Only You

by Peg Sutherland

  CHRISTINE STARED into space, Mrs. Stuart in her arms, the riding outfit on the bed momentarily forgotten.

  She could still feel her daddy’s arms around her. It hadn’t been a duty hug. She could tell. Her mommy used to give duty hugs when she was in a hurry to go out with one of her men friends. Grandma Stringfellow did, too, when she was all dressed up to go to the club. Daddy had squeezed her tight, and he hadn’t let her go for the longest time.

  “Mommy said Daddy was mean, that he didn’t want me,” Christine said to Mrs. Stuart. “Grandma said he would never ever let me see her again. But Angie says he loves me very much and won’t ever leave me. What do you think?”

  Mrs. Stuart looked at her out of glassy eyes.

  “He does not like Angie more than he likes me. He likes both of us. Grandma Harper says so.”

  Christine marched over to a chair, sat Mrs. Stuart down so hard her glass eyes bounced.

  “You shouldn’t say mean things. If we have to move away, Daddy and Grandma Harper will take me with them. They will never leave me. Angie said so.”

  HARPER PICKED AT the chicken salad on her plate, even though it was the best thing on the menu at Deana’s Diner, formerly the old dressmaker’s shop on Broad Street. From across the table, Dessie reached for her plate and held it up to sniff the chicken salad.

  “Doesn’t smell spoiled to me,” she said.

  Giving her co-worker a strained smile, Harper put her fork down and gave up the pretense. “Don’t tell Floretha. She’ll make me eat double portions tonight.”

  “You can’t let this mess get to you,” Dessie said. “You’ll make the best decision you can, but that doesn’t guarantee everybody’s gonna be happy.”

  “But my son? Shouldn’t I at least be trying to make my own son happy? Instead of trying to rescue the whole damned town first?”

  “Let that boy work on his own happiness.”

  Bless Dessie’s heart, she never minced words and she wasn’t soft on anybody. That’s what made her so invaluable at work, and as a friend.

  “I’m afraid he’s falling for this woman who’s thinking about buying the farm,” Harper said.

  “Yeah? Dillon and a city slicker. Now there’s a pair.”

  “It’s more than that. Oh, Dessie, she’s so much like me.”

  “Funny, some folks I know might think that would make her a pretty good catch.”

  She gave her friend a wry smile. “Not if you remember how I was when I was young. So determined to have everything my way, the rest of the world be damned. Oh, lord, Dessie, she’s just so darned… rich.”

  Dessie chuckled. “And we know what trouble those rich women can be.”

  Despite herself, Harper laughed. “All the ones I ever knew, anyway.”

  “What is it you’re really afraid of, Harper?”

  “That she’s toying with him to get what she wants.” She lifted the paper napkin from her lap and began to twist it. “I think she knows I’ll have trouble selling unless Dillon comes around. Dess, what if she’s using him?”

  “Harper, he’s twenty-eight and I fully expect he knows his way around women.”

  She wasn’t convinced.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” Dessie said.

  Harper swallowed the lump in her throat. Where in heaven were all these emotions coming from, all of a sudden? “He…he asked what Shep thought she’d have to say when she finds out he’s…a bastard.”

  Dessie dropped her fork onto her plate. “Oh, for… Does he really think folks today give a damn whether his mother and father were married or not?”

  “Apparently, or he wouldn’t have brought it up.” Harper stared into Dessie’s concerned eyes and thought of something Floretha had said to her many years ago. “And that’s my fault. If I’d told him a long time ago, if I hadn’t lied to him when he was young and tried to sugarcoat it, maybe he wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe he wouldn’t be having so much trouble with Christine. Maybe—”

  “Maybe the national debt wouldn’t be in the trillions, is that it, Harper? Sometimes you talk like a plain fool, woman. Shoot fire, most of us make plenty of mistakes when we’re young. How long you gonna beat yourself up for yours, for Pete’s sake!”

