by Betty Bolte
“Did you sleep well?” Max asked.
“What? Why do you ask?” She glanced at him, and then back to where she slowly spun her mug on the table, automatically calculating the degrees of the circle as the handle navigated the outer edge of the circular path between her hands.
“You’re still learning the noises of the house, so I thought you might be having trouble sleeping. Especially after yesterday. Thanks, Meg.” He grinned as Meg placed a steaming mug and a plate crowded with two of the largest buns in front of him.
“Eat up; that’s why I bake.” Meg smoothed her hands down the front of her yellow gingham bib apron.
“So, Mer,” Paulette said, “are you sleeping well? You do look a little peaked, what with the beginnings of bags under your eyes.”
Meredith frowned in Paulette’s direction. She wouldn’t dignify her yet again off-base observation with a response. Bags, indeed. She’d checked earlier, and no sign showed on her face of her late nights and too early mornings. Yet. “My sleeping habits are none of your business.”
Paulette nodded. “As I thought. You’re not sleeping again, are you? You should get a prescription for a sleep aid.”
Whether she stayed awake counting the knotholes in the wood ceiling or the number of hoots echoed by owls outside was her business. Meredith shot her sister the look her mother had perfected, the one that froze small children in their tracks.
Paulette laughed. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.”
Why the hell not? How had her life spun so far out of control in such a short span of time? Meredith fumed at the way these people were pushing their way into her private affairs. Ever since Willy and their child had been snatched from her, she’d kept her own counsel. Ever since that night when she’d been about to tell Willy she carried their first child. Sitting in his pickup in front of his parents’ home, she’d been startled when a man calmly walked up to Willy’s side of the vehicle, demanding his wallet. Willy barely had time to raise a protective arm in front of Meredith before she spotted the pistol. Heard the explosion of the gun and the jolt of her husband as he fell across her. Followed immediately by the shaft of pain as another bullet entered her womb, stealing the life of their unborn baby. She had bled profusely, wailing at the pain and the desolation. Willy’s parents had rushed from the house at the sound of gunfire. The man had vanished by the time the police arrived and the ambulance carried her to the hospital. After they’d stabilized her, she learned Willy died along with their baby. If only he had listened to her they would have stayed home and not have been in the wrong place.
Nobody could possibly understand the depth of her pain, the grief lingering in her soul. Her body recovered, of course, but the grief morphed into an anger so hot and volatile she’d considered relinquishing her contracts for designing and building houses in order to concentrate on the opposite: demolishing them, piece by piece. But she couldn’t bring herself to go against Willy’s desires for her to make her name as an architect. A builder, not a destroyer. She longed for the ultimate closure, to move on. Finally, she had struck upon a path forward. She’d add to the family plantation property to stand as a tribute to new beginnings, a place where people grieving for a loved one could find their individual serenity. Then, with any luck, she’d be free of this terrible weight pinning her to the past. But it was her plan and would be carried out on her terms.
Max chewed his breakfast, watching her. In another time and place, she could absolutely find him interesting, and definitely attractive. Hell, she’d experienced both already. But not at this time and place. She needed to work alone to achieve her objectives. This project was a sole-source contract and she the only qualified person to effectively handle the details.
She leaned back in her chair, drawing her coffee with her. “Why are you here so early?”
“I’m intrigued to learn what you plan to do with Twin Oaks.” Max swallowed a mouthful of coffee and then leaned his elbows on the table. “Will you perhaps make it a B&B and entertain folks who love historical homes? Or turn it into a hotel? Or, my favorite fantasy, make it your home?”
“Why do you care?” Meredith studied his expression. She drummed her fingers in a slow cadence on the table in an effort to steady her swirling thoughts.
“You belong here. Don’t you feel it?” Max reached across the table and laid his hands on hers. “I can tell you fit like a tongue-and-groove floor.”
“It’s getting deep in here.” Paulette rose from the table, scraping the chair across the floor as she gained her feet. “Meg, is there more coffee to wash down all this baloney Max is serving up?”
“It’s not baloney,” Max said, squeezing and then releasing Meredith’s hands. “It’s the truth.”
She stood, taking her mug to the sink, which put distance between her and Max. Paulette, too, but mainly she needed to be outside the range of Max’s radiant heat and magnetic vibes. “As it so happens, I do plan to stay, for a while at least.”
“You’re not staying?” Meg crossed her arms and blinked at Meredith.
“I told you I couldn’t guarantee how long I’d be here.” Meredith shook her head. She hadn’t meant to be so bald about her short-term plans. But the horse was out of the barn. “That’s my plan.”
“How long before you kick us out again?” Meg shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her arms sliding down to wrap around her waist. “Have you decided that?”
Meredith didn’t want Meg to have a meltdown right there on the kitchen floor, so she hedged. “I have not finalized the details as of yet, Meg. I’ll be here for weeks, maybe a month or so anyway.”
“Oh, well then.” Meg relaxed her arms, allowing them to fall at her sides before folding her hands loosely in front of her. “It’s not like you’re abandoning us, then. We’ve plenty of time to change your mind, haven’t we, Max? Paulette?”
