issued the invitation.” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and looked seriously chagrined.

Brooke let him off the hook with a raised eyebrow.

Clearly not one to let a mistake of any kind go, Nate persisted with narrowed eyes, “Obviously, we’ll get this place scrubbed from top to bottom, and fixed up, too. And we’ll take care of that before we even start on the main house, if you do agree to move in here with your son.”

Brooke had not come this far in her career to get the reputation of a diva. And if the story got out that Nate had been forced to redo her quarters before starting on his own, her competitors would have a field day. She stopped him with a glance. “It’s not a problem. I’ve lived in worse. Foster care, remember?”

“Oh.”

“I can make anyplace a home.” In fact, she told herself sternly, she welcomed the challenge.

At the moment there were far more pressing problems to deal with.

Brooke cast another look at the fourteen-year-old slumped on the hideously out-of-date orange-green-and-brown-plaid sofa.

“Let’s go inside and talk to Landry,” she murmured, touching Nate’s arm.

The boy was the picture of defiance as the two adults entered the cottage.

“You can’t run off like that,” Nate chided, switching off the television.

Landry leaped up, hands balled at his sides. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he demanded. “And don’t go saying you’re going to be my dad, because you’re not!”

Nate explained about the legal papers that had been signed.

Landry fell silent. “So I’ll live here,” he grudgingly agreed at last. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re just some guy doing a favor for my great-grandma.” He stormed out of the cottage and back toward the house, leaving Brooke and Nate no choice but to follow.

In Landry’s place, Brooke knew she would have been wary, too. Seeking a reason that would alleviate the orphaned child’s distrust, she inquired matter-of-factly, “Why haven’t you been part of Landry’s life until now?”

For a moment, Nate didn’t answer. Finally, he explained, “I didn’t know he existed until twenty-four hours ago, when Jessalyn Walker called me. She told me Seraphina had died of cancer a year and a half ago, and that Landry had been living with her ever since. Jessalyn said at first it was all right. He was clearly grieving the loss, as was she, but they were a team. Then, in the last month or so, as her health began to fail and she had to sell her home and arrange to move into the assisted-living facility, he became really angry about the hand fate had dealt him.”

Understandably so, Brooke mused.

“He did his best to care for her, apparently, and convince her she didn’t need nurses looking after her, when she had him,” Nate related. “But she knew Landry deserved a better life. So she took a letter that Seraphina had left behind, for a worst-case scenario, and had it messengered to me.”

And the combination of phone call and letter had worked to get Nate involved.

“What did the letter say?” Brooke asked, telling herself that her curiosity had nothing to do with her interest in Nate the man and his previous relationship with Landry’s mother, and everything to do with trying to create a home decor that worked for both Nate and his charge. There might be clues in that note about what his mother thought her son would one day want and need ….

Nate reached into the pocket of his suit jacket. Wordlessly, he handed over a piece of cream-colored stationery. Brooke opened it and read:

Dear Nate,

Landry needs a man he can look up to in his life. I know I have no right to ask you this after the way our engagement ended, but please put the past aside and be the family to my son that my grandmother Jessalyn and I can no longer be. And if you can’t do that, I trust you to find someone who can give Landry all the care and attention he is going to need in the years ahead.

I never stopped loving you. Seraphina.

Finished, Brooke handed the letter back. It was obvious Seraphina had really looked up to Nate, despite whatever had transpired to break them up. “Why didn’t she ask you to do this before she died?”

Nate’s tone grew turbulent. “Probably because she didn’t know how I’d feel or what I’d do. When she knew me, I was all-career, all the time.”

“And yet she trusted you either to be the father Landry needed or to find one for him.”

“What can I say?” The emotion in Nate’s eyes dissipated and he flashed a charming grin. “I’m a trustworthy guy.”

What wasn’t he telling her? Brooke wondered. Did it have anything to do with the reason Nate and Seraphina had stopped communicating and made little or no effort to remain friends after their breakup?

Brooke studied Nate, the mother in her coming to the fore. “Are you sure you want to take this on?” Landry had already weathered a lot of loss. Nate had no experience with children, and gallantry, no matter how well intentioned, took a potential parent only so far.

He nodded, his blue eyes serious. “In the end Seraphina and I may not have been right for each other, but I loved her, too, and always will. And I know I can—and will—love her son.”

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE kidding me!” Cole said, when Brooke picked him up at day camp several hours later. He regarded her with all the disdain a thirteen-year-old boy could muster. “What about the promise you made to me about not taking on any more ridiculously demanding clients and ‘restoring balance’ to our life?”

Brooke had meant it at the time. She still did. “I had to take this job,” she explained.

