Private Affairs

by Tori Carrington

  21

  “HE’S BOUGHT THE OLD Olyphant house.”

  Penelope fumbled the gravy boat she was placing on the kitchen table while her aunt stuck her fingers into the bowl of mashed potatoes. The words had come from her grandmother who had just gotten off the phone.

  “What?” Irene asked.

  “Palmer DeVoe. Twila just phoned to say that he bought the old Olyphant place across from his father’s house. Paid a pretty penny for it, too. The agent—you know, Jolie, the oldest Frazer girl—said she purposely inflated the price, expecting him to counter. Instead he just wrote out a check for the amount in full. On the spot.”

  Penelope tipped over the gravy boat.

  It was a full week since she and Palmer had spoken in the gazebo. A full seven days during which she’d moved from despair to functional automaton to a semblance of normalcy, working with hope toward the day when she wouldn’t spend every waking moment thinking about the expression he’d worn when she’d revealed her secret.

  “I don’t understand,” Irene said, as if voicing her own thoughts. “I thought he left town? Surely, if he was back, we’d have heard from Debra Foss at the B and B.”

  “He’s not staying at the bed-and-breakfast,” Agatha said.

  “Then where is he staying?”

  Penelope swallowed hard at her grandmother’s answer. “His father’s.”

  But since when? After Barnaby’s visit, everyone had believed Palmer had left again. And Penelope had been sure that this time it was for good. Considering everything he’d been through on that fateful day—coming to terms with the possibility that his relationship with his father might not be salvageable, and then being told that he had a fourteen-year-old son out there somewhere being raised by an unknown family he had no way of contacting—she’d expected him to go back to the east coast and never look back.

  But he was here…

  And he hadn’t been in contact with her…

  She wasn’t sure which hurt the most. That he was nearby…or that he was nearby and hadn’t been by to see her.

  Both, she decided.

  Before, she’d functioned knowing he was far away, out of her immediate orbit, beyond her touch.

  Knowing he was here in town and wasn’t a part of her life, hurt as much as when she handed their son over to the nurse for the final time.

  “Penelope?” her grandmother said.

  She blinked, realizing the gravy was spilling into a puddle on the white tablecloth and dripping over the side of the table near her feet.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said, hurrying from the room.

  She heard Irene say, “What fool thing were you thinking telling her that? Now she’s going to dive back under those covers. Lord knows when we’ll see her again.”

  “Better she should find out sooner than later,” her grandmother countered.

  Better Palmer should have left town as they all thought he’d had, Penelope thought as she closed her bedroom door. She slowly slid down the smooth wood to sit on the floor, the walls of her chest threatening to collapse and crush everything inside…

  “NOT BAD,” CALEB SAID as he and Palmer finished a walk-through of the Olyphant property. “She needs a lot of work, but she has great bones.”

  Palmer didn’t tell his friend that he’d bought the place without having stepped a foot inside. For all he knew, it could have been stripped down to the copper piping.

  Caleb leaned against the open doorway, staring out at the overgrown back lawn. The grass was cut, but shrubs and roses had run wild, taking over the edges of the yard.

  “So…you’re here to stay then,” his friend said quietly.

  Palmer drew in a deep breath. “I could be looking to flip the place.”

  Caleb glanced over his shoulder at him. “Uh huh. In this booming real estate market.”

  He grinned. “I could always sell the place to you when you marry Bryna Metaxas.”

  His friend coughed so hard, Palmer thumped him on the back to help him through the fit.

  “I’m sorry. Did I say something I shouldn’t?”

  “Yes, you did, indeed.” Caleb’s comical grimace was back. “Considering that her brothers still consider me as suitable as a member of al-Qaeda, well, I don’t see that happening anytime soon.” He looked down at his expensive leather loafers. “Anyway, Bryna doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.”

  “Oh?”

  Caleb pushed off the doorjamb and came to stand in front of him. “I didn’t come over here to talk about my love life,” he said. “I’m here to talk about yours.”

  Palmer stepped around him back down the hall and into the living room, his friend following on his heels. “That’s a topic that’s not up for discussion.”

  “Oh?” he mimicked.

  “I have enough going on right now without adding that to the list.”

  And it was the truth, wasn’t it? While he was essentially living with his father, having forced himself on the old man, the atmosphere between them was tense at best, contentious at worst. But every time he thought about leaving, he went into the bedroom where his mother had slept alone in the last months of her life, and which his father had left untouched, and reminded himself how much she had wanted them to work things out. How she’d wanted them to come together rather than drift apart.

  And tried not to think about how much she would have loved being a grandmother.

  Then he’d think about stopping on that deserted highway, caught at a crossroads. There was no going forward for him. Not anymore. Not without resolving what he’d left behind first.

  Caleb said, “So word has it Philippidis is going to sue you for breach.”

  “I knew it was a possibility.”

  “Try certainty.”

  “Yes, well, just wait until the competition clause comes into play.”

  “How do you mean? You’re thinking about going ahead with your plans alone?”

  Palmer shook his head. “I have resources, but not quite enough to go head-to-head with Philippidis.”

  “Who does?”

  He considered his friend. “Do you want to go for a ride?”