“Right, plenty of time.” Max stood and approached Meg. “With a little investment in time and money, this place will shine again.”
“I’m in,” Paulette said. “Twin Oaks is growing on me. The longer I’m here, the more I remember what a lovely property it is. Between us, we can make a go of it. I love the idea of a B&B, Max. That would bring in income, and we’d be keeping the place in the family. What do you think, Mer?”
“You’ve only been here a few minutes. You can’t possibly have grown attached to it so fast.” The thought of living here, with her sister sharing the house and Meg and Sean in the cottage, shot tremors through Meredith. Max, too, would be coming and going.
The scene played before her like a B-rated movie. It could not happen. No way. They’d make her march to their drummer. The mere idea caused her breath to catch and her heart to race. Bracing her hands on the counter, she dragged in deep gulps of air to steady herself. She relived the glint of the gun’s barrel pointed through the window and the echoing blast before Willy’s dead weight pressed into her. The idea of having a family home without Willy and their child caused her to shake from head to toe.
Max speared her with his intense gaze and then walked toward her. With each step he took, her heart raced faster and her lungs burned. Dark blotches appeared before her eyes, slowly shifting and blending.
“You know it’s your destiny.” Max stopped in front of her, though thankfully he didn’t touch her. “Deep down inside, what we’re proposing is what you really want.”
The room spun like a whirlpool around her. The blotches obliterated the people grinning at her. “No.”
Her legs gave way, failing to support her reeling self. Max caught her in his arms as all went black.
__________
“That went well,” Paulette said to Max. She shook her head and shrugged. “I’ve never seen her faint before. Can you carry her up to her room?”
“Good idea.” He started out of the kitchen with Meredith passed out in his arms.
Paulette grabbed her suitcase and followed him up the stairs. “I’ll just put my stuff away, and then I�
��ll come check on her.”
“No need.” Max shifted Meredith in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. “I can handle it.”
“She’s my sister.” Did he think she didn’t care? “I’ll only be a minute.”
“Suit yourself.” Max disappeared into the master bedroom.
She raced down the hall to the large bedroom at the front of the house. Sunshine streamed through the two double-hung windows flanked by floral-print curtains. The twin beds faced the windows. Everything remained the same as when they stayed there over summer break so long ago. As if Grandma expected them to come back. Even the quilts she’d made them graced the beds. She sank onto hers, tracing Saturn’s rings with a finger. She glanced up and froze. Her sampler still hung above her bed. She rose and went to it, examining the stitching. She’d prided herself on making them as even and tight as her grandmother’s.
She had once wanted to become a fashion designer when she grew up. She loved the feel of quality fabric and enjoyed creating new dresses for her dolls. She’d imagined having fashion shows with runway models wearing her creations. Until her dad convinced her decorating houses would help more people. He’d been right, of course. She’d thought, by becoming an interior decorator, he’d be proud of her, and they would team up and work together. He’d build the houses, and she’d decorate them. Sadly, her dream hadn’t happened.
She’d made such a blasted mess of her life. Pregnant and alone, worming her way into Meredith’s life. Needing her in a way she’d never wanted. What she told Max was true. She cared about Mer because they were siblings. But also because they once shared a much stronger bond. She wanted their friendship back. Hell, she wanted a lot of things from her life. She finally had a new chance to make at least some of it happen. Maybe even pursue her desire to design clothing. First, she needed to wiggle back into Meredith’s good graces.
Chapter 7
A soft purr and meow tickled Meredith’s ear. She blinked awake, Grizabella’s whiskers brushing her cheek. Where was she? The last she remembered she couldn’t breathe and Max’s arms wrapped around her. Oh, that woke her up. She ran a hand down Griz’s back and along her tail as the cat turned and strutted to the end of the bed.
“I’m glad you’re awake.” Max rose from the straight-backed chair now positioned beside the bed and shoved his hands into his front pockets. “How do you feel?”
Meredith pushed herself up to a sitting position, checking to ensure all systems functioned correctly. “What happened?”
“You fainted.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“I don’t faint.” Yet she must have, or she wouldn’t be in bed with no memory of how she arrived there. With Max hovering by her bedside like a worried lover. Where had that thought come from? Time to regain control over her own life and future.
“You did. I carried you up here so you’d be more comfortable.”
Great. Not only had she passed out, but he’d had to lug her too-plump ass up two flights of stairs. Then put her in bed. She glanced down. At least he hadn’t tried to change her clothes or anything. She still wore jeans and a tee. Small comfort but she’d take it.
“How long was I out?” She swung her feet to the floor and stood, grateful the room no longer spun and her lungs worked.
“A few minutes, maybe ten. Take it easy, though.” He reached to steady her, but she brushed away his hands.
“I don’t want to take it easy,” Meredith said. “I want everyone to leave. I have work to do.”
She started for the door of her bedroom. Grizabella minced in front of her, slowing her progress. Max took advantage of the delay and caught up to her.
“What kind of work?” Max asked, trailing behind her.
Right, like she’d reveal to him her plans so he could morph them into what he wanted. “Some research, if you must know. Go away.”
“Maybe I can help you.”
“Not likely.”
“I want to help.”
