Читать книгу A Family to Cherish - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Tell me again why you can’t do this, Matt.” Meredith gazed up at her newly married half brother late Friday. She encompassed the entire mansion in a wave of her hand. “You said yourself the building’s in decent shape, that it just needs a little sprucing up to be spa-ready.”

Matt slanted her a no-nonsense look. “My exact words were ‘it needs a doll-up and major revisions on utilities to bear the load of spa equipment.’”

“So…”

He stood his ground, solid. Determined. “Cam’s your man. He’s an expert at classic home refurbishing, he’s approved by the Landmark Society, he’s experienced and he’s the best around. You saw what he did with the Kinsler estate.”

She had, but… “I—”

“Mere.” Matt grasped her shoulders with two firm hands. Sympathy met her gaze, but behind the kindness lay straight-up honesty. “I’d do it if I could. But Phase One of Cobbled Creek is almost completely sold and I’ve got Phase Two ready to go. It’s March and we’re moving into prime building season. And since my father-in-law is my partner—” his eyes twinkled into hers “—you don’t mess with time frames that cost the business money.”

“Money’s not a problem,” Meredith told him. Her bequest from her late grandfather had secured the sprawling Victorian. The just-upgraded loan from her grandmother would cover the remodeling. And hopefully a partnership with her old friend Heather Madigan would provide the necessary customer base, crucial to developing a new business.

“Not your money,” Matt explained. “Mine. Outdoor construction time is finite here.” Matt jerked his head south where the shaded foothills of the Allegheny Mountains rolled in splotched gray and white, stick trees poking up, bereft and dark, the late-winter look unappealing. “With the first section of the subdivision nearly complete, I’m already digging basements for the next group.” He pressed her shoulders with gentle affection. “Stick with Cam. Unless you’re too afraid.”

Afraid? Her? Of Cam Calhoun? As if.

Meredith shrugged Matt off. “I’m not afraid of anything. I’d just rather not open up a box that’s best left shut.”

“It’s business, kid.” Matt’s military training kept him on the upside of common sense. “And speaking from experience, we can’t afford to let old wounds adversely affect business relationships in a town this size. We make amends and move on.” He jerked a shoulder toward the rambling house. “With two kids to take care of, Cam could use the work and you need someone good enough to create what you envision here. I’m a construction guy. Not a fine carpenter.”

His words tipped the balance. Meredith knew what she wanted, she’d envisioned the finished product that would allow beautiful but affordable spa luxuries to the men and women of Allegany County. The recent upsurge in employment and business made this move timely. Grandpa’s money made it affordable.

But why Cam? Of all the craftsmen in all the world…

Reality smacked her. Wellsville and Jamison weren’t that big. And fine carpenters weren’t common in large metropolises. Here?

The local towns were blessed to have a craftsman of Cam’s caliber available. She huffed a sigh, folded her arms and dropped her chin. “Okay.”

Matt laughed, gave her a brotherly chuck on the arm and headed toward his truck. “Gotta head out. Callie’s got a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes.”

“Aha.”

He met her up-thrust brows with a wink. “It’s too early for big announcements, but prayers are appreciated.”

“Oh, Matt.” Meredith hugged him before he climbed into the truck. “I’m so happy for you. And a baby…”

“Not gettin’ any younger,” Matt told her, “so we decided not to wait.”

“When?”

“Thanksgiving if all goes well.”

“Perfect.”

Matt’s crooked grin showed his full agreement. “’Bout as close to that as you can get on Earth, sis.”

He drove off, leaving her to contemplate her current predicament. Was she stupid to have invested in this old place? Or was she savvy to have recognized the amazing potential?

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

Sage words. Sound advice she wished she’d embodied a few years ago before losing her heart to a man who led two lives, a man like her trouble-making illicit father. If she’d heeded her mother’s wisdom back then, she’d have averted a lot of unnecessary drama.

A stupid mistake, one she would never repeat and would rather forget. She hoped coming home to Allegany County allowed just that.

* * *

Some days Cam hated that the cemetery stood half a mile east of their home. Others, like today, he welcomed the proximity. Once the girls awoke, his hours would race from one task to another, a typical Saturday in the life of a single parent. And then he’d play catch-up on Sunday, taking care of menial tasks left undone during the busy week before starting all over again Monday morning. But he refused to dwell on the negatives. His beautiful girls made the time, the work and the sacrifice worthwhile.

Cam would have said the chill morning fog painted the trek from the gravel-stone path to the gray stone marker in monochromes, if he was prone to drama.

He wasn’t.

But the sigh in his heart softened his jaw as the etched words became more legible with each step.

