Nora's Guy Next Door

by Jo McNally

  He froze, still holding the rag, but not moving a muscle. His icy blue eyes looked first to Michael, who was setting the coffee and pastries on a workbench, and he frowned. His frown deepened when he saw Becky nervously twisting her fingers together in front of her stomach. Then he turned to Nora and the frown faded into confusion.

  “What are you doing here, Miss Fixer?”

  The name hung in the air for a moment before Becky found her voice.

  “Wait—you two know each other? How the hell does he know you, Mom?”

  “Mom?” He set the rag down, shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. “Of course. You’re the mom of the little mom-to-be.” He took a long look at Becky, and there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in his gaze. He turned back to Nora. “So, was our chance meeting in the store Tuesday just as orchestrated as the rest of this farce? And I suppose you just happened to be parked right in front of my shop that afternoon?”

  “I didn’t orchestrate anything.” His brow rose in obvious skepticism, and she bristled. “Listen, I’m just as surprised as you. It looks like we’re going to have to get to know each other, whether we want to or not.” She held out her hand, but he didn’t take it. She remembered his rage in the grocery store over his son doing something stupid, and understood it a lot better now. “The circumstances may not be the best, but we can still make the best of them...” Becky groaned behind her and Michael’s father shook his head in amusement. Or perhaps derision.

  “There you go with the greeting-card platitudes again. Do you work for Hallmark or something?”

  Becky snorted at that and Nora glared at her. Why didn’t people understand she was trying to bring everyone onto the same page here?

  Michael stepped into the silence that followed. “Dad, this is Nora Bradford, and yes, she’s Becky’s mom. She lives in Atlanta but came here for the holiday. She’s related to...”

  “The Randalls. Yeah, she made sure to mention that the other day.”

  Nora took a sharp breath, but Michael kept talking.

  “Nora, this is my father, Asher Peyton. This is his furniture studio. And, Dad, this is Becky. The girl I’m going to...”

  Asher looked straight at Nora, ignoring his son. “Look, this little ambush of yours isn’t going to work. I know you’re trying to make nice, but you can forget it. I won’t let you and your daughter rope my son into a marriage with your little baby scam.”

  With that, everyone started speaking, each more furious than the last.

  “You think I masterminded some scheme that included my eighteen-year-old daughter getting pregnant?”

  “You think my pregnancy is a scam?”

  “Dad, if you don’t shut up, I swear to God, I’ll shut you up myself!”

  Michael grabbed his father’s shirt in his fist and pushed him hard against the wall. The tools hanging there rattled, and a few tumbled off shelves. Becky burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

  Nora stomped her foot hard on the wooden floor. “That’s enough!”

  She rarely used her angry voice, and people tended to be shocked into silence when such a big voice came from such a tiny woman.

  “Michael, you let your father go this instant! And you.” Her finger pointed straight at Asher Peyton and her accent grew thick. “Sugar, you should follow your son’s advice and remain silent for the time being.” She didn’t take her eyes from him, and he didn’t move or speak as his son took a step back. She nodded in approval. “Bless your heart, Mr. Peyton, you might just have a brain somewhere in that hard head of yours, after all. Now, there will be no more shouting in front of my pregnant daughter, and there will definitely be no more violence, is that clear?” She arched a brow in Michael’s direction and the young man gulped.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why don’t you take Becky somewhere where she can wash her face and calm down while your father and I have a chat?”

  Becky chewed her lip, her face tear soaked, looking painfully like the teenager she was. She silently preceded Michael through the side exit. Michael sent a hard warning glance at his father before closing the door behind them.

  Nora turned back to Asher, who was still against the wall, his gaze moving from her face to her pointing finger and back again. Storms raged behind those blue eyes. He was like a wounded animal looking for an escape. Her stance softened automatically and she lowered her hand, reminding herself that cornered animals were dangerous.

