What a Woman Gets

by Judi Fennell

  Her mother pulled the chair out from behind Jean-Pierre’s desk and sat. “Mitchell and I should never have gotten married. I wanted a family; he wanted an empire. Guess who won that battle?”

  Mitchell said nothing.

  “He got his empire and I got lonely. I’m not proud of it, but, yes, I had an affair.”

  “With my head of security.” Condescension dripped from Mitchell’s words.

  “He was a good man, Mitchell.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Elizabeth. I was building our future and you threw it away.”

  “You were building your empire, Mitchell, and I was the pretty little wife who was supposed to host your parties. I was supposed to keep your house and go to garden parties and charity events and sing your praises.”

  All of which sounded sadly familiar. Cassidy wrapped her arms around herself. He’d made her into her mother—and then taken his anger at her mom out on her.

  “I hated you for that, Mitchell. I hated your coldness, your way of making me feel inadequate. Of feeling as if you’d reached your potential and I was still the same small-town girl you’d married. You looked down on me and I knew it.” She cleared her throat and her voice softened. “Jim . . . He didn’t look down on me. He liked me. And then, he loved me.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what you did, Elizabeth. Why you tore this family apart.”

  “I—”

  “Enough.” Cassidy left the haven of Liam’s arms. She wanted to stand on her own two feet, and by God, she was going to. “You two should have had this conversation twenty-five years ago and given me the family I deserved. So someone please tell me why the hell I had to grow up without a mother?”

  “I wanted to see you, Cassidy, but—”

  “But if she did, I’d cut you off.” Mitchell nodded toward Mom and didn’t take his eyes off her. “Elizabeth is well aware of how you’ve grown up. Of the things and opportunities I could give you that she never could. She wasn’t about to deprive you of that.”

  “That’s why you left me with him? For things?” If Cassidy hadn’t had the epiphany she’d had with Franklin, this statement alone would have done it. What the hell kind of people had created her?

  “That’s not why I didn’t take you, Cass. If you’ll let me explain—”

  Mitchell unbuttoned his jacket and put his hands on his hips. “To hell with the niceties, Elizabeth. Let’s not sugarcoat it. You had an affair and tried to have your cake and eat it, too. Only I wasn’t playing along. You took my family from me; I was taking yours from you.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that you were taking mine from me?” Cassidy wanted to be sick. He was talking about her as if she was an asset like his car or his home. “I not only lost my mother, but I lost my father, too.”

  Her father actually looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Which only highlighted the fact that she was right.

  “I gave you a life others only dream about, Cassidy. I gave you anything money can buy.”

  His dream had been her nightmare. “Exactly. Anything money can buy. But not love. Not family. Not the sense that I was ever good enough. Look at her. Every time you looked at me, you saw her. No wonder you shuttled me off to boarding schools the minute I was old enough. And all those summer camps. I’m surprised you kept me at the company, but then, I had her job, didn’t I? The party hostess.”

  “And you.” She looked at her mother and loathed using the term in conjunction with the woman who should have loved her above everything else. “You gave me away for money? You sold me?”

  “No, sweetheart. It wasn’t like that. I couldn’t give you what Mitchell could on my own. I had my mother to take care of as well, and he demanded I stay away or he’d stop paying for my mother’s nursing home and end my support payments. I couldn’t take care of her and look for a job and raise you. I didn’t want to subject you to that kind of life. Not when you had the chance to live like this.”

  As if this was some big prize. “I have to get out of here.”

  “Cass, honey—”

  “No.” She held up her hand. “You walked out on me; I don’t care about the reasons. They may have made sense to you at the time and maybe someday they’ll make sense to me, but right now, I need to get away from both of you. I need to think.” She reached for Liam’s hand. “Can we go?”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  HOME.

  Liam had brought her home. Not to his house, not to his home, but home.

  And it was. This was the closest thing to a home that she’d ever lived in. And it was with someone she’d known for less than a month. How sad was that?

