by Baird, Ginny
“Grandpa,” Connie said, activating her speakerphone. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”
“And I was just thinking about you,” he said with a wheeze. “You and Linda both. Of course, there is one major difference between you.” He broke into a sporadic coughing fit, then caught his breath. “She’s my married granddaughter.” Connie could just imagine him sitting there in an expensive bathroom and in his high-end electric wheelchair. Several beautiful nurses were bound to be catering to him as they spoke. One combing his silvery hair. Another straightening the pillow at his back. A third sweetly bringing him a tray laid for tea. “But not for long, eh?” he continued. “Soon, you’ll be next. Then all of the Oliver women will have fulfilled the family tradition.”
Linda met her gaze, and Connie frowned.
“The tradition,” the old man went on, “that your grandmother began. One dress made from original Paris lace, destined to bless an entire family. Every female in the lineage. And it’s a good thing your blessed day is nearly here.” He hacked loudly into his receiver. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. The doctors say I could go at any minute.” Linda’s brow creased with concern as Connie’s heart hung heavy with worry. She loved her grandfather greatly. It was painful to imagine he wouldn’t always be around. “I thank God every day you came to your senses and found yourself a groom before my eightieth birthday. What a gift this is to me. My very last granddaughter getting married! And just in the nick of time. You are bringing him to the party, eh? Just like you promised?”
“You promised to bring him to the party?” Linda spewed under her breath. “Why didn’t you say so?”
She hadn’t said so, because leaving out that little detail hadn’t seemed worse than omitting all the rest of the truths she’d left unsaid. She really was in a horrible mess. Maybe she should come right out and say it. “Grandpa,” she began tentatively, “the truth is, I have something to tell you…”
He choked up on the other end of the line, springing into another coughing and wheezing spell. “Hang on, dear granddaughter. Hold on.” He breathed between fits and starts. “That’s my Connie,” she heard him tell one of the nurses. “The last single gal in the family. But she’s going to do it before I die. Make me and her late grandmother proud.” He started coughing again, and someone took away the phone.
“I’m afraid Mr. Oliver will have to call you back,” a female voice said while the coughing continued.
“Of course,” Connie said as Linda studied her with a sad look. “Oh, Linda,” she said, feeling defeated. “What am I going to do? He may not even live until my imaginary wedding.”
“He didn’t sound good,” Linda agreed.
Emotion roiled within Connie at the thought of losing her grandfather. He’d been more like a dad to her and her siblings than their real father had, always taking an interest in their lives, asking about and supporting their goals. It was only in advanced old age that he’d begun getting ornery, a little pigheaded perhaps, and intent on getting his way. But considering the constant love and support he’d provided the family throughout the years, everyone saw fit to indulge him. Even if that meant supplying him with three beautiful nurses, when one homely one would have been sufficient. “You don’t know how I hate ruining his party. Especially thinking that…” Connie’s eyes welled with tears.
Linda reached out and took her hand. “Then don’t.”
“I’m not taking some crazed, suicidal maniac back to Napa!”
“We’re not sure he’s suicidal. Why don’t we see what the doctor says first?” Linda pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it over.
“Sure, and then what?” Connie dabbed her eyes with a sniff.
“Well, if he’s willing. I mean, wanting to make some money…”
Connie sat up a little straighter. “You’re saying we should buy him?”
“Rent him is more like it. Just for the weekend. What do you say?”
The idea was ridiculous. Ludicrous. And yet it would keep her grandfather from knowing. At least for the next little while, until he got past his eightieth birthday. “But Grandpa thinks I’m marrying Walt!”
“That doesn’t matter. You just say that Walt got away and you found a new one. A better one. An environmentalist.” Her voice rose with excitement. “That’s got a ring to it!”
Connie cocked her head, considering this. An environmentalist with a beard. Hmm.
Linda clasped her hands together, gaining more enthusiasm as she spoke. “He seems intelligent, well-spoken. Plus, he is rather handsome. You admitted it yourself. And, ooh, this is the best part. You can say that he saved you!”
“Saved me?”
“That’s how you met.”
“But Linda, he nearly killed me! Fell right down on top of me!”
“Details.” Linda held her gaze. “You’ve got to look at the big picture. And, at the end of the day, he saved us both from a fate worse than… I don’t know…coyotes.”
“Or grizzlies.”
“Snakes even!”
“Spiders.”
“All of it. Absolutely.”
“But we can’t say we met this weekend and got engaged already.”
“We’ll claim we came hiking before. That you and he have been an item for weeks.”
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, Connie thought, heaving a sigh. “What makes you think he’ll do it?”
“What’s the cash advance limit on your credit card? With mine, we’ll double it.”
“You think we can do this and not get caught? Not even by…” She thumbed heavenward. “You know.”
“Oh, God already knows, and He approves.”
“What?”
“Lies are only bad when they’re told for selfish reasons, meant to hurt other people. This little…thing…we’re talking here? It’s like playacting, a harmless charade that will help Grandpa go to his grave in peace.”
