Dillon turned back at the sound of Angie’s name. Trent walked around his desk. “Please help me make the best of this. For their sakes.”
“For their sakes, maybe the best thing you can do is stay the hell out of our lives.”
“Maybe. But I think we can work this out. Face up to what’s real. And what’s real is this—I love your mother.”
Dillon backed up.
Trent took another chance. “And I think you love Angie. Am I right?”
Trent knew the stubborn set to Dillon’s jaw; the last thing the young man wanted was to admit how he felt about Angie to the man he felt had betrayed them all.
“Yes,” Dillon said, his tone grudging. “I love her and I want to marry her. She loves me, too. But she won’t marry me as long as this business has us tied in knots.”
“Then let’s do what we can to make it all work, Dillon. What do you say?”
Dillon stared into Trent’s eyes for a long time. Trent watched the struggle, the tangle of emotions running across his son’s face—fury and fear and uncertainty. He kept looking for some sign that Dillon would relent, could set aside his pride. But Trent knew how powerful pride could be.
“I’d like to think it could all work out,” Dillon said stiffly. “But I’ve never been very good at pretending to feel things I don’t.”
Trent hoped the answer his son gave before he stalked out the door was the first sign that Dillon was ready to make an effort, however small.
EVEN BEFORE HARPER said a word, Dillon supposed he knew why she’d asked him to join her in the parlor. She’d probably heard about his trip to Charlotte and planned to upbraid him. Shep already had, and so had Floretha. Maybe he had been out of line.
But dammit, he had to do something. He was losing everyone he loved to Trent.
Trent was beside her on the couch. Dillon had never seen his mother like this. She had a contented glow, despite the fact that she was also clearly tense at the moment.
Dillon didn’t like having Trent present. He didn’t know what to say to him. He didn’t want to say anything at all. His efforts to drive him away had clearly failed.
“Have a seat,” Harper said.
“I’ll stand,” Dillon said. “Floretha will kill me if I get dirt on the chair covers.”
He stood there in the middle of the room, his legs apart, his hands clasped in front of him as if he were expecting a blow and wanted to be ready to ward it off.
His mother’s words were a greater blow than he’d ever expected.
“Trent and I are getting married.”
“But he’s been back less than a month!” Dillon exclaimed, feeling more frustrated than angry. Was he the only one who could see how wrong all this was? “How do you know he won’t run out on you again?”
Trent started to speak, but Harper beat him to it. “That’s for me to worry about, isn’t it?”
Dillon struggled to contain his disappointment. His mother had made it clear from the beginning that everything had been her fault. That always left him with nothing to say.
“This is going to cause some big changes, and I wanted to tell you before anyone else.”
Dillon stiffened. He and Christine would have to leave Weddington Farms. Of that he was certain. The farm belonged to his mother. Christine’s life would be turned upside down again. And all because a man who’d stayed away twenty-nine years couldn’t stay away a little longer.
It hurt that his mother had chosen this man over him. And that’s what she’d done. That’s what Angie had done.
“Trent and I are going to leave Weddington Farms. You know I’ve never liked it here. It reminds me too much of all the things that went wrong with my life.”
He held his breath, waiting for the next blow to fall.
“I’m going to sign the farm over to you. We’ve settled up with the bank. You can live here, sell it, do anything you like. It’s yours. I should have done this years ago.”
Thoughts flew about in Dillon’s shocked mind like debris in a whirlwind. He could hardly grasp the idea that Weddington Farms was his. No one was going to force him and Christine to leave. Finally, he would have something he could call his own.
He could feel like a man.
“Where will you go?” He couldn’t imagine his mother leaving Collins.
“We’re going to buy a place a few miles from here,” Trent said. “We’re going to modernize the mill.”
“We?”
“Trent and I have decided to form a second partnership. He’ll provide the money for a third interest in the mill. I’ll have one third. The other will belong to you.”
Dillon felt as if he were on a roller-coaster ride. In one morning he’d gone from being virtually a hired hand to a man whose future was secure. Yet how could he accept this from Trent?
“We’d like you to work with us.”
“Me?” He couldn’t imagine how he could.
“Trent insisted I ask you. I know you prefer the farm, but it doesn’t have to take all your time.”
“I don’t know anything about the mill.”
“I didn’t, either, when I began,” Harper told him.
“We’re not asking you to spend all your time there,” Trent added, “but we’d like it to be a family operation.”
“It wouldn’t work,” Dillon said. “I really hate that mill, probably as much as Mom hates this place.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind—”
Dillon shook his head, then looked at Trent. “Are you sure you want to stay in a one-horse town like this?”
“I’ve been looking for something Harper found years ago,” Trent replied. “A place where I can belong, where I can fit in.” He looked at Dillon as if he believed his son might understand that, but Dillon wasn’t willing to give any sign that he did. “Even after thirty years, I still don’t like the city.”
“Collins is sure no big city.” Dillon shifted his weight uneasily. “I have to thank you for helping Mom…us…out, but I won’t pretend I’m happy about this marriage.” Yet despite himself, Dillon felt his anger fading. Even a fool could see his mother was very happy. “When does the wedding take place?”
