by Abby Gaines
She dialed his cell phone on the assumption he was on his way home. When he answered, the tension in his voice made her hesitate to give him the bad news.
“I’m glad you called, Casey. I’m afraid I’m going to be late, so you’ll have to look after Eloise for a while. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s an emergency.” She heard agitated voices behind him, and Adam lowered his tone to murmur, “I’m in a room full of lawyers, trying to figure out how not to lose several million dollars.” He paused. “Did you want something?”
“Uh, no, nothing important. I’ll see you later.” Casey hung up the phone. She briefly considered ordering pizza, but if Eloise was a stickler for routine like her stepson, that would be a very bad idea.
She looked at the dinner ingredients on the counter. Steak, mushrooms, potatoes, salad, garlic, strawberries... She could do something with these.
* * *
CASEY HAD EXPECTED Adam’s stepmother to display the same unshakeable love of order as he did, and arrive right on time. But fortunately, the doorbell didn’t chime until twenty past six. Casey went to the front door, only remembering as she opened it that she was still wearing Mrs. Lowe’s voluminous apron.
The tall, elegant, silk-clad woman on the doorstep had light-blue eyes that right now were coolly assessing.
“Mrs. Carmichael?” Casey said brightly. “I’m Casey.”
“Well.” Eloise sounded bemused rather than hostile. “You look rather different from when I saw you on television on Friday.” Then, as Casey hesitated, she asked, “Are you going to invite me in?”
“I’m working in the kitchen,” Casey explained as she followed her mother-in-law across the foyer. When Eloise looked around, bewildered, Casey wondered if she even knew where Adam’s kitchen was. She led the way, aware of the silent tread of her bare feet in contrast to the clack of Eloise’s heels on the parquet floor.
“Where’s Mrs. Lowe?” Eloise surveyed the clutter on the counter, sniffed the baking shortcake. She cast a wary glance around.
“I’m afraid she’s gone,” Casey said. “I said something to offend her—again—and she walked out.”
Eloise broke into a huge smile that stripped away the suspicion, the cool elegance, and left her looking like someone’s mother. “Bravo, my dear,” she said. “If I’d known it was that easy, I’d have tried it years ago. This calls for a drink.”
She got a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator, but clearly had no idea how to open it. Casey did the honors. Eloise raised a glass of the fizzing liquid.
“Good riddance to Mrs. Lowe,” she said.
Casey joined her in the toast, feeling rather disloyal to Adam, but sharing the sentiment wholeheartedly.
“So,” Eloise said, “have you told Adam yet?” Her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
“I called, but it wasn’t a good time. He’s running late, by the way, and sends his apologies. Mrs. Carmichael, do you think—”
“My dear Casey, you can’t call me Mrs. Carmichael,” she said in her soft Southern drawl. “You may call me Mother—” she saw the doubt on Casey’s face “—or Eloise, if you prefer.”
“Eloise, then.” Casey looked around the kitchen, a trifle wildly. “Adam’s having a really bad day at work. Yesterday his car got smashed thanks to
me—” Eloise drew in a sharp breath that acknowledged the importance of the Aston Martin “—and now I’ve lost his precious housekeeper. Maybe I should tell him tomorrow, let him think Mrs. Lowe cooked tonight.”
Eloise tilted her elegantly coiffed head to one side. “Not a chance. That old dragon never makes strawberry shortcake. She knows it’s my favorite. It won’t take Adam two minutes to notice something’s wrong.”
Casey had feared as much. She groaned and got back to her dinner preparations. To her surprise, Eloise pitched in and helped, with a lot of enthusiasm if not much actual skill. Adam’s tale about his father had given Casey the impression Eloise might be demanding or selfish, but right now she was neither.
By the time Adam arrived home a half hour later, the steak had been seared and was ready to be finished off in the oven, the mushroom sauce was made, the vegetables were awaiting a final steaming, and the hors d’oeuvres tray was a fully assembled work of art.
When they heard the front door open, Casey and Eloise froze, as if they’d been caught stealing the silver.