This still didn’t feel right to Connie, but she couldn’t think of another way out of the horrible corner she’d painted herself into. Would it really be so wrong to bring a handsome friend home for the party? Help everyone get through the weekend intact without causing a big scene with her melodramatic news: Constance Marie Oliver has lost—yet another—groom.
Just then, the door to Hank’s office opened, and the two men emerged.
“Is he going to be all right?” Linda asked with concern.
“Oh yes, he’ll be just fine. Ankle’s merely twisted. Nothing’s broken,” Hank said. “And that other small concern you had?” He made a tugging motion beside his throat like he was yanking on a rope. “All a big misunderstanding.”
Connie breathed a sigh of relief. “Really?”
Mac gave her a tilted grin, and her heart fluttered. “Totally,” he said, appearing amused. “Facts are, I was up in that tree fully intending to stow my grub for the night. To keep it away from bears.”
“Bears, you see?” Linda said, elbowing her. “I told you there was a logical explanation. Connie glared at her sister, knowing she’d said no such thing.
Connie pursed her lips a beat, then asked tentatively, “Maybe he should still have his head examined?”
“You’re right on that.” Hank snapped his fingers. “Already gave the guys at the clinic a call. They’re expecting you.”
“Us?” Connie asked with surprise.
“Until we’re sure there’s no brain swelling, it’s probably best if Mac doesn’t drive. I’d take him myself, but I can’t leave things unmanned here.” He glanced at Linda, then met Connie’s eyes. “You don’t mind?”
A few hours later, Mac approached the girls in the clinic waiting room, waving a stack of papers. They stood to greet him as he drew near.
“Tests all came back negative. Doctors say I’m fine.”
“Other than your ankle?” Connie asked.
“Already feeling better.” He shot her a smile. “After the X-rays, they rewrapped it pretty well. Said ice it for a day. Keep
it stable. Before you know it, I’ll be as good as new.”
“That’s great news, isn’t it, Connie?” Linda asked.
“Really super.” Connie swallowed hard and glanced at her sister. The whole time they’d sat in the waiting room, they’d been discussing their plans for bringing Mac back to Napa. They’d agreed in advance not to invite him if he received a negative doctor’s report. Now that he was in the clear, there wasn’t anything to stop Connie from asking. Other than levelheaded reason.
“Um, Mac,” Linda said sweetly. “Connie here has something ask you.”
“Oh?” He turned his handsome face toward hers, and Connie’s cheeks flared.
This wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Just a little bit of make-believe, for just a few days? “Um, yes,” she said, feeling her voice falter. She collected her courage and strode toward Mac. “We… I…actually have somewhat of a business proposition.”
“Business?” he asked, seeming mildly intrigued.
“It’s my grandpa,” she began uncertainly. Just how could she phrase it, other than blurting out the truth? She heard her voice crack as she said, “He’s dying, Mac. Doesn’t have much time left at all.”
He studied her sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Connie. That must be terribly hard.”
“Harder than you know.” She met his gaze and felt lost in the depths of it. “He thinks… He wants…”
“Connie’s supposed to be getting married,” Linda filled in, growing impatient.
“You what?” Mac stared at her in surprise. “I didn’t see any ring.”
Connie’s breath caught in her throat. “You were checking?”
“Wow,” Linda murmured with delight.
“Wow,” Connie echoed, still caught up in Mac’s eyes.
“No ring?” He raised his brow with the question.
“Oh, that’s because he… What I mean is, there’s no groom. Not anymore.”
Mac leaned forward, his voice husky. “What’s your proposition?”
“I was hoping you’d do me a little favor.”
“How little?”
“A weekend little.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“How much do you want?”
“Is this about money?”
“Is there anything else?”
“You tell me.”
Of course there wasn’t anything else. This was all about money, and buying time for her grandpa. That was all there was to it. Right?
“Maybe we should have a seat while I explain.”
Chapter Four
The next morning, Mac found himself riding in the back of Linda’s shiny new convertible, while the two sisters sat up front. He tried to convince himself he was doing this for a good cause, going along with Connie’s plan. Basically, it was a win-win. He could help her spare disappointing her grandfather, plus he’d get the cash he needed for the down payment to rebuild his store. If it were all about him, he might feel guilty about accepting payment, but the fact was Mac donated ten percent of the proceeds from his shop to Homes for Humanity. When his business had gone ablaze, he hadn’t been the only one to suffer. The steady flow of support he’d provided that local organization had dried up too. Before, he hadn’t hoped to raise enough capital to rebuild until sometime next year. This unexpected opportunity with Connie would give him a chance to break ground sooner. That would prove a boon to the local homeless, and Mac was determined to see it through. He didn’t consider himself much of an actor, but seriously. How hard could it be? All he had to do was walk into some huge mansion and convince Connie’s family, and any assorted staff they had, that he was the Real McCoy. Mac swallowed hard, hoping he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew.
He caught Connie checking him out in the rearview mirror and self-consciously massaged his jaw. Once he’d opted in on the plan, he’d decided sprucing up was in order. He’d trimmed his beard and mustache and cleaned himself up nicely. Still, he wondered if what he’d done was enough. As an outdoorsy sort of guy, Mac wasn’t much into finery. He didn’t even own a suit and tie. There wasn’t much need for one in the circles where he traveled. Mostly because those involved sitting with groups of friends around a campfire, tossing back a brewskie or two, while discussing the next great way to save the world. He’d always hoped he’d find the sort of girl who could share that rugged lifestyle with him. Someone equally adventurous and just as comfortable in the great outdoors. Plainly, that wasn’t going to be one of these two.