Kristine DeRose Calhoun

Beloved wife, mother and daughter

The stark reality of the carved letters sucker-punched him every time. The all-consuming ache he’d felt those first weeks and months had dulled to an old sore, but he couldn’t come to the graveyard to pay respects without remembering Kristy there, on their old couch, gone forever.

Irreparable harm. That’s what he’d done. Not like he’d gone to bed expecting her to die, but he’d gone to bed cranky and bad-tempered, as if her time, her work with the girls, her tasks were less important than his. Sometimes that hurt more than her death, that he’d minimized her worth in sharp words that last night.

He laid the single red rose on the grave, a tribute to an old promise, when Kristy had scoffed at the idea of money wasted on twelve flowers, destined to be tossed away within days. “One flower,” she’d told him, smiling, trailing her hand along his scruffy cheek. “Just one, now and again. To show me you care.”

He had cared. Did care. As he stared at the single flush of color against dull grays of the early-spring graveyard, he wished he had a chance, one more chance to say he was sorry.

So sorry.

But he’d blown that, too, so he leaned down, laid his hand against the cold, smooth stone, and prayed the prayer that remained unanswered, a prayer for forgiveness.

The hard, flat surface yielded nothing, but he was used to that. He straightened and tipped the visor of his faded baseball cap, but didn’t wink like he used to when she was alive.

Because she wasn’t.

* * *

“Meredith!”

Meredith turned from the display of nineteenth-century-styled tinware and laughed as Rachel Calhoun raced around two tables of carved wooden bowls to tackle into her on Saturday morning. “Hey, Rach. How’s it going?”

“Rachel. Walk,” Cam said.

“Sorry, Dad. Meredith’s here!”

“I see that.”

Cam’s tone said she ranked pretty much last on the list of people he hoped to run into this cold, rainy Saturday, but she’d figured that out the other day. Meredith looked around, searching, then raised a brow of question to the little girl wrapped around her legs. “Where’s Sophie?”

“Indoor soccer practice,” Rachel explained. “I already had mine.”

“Which explains the cool athletic look you’re sporting,” Meredith noted. Rachel’s face brightened and she turned this way and that, peering over her shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt to see the number on her jersey. “I’m number seven, see?”

“It’s a great number.”

“Sophie’s number seven, too.”

“A little odd, but still wonderful,” Meredith said.

“It was my Mommy’s number in high school,” Rachel continued. “We asked the coaches if we could both use it ’cause we’re on different teams.”

“A marvelous family tradition.” Meredith stooped low and met the little girl’s frank gaze. “Your mommy must be very proud to have two beautiful athletic daughters following in her footsteps.”

“She’s dead.”

Silence yawned. Meredith swallowed hard, saw the stark honesty in the little girl’s expression, and looked up to Cam for confirmation. The look of loss in his light eyes offered affirmation. Meredith gave Rachel a quick hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know that.”

Rachel mused, then nodded. “You’re new. And she died when I was really small. Daddy remembers. So does Sophie. And I kind of do. A little.”

Meredith looked into this miniature version of Cam’s blue eyes and read the wistfulness there, a pensiveness that suggested she didn’t really remember but longed to.

Meredith’s heart opened wide, along with her arms. She hugged Rachel, then rocked back on her heels. “So. Are you good?” she asked, nodding at the light blue soccer uniform.

Rachel beamed. “Yes. Very.”

“I’m not a bit surprised.” Meredith laughed and stood, then grimaced as her knees unlocked.

“Are you all right?”

Cam’s voice actually sounded concerned, but that was because Cam Calhoun was one of the world’s nicest guys. “Fine. My knees do not like that position, though, and they remind me that I’m not twenty anymore. Or seven.” She smiled down at the little girl, then redirected her attention to Cam. “I assume since I haven’t heard from you that you’re going to pass on my project?”

“No.” He frowned slightly, as though her assumption surprised him, but then why hadn’t he called? Gotten back to her? It had been…

“It’s only been two days,” he reminded her. “And I need to get a better look at the upstairs measurements to do a full write-up, but as long as you’re not in a huge hurry for the work to be complete—”

Meredith didn’t clamp her guilty look in time.

Cam sighed and maintained eye contact using that assessing expression he seemed to have perfected. Patient with a hint of long-suffering that said more than words ever could. “What time frame were you expecting, Meredith?”

She flinched and admitted, “Six weeks.”

“Twelve,” he countered in a flat voice. “And that’s pushing it. It’s March. We’d be looking at a July finishing date.”

“You’re serious?”

“Always.”