“You run upstairs and change,” Eloise said. “I’ll head Adam off at the pass.” She chortled as she snatched up the champagne bottle and headed out to the foyer.
“Adam, darling...” Her voice wafted back to the kitchen.
As Casey raced up the back staircase, she heard her cooing at her stepson, and getting what sounded like a grunt in response. It didn’t seem as if Adam’s day had improved any. Casey grimaced at her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She was flushed with heat—and, no doubt, with champagne. Grease streaked her face and her hair hung limply. Too bad she didn’t have time for a shower.
She splashed cold water over her face and upper body, then twisted her hair and pinned it at the back of her head. Thankful she’d had the forethought to select her clothes earlier, she put on the silky lilac dress, taking pleasure in the way it shimmied over her hips. The slim fit showed her figure off to advantage, and a slit up the side enabled freedom of movement. Quickly, she applied lipstick—no need for blusher. She grimaced as she realized a few tendrils of hair had already escaped their pins.
On her way to join the others, she collected the hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen. The heavy tray forced her to slow her pace, so she had a moment to collect herself.
When Casey entered the living room, Adam moved immediately to relieve her of it. Although she was expecting some kind of embrace, she flinched when his lips touched her forehead.
“Darling,” he said, as he set the hors d’oeuvres down on the table, “you should let Mrs. Lowe do this.”
Casey looked at Eloise, who frowned and tipped her head toward Adam’s untouched champagne glass. Eloise was right. It might be better for him to relax with a drink before Casey gave him the bad news. “It was no problem...honey,” she said.
“But Mrs. Lowe—” Adam began.
Casey did the only thing she could think of to forestall the inevitable. She stood on tiptoe and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. Time slowed as she absorbed the sureness of his lips against hers. Her hands went to his chest to brace herself, and she felt the strength of his muscles beneath the crisp cotton of his shirt. The kiss lasted barely two seconds, but when she pulled away, Casey felt herself blushing furiously.
“What was that for?” Adam sounded dazed—and not at all like he was thinking about his housekeeper.
“You had a bad day. I wanted to make it better.” She took a step backward. “Did it work?”
He touched a finger to his lips. “Well, it didn’t hurt any.”
“How did your meeting go with the lawyers?” Casey asked.
“It, uh, wasn’t too bad,” he said distractedly.
“Adam, I must congratulate you on your wife,” Eloise said. “She’s lovely.” She smiled at Casey.
Adam didn’t look at Casey, but took her hand, entwined his fingers loosely with hers. “Yes, she is.”
Eloise lifted her glass in a toast. “To true love, the kind that lasts forever.”
Casey raised her glass with only the tiniest twinge of guilt. She still believed in true love, even if it didn’t have a place in her marriage. Adam muttered something about forever being a very long time, but at last he drank some champagne. By the time they finished the hors d’oeuvres, he’d had two glasses and did seem more relaxed, though Casey could still see that furrow in his brow.
“I’ll go check on things in the kitchen,” she said. “Why don’t you two go through to the dining room?”
She steamed the vegetables and reheated the sauce while the meat finished cooking in the oven. She served the meal with some pride—she’d done a great job at short notice.
When she ca
rried all three plates into the dining room—a skill she’d acquired waiting tables to help pay her father’s medical bills—the atmosphere was like thunder. Adam was glowering at his stepmother, who looked decidedly sheepish.
“What’s going on?” Casey asked.
“Eloise has confessed that she annoyed Mrs. Lowe so much tonight, the poor woman quit,” Adam said.
Something seized in Casey’s chest. She set the plates down carefully. “Eloise, that is the nicest thing you could have done.” She blinked and clamped her lips together to stop the prickle behind her eyes from turning into an overflow of emotion. When she was sure she could continue, she said, “Adam, it was my fault.” Briefly, she recounted the true sequence of events.
“I figured I can do the cooking and look after the house for the next...while,” she finished.
Adam had the same black look he’d worn the night Casey had canceled the country fried steak. Only this situation wouldn’t be so easily resolved.