  Caleb looked around. “Lead on.”

  The house wasn’t the only investment Palmer had made. He’d turned in his leased car and bought an SUV hybrid. Caleb made appreciative sounds as he drove toward the destination he had in mind.

  “So,” he said carefully. “Have you had that talk with your mother yet?”

  Caleb’s expression darkened.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “A partial no.”

  Palmer glanced at him.

  “I called her and she sensed immediately what was up.”

  “And?”

  “And she hung up on me.”

  Palmer raised his brows.

  “After she told me to thank you for your discretion.”

  He grimaced. “Guilty as charged.”

  “I would have killed you had I found out later and discovered you’d known.”

  “Ah, but my reasons were more self-serving than that.”

  “I suspected.”

  Palmer pulled into the gravel road leading to the old work site. The trailer had a padlock on it, but otherwise everything was the same. Including the fact that no one was there.

  “This the place?” Caleb asked as they got out of the car.

  “Yep.”

  His friend palmed the padlock. “Works fast, doesn’t he?”

  “I expected nothing different.” Palmer led the way toward the equipment nearer the construction site. He wasn’t disappointed to find the keys in many of the machines. He climbed into the cab of a bulldozer and started up the engine.

  “What are you going to do?” Caleb shouted over the cacophony.

  “Watch and learn,” he called back. “And in case you’re interested, the keys are in the loader over there…”

  “PALMER DEVOE COMPLETELY destroyed his work site this morning along with that guy that’s been
spotted around town with the Metaxas girl.”

  Penelope eyed her aunt over her soup. She released her grip on her spoon and grimaced when it disappeared into the depths of her bowl. “I have a request.”

  “Oh?” her grandmother said.

  She fished her spoon out and cleaned the handle with her napkin. “If a sentence begins, ends with or contains anywhere in between the name Palmer DeVoe, I don’t want to hear it.”

  Agatha shrugged. “Then plug your ears. Because when it comes to gossip right now, that name is the only game in town.”

  Game.

  Penelope stretched the kinks out of her neck and took another bite of minestrone. It was too damn hot to be eating soup, but try explaining that to Agatha and Irene, who had gotten tired of eating sandwiches and potato salad and every other cold dish over the past month because of the heat wave.

  They never did get that rain the weatherman had forecast. But surely it couldn’t possibly keep up like this. At some point they would return to their regularly scheduled doom and gloom with rain nearly every day.

  Penelope knew the heat was only partly responsible for her mood. She hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days and it was beginning to take its toll on her. She was short tempered and slow moving.

  “So…you haven’t heard from him yet?” her grandmother asked.

  “Yet? What makes you think I will?”

  Agatha shrugged again. “Call it women’s intuition.”

  Aunt Irene laughed. “That and the tarot cards.”

  Penelope gave an eye roll.

  “His staying in town…it’s got to be a good sign, right?” Irene asked after her sister elbowed her.

  “A good sign of what?”

  “For you two.”

  Penelope gave up on the soup. “There is no us two.”

  She got up and dumped the contents of her bowl into the sink.

  Her grandmother sighed. “Fix yourself a sandwich. You look like we’re denying you food.”

  She was right. Of course. She sat down to eat with them every day, but ended up eating very little of whatever was on offer. Partly because they kept bringing up Palmer. Mostly because her stomach didn’t like what she was trying to feed it.

  She needed to see Palmer. If only to fill him in on her efforts to find their…his son. And to ask if he’d like to be added to the contact information.

  It was fine if he didn’t want to see her any more than he had to. She couldn’t blame him for that. But their son…well, she’d like it if his father was as receptive as she was to the possibility of meeting him.

  She leaned against the counter, absently chewing a bite of a ham sandwich. She placed the other half next to her aunt’s soup bowl and then headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” her grandmother called after her.

  “Back to work. Where else would I be going?”

  Where else, indeed?

  22

  “DAMN! I HAVEN’T FELT this great in a long, damn time,” Caleb proclaimed a couple of hours later after the two had lunch at the Quality Diner.

  Palmer chuckled. “I think Bryna might be interested in hearing that.”

  Caleb’s grin was full. “She’s not worried.”

  Palmer had met Bryna on a couple of occasions. At first, he’d been surprised that she’d been younger than Caleb. But while his friend held the chronological advantage, Bryna trumped him in every other way, throwing him off balance and, yes, making Caleb Payne a little more easygoing.

  Or, at the very least, happier.

  “So what’s on tap next?” Caleb asked when they’d climbed back into his car.

  “What? This morning wasn’t enough?”

  His friend looked at him. “If I know you—and I do—you have something else up your sleeve.”

  As it stood, he did have one last ace to play. One he’d been holding on to. And now was as good a time as any to play it.

  “Unless it doesn’t include me…” Caleb ventured.

  “Pardon?”

  “You know, plans of a personal nature?”

  Palmer’s mind went immediately to Penelope and he experienced the all too familiar tightening of his groin, although now it was combined with a tight ball of emotion in his solar plexus.

  “No. This, I think you’ll enjoy almost as much as what we did before lunch.”

