Persuading Her: A Modern Persuasion Retelling (Pemberley Estates Book 2)

by Keena Richins

  He crossed the clearing in seconds. The boy rolled off the woman while she remained on her side, her back to Rick. He dropped beside both of them and caught the boy poking the unmoving woman in great concern.

  "Are you okay?" Rick asked the boy while he reached for the woman's wrist to check her pulse. But the second he spoke, she shot up, twisting her torso to see him--and warm chocolate eyes met his.

  Anne.

  Chapter 5

  Rick felt the world spin about him as if he'd stumbled into a time loop and was nineteen again, staring into chocolate eyes that warmed him to the core.

  "Aunt Anne!" The boy pummeled into Anne and her chocolate eyes dropped to the boy but Rick couldn't take his eyes off of her. She had changed. Her soft, brown curls were scrunched into a messy bun, her ill-fitting clothing splattered with paint and now smeared with dirt and leaves. And her eyes, those beautiful, soft, chocolate eyes, no longer held innocence; her face seemed more tired, older, as if life hadn't been as kind as she had once dreamed.

  Feelings he'd thought were long gone rushed to the surface and without thinking, his hand moved to brush aside a stray lock dangling over her sweet face.

  "Charlie!" A deep voice bellowed, snapping Rick out of his stupid daze. He snatched his hand back and turned to find Charles huffing his way across the clearing.

  "Daddy!" The boy took off toward his father, the latter dropping to his knees to catch his son. Rick remained kneeling next to Anne, unsure of what to do. Normally, he'd help her up, but this was Anne. The girl that had haunted him for the past eight years. The girl that had rejected him because he wasn't grand enough to impress her godmother and father.

  The old anger rose, gobbling up the pathetic longing that apparently hadn't died completely. He hoped she didn't recognize him. He had no interest in reliving a past he wanted to forget.

  "Are you all right?" Charles asked his son. The boy nodded, then pointed toward Rick. "Aunt Anne isn't."

  Rick grudgingly glanced at Anne to make sure she was okay but found her waving her hands as if trying to block his view.

  "I'm fine."

  Despite her hands, he noticed she'd tucked the stray lock to behind her ear and had smoothed out her clothes in the short time he'd been distracted by Charles and his son. Had she done that for him?

  No, she couldn't care for him. Why would she? She had dumped HIM. He was nothing to her.

  "How's Charlie?" she asked, her eyes staying on the boy, not once straying to him. See? He knew she didn't care. Probably didn't even recognize him.

  "He seems fine," Charles said. "You look a mess, Anne."

  She winced as if chagrined by the statement. Rick winced for her. Not the kindest thing to say even if it was true. A small voice of pity within him cried out and, before he knew it, he stuck his hand out. "Here," he added awkwardly when she stared at his hand. "I'll help you up."

  For a split second, she seemed intent to reject his offer and that old anger boiled up inside. He was about to snatch his hand back but she abruptly grabbed it. A bolt of electricity shot through him--the same bolt he'd felt every time he'd touched her and broke down all his walls. Irritated, he hefted her up like she was a sack of molding feathers and quickly shook off her hand, promising himself to never touch her again.

  "Thank you," she murmured, but he focused on Charles, wanting this whole thing to be over with already.

  "Your sister seems fine," were the first words out of his mouth.

  "She's my sister-in-law, but thanks," Charles said with an apologetic grin. Rick blinked, surprised he'd made the mistake. Being so close to Anne must have made him all flustered again, like some lonely teenage boy. Why in the world was she even here? What fate decided that of all people, she had to be randomly related to Charles?

  "Are you sure you're okay, Anne?" Charles asked. "You look terrible--"

  "I'm fine," she insisted with a slight note of finality. Rick refused to look at her, but he'd bet her face displayed some exasperation. Kind of like when he'd tease her. How he missed that look.

  "How did Mr. Wentworth like your invention?" she continued as if Rick wasn't in the vicinity. A hint, no doubt, for him to leave. She wanted him gone as much as she did eight years ago.

  Charles scooped up his son who clung to his dad as if it was the rarest treat. "He hasn't seen it yet. We were heading there when Mary came screaming that Charlie had fallen out of a tree."

  "Well, he didn't fall. I caught him. Didn't I, Charlie?" She raised her pitch on the last sentence and gave him a warm smile. A smile she used to give Rick.

  The boy nodded with excitement. "Just like you promised!"

  She held out her hand for the boy. "Well, we're all good here. Go on ahead with Mr. Wentworth. We have a picnic to clean up, don't we, Charlie?"

  The father frowned as if he wasn't too sure he wanted his namesake out of his grasp.

  "Charles!"