They reached the top of the stairs. She peeked at him, detected his curiosity and sincerity—and something more—and started down. She didn’t want to define the mysterious twinkle in his eyes. “Is that why you showed up this morning? To help like you did yesterday, breaking down my door?”
“Of course not. But I do know who to call to start the necessary repairs and to find the right period furniture. That sort of thing.” He shadowed so close she could feel his breath on her neck.
At the bottom, she spun around the newel post and it came off in her hand. She lovingly replaced it.
“I know where to get a period newel that would match better than that one.” Max waved at the offending acorn. “Look how it doesn’t even fit properly.”
“No, it’s always been a part of the house since I was a girl.” And made it with her own hands but she wouldn’t open herself up for more criticism by revealing that fact.
“It’s defective let alone corny.” He frowned at her, the downward pull of his brows dimming the vibrancy of his eyes. “I can have it fixed.”
“Really, there’s no need.” But she needed to free herself from this unwarranted debate. She needed water and privacy, in that order. “I told you I can handle my own affairs.”
She pushed through the kitchen door and stopped, Max running into her before ricocheting back a step. Paulette and Meg busily washed the windows, crumpled newspapers polishing the old glass. In ten minutes they’d decided to deep clean the house?
“What are you doing?” Meredith eased into the room, memories bombarding her. Paulette always loved washing windows, had even fought to make it her chore.
“Helping you—actually, us—with our new abode.” Paulette finished drying the window by the sink and paused to inspect her work. She rubbed one corner again and then flashed a smile at Meredith. “I love to view the world with wide-open eyes.”
“You’re not staying, Paulette.” Meredith marched to the cupboard, retrieving a glass and filling it with cold water. “Let’s be clear.”
Her sister merely smiled and went back to work.
“Did you hear me?” The water cooled her tongue. “Paulette?”
“I’m staying because you need all the help you can get, and I need your hospitality.” Paulette turned and shrugged at her. “I’ve got no job, no money, no nothing. I have nowhere else to go.”
“She is your sister,” Max said, grinning.
He poured coffee into his mug. Like he was planning to stay too. Which he wasn’t. Meredith would make sure he realized how unwelcome his presence remained. Even though she had totally lost control of what was happening around her. In fact, looking back over the last few weeks, she’d lost control of her own actions the moment Max had contacted her about the inheritance. She’d have to make immediate changes in order to reclaim the direction of her future. If there were no place, they couldn’t dictate how it would be used and by whom.
“Listen up, everyone,” she said, banging her glass onto the counter, water sloshing onto the tile. “I’m a one-woman show, and I do not need your help to make the necessary changes I have in mind.”
She tried to glare at the questioning expressions, but they didn’t seem to feel threatened one iota. Perfect. She’d have to make them understand somehow. This situation simply couldn’t continue. Shock and awe time.
“What intentions, precisely?” Paulette stared at her, arms poised at her sides, questions in her eyes.
What could she say to prevent their insistence on pushing her? Of correcting her every idea or thought? She drew in a breath and let it out on a sigh. “I’m going to establish Twin Oaks as a premier memorial park.”
“Out back?” Max nodded as he folded his arms. “There’s space out there.”
Meredith shook her head, grief and anger twining into reckless ideas. “Here. I will take down the damn manor and return the site to a green field and build the memorial park in its place. Then you won’t need to worry about the place ever again.”
&nbs
p; Damn. Where had that come from? But it wasn’t her fault that they’d pushed and pressed her into a corner until she felt compelled to lash out like a cornered raccoon. She moved to lean on the kitchen counter, braced for the reactions sure to be aimed in her direction. She didn’t have to wait very long, either.
“You cannot mean to do that.” Rage echoed in Paulette’s voice as her words hovered in the air. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Max glared at Meredith, outrage blazing from those gorgeous eyes. “What the…? Are you daft, woman? If this is why you want me to remove the protection from Twin Oaks, then forget it. I won’t.”
She glared at him, moving her hands to grip her hips. “You’re my lawyer, and you’ll do as I say.”
“No, goddamn it, I won’t.” He rounded on her. “Twin Oaks means way too much to too many people for you to be allowed to go through with dismantling it.”
“It’s mine.” A slow smile spread onto her lips as she regarded his blustering rage. “You can’t stop me. The Register has no authority over me as the property owner, only developers and such.”
“Not legally, perhaps.” Max rested his hands on his hips, his torso narrowing the distance between them as he leaned toward her. “Morally you can’t want to destroy your own heritage. What your ancestors fought and died for.”
She cringed at the guilt shooting through her. Grandpa Joe had indeed fought and died to save his home. Max and Paulette had forced her hand. She couldn’t back down now. “Nothing you say will change my mind.”
“Something better.” Paulette stalked across the floor to stand beside Max.
“I’m appalled and speechless.” Meg stood with her mouth open, eyes accusing.
Well, what had they thought? That she’d let them run her life? Meredith squared her shoulders. If they wanted a fight, then so be it.
“I don’t imagine you can understand this, but you don’t have to.” Meredith speared each with her gaze. “Grandmother O’Connell left Twin Oaks to me, and me alone. It’s my choice and my decision as to its future.”