Читать книгу Right Where He Belongs - Rebecca Russell, Rebecca Russell - Страница 9

“It’s payback time,” Tanner Fairfax said softly, hoping somehow his deceased grandfather could hear him and know the intentions of his only grandchild.

At the soonest possible moment, Tanner planned to sign over the deed to Fairfax House to the highest bidder, the exact thing his grandfather would have hated. Sweet, poetic justice for himself, and his parents, the people his grandfather had hurt the most.

The family estate claimed the corner lot of prime property in the sleepy farm town of New Haven, Ohio. The old but elegant two-story mansion reminded him of an aging queen who refused to budge from her throne of power. A well-maintained barn stood like a sentry next to the house.

The hot July sun bounced off a massive bay window. He shielded his eyes with one hand to get a better look. Someone had obviously been busy. A pristine white exterior explained the odor of fresh paint that coated the humid air. The excellent condition of the wraparound porch suggested recent repairs.

He hesitated at the bottom of the steps leading to his family’s estate, overcome by a sudden wariness. Painful memories of his one and only visit as a naive, excited five-year-old boy threatened to surface, but he pushed them away. He was a grown man now, in control of his own destiny.

No tears today.

Tanner took the porch steps two at a time. He grabbed the key from the back pocket of his worn jeans, opened the heavy front door and stepped inside.

Cool darkness greeted him, a startling contrast to the midday sunshine he’d left outside. He found a switch, and with a flick, light sprinkled downward from an ornate chandelier. A thick Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. Impressive, but not important.

From the back of the house, a clattering erupted and he froze. “Who’s there?” he called out.

He made his way toward the sound, cautious, but not frightened. He knew little about small towns, but doubted he’d find much to fear. Anyone who owned and managed a construction company could certainly handle getting rid of an uninvited guest.

“I’m in the kitchen, Mr. Fairfax,” a feminine voice answered. “Just walk straight ahead.”

So, the stranger was a woman. Another surprise. He passed by a blur of rooms on either side as he followed the clamor to the sliver of light that escaped beneath a door at the end of the hall. He opened the door and detected an almost sweet, oddly familiar odor. An herb? A spice?

No matter. He stepped inside. The intended curt “hello” died on his lips. In the midst of the spacious kitchen stood a tall, slender woman dressed in white, paint-splattered bib overalls. Wisps of mahogany-brown hair escaped from a painter’s cap. Dark-green eyes sparkled and her hundred-watt smile knocked the breath out of him.

With an intensity he couldn’t help but admire, she vigorously wiped down scratched cupboards painted a murky brown. The same dreary color had been forced onto the paneling that covered the bottom half of the walls. Faded, water-stained wallpaper drooped in one corner. Tools littered the countertops. A large bucket and mop hugged a corner; several folded tarps dotted the floor.

“Who are you and how did you get in?” he finally managed to ask.

“I can explain, Mr. Fairfax.”

The warm friendliness in her voice erased all other questions from his mind, beckoned him to move closer to her, but he stood his ground as she sidestepped the bucket, mop and tarps.

“I’m Cassie Leighton, owner of Leighton’s Custom Remodeling. Your grandfather hired me to do repairs before he died.”

She held out her hand, then pulled it back, an apologetic grin on her face. No wedding ring, he noted, for no other reason than habit. “Sorry,” she said, then grabbed a rag out of a back pocket and wiped her hands. “I didn’t know I was such a mess.”

Surprise hit Tanner hard. He had actually been eager to discover if the touch of her hand packed the same wallop as her smile. Maybe he was coming down with the flu or something.

“Mr. Fairfax?”

He took a much needed deep breath, confused by the fact that his earlier annoyance over an intruder had vanished. “How did you know it was me out front and not some burglar?” he asked, more comfortable with suspicion than his strange reaction to a woman he’d just met.

“Not much crime in New Haven. And the minute you arrived at Mr. Samuels’s office, his secretary beeped me and I rushed over.” She openly studied him from the top of his head, to his T-shirt, faded jeans and scuffed boots. “She warned me that you looked just like your dad.”

Her intensity reminded him of his own when he examined a piece of wood for knots or uneven grain. He wondered if he measured up, then just as quickly dismissed the notion. He’d always taken the comparison as a compliment, so why doubt it now? Besides, it wasn’t as if he had trouble getting a date when he wanted one.

