“Yes.”
“Here to stay?”
“For now.”
Cassie Montford swallowed her last bite of sandwich and wrapped her hands around the plastic bottle, looking at him expectantly.
“I’m Josh Redmond.”
“I know. You said so. Should that mean something to me?”
“I’d hoped not, but I wasn’t sure. My mother promised me she’d stay out of things, but I wasn’t positive she had. It was also possible someone from here had done the same research she did.” Which had been another reason he’d waited to do this in person. He was hoping for anonymity and he wouldn’t have had any chance of success at all if his identity preceded him.
Frowning, Cassie’s gaze remained open. “Do I know your mother?”
“No! And I’m making more out of this than I should. I need to tell you who I am and why I’m in town, but before I do, I’d like to ask you to keep what I’m about to tell you to yourself.”
“I can’t promise that. In the first place, I’m not in the habit of keeping secrets from my husband.”
“Sam, Jr.”
“You know Sam? Were you in the peace corps with him?”
“No.” But he was surprised to hear that Cassie’s husband, Sam, had been. A stint in the peace corps wasn’t typically something you found on the résumés of the sons of the elite.
Curious.
“I’m sorry, I just thought...” Cassie broke off. “Other than Sam’s time in the peace corps, we pretty much know all of the same people. We’ve been friends since kindergarten.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to keep anything from your husband,” Josh jumped in. “Though I’d hope that he’d keep anything you tell him to himself.”
“I still can’t give you any assurances that either one of us will keep your secret until I know the nature of it.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I wouldn’t have bothered you at all except that I need you to send a letter to my mother, assuring her that I’ve arrived and am being properly looked after.”
She hadn’t asked him to do so. But he knew her. She’d manage to keep her word to stay out of things longer if she had some sort of contact, was involved in some little way.
The other woman’s frown deepened. As did the look of compassion in her eyes.
“Are you ill?” Cassie asked.
“No. I’m in perfect health.” As fate would have it. Michelle was the one who’d paid for his years of selfish indifference. “And I have absolutely no intention of being looked after.” He had to make that quite clear. Whether the Montfords agreed to keep his secret or not was not going to change his plan. It just might change his location.
“Okay, tell me who you are, and I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do for you.”
“I’m your cousin,” Josh said. “Or rather, your husband’s cousin. Twice removed, but not so much when it comes to the family fortunes. As near as my mother could tell, Sam and I are currently the only direct heirs, once our parents pass.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a Montford,” she said, as though she’d expected him to show up some day.
“My mother is the sole descendent of the Boston Montfords. Your husband’s father is the sole descendent of the Arizona Montfords.”
“It’s my understanding that the Boston Montfords disowned our Sam and that the two branches of the family haven’t been in touch in all the generations since.”
Josh’s mother was an only child. Josh was an only child. The Boston Montfords just might die out.
“I know,” he said. “But my mother, as the only heir to the Boston half of the fortune, intends to change that.”
“And she’s using you to do so.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“So what’s in it for you?”
Josh bowed his head.
Cassie Montford, who, according to his mother, had been born and raised in Shelter Valley, had obviously learned a thing or two about the outside world, as well.
He sized up the woman across from him. Like he’d study a client across the boardroom table. To see how far he could push, how much he could get.
He saw a spot of moisture on her lip.
A spot of moisture that, in that second, reminded him of Michelle.
“Peace,” he finally answered. “And it’s not something you or anyone else can give me,” he said, knowing that his life in Shelter Valley depended on his honesty in this moment, because it depended on her full cooperation.
“I don’t understand.”
“Like Sam’s great-grandfather, I’m in Shelter Valley to start a new life,” Josh said, looking her straight in the eye. “Also like him, I am choosing to do so without benefit of the family fortune.”
“Choosing to do so.”
“Yes.”
“So you aren’t on the run? Or cut off for heinous deeds?” She might have been joking, if not for the dead seriousness of her gaze.
“No. On the contrary. I’m in Shelter Valley because the only way my mother would be at peace with me leaving Boston was to know that I was coming here. My parents think that I’m living off my monthly inheritance draw.”
“And that’s why you want me to write to her and let her know that you’re here and being cared for, for her peace of mind?”
“Right.”
“What kind of care do you need, Mr. Redmond?”
“Call me Josh...please. And the only thing I need from you and Sam—other than this one communication with my mother who is, by the way, a wonderful lady who will want to meet you someday—is my space and a promise that you will not say anything to anyone, including family, about who I really am.”
“Let me guess, you want your mother to believe you’re here as a Montford, but you want no part of the family name and all that goes with it.”
“Pretty much. My mother has promised to stay out of my life for a while at least. She agreed not to pursue a relationship with your side of the family until I could get established on my own.”
It was the only way he’d agree to live in Shelter Valley. And maybe it was harsh, but he was only asking her not to get to know people she’d never met.