  Ten minutes later, Palmer pulled his car into the lot of the old Metaxas lumber mill. He felt Caleb’s questioning gaze on him, but didn’t respond as he parked and climbed out.

  “What are we doing here? I’m not sure I’m welcome. Actually, I’m positive I’m unwelcome.”

  “Bear with me,” Palmer said, leading the way inside.

  He didn’t stop until he stood outside the main offices. Through a glass wall, he spotted Troy Metaxas talking on the phone.

  “Gary, I’m going to have to call you back,” Troy’s voice reached them. “Yes, yes. I know. Five minutes.”

  He hung up the phone and came around the desk, clearly surprised and wary of his two guests.

  “Palmer,” he said, extending his hand. “Caleb.”

  Palmer noticed that he didn’t offer to shake Caleb’s hand and was amused.

  He also noticed that Bryna had come out of what must be her office and stood behind them with Troy’s younger brother Ari.

  “Can I talk to you a minute?” Palmer asked.

  Troy’s gaze trailed to his sister and then Caleb. “May I ask what this is concerning? Shall I call my attorneys?”

  “Or the sheriff,” Caleb muttered under his breath.

  Palmer cleared his throat. “Invite us into your office and you’ll find out…”

  PENELOPE WAS READY to jump out of her skin. If Palmer was hoping to punish her for her crimes, he couldn’t have chosen a more effective weapon. His silence was wearing on her like sandpaper, rubbing her raw emotionally.

  She lay in bed staring at the dappled moonlight against the far wall. She wished it would rain, already. The heat only made it doubly difficult to find a swath of peace from which she could cut an hour or two of much-needed sleep.

  She sighed and sat upright, giving up. The clock told her it was after midnight. Surely, even her grandmother and great-aunt should be asleep by now.

  She got up and got dressed, deciding a walk might do her a bit of good. Thankfully Earnest was safe enough to do that late at night.

  She quietly opened her bedroom door a crack and peeked out. The flicker of candlelight came from the direction of the kitchen.

  Damn.

  Damn, damn, damn, damn.

  She didn’t think she could handle another tarot session with Agatha and Irene.

  She closed the door again and considered her options. It would be the second time she’d snuck out of her bedroom window in a few weeks. But what other choice did she have?

  She opened the window and eyed the bushes. To avoid them, she had to launch herself just right…

  She landed smack dab in the middle. And heard Thor’s bark from somewhere inside the house.

  Struggling to a standing position, she straightened her dress and hurried out toward the street.

  She was so intent on getting out of there, she didn’t acknowledge the two faces in the front window watching after her. Or respond when her grandmother said to her great-aunt, “See. I told you.”

  PALMER KNOCKED OUT a section of drywall in the kitchen of the old Olyphant place and stood back to let the dust settle. He pulled down his paper facemask and considered his handiwork. After eating dinner with his father, and watching television with him, mostly in silence, he’d waited until the old man had gone to bed and then headed across the street to start working on the place.

  He’d decided to begin with the kitchen first, since that was one of the most important rooms. Thankfully, it wouldn’t need much major work, other than tile and countertops, after he finished replacing this section of drywall that looked like someone had either put his hand through or fallen against�
�hard.

  He brushed the dust off the sleeve of his T-shirt and then rubbed the sweat off his brow with it, reliving the scene at the mill even as he worked.

  “I don’t understand,” Troy Metaxas had said once he’d outlined his proposal.

  Next to him, Caleb had finally gotten it and chuckled quietly while he rubbed his chin.

  “I’m saying that I’m throwing in with you, if you’ll have me,” Palmer had said.

  And, as he’d hoped but hadn’t dared to expect, Caleb had said the same.

  “Separate, we may not be strong enough to beat Philippidis at his own game,” Palmer had gone on. “But together, and with Caleb and my unique view from the other side of the field…well, we just might be able to do this.”

  And so was born a handshake deal that would probably bring on a whole lot of legal hurt from Philippidis’s lawyers. But, damn, he was tired of playing by rules others had made and never consulted him on.

  Movement caught his attention. He turned around quickly, not expecting to see anyone this late—or rather this early in the morning, outside his back door.

  “Hi,” Penelope said, looking like temptation incarnate…

  PENELOPE HAD WALKED for nearly an hour before finding herself standing outside the old Olyphant house. She remembered the place well. When they’d all been younger, and Mr. Olyphant had shut himself inside with nothing but a fluttering curtain here and a missing newspaper there to indicate anyone was inside, the neighborhood kids liked to joke that he wasn’t actually alive at all, but rather a ghost that inhabited the place.

  Then they’d all pedal like the devil snapped at their heels to get away.

  And now Palmer owned it.

  She hadn’t expected to see lights burning inside. Or hear the telltale thud that indicated someone was working at this late hour.

  Before she knew it she was going around the back, surprised to find the rear door open.

  And there stood Palmer, covered in sweat and drywall, wiping his brow against the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  It wasn’t fair that he should look so good. Despite his desk job, he had a body that could easily have handled a full day of the work he was now doing. Biceps bulged, jeans hugged his tight rear end, and his hair was nicely disheveled, begging fingers to tunnel into the thick, unruly depths.