The Man Must Marry

by Janet Chapman

  She turned on her blinker and pulled down an even narrower lane to their right. “Don’t underestimate Emmett. He never makes idle threats.”

  “Yeah, he told me that, too.”

  “So, am I going to get a new uncle?” She gave him a quick inspection, then smiled out the windshield again. “You’d be a vast improvement over my last one. David Sommers looked like a troll and had the personality of a billy goat.”

  “How old did you say you are?” Sam asked with a chuckle.

  “Emmett claims I’m sixteen going on sixty. You still haven’t answered my question, Mr. Sinclair.”

  “I might, if you call me Sam.”

  “Okay, Sam,” she said, pulling into the parking lot of a small warehouse perched on the edge of a tiny cove. She shut off the engine and looked over at him. “Please tell me you’re as astute as your grandfather and can see how much my aunt deserves to have somebody love her.”

  “There are no knights in shining armor in real life, Jennifer. It won’t matter how much I love Willa, if she’s unable to love herself.”

  “But that’s just it. I remember how Auntie used to be. I was only eight, but when Gram and Gramps died and she lost her baby, the light inside her dimmed. Then five years ago, when we had the accident,” she said, touching her right knee, “that light nearly went out completely. But a tiny spark’s still there; I know it is. I see hints of it every so often, like when she and I go sailing together.”

  “Yeah. I saw it, too, on our trip here.”

  “She just needs someone to toss fuel on that spark and coax it back to life.”

  “And you think I’m that someone?”

  “Yes.”

  Sam leaned against his door and studied his emphatic chauffeur. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Your grandfather talked about his ‘three boys’ all the time, so it wasn’t hard for me to figure out that of all of his grandsons, you’re the most like Abram. And whenever he and Aunt Willa were together, they were like baking soda and vinegar. In the six weeks your grandfather was here, I saw Auntie’s spark actually burst into flame a few times. Abram Sinclair was the first person I’ve seen her get that close to in years.”

  “You don’t think she’s close to you? And Emmett? And your mother and brother?”

  “Of course she is, but only by default, and only because she can’t very well stop loving us.” She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “I think it was okay for Abram to die, because she knew going in that it was going to happen. But God forbid anything should happen to any of us. I’m not sure she’d survive another tragedy.”

  Completely forgetting that he was talking to a sixteen-year-old, Sam asked, “Then what makes you think adding a husband and child for her to worry about won’t send Willa over the edge?”

  Jennifer sighed. “My own parents haven’t had a very…mutually supportive relationship, but I’ve had many wonderful examples of the power of true love. Emmett lost his wife, Gretchen, to cancer a little more than three years ago. What I learned from them is that when two people love each other that deeply, anything is possible, even continuing on alone. Emmett misses Gretchen immensely, but every breath he’s taken since she died has been filled with her spirit.”

  She lifted her beautiful little chin in exact mimic of Willa. “I don’t intend to settle for anything less than that kind of love for myself. Nor will I let my aunt spend the rest of her life hiding from it. I may have lost my foot five years ago, but she’s the one who was crippled.” She reached out and touched his arm. “You’re my only hope, Sam. Please, will you help me help her?”

  Sam found himself staring into eyes as desperate as the ocean was deep and as old as the earth, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, much less speak.

  “Abram gave you the most powerful tool he had, Sam. His bequest is your trump card, if you decide to play it.”

  “It’s also my greatest obstacle, Jennifer. Willa thinks I want to marry her to get those shares and to keep our home.”

  He stiffened as several pieces of the puzzle unexpectedly fell into place. “My God,” he whispered. “You helped Bram draft that damn will.”

  She looked away. “I don’t know anything about that sort of legal stuff.”

  “No, but you know Willa. You certainly knew she’d never let Tidewater fall into the hands of a man who wants to destroy it. You helped my grandfather write his last will and testament in a way that Willa’s conscience wouldn’t let her ignore.”