He was just unnerved from hearing a complete stranger talk about his father as if she’d known him, Tanner reasoned, which was impossible. Both of his parents had been dead for so long now that he could hardly remember the sound of their voices and other details he thought he’d never forget.

“Yep, you definitely have the Fairfax hair and eyes,” Cassie said, still smiling.

A sign he had passed inspection and wouldn’t be tossed into the scrap pile? “Why wasn’t I warned someone would be here?” he asked, annoyed he cared at all about what a stranger thought of him, even if the stranger happened to have a natural beauty that made him think of hayrides and campfires.

Wait a minute. He’d never gone on a hayride, let alone shared a campfire with a woman.

Crazy thoughts. Not like him at all. Lack of sleep, he reasoned. The long drive from Texas had left him punchy.

“Mr. Samuels might not have realized his secretary beeped me. She knows how I feel about this house. We thought you were arriving tomorrow, so I had planned on cleaning up tonight.”

Tanner shrugged. “I ended up leaving Tyler early and drove straight through.”

“You don’t have much of an accent for someone from Texas.”

“I guess it’s because neither of my parents had one. Is it a problem that I arrived early?”

“No problem at all. It’s just that I—” A muted ringing interrupted Cassie. She reached deep into a bib pocket, pulled out a cellular phone and checked the I.D. of the caller. “Excuse me, but I’ve been trying to reach this guy all morning,” she explained. Her long, slender fingers gripped the small phone next to her ear. He wasn’t surprised to see short, unpolished nails that were as practical as her overalls.

Most women he came across would just as soon run or hide from the prospect of getting dirty, but Cassie had chosen a profession that almost demanded it. He imagined such a woman could get ready for a date in no time; wouldn’t think twice about ruining her makeup and hair for the chance to walk in the rain.

Damn. What was it about Cassie that made him think such foreign, mushy thoughts? As for how she might behave on a date, he’d never know and didn’t care. He had a game plan: get in, settle a score, get out. No complications.

In need of a distraction, he focused on Cassie’s phone conversation. Impolite, sure, but his peace of mind mattered more at the moment.

“No, Mike, that won’t do,” Cassie insisted. “We promised to have all the fixtures in by tomorrow, even if it is Saturday. Call Danny in. He could use the extra money, but don’t bother asking Georgie. I told her she could leave early for her daughter’s soccer game. I’ll stop by the site later.”

Tanner appreciated the firm way she dealt with her employee, although he was surprised she knew so much personal detail about her workers. Turnover was high in construction; remembering just the last names of his transient employees proved a challenge.

She punched a button and slid the phone back into its hiding place. “Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Fairfax. Anyway, it’s wonderful that you’re here. And don’t worry about the mess,” she added, as if she could read the doubt in his mind. “I’ll be done cleaning up in no time. This really is a beautiful house.”

Cassie’s gaze turned somber and she put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

Her cool fingers created a heat in his body to rival the scorching sun of a Texas summer. He stiffened, too surprised by the incredible chemistry to move. How could a gesture, obviously meant to comfort, set him on fire?

No. He didn’t want her unexpected touch and kind words, and he definitely didn’t want anything or anyone to complicate his stay in New Haven.

“Mr. Frank liked to huff and puff a lot, but he was a pussycat inside.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Or a lion.” Time had failed to soften Tanner’s memory of the old man with the fierce eyes and bellowing voice. His grandfather had acted as if he were king of the jungle; he demanded compliance and punished those who dared to defy him.

Cassie quickly pulled her hand away from Tanner’s arm, stunned to discover that touching him had the effect of tossing a match on turpentine. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. His dark good looks had already thrown her off balance. He had hair the color of wrought iron and his eyes were Gondola Blue. The deep, rich color, her favorite, made her long for a romantic getaway to Venice where she’d ride a gondola with her lover….

“Anyway,” she continued, desperate to organize her thoughts. “Your grandfather arranged to have the exterior painted, the porch and roof repaired and the new kitchen floor installed.” She nervously gestured toward the sink. “He insisted that this room be functional before you arrived, knew he didn’t—didn’t have much time left,” she said, her voice faltering.

Darn it. She swore she wouldn’t get all weepy. But she missed the old coot who’d been her mentor as well as her friend.

