by Judi Fennell
“Damn thing was frustrating as hell,” said Jared. “Always came back up.”
“Until Bryan sat on it that time.”
“And almost popped it. My grandmother was not happy.”
“We should’ve done it anyway. This thing gave me nightmares.”
Mac took the final steps onto the landing. “Aw, don’t tell me you guys are scared of a little clown.”
“Look at that thing.” Jared swept his hand toward it. “If that’s not straight out of a horror film, you can call me Chucky.”
The clown was the first thing down the stairs. The old pictures were next, the settee followed, and more boxes of toys and memorabilia that’d been handed down for so many generations no one was sure who was what relation to whom anymore. Mac earmarked some of it for the local historical society and others for a few homeless shelters, but the rest, by and large, was making its way to the thrift shop or the landfill.
Sean was configuring the first load into the back of his pickup and her old work van while she climbed the steps for another. When she reached the top, she saw Jared paging through a book. She was about to ask him what it was when her phone rang.
Mitchell Davenport’s office. Her biggest client, not only money-wise, but pain-in-the-neck-wise since he’d kicked his daughter out of her penthouse, and Liam, bleeding heart that he was, had offered her a place to stay.
As far as Mac knew, Mitchell didn’t know where Cassidy was and Mac wanted to keep it that way.
“Mac Manley.”
“Hello, Ms. Manley. This is Mr. Davenport’s assistant. He’d like to discuss a business proposition with you.”
“A business proposition with Manley Maids?” Mac made sure to mention her company because she wasn’t sure the woman had called the right number.
“Yes. He asks that you be here in twenty minutes to discuss it. He believes you will find it quite lucrative to do so. Shall I send a car for you?”
“Um, no. I’ll get there on my own.” She never liked being at anyone’s mercy and with Mitchell Davenport calling out of the blue like this, given certain circumstances, she really didn’t want to be at his mercy—because she’d probably have to beg for it if he found out where his daughter was.
“Everything okay?” Jared asked when she ended the call.
She tucked her phone into her back pocket. “Business. I have to go. See you later.”
Promise? he almost asked, watching her ponytail bounce down the steps, fighting the urge to call her back. All the memories in this attic—and the scrapbook he’d found—were getting to him. Wanting Mac was just one more thing he didn’t need on his plate right now. Not with her brother in the house.
That brother poked his head between the banisters. “Hey, Jare, need help with anything else?”
He opted for “This,” instead of your sister and handed Sean the book.
“Aw, this is nice. Gran did this for us, too, though Bry’s is by far the fattest. I don’t think she missed even one mention of him in any tabloid. Gotta admit, though, it’s kinda freaky to see your own grandmother cutting out articles about your brother and his harem.”
“I don’t know how he juggles all those women. One’s more than enough for me.”
“Yeah, she really did a number on you.”
It took Jared a few seconds to realize Sean was talking about Camille. Good. He let him think that because he wasn’t sure what Sean’s reaction would be if he knew he’d meant Mac.
Sean tucked the scrapbook under his arm. “So is there any chance you’re going to kick her out?”
Not a chance in hell—oh, again Camille. “My attorney’s working on it, but eviction is a pain in the ass.” Which was why he had to come up with some other way.
“So where are you going to go once this place sells?”
Jared shrugged. “I’ll find something. Or maybe I’ll just move back into my place and piss Camille and Burke off enough that they’ll move out.”
Yeah, that option was out. Even being around Camille for those few minutes at the community center had been too long.
Or maybe he’d move in with Mac in the house he felt more at home in than the one he’d grown up in.
The thought had a certain appeal for many reasons.
* * *
MAC was counting to a hundred for the sixth time as she drove over to Liam’s latest house-flipping project, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do about this latest development. She loved her brother, but she also needed to keep her business’s reputation pristine, and with that impromptu meeting where Mitchell Davenport had offered her the contract on all his properties in the tristate area, that reputation was more important than ever.
So was the problem she needed to discuss with Liam.
She opened the door to his new place. “Liam! I’ve got a problem. I need to talk to you.”
That problem was climbing down a ladder in the front room.
Liam nodded his head toward the ladder. “Mac. Meet Cassidy. Davenport. Cassidy, my sister, Mac.”
“Oh. Uh, hi.” Damn it. She didn’t want to have this discussion in front of Cassidy. Not until she figured out what she was going to do about it. But she plastered a smile on and nodded. “So nice to meet you. We’ve spoken on the phone, I believe.”
“Actually, that was Deborah. My father’s assistant.” Cassidy brushed off her hands and held one out. “Hi. Yes, I’m Cassidy. It’s nice to meet you.”
Mac worked hard not to stare. Cassidy Davenport in clothes that would make her stylist’s head spin painting the woodwork? It didn’t add up, but then, nothing about the Davenports was adding up these days. She should never have placed Liam in that penthouse. Gran hadn’t known what she was talking about, and now it was just one more headache she had to deal with. Liam helping Cassidy out with a place to live had disaster written all over it—not that Davenport had had to say anything. He hadn’t needed to; the very act of him telling her to call him by his first name put the message out loud and clear: Play on his team or else. “Liam told me what happened, but I didn’t think he’d make you do manual labor to pay him back.”