  Asher’s brooding silence was a physical presence in the room. Was the man capable of violence? Did father and son often resort to physical blows? What kind of family was her daughter getting tangled up with? He glared at her for another long moment, then brushed past her, heading for the workbench. He opened a cupboard door and pulled out an almost empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He drained the bottle into the glasses and handed her one. Violent and a drinker? Perfect. But she took the glass, figuring she could use a little liquid courage.

  “Your son seems like a fine young man, Asher. If you give her a chance, I think you’ll find my daughter is an equally fine young woman, incapable of whatever you suspect her of.” She had to find a way to bring him into this forced family dynamic, to make him see that these young people needed him.

  He took a sip of liquor, and she did the same. “I understand your shock at our children’s predicament. I’m still in shock myself. Michael was so disappointed when you weren’t able to join us this morning...” Her voice faded as she looked from the drink in his hand to the dark circles under his eyes. The pieces started falling into place. That bottle had probably been full at some point last night and may have been part of the reason he didn’t make it to brunch this morning.

  Okay, so this guy had some serious issues. But their kids needed them. She gave him her brightest smile, but his scowl just deepened. “So we decided to bring the brunch to you. There’s homemade blueberry cobbler in the box, and we picked up some coffee from next door. I thought we should get to know each other, since we have a mutual grandchild on the way.”

  Blue eyes stared hard at her, as if trying to decipher her words.

  “That’s not going to happen. Not today. Not any day. You’re trying to play me, and it won’t work. You’re trying to fix a problem that can’t be fixed.” He started to step away. Without thinking, she put her hand on his arm to stop him.

  “I understand you’re angry, but we’re their parents, and those two kids need us. That baby needs us. And you’re the one who lives here in the same town.”

  He spoke to her hand on his arm instead of looking her in the eye.

  “This isn’t some damned Norman Rockwell painting, Nora. I’m not that guy. You may be the ride-in-and-save-everyone type, but don’t bother trying to save me, okay?” He looked her right in the eye. “I’m going to do everything in my power to stop this pregnancy, and if I can’t do that, I’ll make sure they don’t get married.”

  “Stop the pregnancy?” Her stomach rolled and soured.

  “Doctors can be called. Appointments made. Then both our children get on with their lives.”

  A chill swept across her skin. He couldn’t be this calculating and cruel.

  “They’re in love with each other. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Don’t give me your rosy fairy tales. They’re young and resilient. They’ll move on from this.”

  Before she could answer, Michael and Becky came back into the shop. Becky’s face was red and blotchy from crying, but she’d regained her composure. Michael purposefully moved her well past his father, but his eyes fell to Nora’s hand, still on Asher’s arm. Apparently people didn’t touch him a lot. Small wonder. She yanked it away.

  Asher looked at her with eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he’d pulled the shutters down from the inside. He glanced at his son and her daughter, and she saw the b
riefest glimmer of regret when he looked back and met her eyes.

  “Look, you seem like a nice woman. Your daughter’s probably a nice girl. But I’ll have no part of this.”

  “This?”

  “Them.” He lifted his chin to where Becky stood in front of Michael, his arms wrapped protectively around her. “The baby. The wedding. All of it. None of it. I won’t be involved. Just...just leave me out of it, okay? I’m out.”

  “Dad, please...”

  Michael’s plea went unheard. Asher was through the side door and gone before anyone could react.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NORA WRAPPED THE last Christmas ornament with care, tucking it into the single remaining open square in the plastic storage bin designed specifically for that purpose. She glanced at her cousin Bree, then frowned.

  “Oh, no, honey, don’t put the garland in with the ornaments. The garland goes in the box with the lights. There should be a labeled bag in there to keep it separate.”

  Bree Caldwell, former reality star turned farmer’s wife, arched a perfectly manicured brow. “You have a labeled bag for your Christmas garland?” She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. You have labels for everything. You’re the most label-y person I know.”