Cassie nodded. Obviously assessing him.
“You don’t seem surprised by any of this.”
“I’m not. Seems to run in the family.”
Josh remembered her peace corps comment. “From what my mother was able to find out from her searches, your husband, and his father before him, have been upstanding Montford heirs, honoring the family name.”
“She must not have looked far enough,” Cassie said with a not quite humorous, half grin. “My Sam was more like the man he was named after,” she said. “He left town when we were barely out of our teens. He’s only been back in Shelter Valley, living as a Montford, for the past twelve years. His father, James, had some health issues several years back. We thought we’d lost him, but he surprised us all.”
For the first time, Josh was actually curious about the family he’d come to town to avoid.
But getting to know his distant relatives was not part of his plan.
Neither was a dog.
But he was there to help others. And the little pisser needed a home.
Sam and Cassie Montford didn’t need him.
Leaning forward, he put his arms on the table. “I applied for...was offered...and accepted a job in the Montford University Business Affairs department.” He told her what he needed her to know. “Acquired only on the basis of my business degree from Harvard, not because of any other connection. Being out on my own...living without the benefit of name or fortune...is something I have to do for myself. To keep my mother off my back, I would like to do it here, in Shelter Valley. But I can’t do that without your cooperation.
If anyone here finds out who I am, I won’t be able to become simply a citizen. From what I’ve gathered in the short time I’ve been in town, the name Montford carries weight around here. If I’m going to find some self-respect, I have to live off my own efforts, not the benefits that come with my background.”
“Sounds like you have something to prove.”
“I need anonymity,” he said. “If I can’t find that here, I’ll move on.”
Lips pursed, Cassie studied him for a long moment and then took a deep breath. “I have to tell Sam....”
“Understood.”
“And get his cooperation.”
Josh nodded.
“As long as my husband doesn’t foresee any trouble, I have no problem granting your request.”
“Thank you.” Josh stood, relieved. “For the time being, I’m renting a vacant house on the west side of town,” he told her. “I plan to buy something as soon as I get an idea of where I’d like to settle.”
Cassie mentioned some acreage with mountain views and Josh shook his head. “I meant it when I said I’m on my own,” he told her. “Any Montford monies I had, or will have in the future, are going in a trust designated for another use.”
He didn’t elaborate.
“The only house I can buy has to fall within mortgage qualification requirements commensurate with my new salary.”
Cassie Montford gathered up the remnants from her lunch and walked with him toward the back door of the clinic. “You’re really serious about this.”
“Completely.”
She reached for the door and stopped with her hand on the knob. “Can I ask why?”
He’d been prepared for the question. Not for the empathy he read in her eyes.
“I was born into a life of privilege, which, as it turns out, I didn’t deserve. And I’m terrified of dying with nothing but a wasted life to show for having been here.”
She wanted to ask more. He could see the questions in her eyes.
“I think my husband’s going to want to meet you.”
Not if Josh could avoid it. He couldn’t afford to let himself get that close to the life he was leaving behind. Not if he was going to make this work.
Because, like an alcoholic tempting himself with a drink, Josh was scared of what the smell and feel and taste of privilege would do to him after a week or two without it.
His resolve was firm. He just wasn’t sure he could trust himself to live up to it. Which was another major reason he’d left Boston, and everything and everyone familiar to him, behind.
“Maybe, at some point,” he said. “But not here in town. Not where anyone might see us together.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Cassie said, grinning over her shoulder at him as they stepped back into the clinic. “My husband could probably fool God if he tried hard enough.”
Leaving Cassie his cell phone number, with the understanding that she’d let him know what Sam said regarding the favor he’d asked, Josh let her turn him over to Hope, who gave him a starter pack of something called puppy pads, a plastic container of vitamins and a small bag of dog food—all of which he carried out to the back of the SUV.
When he returned, she handed him a leash attached to the ten-pound mass of jumping and peeing fur he’d just agreed to take home with him.
If only his mother could see him now.
CHAPTER FIVE
“DANA, WHERE SHOULD I put this towel?” At the sound of Lori’s voice on Saturday morning, Dana turned from the desk in her little living room where she was typing on her laptop. The girl had called sometime after ten the night before and told her Marissa’s boyfriend was spending part of the night at the dorm.
“Just hang the towels on the hook on the back of the door,” she told the younger woman. “In case you need them again. I’ll wash them the next time I do laundry.”
Kitty Kari, who’d been curled up on the corner of the desk, woke, stretched and, when her paw knocked against the edge of the laptop, started patting at the screen.
Lori grabbed her purse, keys and the backpack she’d brought her overnight paraphernalia in.
“You going home for Thanksgiving?” Dana asked.
“I’m not sure. If my dad’s going to be there, yes. I’m not leaving him there alone.”
“If?”