  “You want to talk?” Liam finally said something when they were in his kitchen and he’d pulled a pair of wine-glasses from the cabinet.

  She snorted. “What more is there to say? I have the most selfish, clueless parents on the planet and I’m actually mourning the loss of them.”

  He set the glasses on the breakfast bar in front of her. “That’s understandable, Cass. I lost my parents, so I know how much it hurts.”

  “But yours didn’t choose to leave you. And you had your grandmother.”

  “I know. Thank God. I can’t imagine what it would have been like growing up without her around.”

  “Lonely. Sad. Cold.” She twirled the wineglass stem between her palms. Too bad there was nothing in it. She could use a good belt or two right about now. “And that’s when they were around. Well, when my father was. I barely remember my mom.”

  Liam sat across from her. “At least they were trying to give you a better life.”

  “Were they?” Cassidy set the glass down, a little worried she might snap the stem with this conversation. “These were two people who thought of themselves first. Mom had the affair because she didn’t feel loved. Really? Did she ever hold me? Ever see the joy in her child’s eyes? Babies don’t see dollar signs; they see love. How do you turn your back on that? And my father . . . It’s no surprise that he thought of his ego first. That he sought to punish her by keeping her from the thing she supposedly loved so much. God forbid he think about what I’d want. What I’d need. Selfish, both of them.”

  “So what are you going to do? They are still your parents.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. This is going to take some time to think through.”

  “Well.” He pulled something from his back pocket and placed it on the breakfast bar.

  An envelope.

  “It looks like you’ll have that time.”

  “What’s that?”

  He slid it toward her. “Jean-Pierre gave me this on our way out.”

  Cassidy opened the flap, took out a check—and started to cry. “Oh my God.”

  “Nice, huh?”

  She looked at Liam. “You know how much?”

  He shook his head and pulled a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge. “Jean-Pierre wouldn’t tell me. Said it was none of my business, which technically isn’t true, since some of that is mine, but I figured I wouldn’t argue with him when he said it’d make you cry.” He winked at her. “So I guess I owe you dinner for our bet about the credenza.”

  Cassidy drew in a shaky breath, not sure what she was supposed to feel at this moment. Today had been a day of all-over-the spectrum emotions and she was still reeling. Now with this check . . .

  “I’ll pay for dinner, Liam. And I can pay you back. With interest.”

  “True.” Liam popped the cork and filled her glass. “But I don’t want your interest.” He filled his and tilted it toward her. “Not the monetary kind.”

  She picked up her glass and chinked it with his, waiting for him to clarify that last part.

  He took a sip of champagne.

  “What other kind are you talking about?” She didn’t have the patience for riddles. Not after all she’d been through tonight.

  The glass was at his lips for another sip when he stopped. His b
lue eyes stared at her over the rim, igniting several thousand fires all over her body.

  How did he do that with just one look?

  “You don’t know, Cass?”

  Her mouth dried up and her heart rate went into overdrive. Ah. She got it. But she wanted to hear him say it.

  She took a quick sip of champagne, catching the lingering drops on her lips with her tongue. “Why don’t you tell me.”

  Liam took her glass and set his on the counter beside it. Then he walked around the island and sat on the bar chair next to her. He swiveled it to face her, turning hers enough that she faced him.

  And then he cupped her cheek and drew her in for the lightest, barest kiss. “This kind,” he whispered. “This is the interest I want from you. Forever.”

  He went in for another kiss, but his words had already stolen her breath.

  “Forever?” she whispered as his lips barely touched hers.

  He smiled and, God, it was the best smile. “Yeah, Cass. Forever. I figure that since your father cut you off, you can’t accuse me of wanting you for your money, so maybe you’ll see that your money was never the draw. It’s you I want, babe. Only you. Cassidy Marie, Cass, C. Marie . . . I don’t care what your name is, but I’d like to add my name to that list.”