  Nora straightened. “Why does everyone make fun of my labels? I know exactly where everything is, and if I don’t, the labels tell me. It’s called being organized. It’s a skill, not a disease.”

  They’d filled all three bins according to their labels, and tomorrow Nora would store them in the back of the closet, where they wouldn’t get too hot during the long Atlanta summer. Everyone in the South knew a hot attic was out of the question for storing anything of value.

  She really didn’t need her cousin’s help, but Bree had driven from North Carolina as part of an informal family mercy mission. Next week, another cousin, Melanie, was flying in from Miami for a visit. And Amanda called at least once a day from Gallant Lake. Her cousins were worried about her being alone in Georgia after a disastrous holiday. She’d like to say their worry was unfounded, but the truth was that she appreciated their support.

  Bree held her hands up. “Hey, it’s your house. We’ll do it your way. But when I packed up Christmas at home last week, I just wrapped the stuff in paper towels and stuffed them in old liquor boxes from the bar. Not a label in sight, other than writing Xmas on top of the boxes.”

  “You wrapped your ornaments in paper towels?” Nora shuddered. “But how will you ever find...” She stopped, doing her best to keep from imposing her planning skills on her cousin. Bree brushed her long red hair over her shoulder and laughed.

  “How will I find things? Well, in December I’ll unpack everything onto the dining table and decorate the tree from there. It’s really not a big deal. Besides, I was too tired from my honeymoon to care.” Bree became Mrs. Cole Caldwell on New Year’s Eve. The wedding was held at Halcyon in Gallant Lake, creating a travel-filled holiday for everyone, which was why they were packing up Christmas in mid-January. Cole and Bree had honeymooned in Barbados for a week, while Nora stayed in Gallant Lake just long enough to live through the biggest argument with Becky she’d ever had.

  “Has she called yet?” Bree’s voice softened. “You’ve got that look. You know, the I-have-to-replay-that-fight-in-my-head-for-the-fiftieth-time look.”

  Nora just shook her head and sat on the sofa. Becky hadn’t called. Nor had she answered Nora’s calls. Or her emails. Or her texts.

  “She’ll come around, honey. She’s stubborn, like her momma, but she’ll come around.” Bree sighed. “I’m sorry if it was my wedding that started this whole mess.”

  “It wasn’t the wedding. She always misses her dad the most at Christmas, and I said the wrong thing.”

  “What did you say?”

  Nora picked at a thread on her sweater sleeve. “It started with Michael’s father, Asher.” Nora felt an odd shot of energy just saying his name. Probably because he was causing so much trouble for everyone. “He’s determined to stop the wedding at all costs, and even resorted to ‘forbidding’ Michael from being with Becky.” Nora made air quotes with her fingers.

  “I laughed when Becky told me, and she flipped out. And then I made the mistake of saying it sounded like something her father would have said. As if by pronouncing something, he’d make it so. Comparing Asher to her perfect father was a mistake. And then I said I agreed with him on delaying the wedding, and kaboom.” Nora made an explosion motion with her hands. “We started fighting about the pregnancy and the wedding and what an awful control freak I am and how she doesn’t want my negative, uptight attitude around her baby, and on and on and on.”

  “So Asher is the guy you flirted with in the grocery store, right? Before you knew you were both about to become grandparents together? Amanda says he’s a handsome devil.”

  Nora nodded. She’d thought about those angry, ice-blue eyes more than once since their confrontation in November.

  “Devil being the operative word.” She hadn’t spoken to him while in Gallant Lake for Bree’s wedding, but she did walk past his studio one afternoon after buying coffee at that weird coffee shop next door. Through the glass, she’d watched him working on a large dining table, making smooth, measured movements while rubbing the top with something. His too-long hair covered his face, but with his sleeves rolled up, his strong, sinewed arms were on full display.

  She’d stood there, transfixed, until he straightened and looked out the window at her. He’d just stared at her for the longest, most electric moment she’d ever experienced, then he turned away. It was several moments before she could convince her feet to move in the proper direction, away from the door to his shop—away from him.