She smiled, his one-word answer reminding her that he was generally serious. And sincere. And heart-wrenching handsome, with or without his glasses on. And a widower.

She hadn’t counted on that last fact. And while it shouldn’t make a difference, she’d taken stoic comfort in his married state these past two days when old memories ran like creek water on a summer’s day. But now twelve weeks of working together to get Stillwaters into shape?

“What will take so long?” His look of impatience made her rephrase the sentence. “I’m sorry, that sounded rude. I meant what aspects of the job push it to twelve weeks? The new plumbing? Electric upgrades?”

“My job.”

She frowned, not understanding.

Cam tipped his head. A tiny wrinkle between his brows begged to be smoothed away.

Meredith ignored the plea.

“I’m a teacher.”

Well, that explained those practiced classroom looks. The steady gaze, the heightened expectations. “A teacher? Really?”

“Is it that surprising, Mere? It’s been fourteen years.”

Oh, she knew that. She’d spent those fourteen years working, training, finessing and climbing her way up the ladder of spa success only to crash when the spa owner’s daughter decided her four-year business degree from a third-tier school bested fourteen years of hard-earned experience. Jude Anne Geisler played the trump card well, offering to let the world know that Meredith had been running around with Sylvia Sinclair Bellwater’s husband.

By that point it didn’t matter that Meredith had been duped by the successful businessman and his clever alias. Her fault, she knew. She squelched an urge to get even because the man she knew as Chas Bell had a wife and three kids who would be hurt if those allegations became public. Sylvia Bellwater didn’t need to go through what Meredith’s mother had endured. Not at her hands, anyway.

And she knew Chas would eventually be found out. Scum had a way of rising to the surface.

But it wouldn’t be because of her, so she sidestepped the drama while the resort owner’s daughter stepped into the management position Meredith had primed herself for the past five years.

Nepotism and her own stupidity put her out of the job she’d worked for, and brought her back home to Wellsville and Jamison. She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I didn’t know.”

“So I’m working full-time until the end of June. I’ve got two busy little girls.” He chucked Rachel under the chin. She grinned up at him, the wide smile flashing love and devotion between father and daughter. The exchanged look drew Meredith back in time, to another little girl, gazing at her dad in adoration. Only that little girl had been sadly misled. This one wouldn’t be.

“And outdoor soccer season is starting.”

“And they both play, which puts you in a time crunch.” Meredith tipped her smile down. Rachel grinned up at her with Cam’s eyes. Cam’s face. Cam’s light hair.

“Yes. I generally only take on big projects in the summer, so you’re timing isn’t good—”

She frowned, disappointed.

“And pouting will get you nowhere.”

“That wasn’t pouting. It was frowning. Huge difference.”

Her quick retort made him smile, and the minute he did, fourteen years melted away in a flash of warmth. “Let’s go with slight difference. More accurate. So if you’re still interested…”

“In getting the work done,” she interjected, then sent him an innocent smile.

“Exactly.” His expression said nothing else was on the table, so that was good, right? “I can come by later today, finish measuring and give you an estimate. Then you can decide.”

“I’ve already decided,” she told him. When he looked surprised and a little discomfited, she went on, “I checked out your references from Matt, viewed the Kinsler place at length, and worked out an arrangement with Grandma for the loan. We’re good.”

“You’re giving me carte blanche without an estimate? That’s not good business.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” She faced him square. “I’m cutting a deal with a skilled craftsman who is known throughout the town as fair, conscientious and amazing.”

His eyes sparked at the word amazing and if she was interested at all, she’d have thought she noted a glimmer of something not exactly business-related in his expression.

If you were interested? Are you kidding me? Did you not see that look, that flash of light in his eyes? Come on, girl, get back in the game.

“Cameron.”

A cross-sounding voice interrupted their conversation. Rachel stepped closer to her father, and Meredith wished she could mimic the little girl’s wrinkle of displeasure, but grown-ups were required to maintain a game face in public. Right now Meredith considered it a really stupid rule.

“Mrs. Dennehy. How are you?” Cam kept his tone easy while Meredith considered ways to put the meddlesome old woman in her place. Claire Dennehy had sharpened her tongue at the Brennan family’s expense for a long time. Of course, Meredith’s father had given the town plenty of reason to gossip. Gambling, drug addiction, womanizing and illegitimate children made for great backyard fodder, but Claire and Cam’s mother had gone above and beyond in their condemnations, which meant Meredith’s teenage relationship with Cam put both women in a tongue-wagging tizzy.