“A couple of his mining buddies have been talking about taking a hunting trip over the holidays. If they go, he will, too.”
“Has he done that before?”
“No, but I think he’d have liked to. He wouldn’t have left me home alone, though.”
Daniel wouldn’t have left Dana home alone, either. He just wouldn’t have played video games with her like he had with his two biological daughters. And he wouldn’t have asked the other two to help with the cooking or the dishes.
They’d done that on their own. Her half sisters, Rebecca and Lindsey—twenty and twenty-two, respectively—were good girls. Good sisters. To a point.
They just didn’t go to bat for her. Not that she blamed them. Her mother hadn’t, either.
And Dana didn’t blame Susan Harris for that choice. For an earlier one, yes, but not that one.
“Well, if you’re in town, you’re welcome to come over here. I’m getting a big turkey and making dinner for anyone at school who can’t make it home for the holiday.” She loved cooking Thanksgiving dinner. And even though the holiday was still three weeks away, she’d already started buying groceries as they went on sale.
“If I’m in town, I’ll help you cook,” Lori said and, thanking Dana for letting her crash at her place, let herself out.
Eight o’clock in the morning and she had her whole day ahead of her. As soon as she got her English paper done, that was. The five-hundred-word essay was due on Monday. And while Dana had an A in the class—straight As in all of her classes, actually—she wouldn’t be able to maintain her grades if she didn’t turn her work in on time.
She was two sentences farther along when her phone rang.
It was Jerome, from her English class. He’d lost part of his grant and was low on cash. He’d shown up for class one day in jeans that were wrinkled and had a stain at the knee and she’d made a joke about a rough night. He’d replied that he didn’t have enough money for laundry and was wearing things until they stank—at which time she’d offered him the use of her washer and dryer.
He’d been over every Saturday for the past three weeks. And was calling to ask if he could use her facilities again.
She told him that he was welcome, took a break from her laptop to clear her as yet unwashed clothes out of the washing machine and went back to work. Another paragraph, rewritten four times, and Jerome was at the door. She let him in and returned to her desk.
She heard him in the kitchen, settling at her kitchen table with his own laptop and thought to call out, “You going home for Thanksgiving?”
“No,” he answered back. “My folks and I decided to save the money so I could fly home for Christmas break instead of driving. It’ll give us four more days together.”
Jerome was from Missouri.
“I’m making dinner here for anyone who can’t get home,” she said. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Cool. I’m there,” the eighteen-year-old said. “I’m no cook, but I know how to load a dishwasher.”
“Then dishwasher loader you are,” she said. Kari pounced on her keyboard, typing a series of As, just as Dana’s cell phone rang. “Hello?” she answered.
“Dana Harris?”
She recognized the voice. There was no reason to—she’d only heard it briefly—but she did.
“Yes.”
“This is Josh Redmond. I met you—”
“I remember you, Josh. I was going to call you in a little
while to see how you and Little Guy are doing. I didn’t want to call too early.” With it being Saturday and all.
“The middle of the night wouldn’t have been too early,” the man said with a tired-sounding chuckle.
Dana remembered her own sleepless state a few days before. “He whined all night?” she said. She should have warned him. But why borrow trouble? The puppy might not have whined at Josh’s place.
And Little Guy needed a home.
But they needed it to be a good home, so that he would have a permanent home. And that’s where she came in.
“He whined. And then yelped. And pooped and peed. And whined some more.”
“Did you bring him into bed with you?” Most pet lovers knew how to solve separation anxiety issues. Or resolved to put up with the whining for the little bit of time it would take to train the animal to sleep alone.
“Hell, no, I didn’t bring it to bed with me!” Josh sounded affronted. “Why would I do that?”
“To get some sleep,” she said calmly, not sure they’d made the right choice in a home for Little Guy. Some animal shelters gave animals away to pretty much anyone who stopped in. A home was better than no home. But...
“I’m not sure how you think I’d sleep any better with him whining next to my ear than I did with him howling from the kennel in the bathroom,” he said. “I started him out with a pet bed in the kennel, but he chewed on that and left foam everywhere. So I tried a blanket. He peed on it. He ripped up the puppy pad and...”
The man was clearly beside himself. If she hadn’t been worried about Little Guy’s future, Dana would have smiled.
“Have you ever had a dog before, Josh?”
She’d assumed, since he’d been at the veterinary clinic, and seemed eager to take the dog, that he was an experienced pet owner.
“No.”
“You’re a cat person, then?”
“No.”
“Horses?”
“I’ve never had so much as a goldfish.”
Dana’s heart sank. She could hear Jerome in the tiny laundry room off the kitchen, moving clothes from the washer to the dryer.
“You’ve never had a pet?” She’d grown up with a kennel of them. Literally. And had made more than one road trip with her mother to deliver one of Susan’s purebred poodles.
The Moment of Truth Page 4