She took a deep breath and stacked the tarps near the door, then slid tools into the numerous pockets of her overalls. “Would you like me to clear this all out each day, or leave it?”

“Leave it. The job will go quicker.”

“Okay. If you don’t mind a little clutter and dust, this room is useable. Or you can use the dining room as a makeshift kitchen until I’m done.”

“How long?” He gestured around the room. “I don’t want anything to interfere with my plans for a quick sell.”

Cassie flinched. “It sounds like you made up your mind before you even saw the house.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Tanner was obviously going to make her other job difficult. Just before he had died, Mr. Frank had confided in her the details of his regretful past. He had made it very clear that he alone had ruined Tanner’s chance to know and feel a part of his family’s history. Cassie had a hard time believing Mr. Frank could’ve ever acted so vengefully, but the pain in his eyes told the truth. “Sounds pretty ungrateful to me,” she challenged. “Your grandfather didn’t have to leave you the house and—”

“I’m sure there was the usual selfish reason behind it.”

Tanner couldn’t be more wrong. Until his final breath, Mr. Frank had hoped that his pleading letters to his grandson would bring forgiveness and a chance to meet. But time had run out.

Mr. Frank had asked her to spend the thirty days trying to convince Tanner to forgive his grandfather, in order to accept his birthright. This was one promise she intended to keep.

“If you think you can’t make the deadline, Ms. Leighton, I’ll get someone else on the job.”

She would not let him rattle her. “Call me Cassie, and don’t worry. I’ll be done in plenty of time. Ten to fourteen days, depending on what you want done. I’m sure you have other business to take care of first, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll come by tomorrow and strip the wallpaper.”

“On Saturday?”

She shrugged. “It’s one of my busiest days. Just keep in mind, if you want any painting done in here, that’s done first. Then the walls will have to be prepped, so it could be a couple of days to a week before we put up the new wallpaper. During that time you can go over paint and paper samples. We can meet at my office downtown or I can bring them here.”

He stared at her in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with it?”

“You can make any changes to the house you want to. Your grandfather gave you authorization so you wouldn’t have to wait the thirty days.”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this house for a month before I can unload it. I don’t care what you do about any wallpaper or paint.”

She produced a broom from a closet, a task she’d performed many times before. Grateful to have something in her hands, she restored order to the room. While she worked, she stole glances at the tall, handsome man with the lean, yet muscular build.

Mr. Frank had shown her several grainy photos of his grandson along with a written report provided by the private investigator hired to keep tabs on Tanner over the years. But a picture didn’t reveal intensity or Tanner’s true essence.

“Hold on. How did you know about the live-in clause?”

Cassie heard the cold, quiet strength behind his casual question. She shivered. He might look like his father, but he had his grandfather’s suspicious nature.

“Your grandfather told me. But even if he hadn’t, New Haven has an incredible grapevine. Rule number one in a small town—no secrets allowed. You’ll get used to it after a while, Mr. Fairfax.”

“Call me Tanner. Mr. Fairfax was my dad. And I won’t be here long enough to get used to anything.”

We’ll see about that. Tanner might have outsider written all over him—the way he carried himself, the way he had flinched when she’d touched his arm, the guarded look in his eyes—but he belonged in New Haven; he belonged at Fairfax House. He just didn’t know it yet.

Cassie knew firsthand how a sense of roots provided emotional comfort, because she’d been given such a gift. The town, its people, were home. If Mr. Frank hadn’t disowned his son, Tanner would have been born and raised in New Haven and received the blessing of roots as well.

Mr. Frank had insisted that Cassie was the only person who could help him right such a wrong, since she couldn’t imagine being happy anywhere else.

A person made of stone might have refused to help. She, on the other hand, was made up entirely of mush. Mush, with a grain of selfishness. Deep down, she knew that she had agreed to help for another reason. Years ago, she had failed to keep a promise she’d made to her father just before he died. Finally, she had a chance to prove her word meant something.

She watched Tanner as he noted every detail of the room, including her. Especially her. She shivered again and recalled her explosive reaction earlier to the innocent touch of her fingers against Tanner’s skin. Not a problem. She’d keep her hands away from him and on her work, and keep her mind on her promise to Mr. Frank.