  They all turned to find his sisters and his wife hurrying into the clearing. The latter held the younger child on her hip and rushed to her husband.

  "Is he all right?"

  "He's fine." Charles scuttled his son toward Anne as if suddenly in a hurry to leave. "Everyone is fine."

  "I told you," Mary began, her face flushing with anger and exertion. "I told you he'd fall one day if they kept climbing the trees. I told you and everyone else that he would--"

  "Yes, Mary, we know," Charles cut in and gave a nervous, apologetic smile to Rick. "Come, Rick, I'll show you my invention now."

  His wife stared, apparently shocked to be so rudely cut off, but her husband marched past her without a second glance. She turned toward Rick as if seeking solace, but he hurried after Charles, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of a domestic dispute.

  His sisters seemed to have the same idea and rushed with him. He half expected Anne to join them, but she remained with the angry wife. A part of him wasn't surprised. She had always been good at calming angry people. It was one of the reasons he'd fallen for her. Only with her had he ever felt peace with his own angry past.

  Until she rejected him.

  "Do the boys climb trees often?" Rick asked, wanting to start a conversation so he wouldn't have to hear himself think anymore.

  "Yeah," Charles replied with an apologetic shrug. "But Charlie, the oldest, is usually a pretty good climber. I didn't think he'd ever fall. And Anne has always done such a good job of keeping an eye on them."

  Not sure he wanted to ask the question, but unable to deny the curiosity within him, he asked, "Does your sister-in-law live with you as well?" He had supposed she'd be in some high-and-mighty law firm by now.

  Louisa laughed. "Mary would love it if she did!"

  "She's only visiting," Charles explained. "She's been helping her father since he had cancer a year or so back."

  "She works for him, too," Louisa said. "Or, at least, she did until he retired a month or so ago. I don't know what she's going to do now."

  "Probably finish law school," Charles offered.

  Rick regretted bringing the topic up. He had no desire to learn more about her father or her. "She seems like a nice girl," he said, hoping that would end the topic.

  It didn't work.

  "Oh, she's super nice," Rietta said.

  "She's the only person," Louisa gushed, "that will let me sing for hours and never tire!"

  "You should hear her play the piano," Rietta added. "She'll only play for others if it's for accompaniment, but if you can catch her when she thinks no one is listening, it's like the piano comes alive!"

  Rick forced a smile while he squashed memories of her playing. "Yes, I believe I've heard her play before." He hoped that would end the conversation but all three stopped and stared at him as if he'd declared he'd seen an alien.

  "You've heard her?"

  "When?"

  "I didn't know she played outside of family!"

  "Years back," Rick answered as vaguely as possible. "She had changed so much that I didn't recognize h
er until you mentioned the piano playing."

  "Anne's changed?" Charles looked as if Rick had claimed the sky had turned green.

  Louisa giggled. "Anne never changes. She's just Anne. But what about you? Did you grow up around here? Is that how you knew Anne?"

  "I was in the navy," was Rick's evasive reply. He had no desire to talk about his past. "So I've traveled a lot, seen a lot of people and things. Have any of you traveled?"

  "No," Louisa pouted. "I want to travel so bad! Charles promised that if you bought his invention, he'd take us all to Europe!"

  "I did not!" Charles protested with a laugh. "The deal was to take Mary, not you."

  "But I'm sure you'll need a chaperone so I volunteer!"

  Both of her siblings scoffed with laughter and Rick couldn't help smiling. The rapport between the siblings was remarkable. A real, tight-knit family. Something he'd always dreamed of having, but was denied having it by foster families who kept passing him along.

  That old anger flared and Rick turned the conversation to Charles' invention, wanting to get to an area he wouldn't feel like a failure. But as Charles began to show off his invention and how it both organized and rationed the water to the right spots of the fields, Rick grew uneasy. He liked Charles and he knew how much hope was riding on Rick's approval, but Rick could already tell the invention wasn't good enough. To impress his boss, Rick had to find either unique or very profitable inventions that could change the world. Charles' invention fit neither of those categories.

  "Oh," Charles said when Rick broke the news. His shoulders deflated and the light in his eyes died out as if Rick had told him his wife and kids had abandoned him. Rick cleared his throat, wishing he could somehow ease the pain, but not wanting to dilute the truth. Lies had surrounded Rick as he grew up and he had determined to never give anyone false hopes. It only made the pain worse.

  "It's not good at all?" Rietta asked and Louisa had a face of determination like she was about to issue a rallying cry to defend her brother.

  "It's good, especially for what you have here, but it's not unique enough. There are very similar ideas already on the market. But, it does show you have an eye for improving things. It's possible your next invention could be game-changing. Especially with this type of a background," he swept his hand to include the green surroundings around them. "You have a beautiful workplace. You know, there are people who would pay to stay at a place like this."