The fact that they ran into each other here, in John Dennehy’s old-fashioned mercantile, gave Claire a new opportunity to scold, but if Meredith was going to make it in this town, she needed to toughen up. And Rachel didn’t need to hear the old woman’s caustic drivel. “Rachel, would you like to look at some wallpaper samples with me?”

“Wallpaper?” Rachel wrinkled her nose, puzzled.

Cam snorted.

Meredith ignored his noise and headed toward the door. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll head a little west on Main Street and see what Mr. Schiffler’s got in Victorian prints.”

Cam sent her a grateful look that said he recognized her ploy to move Rachel out of earshot, but the arched brow said they’d be discussing the wallpaper idea.

His amused look of challenge made her look forward to the discussion, a fact she’d examine later. Right now her big goal was removing seven-year-old hearing from the reach of a cranky old woman.

* * *

“I went to see your mother last night.” Claire threw down the comment like a dueling glove, then waited for Cam to retrieve it.

He refused the challenge and kept his peace. “I appreciate that. She gets lonely.”

“She’d be less lonely if certain people spent more time with her.”

“Or if she went places,” Cam returned mildly. “Did you happen to take her any black licorice?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll get some now.” His mother loved black licorice. And black jelly beans. Anise cookies. She enjoyed the biting flavor of the spiced treats.

“She didn’t look good.”

Cam pointed to the display case. “I’ll take a pound of the black jelly beans and the same of the black licorice whips.”

“Her color’s bad.”

His mother’s color would improve if she got outside more often and exercised her cheeks by smiling now and again. Neither option was likely.

“And she had a coughing spell something fierce when I was there. That will be nine-thirty-nine.”

Cam handed her a ten-dollar bill, smiled his thanks, and accepted the small bag and the change she handed him. “Have a nice day, now.”

He felt her stewing as he walked out the door, miffed because he refused to jump into a discussion about his mother. Their relationship, as strange as it was, was their business.

Not Claire’s.

He shoved his shoulders back consciously, as if listening to Claire’s negativity bowed him down. It didn’t, but it could, and Cam refused to let that happen. Thank heavens Meredith had been there to sweep Rachel out the door. Rachel was too quick for her own good, and listening to ill-tempered diatribes wasn’t in her best interest. Especially when she was adept at repeating things at the worst possible moments.

He paused, scraped a hand to his jeans, and eyed Schiffler’s door.

He’d just thanked God for Meredith Brennan. What in the world was he thinking?

Obviously an anomaly he wasn’t about to repeat. He entered the store just in time to hear Rachel exclaim, “I love this one, Meredith!”

Excitement highlighted Rachel’s delight as twin grins looked his way, a glimpse of shared femininity. Warmth flowed through him, seeing Rachel perched on a tall stool alongside Meredith. The little girl’s fair curls matched the soft highlights in Meredith’s hair, and for one brief flash of time they looked like they belonged together.

Except they didn’t.

Rachel waved him over. “Dad, you have got to see this.”

“Whaddya got, kid?”

“Look.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the fussy border done in shades of pink and white. The wide strip showcased delicate teacups, doilies and china teapots in mixed floral designs. Gold-rimmed plates lined the back of the paper shelf and a vase of pink roses enhanced the effect of the floral-trimmed china. The whole thing was Victorian-friendly, ultrafeminine and way too pink. “Whoa. Girly. Where are the soccer balls? Baseball gloves. You don’t really like this, do you?”

Meredith’s gaze cooled like hot maple syrup on fresh snow, but Cam kept his eyes on Rachel. She made a pretty fair imitation of his frown and shook her head. “Way too prissy. Please.”

“Well, I like it,” Meredith announced. “It would be beautiful in a girl’s room over a pink-sprigged floral print with white upper walls.”

Cam pretended to gag. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not in the least.” She sent Rachel a soft smile. “There’s nothing wrong with being a tomboy who enjoys pretty things.”

Meredith’s words reinspired Rachel’s sparkle. Cam thought of her bedroom at home. He’d painted it ivory when they moved into the old place a couple of years ago. Work and parenting had kept him from making the changes he’d envisioned when he bought the small farm, but the girls didn’t seem to care. Life kept them plenty busy. Who had time to notice things like room color? Wallpaper? Please.

Rachel’s profile said otherwise, reason enough right there to limit her time with Meredith. He’d worked hard to raise the girls to be strong and independent. Assertive and athletic. All too soon maturing hormones would thrust them into a new world of girliness, but Cam refused to rush that process. His motto: All A’s, No B’s. Athletics and academics, no boys allowed. At least until the girls were thirty or so. Then they’d talk.

“Gotta go get your sister, kid.”