  “Are you blushing?” Bree asked. “You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?” She chuckled and moved back to stacking the boxes. “And just thinking about him makes you hot and bothered. Very interesting.”

  “Seriously, Bree? What are we—twelve? I’m not hot and bothered about anyone.” Nora turned away, feeling the heat in her cheeks increasing.

  Bree scrutinized her. “I don’t know. You definitely seem to be blushing over this guy.”

  Nora turned back to argue, then saw how Bree was stacking the holiday boxes.

  “No, don’t put that box on top. See the numbers on the side? That’s the order I stack them in. Turn them so the labels are all facing front. And be careful with the treetop angel—if you tip that box, her wings will be damaged. That’s why it’s important to...” Nora stopped midsentence. “Oh, my God, I am uptight and negative, aren’t I?”

  “Well, yes on the uptight part, but no on the negative.” Bree restacked the bins, then came to sit next to Nora on the sofa. When Bree draped her arm around Nora’s shoulders, Nora was horrified to feel tears welling in her eyes.

  “Becky always said I was too controlling, and she’s always hated my lists and my planners.” She looked to Bree. “And my labels. Do you think I drove her into this boy’s arms? Was she trying to escape me?”

  “Whoa! Slow down, cuz. It’s a big leap from your teenage daughter thinking her mom’s too controlling—hello, doesn’t every teenage girl think that?—to blaming yourself for her current situation.” Bree looked her straight in the eye.

  “Nora, you are not a negative person. Wasn’t it Becky who christened you Suzy Sunshine? You’ve been the wise mother hen for your three crazy cousins. And you’ve provided a beautiful home for Becky here.” She leaned over and gave Nora’s shoulder a gentle nudge with hers. “Can you be uptight? Maybe a little. You do like to contr...um...organize things.”

  Nora winced, and Bree squeezed her shoulder.

  “Stop. Control isn’t always a bad thing. You did what you had to do to raise Becky as a single mom, especially under the circumstances. But you can’t control everything, sweetie. When things do
n’t go according to your detailed plans, you...um...” Bree’s face scrunched in concentration. “You don’t always... You can’t...”

  “I freak out.”

  Bree laughed and snapped her fingers. “Yes! That’s it! You freak out.” Bree sat back and smiled. “But, honey, plans change all the time. Do you think I planned on falling in love with a Carolina farmer and leaving Hollywood for him? Of course not! Cole was the most unexpected thing to ever happen to me, but he’s also the best.”

  Bree’s green eyes softened, then she winked. “For heaven’s sake, Nora, I know it wasn’t in your plans, but you’re going to have a little grandbaby! And you’re going to be the best grandma ever.” Bree nudged her shoulder. “Hey, how did your former mother-in-law take the news that she’s going to be a great-grandmother? That couldn’t have gone over well with the ice queen.”

  Nora wiped her tears, but she couldn’t hold back a little smile. “It made for an interesting Christmas Eve dinner at Mother Bradford’s when Becky announced her pregnancy and engagement in one breath. Meredith’s eyebrows shot upward almost as much as her jaw dropped, which is pretty impressive considering how many Botox shots that forehead has seen.”

  “I would have paid to see that!”

  Nora had stood behind her daughter in Meredith Bradford’s lavish home on Christmas Eve, silently daring any of Becky’s relatives to utter a negative word. No one did, at least, not to her face. But Nora had burned at all the private looks going around the table during dinner.

  Her late husband’s family would get loads of mileage out of this little scandal, even though it was peanuts compared to the antics of Paul and his two brothers. “Meredith was only annoyed because Becky’s news stole the thunder from the other big announcement of the night. Paul’s little brother, Geoff, is running for governor.”

  Bree started to laugh again. “Seriously? Isn’t Geoff the one that cooked up that phony charity to fund Paul’s campaign? And wasn’t it his secretary that Paul was...” Her laughter faded.