by Ava Miles
“Not a thing,” he said, turning the page he was on, pretending to read the paper. “You look beautiful, by the way, but don’t let an old man’s compliment go to your head. Some might say I’m addled at my age.”
She smacked him lightly on the back of the head, and he had to fight to contain his grin. She was so easy to rile up, but he knew she was playacting too. This Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell routine was simply their way.
A hefty stack of papers landed on the table beside him, and he looked away from his paper to see her staring at him.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“A pre-nup,” she said matter-of-factly. “Read it. Make changes to it. Consult your lawyer.”
He grumbled. “I haven’t even proposed yet.”
“But you will,” she said, nodding as Hargreaves walked into the kitchen. “We can’t live in sin for the rest of our lives in this small town. Besides, we should be role models for your great-grandchildren. Right, Hargreaves?”
“Young children are quite impressionable,” the old sack of bones replied in his stiff British accent. “If your father were still living, he wouldn’t hear of it.”
Neither would Emmits, Arthur knew, but was he going to make this easy? No way. She’d be disappointed. “We won’t need a pre-nup, Clara. Presuming I propose, of course. I’ve recently discovered some things that make me feel we’re incompatible. You snore like a field hand, and your feet are cold as ice.”
“And you grind your teeth and run into things in the dark on the way to the bathroom and curse like a sailor,” she said. “We balance each other out. Hargreaves, do you have the presents?”
“Wait,” Arthur said, putting a hand on her arm. “You’re coated in diamonds again. Why you need an engagement ring…”
“It is customary, sir,” Hargreaves said, coming forward with two parcels.
Surely she hadn’t bought an engagement ring. She’d been hinting like a bull in Pamplona hinted, but he was determined to take his time. She’d have a ring in his nose if he didn’t do things his own way.
“Customary,” he barked playfully, earning him another poke. “Now about this pre-nup… I don’t want you thinking you can’t trust me.”
Clara stared him down but good. “It’s not about trust. It’s about the infernal laws in this country. You have a newspaper I did nothing to create. Did you know I could lay claim to part of it if we married and then divorced? Or that you could do the same to me with my paintings and fortune?”
Exactly why they both needed to sign over those things to the younger generation. He needed to call his lawyer about transferring ownership next week.
“I know the damn law, and it sucks,” he said. “If you pour your blood, sweat, and tears into something, it should be yours—not someone else’s simply because you shagged them while you were hitched.”
He heard a sound and looked over to see Hargreaves covering his mouth. Had he finally made the old man laugh finally? Incredible.
“You know, I’ve talked to Meredith and Tanner about this and Jill and Brian too. I’m working my way through the family. Everyone needs to have some legal protections in place. If I’d had that in my marriage, maybe I’d felt comfortable revealing the lost Rembrandt. These young people need some serious schooling, Arthur.”
He loved hearing that. She was rapidly becoming an integral part of his family.
“I’ve told them it’s not about a lack of trust or love,” Clara said. “This is about respect. It’s about making sure the person you love honors the work you do and your accomplishments. And let me tell you something else—”
He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her soundly. She stopped like she usually did and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back. Arthur heard Hargreaves leave the room. Thank God the man gave them space, or he’d have to insist on building him a separate living area. Come to think of it…
“Done with your soap box?” he asked, caressing her cheek.
“You’re an old bull, but I love you,” she said, kissing him lightly and then hugging him.
Hadn’t he been thinking that about her? “No woman at your age should complain about bunking with an old bull,” he said, letting his hand slip to her butt.
She laughed in that bawdy way of hers—a giddy, tinkling laugh he imagined her old stupid deuce of a husband had never heard, God rot his soul.
“Are you ready to go to your birthday party?” she asked.
He was looking forward to seeing everyone, but he hated the fuss. “No reason to celebrate getting this ancient.”
“The pyramids are older than you,” she said. “You’re far from ancient. Now, I decided to give you my presents beforehand.”