A detail in the investigator’s report popped into her head: while Tanner had no shortage of women in his life, he either couldn’t keep them, or didn’t want to, since no relationship ever lasted more than a couple of months.

Why had that little morsel surfaced? He wasn’t even her type. She preferred easygoing and quick to smile.

“This place will need updating in order to sell,” Tanner said, a welcome interruption to her disturbing train of thought. “I want to get moving on this. Since you’re coming tomorrow anyway, go ahead and bring samples of what’s hot right now.”

She frowned as she brushed her fingertips over the faded, water-stained wallpaper. Such a grand house deserved more than the latest color or decorating fad. But the new owner’s determination to take the money and run concerned her more.

She could easily picture Tanner at home in Fairfax House. New Haven would embrace him, give him the sense of belonging and roots he had lost since his parents died. The fact she could see it wasn’t enough, though—he had to, also.

“Unless you have more important jobs,” Tanner added dryly.

She knew what she’d like to do with the sample books. Maybe a bonk on the head would make him realize what a gift he’d been given. Too bad she couldn’t afford to alienate him. “Of course not. I’ll see if I can get the books back from a customer. And for your information, Mr. Samuels asked me to make this house a priority, but I would’ve made it one anyway. This house is special to me. I practically grew up here.”

Tanner’s dark eyes narrowed. “Are you a relative?”

“Heavens, no. Just a pesky kid who hung around.” She sighed and inhaled the familiar, heartwarming scent she would forever associate with Fairfax House.

Tears threatened to form once again but she refused to cry. She had to remain strong in order to gain the new owner’s confidence. “I love that smell, don’t you?”

Tanner sniffed the air. “I can’t place it. What is it?”

“Vanilla. Your grandfather simmered some on the stove every day, and whenever I’m here I do the same thing. He said it reminded him of your grandmother. Did you know she was only sixty when she died? Cancer. But she didn’t suffer long.” Mr. Frank, though, had never recovered from his loss.

Love certainly didn’t come with any guarantees. Cassie’s father had died of a heart attack at thirty-four, leaving her mother without the love of her life way too soon. Cassie had no intention of wasting time when she found The One. They would live, play and work together, a concept a man like Tanner would never understand. He obviously preferred to love ’em and leave ’em, if one could believe the reports from the investigator. “I teased Mr. Frank that they made vanilla candles and air fresheners, but he said they weren’t the same. I sure miss him.”

Cassie blinked back the tears, reminded afresh of the pain of losing her dear friend. A friend she refused to let down. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tanner, around nine,” she said, and left through the back door of the kitchen.

Tanner watched Cassie disappear, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He’d never met a woman who wore her emotions so close to the surface. No doubt about it, she’d taken the old man’s death hard.

Tanner couldn’t imagine his rigid grandfather simmering vanilla for a wife long gone. The ice water in his veins wouldn’t allow such a sentimental ritual.

What had Cassie seen in such an old, manipulative person? Tanner could only think of two explanations: she was just another one of his victims, or a schemer who had gained more than a repair job from the old man.

Tanner made a mental note to check the details of his grandfather’s will. He had no living relatives. Although he wasn’t the sole beneficiary, he couldn’t remember Cassie’s name on the list.

He’d been warned that small towns had no secrets, so he shouldn’t have much trouble finding out more about Cassie. Suspicion was good. Anything was better than dwelling on why he’d felt such relief at discovering she wasn’t a relative.

He didn’t want any complications. For the next thirty days he intended to relax. A former boss, retired and bored, had jumped at the chance to fill in as manager, so for once, the lengthy time away from his company didn’t present a problem.

He’d spend his time getting a feel for what his truck-driver dad’s life must have been like growing up in New Haven, Ohio. From what little he knew, things hadn’t soured for his dad until he defied his father and left town after high school graduation.

Tanner’s mind wondered back to how familiar Cassie seemed with the house. She’d fetched a broom as if she’d done so many times before, had known of his grandfather’s habits and the conditions of the will.

For some reason the familiarity, imagined or not, bothered him. His reaction made no sense whatsoever. He was the one who had ignored every bribe and turned down all invitations to come live in Fairfax House.

Tanner refused to waste another minute on the confusion he felt over being in the huge, dark house again.

“Yoo-hoo,” yelled a high-pitched voice from the front of the house. Rapid pounding followed.