“This weekend. Trent and I don’t see any reason to wait.”
Dillon paused. “Do you plan to tell anybody he’s my father?”
“We’re leaving that up to you,” Trent said. “We’re happy for people to know, but if you’d rather, we’ll kept it quiet.”
“If he spends much time around here, they’ll guess,” Dillon mused, recalling that Christine had noticed the resemblance immediately.
“I hope once you get to know him, you’ll want to tell people he’s your father,” Harper ventured.
“I expect Christine will announce to everyone in sight you’re her new grandfather,” Dillon said. “I won’t deny it, but I don’t aim to brag about it.”
ANGIE WAS LOADED DOWN with illustrated books from both the florist and the caterer as she mounted the steps to the front porch at Weddington Farms. A part of her had been reluctant to come. She dreaded seeing the place, feared running into Christine. Or Dillon. But Harper needed her help with this hurry-up wedding, and Angie wanted to show her support.
Surely she could manage to hide her hurt for a few more days.
And maybe, if his confrontation with Trent was any indication, Dillon wouldn’t even show up for the wedding. She almost hoped he wouldn’t. When Trent’s office assistant told her how Dillon had stormed Trent’s office, she’d been hurt and angry all over again. She wasn’t sure she could keep her anger in check if she saw him again.
The front door was ajar and she nudged it open. She called out for Harper but got no answer. She wandered back through the dining room, into the kitchen. Floretha would know where to find Harper.
But it wasn’t Floretha or Harper she found in the kitchen. Shep stood in front of the open refrigerator, helping himself to a soft drink. Dillon stood at the back door, staring out.
Angie froze.
As furious as she’d felt these past few days, seeing him still stirred a flurry of longing within her.
“Well, hello.” Shep twisted the cap off his drink. “Say hello, Dillon.”
Dillon turned. His curious expression grew guarded when he saw Angie.
“I’m here to see Harper,” she said.
He looked at the books in her arms. His jaw tightened. “Come on, Shep.” He gestured to the farmhand, who glanced at Angie apologetically.
“Nice to see you again, miss.”
Angie tossed her books on the table, her emotions spilling out. “I’m sure it is if you have to put up with his sour moods the rest of the time.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. ‘Bout every day. He’s a trial, all right.”
“Now, listen—” Dillon started.
“No, you listen, Dillon Winthrop,” Angie said. “You’re stubborn and mule-headed and you’ve ruined every chance we ever had for happiness.”
“Angie, I—”
“But there’s still hope for Trent and Harper. And if you have even a shred of compassion in you, you’ll do what you can to support them. At least somebody will come out of this awful mess intact.”
Then she wheeled and stormed out of the kitchen, aware that her entire body was trembling with a firestorm of emotions. She heard Dillon’s angry voice behind her, but she didn’t want to listen to anything he had to say. It hurt too much. She had to face the fact that it was over.
THE FINALITY OF Angie’s anger had shaken Dillon. He stalked out to the meadow where Duchess and a group of other horses grazed, hoping Shep had the good sense to leave him alone.
He should have known better. He seemed to be on everyone’s list these days.
“You’re acting like an ass,” Shep said. “You know that, don’t you?”
Duchess came up to the fence, nuzzled him. At least someone still liked him. “I know.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
“What would you do?” Dillon demanded, just about to decide it was time he got a new best friend.
“Quit acting like you’re getting such a raw deal, for starters.”
Dillon mulled that over. He wasn’t getting a raw deal, of course. He knew that. He owned Weddington Farms, free and clear. He had his daughter at his side and a mother who was truly happy for the first time he could remember.
He even had a father.
“You ever thought about how your old man might be feeling about all this?” Shep never did know when to leave well enough alone.
“No,” Dillon snapped, but it wasn’t true. Ever since that day at the horse competition, he’d been unable to get Trent’s reaction to Christine out of his mind. The man’s gaze had been riveted on the child. His granddaughter.
An awful thought had occurred to him and hadn’t let him go. What if Evelyn had never told him she was pregnant, if he’d never known about Christine? The feeling of loss nearly overwhelmed him. Was that how Trent felt?
In that moment, Dillon had empathized with the pain Trent must feel at being separated from his own flesh and blood. It made his father seem more human. But that had made it even more important, somehow, to hang on to his anger. He didn’t want to sympathize with his father. He didn’t want to understand.
“You know,” he said, as much to himself as to Shep, “I used to think about changing my name. Legally. So I’d be a Weddington, too. And now it won’t make any difference. Mom and I still won’t have the same name. It’s like no matter what I do, I’ll never fit in.”
“The only one who thinks you don’t fit in is you, you stubborn cuss,” Shep said. “I’d be glad to have even one parent. You’ve got two, and your old man is rich, you lucky dog. And you’re not grateful for a bit of it.”
Dillon knew his friend was right. His only problem was himself. Despite his resolve, all his anger and bitterness kept slipping away from him, bit by bit. He’d wanted to say that to Angie, but it was too late. All that was left was his pride and the knowledge that he’d made such a mess he couldn’t begin to set things right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A WEDDING WITH NONE of the trappings. That’s what Harper had said she wanted, and Trent had to admit it suited him just fine.