  The teenager brought her gaze back to his, her expression mutinous. “She needed a swift kick in the butt! You have no idea what it’s been like for me these last five years. Guilt can be contagious, you know.” She thumped herself on the chest. “How in hell am I supposed to get on with my life when my aunt won’t get on with hers? I can never be free until she’s free.”

  Sam had never considered what Willa’s self-reproach might be doing to those around her. Of course, anyone who loved her would share her pain—especially Jennifer.

  “Is your aunt aware of how you feel?” he asked softly.

  Jennifer shrugged, then pulled the key out of the ignition and opened her door. “I’ve been waiting for the right man to help her figure that out.”

  “Where are we going?” he asked, opening his own door and getting out.

  She gave him a cheeky grin across the hood of her truck. “I thought you might want to buy some lobsters for your and Emmett’s supper tomorrow night. And since we’re here, I also thought I’d give you a few pointers on courting.” She motioned toward the warehouse, which was a fish co-op. “Steven works here. If I want him to take me to the homecoming dance, I suppose I should ask him to, shouldn’t I?”

  Sam choked on a bark of laughter. He strode around the truck, slipped Jennifer’s arm through his, and sauntered toward the side entrance. “I tell you what. If Steven is intelligent enough to say yes, I will fly you and your mother to New York on Tidewater’s private jet and take you shopping for a dress for the dance.”

  “Deal!” she said with delight. She batted her eyelashes at him. “But I should warn you, I’ve been accused of having expensive tastes.”

  “No problem,” Sam drawled. “I’ve managed to tuck away some of my paychecks over the years. And if that’s not enough, I’m sure my brothers won’t mind kicking in a few bucks.”

  Sam sat at the small, battered table, in the exact same chair his grandfather had sat in to record his good-bye video. The cottage was dark except for the moonlight coming through the windows, it was half past eleven, and he was waiting for Willa to get home from her date with Barry Cobb.

  Tonight’s dinner conversation in the old Kent homestead had ranged from Cody’s decision to try out for next year’s Odyssey of the Mind, to Emmett’s new keel design he was working on, to whether Sam though the Red Sox would play the Yankees in the World Series again this season. The only thing not discussed was Willa’s blaring absence.

  Sam still couldn’t believe that Barry Cobb had had the audacity to drive up to her home that afternoon and boldly ask her out to dinner. Even more surprising, Willa didn’t seem to mind being seen in public not only with the enemy but with a very eligible bachelor.

  The enemy part didn’t worry Sam; he figured Willa had agreed to dinner out of sheer curiosity. He smiled. And maybe also to piss him off. But what if she was seen by one of the marriage posse? The last thing he needed was for those damn busybodies to decide that Cobb was the perfect match for her.

  Headlights suddenly slashed through the darkness, briefly illuminating the interior of the cottage before they swung around to the beachfront and stopped. Sam smiled again when he heard a car door immediately open and shut and footsteps scampering onto the cottage porch.

  The poor bastard wasn’t even getting a good-night kiss for his troubles.

  The headlights repeated their arcing display in reverse as the cottage door opened. The interior lights came on, and Willa let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead.

 
Sam stood up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “What are you doing here?” She clutched her jacket to her chest.

  “Waiting for you.”

  Her expression instantly became indignant. “Are you checking up on me?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, studying her. “No, of course not. Is that dirt on your forehead?” He walked over, brushed back her hair, then dropped his gaze to hers with a sigh. “Did Cobb make you nervous tonight, or did you run into the marriage posse?”

  She headed to the sink, tossing her jacket over a chair on her way by. “Barry was a perfect gentleman.”

  “I would have expected no less.”

  She frowned at him, then turned on the water, grabbed a towel hanging next to the window, and held a corner of it under the faucet. “And nobody from town saw us, because we drove thirty miles to Ellsworth to go to dinner.”

  He took the towel from her and gently wiped away the mud. “That was smart. There, all clean.” He led her over to the table and sat her down. “How did you get mud on your forehead and knee?” he asked, squatting down to examine her knee through the large hole in her stocking.