  “I don’t think I look like a Liam, Liam.” She worked hard to keep the smile off her face. She knew where this was going and she was going to enjoy the ride.

  He grimaced and rubbed his temples. “I guess I’m not doing such a good job of this.”

  She put her hand on his. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

  “You do?”

  She smiled then. “Is there something you want to ask me, Liam?”

  He smiled back and that smile—the look in his eyes—undid every nightmarish event of the night. He cupped her face with both hands. “Yeah, Cassidy, there is something I’d like to ask you. Would you take my last name as yours? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health. And in moments of extreme emotional upheaval like art gallery exhibits, condo cleaning, and office flipping?”

  “Liam, are you—”

  “Yes, woman, yes. I’m asking you to marry me.”

  “I gathered that. But I want to make sure you’re sure. You haven’t known me very long.”

  “I know you, Cass. I know you. It’s all right there.” He touched her heart. “It’s always been right there. You are right there. And I love you. From your generous heart to your strong will, to your compassion and caring, to your talent and your confidence, to the way you smile, and the way you nibble your lip when you sleep. Even to the love you shower on your little stuffed animal arm ornament and the way you keep going when the going gets tough. I love you, Cassidy.” His fingers slid into her hair and held on.

  Good. She never wanted him to let go.

  “Say yes, Cass. Say you’ll marry me.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  He put his finger on her lips. “Never say that again. Say yes to me, Cassidy, and you’ll get a man who loves you and admires you and wants to give you the family you’ve never had. Say yes and you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

  He was wrong. He was so much more than she deserved. But she wasn’t going to let Liam Manley slip through her fingers because with everything her father’s money could buy, Liam hadn’t been for sale.

  “I love you, Liam Manley, so yes. I say yes.”

  Those were the last words Liam let her say for quite a while . . .

  Epilogue

  THE community center was a hive of activity the last Saturday of the following month, with the indoor community room holding a buffet that stretched the length of the stage, and a seating area stocked to capacity. Local companies had donated drinks and paper products; everyone else had brought a covered dish or dessert—or Gran’s thawed-and-re-heated gourmet meals to share. There was a petting zoo—courtesy of Livvy, Sean’s former-client-now-girlfriend—and pony rides on the right side lawn, with a local dairy giving out homemade ice cream. Team sporting events were being held on the left side lawn, a scaled-down summer Olympiad was happening around the pool area out back, and a carnival with rides, concession trucks, and booth games was holding court on the front lawn.

  The balloon darts booth was the main attraction for the Manleys and their friends, since last night’s poker game had been cancelled. Needing to feed their competitive spirit—as well as Mac’s now-vacant “manly” maids positions—Liam, Sean, and Jared had roped in a couple of buddies for a few killer rounds of balloon darts, bets included.

  Cooper Wexford put down his five bucks and picked up his six darts. “Last round. Liam’s got fourteen, Sean twenty, Jared eleven, Kellan ten, Kirk nine, and I’m at ten. Loser buys rounds tonight at O’Grady’s.”

  Liam held out his hand in front of Coop before the guy could take a shot. “Let’s make this a little more interesting, guys.”

  Sean snorted. “Here we go.” He adjusted the new official Manley Maids baseball cap and saluted them. “I’ll catch you guys when this is over, since there’s no way I’ll be last. Livvy needs some help. Rhett is trying to get into Scarlett’s pen and the alpaca doesn’t like to take no for an answer. Not really something you want the kids to witness, you know?”

  “Horny bastard,” muttered Jared, tugging Mac to his side.

  “You’re one to talk.” Sean knocked Jared’s cap off and nudged his sister as he walked by.

  Liam winked at Cassidy and mouthed, “Later.” She winked back. It’d only gotten better between them. He hadn’t thought it was possible to be better, but life was good.