  In her head, Harper knew that Dessie made good sense. But her heart had yet to be convinced. “It’s not that I’m trying to play the martyr. It’s just…”

  “Just what? You screwed up. You had a baby. How many other women in this world—in this town—do you think have done the same damn thing? And they don’t find it necessary to shut themselves up in a smelly old textile mill for the rest of their lives.”

  “This is old territory, Dessie. Besides, I haven’t exactly been a hermit.”

  Dessie grunted skeptically. Harper had gone out with men a few times after coming home. Most of them had been men Sam had approved and encouraged. Men who, in those days, were more interested in the Weddington wealth than in Harper and her son.

  But behind her dissatisfaction with the men who had shown an interest in marrying the Weddington heir—gossip, reputation and all—was one bitter truth: the man Harper wanted, the man Harper still loved, she had driven away with her lies.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DILLON IGNORED the protests of Burton Rust’s executive assistant and flung open the door to the banker’s office. Burton might think he had Harper over a barrel, but Dillon had a surprise for him.

  Burton looked up, surprise on his narrow, pinched face. Harper glanced over her shoulder, her expression bordering on hopeless. Angie looked unperturbed and unapproachable in one of her power suits.

  “He won’t extend the loan, will he?” Dillon asked.

  Harper shook her head.

  Dillon had never really expected Burton to give Harper more time to pay off the debt, and he was glad he hadn’t sat by and done nothing.

  “Come on, Mom,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Now, listen, young man—”

  “I talked to Bill Mott at the bank over in Clover,” Dillon said in response to his mother’s questioning gaze. “He says he’ll give you the money to pay off this bloodsucker.” He turned to Burton. “You remember the Motts, don’t you?”

  Rust smiled condescendingly. “Old Wendell Mott? He swept up at the mill back when Sam ran things, didn’t he?”

  “Right, but that job put Bill through college. Now he’s a banker and he said he’d be happy to help Mom.”

  “Why, nobody from Collins has taken their business to Clover within living memory,” Burton said, fairly sputtering. “Your grandfather would turn over in his grave.”

  “If he knew what you were trying to do to my mother, he’d rise out of it and beat the hell out of you.” Dillon slapped his hands on the desk and leaned so far across it Burton Rust started to back up. “Unless I get around to it first.”

  Burton blanched. “That still doesn’t solve the problem of the mill.”

  “That won’t be your concern. Come on, Mom, let’s go.” He turned to Angie, wanting to ask her to come with him, wishing she would decide to without his asking.

  Her gaze was steady, but a faint smile curved her lips and her eyes were bright with interest. She gave her head a tiny shake.

  After much pleading from Christine and another apology from Dillon, Angie had agreed to stay on at the house. She’d been a little reserved since then, but he’d never seen her conduct business. She was positively emotionless. To a man of his volatile temper, that was as frightening as it was incomprehensible.

  He hesitated, then followed Harper out of the office. And there, in full view of three secretaries and one frowning executive assistant, his mother kissed his cheek.

  “Still trying to rescue your mother from dragons.”

  “That one, at least.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and walked out, wishing he weren’t thinking about the woman still sitting in Burton’s office.

  “I appreciate what you’ve done, Dillon, and I’ll speak to Mr
. Mott right away,” Harper said. “But Burton is right, you know. It still doesn’t solve the problem of the mill.”

  “I know. Mom, there’s one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “It’ll help if you can decide what to do without worrying about me.” He unlocked her car door to keep from looking her in the eye. He didn’t want to see her expression. Even more, he didn’t want her to see his. “I’ve been on the phone to a couple of places in Virginia. They’re looking for a farm manager with my experience.”

  The worst was over. He’d said it, committed himself.

  “When did you decide this?”

  “I can’t wait around and let Burton Rust or anyone else decide what’s going to happen to my life. Christine needs a place where she can feel safe. So do I.”