He eyed them with suspicion. “Anything going to jump out and give me another heart attack?”
His heart was recovering great, or so his doctors told him, but a man still needed to be careful.
“Nope,” she said. “Open this one first,” she said, nudging the large silver-wrapped box toward him.
When he tore off the paper and opened it, he looked at the contents. Stunned. The painting was of him as a young man, his head lowered over a scatter of papers at his old desk, the one he’d had in the corner of his apartment in New York. He had what he knew was one of his first red pens in his hands, marking up whatever article he was reading.
“What?” he sputtered, gesturing to the painting. “How?”
“I had it painted,” she said, tracing the gold frame. “Before you left New York. I was planning on giving it to you for your birthday, but when you announced you were going back to Dare Valley, I…put it away.”
“In a rage, no doubt,” he said, his heart hurting.
“Not only rage,” she said softly.
He looked up and studied her. No, she’d grieved over his departure. Over what might have been. “You’re going to make me a sap with all of this mushy stuff, Clara.”
Her blue eyes flashed fire, but he kissed her hard on the mouth and put his arms around her. He felt a riot of powerful emotions, holding her, ones he hadn’t felt since Harriet had died. God, he was glad to be feeling them again.
“Clara Marissa Merriam, will you marry me?” he asked softly.
She edged back, her eyes shining with unusual tears. “’Bout time you asked me.”
Perhaps it was. “This proposal has a time limit since my leg is starting to fall asleep…”
“Yes!” she said, her voice almost girlish. “Oh, you’re odious sometimes, but I love you.”
“Keep that in your mind for a moment while I tell you something,” he said, patting her fanny. “I love you too, but I don’t have a ring yet.”
“You proposed to me without a ring?” she asked. “What kind of man are you?”
“Spontaneous.”
She snorted.
“Hey, I just got out of the hospital, woman, and the kind of ring you’d like isn’t going to be in Dare Valley.”
“We’ll need to go on a road trip then,” she said. “After your party. Speaking of which. Open this present and then let’s get going.”
This package was smaller, and when he opened it, he laughed. “Red hots?”
“These are dark chocolate-covered ones,” she said, pointing to the label. “I figured since I’m living here I should have red hots that represent my unique style and taste.”
Cinnamon and chocolate suited her, he thought. He was oddly moved by the gesture, almost as much as he’d been by the painting she’d commissioned all those years ago.
“Have Hargreaves put it in a candy dish alongside mine in the den and my study.”
She beamed. “I will. Shall we go celebrate your life?”
He coughed and felt his face turn as red as one of his red hots. “When you put it that way, I’m staying home.”
But of course he didn’t.
When they arrived at Meredith and Tanner’s house, his entire family was fanned out in front of him. He felt tears fill his eyes as they all yelled, “Surprise.”<
br />
He put his hand to his heart playfully. Smiled when his great-grandchildren ran forward to welcome him. He was hugged and kissed and hugged and kissed some more. God, they were a mushy lot.
“Speech!” he heard a familiar voice call out.
He gave Jill the fisheye for being a busybody, but more people joined in, shouting that word, and soon he felt Clara pushing him to the center of the room.
“All right, I know when I’m licked,” he said with a gusty sigh. “I remember telling J.T. and Trevor how family circles the wagons when there’s trouble, and God knows we’ve seen our fair share, but we’ve weathered it together. What I neglected to mention was that family also circles the wagons to celebrate. Victories. Anniversaries. Graduations. Reunions. And yes, even birthdays for a man as old as I am.”
Meredith grabbed Tanner’s arm, resting her face against his shoulder. Goodness, he was moved seeing them together, knowing they would continue his legacy. For a time, he’d thought his son would take over, but Alan had taken his early heart attack as a sign he needed to slow down. He spied his son holding Jared with a smile on his face. Alan had handled retirement well, what with moving to Arizona. Somehow knowing that told Arthur he’d be okay too in this new chapter. Besides, he had Clara. He swiped at the tears in his eyes as he darted a glance at her.