“Okay.” Rachel nodded and smiled, but Cam noticed the smile didn’t reach her eyes, eyes that drifted back to the feminine border.

He ignored the longing look and faced Meredith. “This afternoon good for you? Around two?”

“Fine.” She didn’t smile at him, but squatted low to share a smile with his daughter. “Thanks for the advice. I like the way you see colors.”

Rachel’s warm expression said the words meant more than just a casual compliment. “Thank you. I liked working with you.”

“Then we’ll have to do it again,” Meredith promised. “Since your dad and I will be working together, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

She stood and Cam noticed the same wince he’d witnessed in the mercantile, as if her knees didn’t care to cooperate. He had a couple of joints like that, but the fact that Meredith didn’t acknowledge it this time scored extra points in his book. Not that he was keeping score. And the cool look she sent him said she wouldn’t care if he was keeping score because he’d gone into the minus column for not jumping on the teacup-and-flower bandwagon.

Oh, well.

Raising girls in a world rife with sensuality and innuendo was difficult enough for a man alone. Feeding into girly mumbo jumbo didn’t make sense to him, especially for two gifted competitors like Sophie and Rachel. No, he’d stick to the familiar basics. Home. Work. Family. And sports channels on cable.

He jerked his head toward the mélange of wall-covering books in front of Meredith. “We’ll discuss this—” he made a face to underscore his negative opinion of wallpaper

“—later, okay?”

“Which ones to use? Perfect.” She sent him a pert smile, a quick flash of teeth that said she’d go toe to toe with him. A long time ago, he’d have enjoyed that prospect. Now?

Not so much.

Meredith called her sister-in-law Callie once Cam left the store. When Callie answered with a quick hello, Meredith waded in. “Explain to me again why men are necessary?”

“Propagation of the species?”

“Modern technology could argue otherwise.”

“Because they’re better at digging up septic tanks and killing spiders?”

“There are machines for the first, and I can squash a spider with barely a grimace.”

“Because they smell good on Sunday morning?”

Meredith had been close enough to Cam to know he smelled good on Saturday mornings, too. Very good, in fact, a hint of savory and spice. She hauled in a breath and asked for the third time that week, “Refresh me on why you and Matt are too busy to fix up this old house for me.”

“Cam can’t do it?” Callie asked. Meredith’s moment of silence offered answer enough. “Oh, I see. Cam can do it and you’re running scared.”

“Annoyed possibly. Not scared.”

“And he hasn’t had an easy time since losing his wife,” Callie continued.

“A fact everyone left out of the equation,” Meredith muttered. “Why didn’t someone tell me he was a widower? With kids?”

Callie hesitated.

Meredith read the conversational gap and sighed. “All right, I get it. I’m not exactly approachable about the past, all the teen drama.”

“Those were rough times for you and your family.” Callie’s voice held assurance and affection. “I saw that in Matt. I see it in you and Jeff. When parents mess you over big time, it’s an adjustment that can take a long time to fix.”

Meredith didn’t want or need fixing. She was hardworking and industrious, with great shoes and hair. Although her nails could use some work, she noted, looking down. And when did looking good become a crime?

“Mere, we’d do it if we could.” Callie’s tone softened and Meredith felt like a first-class jerk for playing the guilt card. “You know that.”

Meredith did know that, but changing family dynamics fast-forwarded her into a new reality. Callie and Matt were expecting a baby and Matt was in the process of adopting Callie’s son, Jake, an eight-year-old sweetheart.

Meredith’s older brother Jeff had gotten married on New Year’s Eve, and if Hannah’s recent pale features were any indication, Meredith figured she’d have two new family members before year’s end. Two bundles of joy to feed and rock. Anticipation mixed with envy. There was a time she’d thought of her future in those terms. Home. Family. Cute husband. Children.

An incoming text interrupted her pity party. She saw three words and Cam’s number, and smiled in spite of herself while Callie was left hanging.

Pink teapots? Really?

The shared joke jerked her out of her self-imposed funk. “I’ll talk to you later, Callie. And give Jake a hug for me.”

“Will do.”

Meredith saved Cam’s text, put the phone away and closed the wallpaper books. Once outside, she drew a breath as frigid March winds swirled dust devils of stinging snow mixed with rain beneath her coat. Warmth came late in the foothills. She’d grown accustomed to softer springs in Maryland. Early buds, cherry blossoms, spring bulbs burgeoning forth. That wouldn’t happen for a while in the Southern Tier of New York, but lamenting the weather didn’t make the short list. Weather was what it was.

Great hair? Meredith walked by the old-time mercantile, shoulders back and head high, just in case Claire Dennehy was watching.

Great hair was priceless.