  She pulled the hem of her wrinkled dress down. “Barry already checked me out and declared I’d live,” she said, her expression daring him to comment.

  He stood up. “Then I shall take the gentleman’s word.” He went to the fridge, got out the large piece of dark chocolate cake he’d brought from the house, and placed it on the table in front of her. “Did he buy you dessert?”

  “Warm apple pie,” she snapped, swiping her finger through the frosting and popping it into her mouth.

  Sam opened several drawers and came back with a fork. He sat down across from her, pulled the plate over to his side of the table, and dug in. “You still haven’t told me how you got mud on your face.”

  “Go home, Sam. I want to be alone.”

  He stopped eating, studied her for several seconds, then quietly set down his fork, stood up, and went to the door. “Will you go to the movies with me this Friday night?”

  She blinked at him, though Sam didn’t know if she was surprised by his leaving or his asking her out. He took his jacket off the peg and slipped it on. “Or if you prefer, we can rent a movie and stay in.”

  “I want to be alone Friday night, too.”

  “Saturday?”

  “I have to wash my hair Saturday night.”

  “I’ll check in with you next week, then,” he said, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind him.

  He pulled up his collar outside but stopped under a low-hanging tree several feet away from the cottage. Through the window, he saw Willa pull the cake over to her side of the table and put a large bite into her mouth.

  A few things Jennifer had said that afternoon made Sam wonder if the secret to winning Willa’s heart might not be a swift kick in the butt after all.

  Fanning that little spark back to life would be fun, considering how easy it was to rile her. He’d have to take things a lot further, though, if he wanted to rid Willa of the habit of being responsible for everyone’s happiness. But then, mirrors were wonderful instruments for reflecting the naked truth right back at a person.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Willa had spent most of the last two weeks locked in her office, trying to lose herself in her new line of pet caskets but more often staring into space as she tried to figure a way out of her dilemma. And, she admitted with a sigh as she tossed her pencil down on her sketch pad, she had also been hiding from Sam.

  But mostly, she’d been forced into exile by the killer glares she’d been getting from her workers. Jennifer and Shelby and Peg weren’t talking to her, either, and last Monday, Cody had announced that being around a bunch of silent women was creepy and had gone to stay with his dad.

  The only person who didn’t appear angry at her for going to dinner with Barry Cobb four more times was Sam. Which was confounding—shouldn’t he be worried that she was cavorting with the enemy? After all, it was his inheritance Cobb was interested in, under the guise of being interested in her.

  But Sam hadn’t made any attempts to see her in the last twelve days. She’d heard he’d shortened his hours at Kent Caskets to two days a week, apparently to devote more time to hunting down every last seafood restaurant within fifty miles. He obviously loved to eat a lot more than he loved her.

  She’d also heard he’d gained more than ten pounds.

  And the diabolical jerk had stolen her thunder by flying Shelby and Jennifer and Cody to New York City on Tidewater’s private jet. He’d treated them to two days of heavy shopping and even a helicopter tour of Manhattan. What good was having a big fat bank account if she couldn’t use it to impress her family? She had wanted to buy Jennifer’s dress for the dance.

  Willa turned off her desk lamp, plunging her office into darkness. She hadn’t even gotten to take Jennifer driving again, since her niece had decided that Sam was a wonderful instructor.

  Well, if the girl wanted to get all gaga over the man, that was her problem. Willa had been there and done that. Samuel Sinclair was just another typical male with an agenda, and if Shelby and Jennifer and Emmett couldn’t see that, then…then that was also their problem. She was getting sick and tired of always watching out for them, anyway. Maybe they could all use a good lesson in getting themselves out of their own messes.

  She snapped the light back on, picked up the phone, and dialed Emmett’s house.

  “Hello,” Emmett said after the third ring.

  “Hi, Em. I didn’t want you to be worried when you got to work tomorrow and saw the RoseWind wasn’t on her mooring. I’m taking her out sailing for a few days.”