“I’ve given a lot of you advice over the years, and I’m going to take the opportunity to give you a little more today. I’ve been fortunate to devote most of my adult years to a profession I love, and it makes me happy to know the paper I created, the one people out East told me was impossible, is in good hands. Many of you have found your passion in life. Keep the fire lit and give it your all.”
A few people coughed, and he noted a whole host of people wiping tears, notably a very pregnant Natalie Hale. And, if the rumors were right, both Peggy and Jane would be announcing their pregnancies soon as well. Damn if he hadn’t been right about Jane. Neither had been drinking alcohol at family occasions for a few weeks now. Man, he was glad he had the chance to see more babies born into this family.
“I was lucky enough to find a woman to love, one who understood and supported the love I had for my paper. Our family paper,” he added. “Somehow I’ve been fortunate to find another woman to love, which only goes to show you never know what surprises life might send you. When they come, open your arms and thank your lucky stars.”
He put his hand in his pocket, fingering a red hot, as he considered the rest of what needed saying.
“I’ve done a lot in my life, and I hope to do even more in what time I have left. But when I look around this room, I see something truly miraculous.”
He swept his arm from right to left, gazing at so many beloved faces.
“In the past few years, this family has grown. Not everyone is blood, but who the hell cares? Family isn’t only about blood. It’s about finding the people who get you. Who you can call in a pinch. Who want to help you succeed and thrive at everything you do.”
A number of people were nodding, including Rhett Butler Blaylock, who didn’t share a lick of his DNA but was kin nonetheless.
“I’d like to take responsibility for some of this,” he said, making a few people laugh. “Here are some statistics to prove my case. I’ve seen about ten new couples come together. Four children born. A whole heck of a lot of you—nearly all—have returned to Dare Valley or found us somehow on a map destiny planned for you all along. I like to think more might be coming home.”
He pointed at young Trevor, who shook his head slowly, making his brother nudge him with an elbow.
“Emmits Merriam would be happy to have his great grandson back here, opening a museum at the university he founded. What I expect Emmits wouldn’t have foreseen was his old friend becoming engaged to his granddaughter only moments before his eightieth birthday party. It sure as hell shocked the heck out of me.”
Clara winked at him.
“In the best possible way, of course,” he added gruffly.
Jill stepped forward, her mouth open like an eager puppy. “You’re engaged?”
“And I’m the one old enough for hearing aids,” he said, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Yes, Clara and I are getting married. In fact, we’ll be leaving Dare Valley for a while. With all this free time on my hands, we’ve decided to see the world. Expect a visit in Dublin, young Trevor.”
Perhaps he could help more of the Merriam kids find themselves a good companion for life—even if they didn’t come home to roost in Dare Valley. Emmits would like that. Clara would be happy to play matchmaker, he imagined. And he could help the Merriams get their heads out of their asses if needed.
“Did you all expect us to live in sin?” he finally joked.
Everyone seemed to be in shock, and he found himself biting his lip to keep from laughing at their faces.
Rhett burst out laughing, and then the tall man was bustling forward and picking him up off the ground. “I want to grow up to be you, Arthur.”
“Put me down, you crazy Southerner,” he said, trying to contain his mirth.
The moment Rhett heeded him, he was rushed again by people hugging and kissing him and congratulating him on the engagement. In the melee, he managed to look over and see Clara being surrounded by the same eager beavers.
“Get it out of your systems,” he said as Jill rushed toward him from the makeshift party queue.
“Oh, I’m so happy for you, Grandpa,” she said, hugging him tight. “Grandma would be so happy.”
He’d talked to Harriet the other night, his eyes fixed on the star he thought was her in the night sky. That star had winked at him—much like Clara liked to do—and given him a final sense of peace about starting a new life with another woman he loved.