“Now what?” Tanner muttered, and left to answer the front door. He gave the rooms he passed along the way a cursory glance. Elegantly curved furniture filled the formal living room and dining room. Pictures in old-looking frames covered the top of a buffet. To his left, he noted a den that had obviously been turned into a bedroom. He’d stash his gear there, later.

He opened the door and discovered a woman with orange hair piled on top of her head, wearing enough makeup to start her own cosmetics business. Oven mitts covered her hands. Steam escaped from a glass dish of green beans. He took a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of cream of mushroom soup and dried onions and his mouth watered.

“I want to be the first to officially welcome you.” The woman smiled, ducked under his arm that held open the door and zeroed in on the kitchen.

He blinked, floored by the idea that a stranger had just bulldozed her way inside, then quickly followed.

“We’re so sorry about your grandfather,” the stranger said. She placed the dish on one of the burners on the stove and shoved the mitts into apron pockets. “But we’re just tickled to have another Fairfax in this house. It’s Tanner, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m Mrs. Boone, from across the street.” He shook her offered hand. “Mr. Boone would’ve come, too, but he’s recovering from surgery and can’t get around just yet. Your grandfather loved my green bean casserole, so I just know you’ll love it, too. And if you have any questions about New Haven, I’m the town historian. I’ve lived here all my life, so I’ve seen it all.”

“Thanks, but I won’t be here—”

“Why, you’re the spitting image of your daddy. Frankie was quite the charmer.” She leaned toward Tanner. “Not at all like your grandfather. That Frank, Sr. was short on charm, but he was fair and a man of his word.”

Tanner was already weary of the praise for a man who must have hidden his shortcomings from the town. “I see. Well, thanks again, Mrs. Boone.”

“You’re more than welcome. Tell me, are you as full of pluck as your daddy was? ’Cause this town could use shaking up.”

“Frankie, you’re finally home,” a feeble voice called out from behind the screen of the kitchen door. A stooped, white-haired woman shuffled inside.

Mrs. Boone placed her hand on the old woman’s elbow. “Oh, no, Mrs. Johnson. Frankie and Susan passed away years ago in that horrible car accident, remember?”

“Nonsense, child. I’d know that hair and those eyes anywhere. Why did you stay away so long, Frankie?”

A mixture of emotions jackhammered Tanner. The warmth and joy in the stranger’s voice, the lines of concern and compassion on her face, and the fact that she’d obviously known and liked his father caused Tanner’s throat to grow tight. He swallowed hard. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he craved to know the details of his parents’ childhoods.

“The town hasn’t been the same since you left, dear boy.”

Tanner had no idea how to respond to the woman without confusing her more, so he played along. He smiled. “How have you been, Mrs. Johnson?”

She sighed. “Teaching isn’t what it used to be. No respect, no joy of learning. Your daddy thought you could scare kids into doing the right thing, or at the very least bribe them. But I daresay I disagree. Where is the rascal, anyway?”

A sad smile crossed Mrs. Boone’s face. “Mrs. Johnson was the best math teacher New Haven High ever had. She lives just across the alley. On her good days she liked to come over to spar with your grandfather. You could hear those two all the way downtown. Obviously, today isn’t a good day. Come on, Mrs. Johnson, I’ll walk you home.”

Tanner looked forward to a good day when they could go back in time together. “I’ll drop by for a visit sometime, if that’s okay with you, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Any time, dear boy. It’s time I have plenty of.”

Mrs. Boone led the stooped woman toward the door. “Oh, look, Tanner!” Mrs. Boone said over her shoulder. “You’ve got more company. And you’re in luck. Looks like Miss Eva brought cinnamon rolls. One whiff, and you’ll agree they’re to die for.”

His warm, nostalgic mood evaporated at the sight of several strangers approaching the house. He worried he was caught in the Father Knows Best version of The Twilight Zone. What else explained why strangers felt free to wander into his house, or why people admired a jerk like his grandfather?

No matter. He knew the man for what he really was—a scheming, coldhearted tyrant.

Every citizen in New Haven could line up at his door with gifts and kind words about his grandfather. Tanner didn’t care; he’d ignore them all.

And he for damn sure wouldn’t give in to any interest or attraction he might feel toward Cassie Leighton.