No big fancy cake, no guest book, no march down the aisle. Just a parlor full of people, some of whom loved one another and some of whom hadn’t yet made up their minds on that score.
Trent listened to the words of the service, Harper’s soft hand resting in the crook of his arm. Words of love and commitment that he had spoken once before in a farce of a ceremony. The irony had been that the vows had taken hold of him, had ended up becoming the truth despite what had been in his heart when he spoke them.
For that, he was grateful.
He was even more grateful that this time he could say the words and mean them.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” he declared, vaguely aware, as he slipped the simple gold band on Harper’s finger, of his stepdaughter. Angie was wiping the corner of her eye. He smiled at her, then at Harper.
When the minister urged those in attendance to support the couple in their vows, Trent heard the restless shuffle behind him, where he knew Dillon stood. Things still weren’t resolved, but Harper had seen hope in his willingness to be there for the wedding.
Putting old problems out of his mind, Trent kissed the bride lightly and heard Floretha attempting to silence Christine’s giggle. And then the minister from Harper’s church said, “I now present Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Elliot Trent.”
Floretha burst into tears. Christine looked up at her in alarm and gasped, “Don’t cry.”
The elderly woman replied, “Oh, heavens, child, I’m so happy these old eyes can’t stand it. These are just about the happiest tears that have been shed in this house in a long, long time.”
Then Harper burst into tears, as well, and Trent wished he’d had the foresight to invest in tissues.
ANGIE COULDN’T WAIT for it to all be over. She could leave this house, with all its reminders. She could have a good cry on the way home if she wanted, and no one need ever know. Her anger had vanished, leaving only grief for what would never be.
Trent and Harper would be leaving for the Charlotte airport any minute now. Everybody was waiting on the steps to shower them with rice as they made their dash for the car. Everyone except Dillon, Angie noticed.
Good. Maybe she could get out of here without having to see him again. It would be better that way.
Then, as Harper and Trent swept past, Dillon came around the corner of the house from the barns, leading two of Duchess’s prize offspring. Festive velvet ribbons were draped around the horses’ necks. Everyone stopped throwing rice.
“What’s Daddy doing?” Christine whispered.
Angie put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “I don’t know.”
She watched as he walked right up to the happy couple. He placed the reins in Trent’s hands. “You’d better take good care of her,” he said gruffly.
Angie took a step toward them. If he spoiled this moment, she might just kill him.
“You can count on it,” Trent said.
“I know what everybody wants me to say,” Dillon said. “But after hating you for so long, it’s hard to start feeling the opposite.”
“I understand,” Trent said.
“But I’ll try. I…I always wanted a dad.”
Angie was close enough to hear the tears in Harper’s voice when she spoke. “Oh, son.”
“I want you to be happy, Mom. I really do. As long as Trent makes you happy, I will like him.”
Angie felt tears of her own welling up. This was a side of Dillon she’d only seen glimpses of; a side he’d buried under anger and bitterness ever since Trent showed up.
“Anyway, I kept trying to think of a wedding gift. But I’m pretty selfish, and all I could think was that I didn’t really want you to leave. So I thought if the two of you owned a couple of horses, we might see you out at the farm more often.
So…congratulations.”
Angie couldn’t see the hugging that took place next for the flood of tears filling her eyes.
HIS LITTLE PRESENTATION hadn’t been as hard as Dillon thought it would be. When the preacher pronounced his parents man and wife, his mother looked radiant. Somehow her happiness served to soften his feelings toward Trent.
Then he’d seen Harper and Trent standing next to each other at the reception, and his insides had turned to jelly. It gave him a weird feeling to see his mother and father as husband and wife. It was something he’d wanted all his life. And now he had it. If he had any brains, he’d forget the past and make the most of the present.
That’s what he planned to do. The wedding gift to his parents was only the first step.
The car was heading down the winding drive to the highway now. Angie, Christine, Floretha and her daughter, Sandra, who had flown in from Kansas City for the wedding, continued throwing rice until they were out of sight.
“I hope they remember to call when they get there,” Dillon said.
“They won’t,” Floretha said with one of the biggest smiles Dillon could ever remember seeing on her face. “Your mama’s been waiting most of her life for this moment. You’re going to have to forgive her if she forgets all about you for a few days.”
“My stepfather will remember,” Angie said.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sandra remarked as they all trooped back into the house. “He looked just as besotted as Harper.”
“Mrs. Trent,” Floretha corrected her. “Mrs. Gordon Elliot Trent.”
“She’ll always be Harper to me,” Sandra said. “Now, before we see about supper, Mama and I have something we want to say.”
“No, I don’t,” Floretha declared. “This is your idea.”
“Okay, blame it on me,” Sandra said. “I don’t care.”
“What is it?” Dillon asked.
“Mama’s been working here for fifty years,” Sandra said. “I’ve been trying to get her to quit, but she wouldn’t as long as Harper was here. Well, with Harper married and setting up her own household, I think this is a good time for Mama and me to make some changes of our own. I’m moving back home and taking a job in Sumter. I found a nice little place in town. Mama can get to all the shops without having to wait for me to take her.”
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