She eased away from the carpool line and pulled out onto the street. Her minivan picked up speed as she drove. “Because the circumstances were extenuating—and Alexis McCabe asked me to do it, as a special favor. And I owe her … you know that.” Brooke let out a beleaguered sigh.

“Not only was she one of my very first customers, after your dad died. She helped me get my business off the ground, with tons of referrals.” To the point Brooke was now doing only big projects, with unlimited budgets.

“I liked it better when your clients weren’t so rich they felt they could ask you to do anything and you’d have to say yes.”

So had Brooke, in the sense that she hadn’t felt so pressured. That the more prestigious jobs brought better pay … well, she was happy with that. “I know. And if my last client hadn’t canceled the job abruptly—”

“When you refused to fly to Paris to look at fabric.”

Brooke nodded. That client had been outrageously demanding—and unreasonable. “I guess it all worked out for the best. If I’d abided by his wishes, I wouldn’t have unexpectedly had two weeks open … or been able to take this job with Nate Hutchinson.” She couldn’t help smiling. Now I’m going to get paid double my usual rate for two weeks!

“This Hutchinson guy … he’s an important dude?”

Brooke glanced at her son. As usual, Cole looked relaxed and content after a day spent alternately learning cool stuff and playing in the summer sunshine. He was dressed in a yellow camp T-shirt with a computer emblazoned on the front, khaki cargo shorts and sneakers. That day’s athletic activity had been swimming, so his blond hair was wet and smelled of chlorine.

“One of the most high-profile businessmen in Fort Worth,” she confirmed.

“And he knows a lot about money.”

“Apparently so, judging by the success of his financial services company.”

Cole sighed. “Yeah, well … I still don’t want to live in some guy’s house!”

Nor did Brooke, to tell the truth. But every time she remembered the look on Landry’s face, she thought about her own experiences in foster care—what it had felt like to get shunted around to places you didn’t know, with people you’d never met—and her heart went out to him. She knew she could help him adjust. And if doing so eventually repaid the universe’s kindness to her …

“It’s actually a caretaker’s cottage, and it’s a rush job. The only way I’ll get it done in the time allotted is if I’m at the Hutchinson estate day and night for the next two weeks. And if I’m there till all hours and you’re at our place …”

Cole grabbed the half-finished sport drink from his backpack and unscrewed the top. His golden-brown eyes were wiser than his years. “We’ll never see each other.”

“Right.” Brooke turned onto the entrance ramp that would take them to the freeway. “I know you’re at camp all day. But I still like hanging around with you during the evenings, even when I have to spend part of that time working.”

Cole ripped open the wrapper on an energy bar. “If I’m a good sport about this, you’re going to owe me.”

Brooke had no problem putting the carrot ahead of the stick. Incentives were a great way to motivate people into going the extra mile. She smiled at her boyishly handsome son. “What would you like?”

Cole beamed and bartered resolutely, “A whole day at the Six Flags amusement park in Arlington! We’re there when the park opens and we stay until we see the fireworks. Deal?”

Brooke consented with a nod, glad to have come to some accord. “Deal. But it’s going to have to wait until I finish the job,” she cautioned.

He wiped the oatmeal crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Or sooner, if you get a day off before then.”

Brooke wouldn’t count on that. She had just met the man, but … “Mr. Hutchinson can be quite the slave driver.”

“You can sweet-talk him into letting you have a day off next weekend. You can sweet-talk anybody, Mom.”

Brooke knew that was true. But only to a point. “And there is one more thing,” she added, turning into the neighborhood of palatial estates Fort Worth’s wealthiest citizens called home.

“Uh-oh,” Cole said. “I know that look….”

Brooke tried to focus on the positive. “Mr. Hutchinson has a boy your age who is just now coming to live with him. Landry’s mom died a year and a half ago, so he’s having a hard time.” Briefly, she explained what had transpired.

Cole fell silent, no doubt thinking about the death of his own father two years before, and the grief he had endured.

Finally, he asked, “Was Landry’s great-grandmother nice when you met her?”

“Very nice. She’s just too old and too ill to care for him.” Brooke turned into the drive. She keyed in the pass code that Nate had given her before she left. The electric gates opened.

“Wow,” Cole murmured, sitting up in his seat. “This is rich!”

At the end of the driveway, near the huge detached garage, Landry was kicking a landscaping stone across the pavement. Scowling, he barely looked up as she parked her minivan.

Cole’s compassionate expression faded, and wariness kicked in. “Is that the kid?” he asked.

Brooke nodded.

Her son tensed. “He doesn’t look friendly at all.” It didn’t matter. The success of this particular job meant the kids had to develop a rapport. So for all their sakes, she would use every one of the skills she possessed to make sure they did.