“Darling, don’t be silly.” He smiled, but he spoke through gritted teeth. His doting husband act required him to stifle his annoyance in front of Eloise. “This house is so big, no self-respecting wife would take it on. I’ll call the agency and find a replacement.”
“Perhaps Casey should interview the candidates,” Eloise suggested, “to make sure she finds someone she likes.”
Adam agreed. Even if his acquiescence was just for Eloise’s benefit, Casey decided she would contact the agency in the morning. It was the least she could do.
Over dinner, Eloise demanded details of their romance—where they’d met and how long they’d known each other.
“Here in Memphis and long enough.” Adam’s evasive reply covered both questions.
He stopped just short of being rude to Eloise. He might claim any ill-feeling toward his stepmother was in the past, but obviously he still held a grudge.
“You must be a very special woman, Casey,” she said. “I think Adam always believed he couldn’t have both the business and a woman he loved, and he was far more comfortable with the business.”
Adam scowled. “Eloise knows nothing about it,” he said.
His stepmother ignored that. “I’m sure he’s figured out by now that a marriage built on true love will strengthen him, rather than weaken him.”
Adam clutched his head in his hands. “Spare me two amateur psychologists in the family.”
Later, when Eloise rose to leave, she hugged Casey warmly. “I can’t wait to get to know you better, my dear.” To Adam, she said, “I know you’ll be relieved not to have me foisting young women on you every time I see you.”
“You bet,” he answered, with more enthusiasm than he’d displayed toward her all night.
* * *
TOO EASY.
By Friday, Casey had recruited a new housekeeper, Adam having failed in his attempt to persuade Mrs. Lowe to return. Sue Mason was good-natured, young enough to be happy about using first names, and keen to start work on Monday. Those were all the qualifications she needed as far as Casey was concerned. She’d asked Adam his opinion, and he’d told her to go ahead and do what she thought best. He probably planned to find a carbon copy of Mrs. Lowe as soon as the annulment came through.
But for now, Casey thought, as she put the phone down after confirming Sue’s employment, everything was going just fine. She and Adam had been married for a week, and she’d already made good progress on her book. Karen was still calling several times a day for advice about Rosie, but Casey’s ignorance on the subject of babies meant she couldn’t be of more than limited help. By the time their one-month marriage was over, Casey and Adam should both have achieved their goals.
Who needs to be adored?
* * *
THE SECOND WEEK of their marriage flew by. Everything was running smoothly in the house, thanks to the new housekeeper. Adam was busy at work, and Casey’s days involved plenty more writing, punctuated by visits from Eloise, who seemed determined to get to know her daughter-in-law. When Casey mentioned to Adam she felt guilty about deceiving Eloise, he gave her a lecture about focus and selfishness.
The next Sunday, they had lunch at the Peabody Hotel with Eloise and two of her friends, Celeste and Beth. Adam told Casey that whenever his stepmother was home, he took the ladies to Sunday lunch. “It lets me off the hook of having to see her the rest of the week,” he explained.
But it seemed to Casey the way her husband treated Eloise and her companions went beyond routine courtesy. He made considerable effort to charm the three women he called the Merry Widows, as they sat at the best table in the house. The Peabody staff had greeted Casey and Adam like long-lost friends.
Casey sipped on her mint julep tea, ordered at Eloise’s urging and served in a tall frosted glass. The refreshing combination of bourbon, mint and tea should have helped her relax. But Eloise had introduced her to the other ladies as “my dear daughter-in-law,” and Casey found herself the center of the conversation. She felt like a fraud.
When Adam waved at someone, she was ready to welcome any distraction. Even Sam Magill, the lawyer, who’d arrived with another group. Sam caught Adam’s signal and excused himself from his friends.
“What is that man doing here?” Eloise creased the fine linen napkin between her fingers as she watched him approach. How did he do this, turn up wherever she went? She couldn’t so much as take Adam a tray of his favorite cornbread at the office without Sam popping up to ask if she’d taken her blood pressure medication, or to remind her it was time to pay her federal taxes, or to warn her a prowler had been sighted in her area. Now he was fiddling with his tie, which was already perfectly knotted, and in his distraction he bumped an elderly woman’s chair on his way over.