  “Well, Willy, that’s going to be kind of hard, considering she’s missing half her paint. I brought her into dry dock five days ago to be repainted.”

  “You what? I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  “No, Sam did. He said he thought she should be gone over, anyway. He also asked me to check all the winches.”

  “Sam doesn’t own the RoseWind, I do!”

  “The jib winch was sticking, I discovered,” Emmett continued, ignoring her burst of temper. “And I found a large chunk had been gouged out of the keel. You must have noticed the hull vibrating. How come you didn’t mention it to me when you got in?”

  “It couldn’t have been that large a gouge; the boat went fine. You actually dry-docked the RoseWind without calling me to see if it was okay?”

  “Foul weather’s predicted for the next few days, anyway,” Emmett said. “Say, have you spoken to Sam lately?”

  “No, I’m happy to say.” She picked up her pencil and started doodling on her sketch pad. “Um…why? You sound as if something’s wrong. Are his brothers okay?”

  “They’re fine that I know of. It’s Sam I’m worried about. Have you even seen him in passing?”

  “Just from a distance,” she said, sitting up. “Why?”

  There was a slight pause on the line. “He’s not the same man who arrived here two weeks ago, Willy.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Even as beat up as he was, Sam still appeared…formidable, if you know what I mean.”

  “And he’s not now? What are you saying, Emmett?”

  A heavy sigh came over the phone. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. I just know Sam’s been acting strangely lately.”

  “Compared to what? You’ve only known him two weeks.”

  “Depressed, then,” he growled. “If I have to put a word on it, I’d say Sam is acting depressed.”

  “As in how?” she growled back. “Is he sleeping all day? Lying on the couch watching the Lifetime channel and munching on junk food? What?”

  “Well, he does eat a lot. He’s been gaining weight.”

  “That’s not depression, that’s plain old gluttony.”

  “And he went out and bought himself a bunch of flannel shirts, and he doesn’t even bother to tuck them in.”

  “
Oh, for the love of—”

  “And he’s going to the coffee shop nearly every morning.” His voice dropped. “And you know how depressing that group can get sometimes.”

  Willa grew alarmed. “Have you tried to talk to him, Emmett? Maybe you should just come out and ask him what’s bothering him.”

  “That’s not my place.”

  “Are you implying it’s mine? Since when did I become Sam’s babysitter?”

  “You’re just better at that sort of thing, Willamina.”

  “Maybe Abram’s death is just now hitting him. Maybe he’s simply mourning. Remember how you were when Gretchen passed? Sorrow hits everyone differently, and how long it takes to work through it is up to the individual. Abram was like a father to Sam.”

  Another heavy sigh came over the phone line. “You’re probably right. He’s likely just realizing that he and his brothers are completely alone in the world now.”

  “You might suggest he stop going to the coffee shop,” Willa said. “They probably keep mentioning Abram, and that will keep depressing Sam.”

  “I’ll do that,” Emmett said. “I’m sorry about the RoseWind, Willy. But truth be told, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her again. She was my last, you know?”

  “I know, Em, and it’s okay. Um…is Sam home?”

  “He left about an hour ago and told me not to wait dinner for him.” He snorted. “Not that I ever do. I usually just help myself to one of the many doggie bags he keeps sticking in the fridge.”

  She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Okay, I’d better get on home and see what Peg’s put in my own fridge. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll come over and work on the RoseWind with you, if you’d like.”

  “I’d like that. It’s been a few years since we’ve worked side by side.”

  “’Bye, Em,” she said. She shut off the light again and gazed across the dark room at nothing.

  Emmett thought Sam was depressed?

  His weight gain would make sense if that was the case. After her parents died and she lost the baby, she’d started feeding the emptiness inside her with whatever food she could get her hands on. She’d gained twelve pounds that year, and that had been the beginning of the end for her and David. A year later, she began to suspect he was cheating on her, and she’d gained another ten pounds.