J.T. came forward after the hubbub finally died and held out a small present. Since returning a couple weeks ago, he seemed to be more like his old self. It made his heart happy to see Caroline was ever by his side.
“This is from all of us,” he said, taking Caroline’s hand when she came forward. “As you said, you’re been there for all of us. We wanted to give you something we thought you might enjoy.”
He shook the present as Clara joined him. “This had better not be jewelry.”
She laughed and leaned into him, making him wish he didn’t have his cane. Funny how he didn’t seem to need it as much these days.
Opening the box, he frowned at the key. “I almost hate to ask. What’s it to?”
J.T. and Caroline walked to the front door and opened it. “Come see.”
He took Clara’s hand, and together they followed the other couple out, the crowd coming out with them.
The present was unmistakable, what with it being parked smack dab in the driveway.
He fought to breathe. “A 1960 Chevrolet Corvette Convertible? That’s my present?”
“We heard from a reliable source that you talked about wanting this car when you first came back to Dare Valley, but you couldn’t afford it,” J.T. said.
That must have been Clara. Goodness. No, he’d poured all of his money into the paper and his life in Dare Valley.
“You shouldn’t have,” Arthur said, handing Clara his cane and walking toward it.
She was a beaut, what with her Roman red body and white accents. The black leather interior was in mint condition like the rest of the car.
“Since you plan on traveling, we thought you might want something fun to drive,” Caroline said. “It’s the least we could do after everything you’ve done for us.”
“Everyone loves you to pieces, Grandpa,” Meredith said, leaving her parents and coming to stand beside him. Goodness, she’d been standing beside him ever since her unexpected return to Dare Valley, he realized. They’d become a team.
“I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t come home, sweetheart,” Arthur said, sniffing a moment.
Meredith wiped away a few tears. “Me either. I’m going to miss seeing you every day at the paper, but I’m glad
you’ll be kicking up your heels with Clara.”
“Gads, I’m going to be bawling like a baby in a moment,” he said, hugging her. “All of you have overwhelmed me. Thank you!”
“Perhaps we should go for a test drive, Arthur,” Clara said, opening the passenger door of the Corvette and hopping inside.
Yes, indeed, she’d hopped. Then again, she’d planned this. No doubt, she’d told them about this car strategically. Goodness, she had some memory.
“Good idea, my dear.”
He walked around to the driver’s side and slid in. The leather seat cupped his body, and after he turned on the engine, he put the car in first but kept his foot on the brake.
“Happy birthday, Grandpa!” Meredith and Jill called.
J.T. and Caroline waved as they drove off, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t be prouder of his role in bringing them together.
He took the car toward downtown. Nostalgia was running through his veins, but he figured that was okay since it was his eightieth birthday. Clara shook out her long hair, and it flew behind her as he gathered speed. She held out his cane and then threw it out of the convertible.
He forced his gaze back to the road. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“You don’t need it anymore,” she said. “I’ve been watching you. Hargreaves agrees.”
He tried not to smile, but couldn’t help himself.
“Like either one of you have any medical training,” he barked.
“Let’s face it, Arthur,” she said, putting her hand on his knee. “You might have had a heart attack, but you’re looking and feeling younger than your years. Just think about how great you’re going to feel after being married to me for a few years. Who knows? You might run a marathon or something.”
“When pigs fly,” he spat, but he did feel younger with her, and this car certainly didn’t hurt.
“It is a nice town,” Clara said. “You did well here, Arthur.”
Yes, he had. He slowed down to drive past The Western Independent. God, he loved that brick building. But Hales would continue to walk the halls and put out the voice of the West. That was all that mattered.
Jill’s first venture, Don’t Soy With Me, made him smile as they passed it. He’d never been one for fancy coffee, but she’d done a hell of a job with it. After Matt was finished being mayor, Arthur was going to talk her into running—although he expected it wouldn’t be too difficult.