Sam stopped to check if the old lady was all right, then at last reached their table.
“Eloise.” He greeted her with a half bow, just as James used to. When James did it, she’d thought it charming.
“Hello, Sam.”
Sam knocked her purse, which she’d hung over the back of her chair. He apologized, red in the face. Feeling sorry for him, Eloise smiled. Hope leaped into his eyes. Oh, dear. Sam could interpret even ordinary courtesy as something more when he wanted to badly enough.
That visit she’d paid to his house had revealed he cared for her more deeply than she’d suspected. It wasn’t fair to let it continue. Somewhere out there was a woman who would return his feelings.
Eloise bit her lip. Though it went against her upbringing, though her mama would have a fainting fit if she were alive to witness it, maybe Eloise should be...less polite to Sam.
For both their sakes.
She turned her back on him to speak to Celeste, making the exclusion deliberate.
Sam’s voice was gruff when he said to Adam, “I planned to call you at home this afternoon.”
It was rare for Sam to phone on the weekend. Adam figured it couldn’t be good news. He reached around to the empty table behind him and pulled a chair over for Sam. “What’s the problem?”
The attorney directed an anxious glance at Eloise as he sat down, but she wasn’t paying him any attention. “I heard a rumor from the offices of your aunt’s lawyer. Your marriage—” he nodded to Casey, sitting next to Adam “—has Anna May worried you’ve met the conditions of the will and put Henry out of contention.”
“That figures,” Adam said.
“So she’s claiming,” the lawyer said, “your father was out of his mind when he wrote that will.”
Adam gripped the edge of the table. If Anna May and Henry were here, he’d knock their stupid heads together. This time, they’d gone too far.
“My father was not crazy.” His anger erupted at the worst possible moment. The waiter had arrived with their food, and the women had stopped talking. Everyone at Adam’s table heard his declaration. And judging by the curious glances directed their way, everyone at neighboring tables, too.
“Adam?” Eloise said uncertainly.
This news wo
uld hurt his stepmother. He wished he didn’t care, but... Casey reached over to prize his fingers from the table edge. She curled her hand around his and squeezed gently.
Adam felt the tension seep out of him. Whatever Anna May was up to, they would get past it.
“It’s Anna May’s latest tactic,” he told his stepmother. “She’s claiming Dad wasn’t of sound mind when he wrote his will.”
He was about to add that his aunt wouldn’t get anywhere with such a preposterous claim, when Sam blurted, “She has evidence.”
Eloise uttered a word Adam didn’t know she knew, not quite under her breath. Sam coughed into his handkerchief.
“Are you still smoking, Mr. Magill?” Eloise gave the lawyer a chilly look that cleared his cough miraculously. “Such a bad habit,” she said to no one in particular. “James smoked cigars when I met him, but he stopped eventually. He always felt it bespoke a lack of self-control.”
Sam made a choking noise.
Casey blinked. She’d never heard Eloise be anything less than charming.
“But then,” her mother-in-law continued, “what would James have known about it? Given he was insane.” She spoke lightly, but fixed Sam with a gimlet glare.
The lawyer blushed, and Casey felt sorry for him. From the second he’d approached their table, it had been obvious he had a crush on Eloise. His harsh-edged self-assurance evaporated, and it seemed all he could do was open his mouth and insert both feet.
“I didn’t say James was insane,” Sam mumbled. From somewhere, he dredged up a speck of his usual confidence. “I had a lot of respect for James, Eloise. You know that.”
She nodded jerkily. But when she spoke, she still sounded hostile. “Then you won’t let Anna May get away with this, will you?”
Sam looked as if he badly wanted to assure her that hell would freeze over before Anna May got to say anything against James in open court. But from the way he squirmed in his seat, Casey guessed the answer wasn’t that straightforward.
“I believe Anna May has a sworn statement with regard to your husband’s state of mind. That statement is the basis of her case,” the lawyer said formally.