Mac was glad it was Connie who needed the groom instead of her sister. Not that Linda wasn’t pretty as well. It was more like instinct told him he’d have a much easier time pretending with Connie. She was smart and funny, and there was something extra appealing about her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was there when the two of them were together. He’d never forget the panicked look in her eyes when she’d run straight into him in the woods during her late-night toilet expedition. She’d been half crazed with fear in a way that was unbearably cute. It was all he could do to keep from teasing her into believing there really was a predator in those woods. That would have given him an excuse to hold her longer. And something told Mac that keeping Connie’s lean, athletic body pressed up against his for an extra moment more would have meant sheer pleasure. Mac imagined her pretty blue eyes gazing up at him as he brought his mouth to her kissable lips, then pulled himself up short. Per Connie’s instruction, there was to be no kissing during these next few days. They had a business arrangement, pure and simple. All Mac was there to do was give the illusion of someone desperately interested in Connie.
And that was what he’d do too. Play the politely respectful fiancé, wow Connie’s family, and convince her grandfather that he was Constance Oliver’s one true love. Then he could go back to rebuilding his life, and Connie would find a way to carry on with hers. Despite his initial reservations, Mac was starting to believe that everything would work out fine. In a way, he was being a gentleman. Merely assisting a damsel in distress. So what if his help came with a price tag? When that cash could ultimately help so many people, charging for his time didn’t seem all bad. Life wasn’t perfect, and sometimes you had to make sacrifices in order to achieve your goals. Connie and he were in agreement on that.
Connie hoped Mac hadn’t seen her peeking at him in her vanity mirror, but she thought he’d spied her looking just the same. She put on a dab of lipstick, then shut the mirror flap and flipped up her visor. Linda was right. If she hadn’t been such a big chicken, Connie never would have gotten herself into this mess. But she’d been afraid of upsetting her whole family’s plans, and most particularly of breaking her grandpa’s heart. His health was failing, and she didn’t know how well he could withstand another emotional blow. When she’d lost her last fiancé, her grandpa had been hospitalized a whole week! She’d gone to visit and had overheard him begging the priest, “Please ask God to let me live long enough to see my last granddaughter married.” On one hand, Connie had felt upset his expectations put so much pressure on her. On the other, she understood he came from a traditional background where he wanted to feel as if the women in the family were taken care of. Naturally, Connie could take care of herself. But at nearly eighty years old, her grandfather couldn’t be convinced. There wasn’t much point in trying.
Connie sighed and looked out at the rolling hills around them. They’d be approaching their vineyard soon. Linda hadn’t said much during their long drive. She’d just sat there wearing dark glasses, with that baseball cap on her head and the radio turned up high, blasting out some funky Brazilian tunes. She didn’t appear to be having second thoughts about their plan. In fact, she seemed uncannily relaxed, sitting there thumping her fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the music, a mildly distracted expression on her face. She was probably thinking about Beau and being back in his arms. They had such a great marriage, those two. It was a hard enough act to follow with a genuine fiancé. Connie wasn’t one hundred percent sure she’d
be able to pull it off with a fake one. She’d have to try, though. Her grandpa’s happiness during his big birthday celebration depended on it. The deal she’d struck with Mac would ultimately help a lot of other people too. How hard could it be? Pretending she was about to get married? She’d played that role three times already. By now, she should have it down pat.
Mac had to keep his jaw from dropping when they pulled up the broad circular drive. No sooner had they arrived under the huge portico when three staff members popped outdoors. A valet went immediately to the driver’s side, ushering Linda out of the car, while two others elegantly opened car doors for Connie and Mac, offering to assist with luggage. Mac didn’t have much except for the rucksack he’d slung in the trunk, and he was capable of carrying that himself. Likely much more capable than the slender, elderly man who offered to take it for him. Mac was floored. He didn’t think people really had butlers anymore. At least they didn’t in the neighborhood he came from. He stared up at the peach-colored house, styled somewhat like an Italian villa, and counted ten sets of windows across, and that was on either side of the looming front door. The upstairs appeared even grander, with pretty balconies protruding from french doors that swept across the building’s stucco façade.
Connie and Linda chatted easily with the old man, who Connie introduced as Charles, and the sweet middle-aged lady named Matilda who fussed over the girls, telling them how well they looked after their time out “in nature.” Neither seemed to miss a beat when Connie claimed him as her fiancé. Each had simply given him a cursory once-over and said they hoped he’d enjoy his stay. In an odd sort of way, Mac’s appearance seemed fairly routine to them. Mac secretly wondered just how many other fiancés Connie had previously brought home, then decided he’d better not ask. As the valet drove the car away, the front door swung open before they could reach it.
“Darlings!” an elegant fifty-something woman said. She was neatly put together with a soft complexion and yellow-gold hair spun up in a twist.