“Oh I’m not—”
“Mac, that’s not what this is.” Liam put a hand on her back. “Come on. Let’s go into the kitchen and you can tell me what you need. Cassidy has to get to work on her own projects, actually. Do you mind, Cass?”
“No. You’re right. I do have work to do.”
Mac allowed Liam to lead her into the kitchen, wondering what sort of project Cassidy had to get to work on—redesigning her closet to handle this season’s collection? Must be nice.
Mac shook her head. Cassidy Davenport’s closet was the least of her worries. “I got a call from Davenport, Lee. He wants me to handle all of his buildings in the tristate area.”
“Hey, that’s great! Congrats!”
“No, Lee, you don’t get it. I can’t sign the contract knowing you have Cassidy in your home.”
“Why the hell not? What does it matter what your brother does with his life when it comes to Davenport hiring you?”
“You’re not that naïve, Lee. He’s dangling this carrot because he knows where she is.” And he knew Mac would want the carrot badly enough to do something about it.
“So? Cassidy’s a grown woman; she can live where she wants. It’s not like he’s going to put something in the contract about his daughter.”
Mac exhaled. “On second thought, maybe you are that naïve. He won’t have to put anything about her in the contract; if he wants her back, all he’ll have to do is threaten to badmouth my company. The guy’s got clout. I don’t need my business getting bad PR, and I certainly don’t need my clients questioning my ethics. I can’t risk everything for this one contract.”
“And of course you want it.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Liam sighed loudly. “You want me to kick her out.”
Yes. “Well, no. Obviously I don’t want you to have to do that, but how much longer is she going to be staying with you? I don’t want to have to keep pretending I don’t know. This is a really big opportunity for me, Lee. It could make my company.”
“Did he specifically say you needed to hand over his daughter?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then it’s not an issue.”
“But it could be.”
“Mac, if he hasn’t come after her by now, he’s not going to. The guy’s had plenty of opportunity.”
“I wish I could be sure of that.”
“Hey, he’s a lousy father. You think he’s just going to get a change of heart like that?” Liam snapped his fingers. “I mean, how shitty can he be, tossing his daughter away? What I wouldn’t give—”
Liam looked away, his voice thick.
Mac got it. She walked up to her brother and hugged him. “I know. It’s sad how people don’t realize life is short and that they should enjoy each other while they can.”
“I miss them, Mac.”
“Me, too.”
They held each other for a bit, each taking strength from the other. It was what the four of them did.
“We have to cherish every day we have with Gran,” Liam said. “She’s getting older.”
“I know.”
“She wants us married.”
“I know.” Mac was glad her face was buried in Liam’s shirt so he wouldn’t see the guilt on her face.
“What are we going to do about that?”
“I think they frown on brothers marrying sisters in this state.”
“Ha ha.” He squeezed her tighter. “I love you, Mary-Alice.”
“Watch it, Lee. We might be feeling mushy, but I’ll still deck you for using that name.”
He squeezed her even tighter. “And you’d do it, too, Mac.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s give this Davenport thing a few more days. It might be moot by then.”
“Oh? Cassidy going to hit the lottery and be able to move out?”
Liam took a step back, shrugging. “Something like that.”
“Now that sounds intriguing.”
“Let’s just say that Cassidy Davenport isn’t the spoiled little socialite I thought she was. Want to come for dinner and see for yourself?”
“Are you saying she’s not like Rachel?” The question shot out before Mac could think about it because she was so surprised at the invitation. Ever since Rachel, she and Sean and Bry made a concerted effort not to try to fix him up with anyone or talk about the woman who’d broken his heart.
He shrugged again, this time turning away and heading back to the living room. “Let’s just say that you can’t judge a book by its cover. You really need to get to know the person before you understand what they’re all about, and living with Cassidy has taught me a few things.”
Mac could only imagine what those things were because one night under the same roof with Jared had shown her a lot.
Mainly that she wanted another.
Chapter Twenty-four
MARY-ALICE has certainly grown up, hasn’t she?”
Jared kissed Grandma’s cheek after getting into her car for his doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. He’d spent yesterday alone again because Mac had had to go put out the fire that erupted when Bryan managed to get his ass canned from the widow’s place. For a single mother of five to kick out the hired help—especially a movie star—something big had to have happened. Jared couldn’t wait to hear that story; he just hoped for Mac’s sake that he didn’t learn about it in the news. “We’ve all grown up, Grandma.”
She patted his cheek. “Don’t remind me, Jared. A lady doesn’t like to know she’s getting older.”
“But you’re still as pretty as you ever were.”
“Flatterer. No wonder you have groupies.”
“Bryan’s the one with groupies. I have fans.”
“Female ones. A lot.”