  Wedding plans were going full steam ahead for the weekend before Christmas, the office he and Cassidy had created had gotten three offers over asking price, and Cassidy was in full work mode at her new studio, which, thanks to Gran, helped him out, too, because it was his property she’d had the key to. And demand for Cassidy’s work had gone through the roof after the incident at the show.

  Cassidy was still trying to come to terms with her parents’ actions. He’d given her the photo and bracelet one night when they’d been talking about what she should do. The photo had shown up a few days later in a frame beside their bed, so Liam was hopeful that she and her mother would work things out. They had help from Deborah, Davenport’s now-former assistant who, unknown to Mitchell, had taken huge issue with him cutting a mother out of her daughter’s life, and had taken it upon herself to keep Elizabeth apprised of her daughter’s life all these years. Including an invitation to the art show. When Davenport had found out, well, Cassidy had told him she’d been surprised at how betrayed her father had felt. There’d been some justice in it for her, but it was going to take a while for her to heal.

  That was okay; Liam would be with her every step of the way.

  He’d found out that Jean-Pierre had sent the invitation to Davenport in order to rub Cassidy’s success in his face. Even though the night hadn’t gone as planned, Liam had sent him a bottle of champagne anyway. It took a lot of courage to stand up to Mitchell Davenport, and those who did needed to stick together.

  “So what’s the interesting part, Lee?” Cooper set down his darts and cracked his knuckles.

  “Well, it’s—”

  “It’s like this.” Mac pulled herself out from under Jared’s arm. Business first with Mac. Always. “Loser owes me a month of cleaning services.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Cooper asked. “I work full time, munchkin.”

  Mac glared at him. Cooper had known her her whole life and knew she hated that nickname. Which was probably why he’d called her that. “I didn’t say it had to be full time, Coop, but one client for a month.”

  “I don’t see you playing,” said Kellan. “Why should we bet something for your benefit?”

  “I’m playing for her.” Jared stood a little taller on his rehabbed leg.

  Liam had to nod. Jared wasn’t who he’d have chosen for his sister—he knew him too well—but if the guy was going
to fly straight and do right by Mac—and Mac was all for it—Liam couldn’t say anything. Still . . . interesting. He’d love to hear that story.

  “Okay,” said Kirk. “So what do we get if we win?”

  “A month of cleaning services,” answered Liam, Cassidy, Jared, and Mac in unison.

  Coop handed his darts over to Kellen. “Sorry, guys, but a month of cleaning service isn’t worth the risk of losing.”

  Kellen snorted. “That’s because he only cleans every other month.”

  “Ass.” Coop gave him the finger.

  “Chicken.” Kellen held out the darts.

  Cooper shook his head. “Dick.”

  “Loser.” Kirk, Kellen’s twin, got in on the action. The guys always had each others’ back.

  Cooper looked at all of them. “Okay. Fine.” He swiped the darts off Kellen’s palm. “I’m a good shot, and when I win, I want you guys in a serious maid costume.”

  Liam clapped him on the back. “Oh, don’t worry, Coop, we have them. And they’re really cute.”

  As Cooper was going to find out firsthand, since he was the one who came in dead last.

  Acknowledgments

  I honestly have no idea how authors wrote before the internet came along. But as wonderful as the internet is for research, sometimes you just need someone who knows what the heck they’re talking about. Many thanks for the hours I didn’t have to spend researching tailgate lifts to Nicole at Northern Tool & Equipment. She was very helpful and went way beyond what I needed to help me find something Liam would have in his garage that Cassidy could operate—and figure out how to operate. To Nicole’s boss: Please give her a raise.

  To my editor, Leis, who waited for this so patiently as surgery kicked my butt. Okay, not my butt, but close enough.

  To Marci, who came through for me one Saturday night when my world—and the dogs—skewed left. To Michelle for the b*tch sessions, to Janice for the text hugs, and to Steph for the parenting gripes. To The Survivor Girls for the meals, the friendship, and the wine. What would I do without all of you?