  Harper sank into the car seat. “Maybe I could…”

  “Mom, you’re never going to sell that mill. It can’t stay open unless you replace all the equipment, and you’re not going to get the money without selling the farm. That’s not going to change, not now, not five years from now. I don’t want to go, but anything is better than watching that damned mill swallow the farm one mouthful at a time.”

  “I’M SORRY FOR the interruption of our meeting, Miss Kilpatrick,” Burton Rust said to Angie after the door closed behind Harper and Dillon. His complexion was still ruddy with outrage. “Dillon Winthrop has been an embarrassment to this community since the day he arrived.”

  “I’m familiar with Mr. Winthrop’s moods.” And not the least bit put off by this one. Neither did she mind Dillon’s suddenly taking the ball right out of the banker’s court. She liked to see a man defend his turf. She stood. “I’d better be going.”

  “No need. Harper will be back.”

  “I don’t know what Dillon or his mother will finally decide about the sale of Weddington Farms, but I doubt they’ll ever do business with you again. I know I won’t.” She hoped her tone was as freezing as it sounded.

  Burton’s reaction showed his astonishment at her remark.

  “The next time you or a member of your family decide to say anything about Dillon’s paternity, I suggest you wait until your granddaughter is out of the room. Those remarks were used to taunt Dillon’s daughter on the school grounds.”

  Burton turned fiery red.

  “Good day, Mr. Rust.”

  G. E. TRENT HAD LONG since run out of patience waiting to hear from Angie. When he finally heard his stepdaughter’s voice, he was already grouchy.

  “I expected to hear from you before now.” He knew he’d been sharper than he’d intended from the moment of silence on the other end.

  “Bad day?”

  He sighed. “Sorry. How’s it going?”

  “Well, not exactly as I expected, to tell the truth.”

  “Trouble?”

  “No, just a lot of possibilities to consider.”

  He was surprised at how hard his heart was thumping. He didn’t want to hear about possibilities. He just wanted to hear that it was over and done with. “Such as?”

  “Mrs. Weddington has far more land than I need, at least for my original plan. I was wondering if it would be a good idea to consider expanding into thoroughbreds.”

  Mrs. Weddington. The words stirred something painful and bitter in him. She wasn’t a “Mrs.” at all, of course. What a farce. He tried to imagine what she looked like after all these years. It was all he could do not to ask. “Buy the place now. You can go into that later.”

  “Dad, they’ve got three thousand acres. I can’t use a quarter of that, even with thoroughbreds. But Mrs. Weddington’s son is a farmer. I’m hoping to talk him into a partnership.”

  Her words blew a hole in his gut. “What?”

  “They can pay off the debt and he can run the farm.”

  “You want to be partners with the Weddingtons?”

  “Why not? I’ll have the land and buildings I need, room to expand, and all the oats and hay grown right here on the farm. It’s perfect.”

  Why not, indeed. He tried to think of a way to explain why not to his logical, business-minded stepdaughter. How to explain to her that this wasn’t about making a profit? That this was about righting old wrongs, healing old hurts.

  “Forget it, Angie. Buy the place outright. If you want to keep the farm running, we’ll hire you a manager.”

  “But I like Dillon. And you would, too, Dad. He’s—”

  “I wouldn’t like him,” he snapped. Angie liked the boy. Damn, what a mess! “And if you think he likes you, think again. He’s used to money, remember. And he doesn’t have any now. How does that add up to you?”

  Her silence said he had stung her, and he hated himself. He knew where she was vulnerable. And under these circumstances, he wasn’t above playing on that fear.

  “Look, maybe I’d better forget this,” she said, her voice tight. “There are plenty of other places.”

  “Buy the farm. If you don’t want it, buy it in my name.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Never mind what for. Just buy it and get out of there.”

  When they hung up, he realized his hands were trembling. He’d dug himself quite a hole. He couldn’t even explain to himself what he’d hoped to gain from putting Harper Weddington and her family out of their home. He’d sent Angie down there and now she was entangled with the Weddingtons. With the son. He wondered if the son had red hair. Or violet eyes, like his mother. Sometimes the wondering almost drove him crazy.