There was only one who mattered now. And that was a conversation he didn’t want to have with his grandmother. Not until it became one that couldn’t be avoided. Like when he and Mac started dating—
Jared sat back with a hiss. He was getting way too ahead of himself. Two weeks ago he was done with women for good, Mac hadn’t even been on his horizon, and she didn’t even like him that way anymore.
“Are you okay, Jared?” Grandma twisted in her seat, concern etched all over her face.
“Ah, yeah. I’m fine. It was just a . . . twinge.” At least that wasn’t a lie. The twinge had been in his chest, not his leg, but, again, she didn’t need to know.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, Grandma, I’m certain. Besides, we’re going to the doctor; he’ll fix me right up.” In about seven months with dozens of therapy sessions, but, hey, at least it was two months less than it’d been when this started.
“How’s the attic clean-out coming along?”
He looked at her. Her tone and the look on her face were just a little too innocent.
“It’s coming. A little slower than I’d like. Mac has to handle a couple of other clients for a while, so it’s just me.” A state of being he was coming to loathe. He’d never realized just how much baseball had filled his life on a personal level as well as a professional one until it wasn’t there anymore.
“You know, that girl really cared for you. Cate and I had hoped . . .” Grandma glanced at him. “Well, you know what we’d hoped. But we’re just being silly. It’s not as if you can fall in love on command. I mean, if something were going to happen between the two of you, it would’ve already.” She stole another glance. “Right?”
“Right. It would have.” She was fishing, but he wasn’t biting. “There is no ring, is there, Grandma?”
“What?” Her head spun his way—and so did the steering wheel.
Jared wrenched it back so they were heading straight.
“Oh . . . oh dear. Thank you, sweetheart.” Grandma patted her hair back in place and gripped the wheel until her knuckles were white.
And she didn’t answer his question.
Just as he thought. She’d wanted the two of them in that attic together.
“I found the scrapbook.”
She glanced over, but this time, didn’t jerk the wheel. “Oh, good. I’d hate to get rid of that. All your hard work.”
“You mean, all your hard work. What’d you do—subscribe to every newspaper in the country?”
“I didn’t make that scrapbook, sweetheart.”
“You didn’t? Then who did?” Certainly not his mother. While he could hope for it, he knew better.
“Mary-Alice did, of course. She’d show me each new page when she made it.”
If Jared had bet someone that he couldn’t feel worse about how he’d fluffed off Mac’s feelings years ago, he would have just lost that bet. The work that had gone into that book . . . It definitely wasn’t fluff. “I found a bunch of home movies, too.”
The subject change worked perfectly. “You did? I didn’t realize they were still there. I wonder if they’re any good. I’ll have to find a projector.”
“You have one, and the movies are fine. I watched one of them.”
“Oh? Which one? Was it the one of you after you were born? Your grandfather spent hours getting the lighting just right, then you slept through the entire thing. I think we have an hour of film of you just sleeping.” She squeezed his knee. “You were such an adorable baby. I could watch that film over and over.”
“Um, no. That wasn’t the one I saw.”
“Oh, was it our trip to Niagara Falls? I told Peter that no one was going to want to watch a bunch of water going over a cliff on film in forty years, but he just had to film it.”
>
“Nope, not that one either.” He sat up straighter in his seat, ready to lunge for the steering wheel when he asked her about his father’s mystery woman. “It was the one where Mac’s parents got engaged.”
“Oh . . . That one . . .”
He watched realization dawn in her face. “Yes. That one. Who was my father engaged to?”
Grandma, to her credit, managed not to drive into a tree and almost convinced him he hadn’t seen the dread in her eyes.
But he had.
“Oh, dear, that was a long time ago. I don’t even remember. But then he married your mother and had you and what does it matter who she was? It was all over ages ago.”
“I don’t think it was, Grandma.”
“What?” This time the wheel did go to the right, and Jared was glad to see his reflexes weren’t shot to hell. Maybe he should have had this conversation someplace else, but the doctor’s waiting room wasn’t a better choice.
“Do you mean to say that you think your father is having an affair with Olive?”
“Olive? That’s the woman’s name?”
Grandma’s lips slammed shut and she stared out the front window.
Jared sighed. He recognized that look. She wouldn’t talk until she was ready. “No, that’s not what I meant. What I meant was, I think Dad still has feelings for her.”
A tear slid down his grandmother’s cheek.
“Pull over, Grandma.” He’d been right; this wasn’t a conversation to have while she was driving.
He looked at the clock on the dash. They had a few minutes to spare before his appointment.
He directed her to a side road and Grandma pulled into the first spot available.
He reached over and turned off the engine. “Tell me about them.”
Grandma smiled. A genuine smile. One that erased the worried look she’d almost driven off the road with. “Olive Tremayne. He’d loved her from the time he was six. She did, too. They were inseparable.”
“Then why didn’t they get married? You can’t tell me Dad fell head over heels in love with Mom because I’ve lived with them. There were no sonnets and picnics between them.”