  Mostly, though, he didn’t wonder about the son, just the mother. Maybe it was time to find out.

  ANGIE WASN’T SURE how she’d found herself in Dillon’s car, headed for a horse show in Charleston, with Christine between them. It was Saturday. She’d made a new offer to the bank in Clover, and nothing more remained for her to do in Collins.

  But here she was, still hanging around Weddington Farms.

  Still hanging around Dillon.

  Angie didn’t look at Dillon. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to be with him all day without doing something she hadn’t planned on. If the kiss in the moonlight had been unexpected, the few minutes in the hay field had stunned her. It was clear Dillon liked her. Despite the issue of the farm, he still wanted her company. She wanted his, as well.

  She gave up all thoughts of staying in control. For once she was going to let things happen. The prospect scared her, yet it excited her, too.

  She didn’t know quite what to expect from herself. She’d never had such a strong physical response to any man. But her feelings for Dillon extended far beyond the physical. Her thoughts had begun to center around a relationship that extended into the future.

  Could she be falling in love with him?

  The idea was preposterous. She’d known him such a short time! She was too levelheaded, too businesslike, too experienced to let that happen to her!

  He was attractive, she liked him, she enjoyed being with him, but that wasn’t love.

  Yet what about her need to be close to him? Something had to account for all the excuses she’d given herself for staying on.

  Maybe it was his vulnerability. She liked knowing a man was strong, but it was also important to know things mattered to him, that he could suffer a feeling of loss.

  Angie admitted she also had a soft spot for Christine. Like her father, the little girl was afraid her world would fall apart again. They struggled to reach out to each other, neither understanding the other’s need. Dillon loving, Christine needing to be loved, neither believing the other could accept or give what the other wanted so desperately.

  Angie didn’t know what she could do to make things any different, but she wanted to try. Was that love?

  “Stop!” Christine shrieked as she pointed to a fast-food restaurant. “I want a hamburger.”

  “Floretha packed our lunch,” her father said. “We’ll eat as soon as we get to the fairgrounds.”

  “I don’t want Floretha’s lunch,” Christine said. “I
want a hamburger. Daphne Louise has them all the time. Please! I promise I won’t complain about the horse show even if it’s boring.”

  Dillon laughed at his daughter. “That’s some promise.” He looked over at Angie. “What about you?”

  “I’d love a hamburger,” Angie said.

  “And french fries and ketchup?” Christine asked.

  “Of course,” her father said. “What’s a hamburger without fries and lots of ketchup?”

  Dillon pulled off the road and into the parking lot. “Hurry,” Christine pleaded as she jumped out of the car and pulled her father toward the entrance. She grabbed for Angie’s hand and pulled just as hard. “Come on,” she said.

  Angie looked into Dillon’s eyes. She’d never seen him so full of laughter. He seemed to be saying that as long as the three of them were together, nothing else mattered.

  For a moment Angie could almost believe it. She wanted to. She wanted to be part of this man’s life. Dillon put his arm around her waist and pulled her along with him, just as if she belonged at his side.

  “If I’d known about hamburgers, I could have bribed her into liking me a long time ago.”

  But Angie could tell he believed his daughter was starting to love him. She could also tell by the way he held her, the way he kept looking at her, that he included her in that feeling.

  And Angie felt included. She felt as if she belonged.

  Love, family and hamburgers. It was the American way.

  “THIS ISN’T ANY prettier than your house,” Angie said.

  “It’s a lot older.” Dillon liked the feeling of satisfaction that spread all through him.

  They’d stopped at the Ezra Walker Plantation on the way home from Charleston. Dillon said he wanted to show Angie something of South Carolina’s history. What he really wanted to do was postpone going home. He wanted to prolong the day.

  Christine dashed from one room to the next, looking out windows, behind furniture, into closets and around corners when the guide would let her. It was like being in a huge dollhouse. She constantly called to Dillon to come see something else she had discovered. He’d never felt closer to her than he felt now.