  Charles laughed. "My wife would never believe it. She thinks we're out in the middle of nowhere."

  "Yeah," Louisa chimed in. "She's always going on and on about how could anyone live without the conveniences of the city and that we're going backwards instead of forwards."

  Rick had to laugh. "She'd hate what my boss does for a living, then. Her entire job is to find unique experiences like this--" he stopped, an idea lighting up, "Hey, would you be interested in being one of those experiences?"

  Charles cocked his head while his sisters edged a little closer. "What do you mean?"

  "You'll have visitors come and stay and they'll want to help you with the farm and other chores you'll have. The idea is for people to live out a life they can't normally have for a few days, sometimes even weeks. Does that interest you?"

  "Random people coming here?" Rietta asked, scrunching her nose in confusion.

  "PAYING to come here?" Louisa said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Would that pay be as good as if you bought Charles' invention?"

  Rick grinned. "Better since it's not a one-time payment but a continual flow."

  Louisa threw her hands into the air. "I'm in!"

  "Woah!" Charles shook her shoulder. "Mom and Dad will want a say in this first."

  "They'll say yes! I know they will!"

  "Do they own the land?" Rick asked.

  "No, it's all in my name now, but they still live here."

  "I understand. I can explain everything to them if that will help."

  "Sure, come on up to the house." Charles started walking back up the hill. "They should be ready for lunch anyway."

  Lunch? He hadn't realized it was so late. "I wouldn't want to intrude--"

  "Oh, don't worry about that!" Louisa grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. "My parents would adore having you over and my dad is an amazing cook! You must come. They would love the chance to feed you!"

  "Will everyone be eating?" He wouldn't mind the food but it was the company he worried about. Well, a particular company. "The children as well?" He added in case anyone trying to figure out who, exactly, he meant.

  "They were going to do a picnic today."

  Rick hid a sigh of relief but stopped when Charles continued. "But I don't think they would have started yet. I'll go get them since it's a special occasion."

  Rick forced a smile, trying to pretend he had nothing against that proposal. And he didn't have anything wrong. Kids were kids. Never mind who might be coming with them.

  He let the two sisters direct him to the not-a-barn, Louisa pestering him with questions about what would the visitors be like and if any of them would be foreign. He enjoyed the questions; kept his mind off of other things. He had to repeat most of his answers, though, when he entered the house and came under a deluge of questions from the parents, assuring them the quality of the visitors would be top notch, that safety precautions would be ensured, and they wouldn't have to do any of the advertising, but focus on the hosting, cleaning, and socializing part.

  "Well, we can certainly do that last part, can't we, girls?" Mrs. Musgrove winked at her two daughters. "We could even hold concerts!"

  The girls squealed and Rick couldn't help laughing. "That could be a plus. I'll put it in my report. Would you mind if I took some pictures?"

  "Go ahead," Mr. Musgrove called from the kitchen as he chopped lettuce. "Lunch should be ready in about five minutes."

  Rick thanked him and began snapping pictures with his phone. Louisa and Rietta stationed themselves next to him, pointing out the angles he should take and ooing over the shots. They even pressed to be allowed in the shot, so he let them pose however they wanted. For some reason, he was tense and anxious, so he took more pictures than he needed. But when the door burst open and the boys bounded in, he suddenly knew understood his anxiety. SHE was incoming.

  He focused on the boys, aware that Charles and his wife followed, plus one more person.

  "You've already met them," Charles began as he reigned in his overly excited boys, "But the oldest is Charlie, who is five, and this is Walter." He prodded the younger child who hid behind his legs. "He's three."

  Rick squatted onto his heels. "And how have your adventure been this morning? Quite eventful so far, hasn't it?"

  Charlie grinned. "It was fun!"

  "It was not!" Mary snapped and grabbed Charlie's arm. "And you are not going up any more trees, you hear me!"

  The tension in the room immediately thickened and the little boy's face whitened, his eyes jumping between his parents. Memories of the constant yelling and belittling Rick had endured as a foster boy surfaced and, without thinking, he stood up and towered over Mary. "Being bold and brave are compelling qualities in a child," he found himself saying. "Rare traits, even. You must be an excellent mother," he forced a warm smile onto his lips, "in order to have instilled such traits in so young a boy."

  Mary straightened in shock, her grip loosening on her frightened son. Everyone else held their breath as if fearing the outcome. But she abruptly smiled. "Why, thank you! I do try my best." She wrapped her arms around her son and gave him a comforting squeeze. Rick's forced smile relaxed into a real one as he saw the boy beam up at his mother.

  "They are good boys," Charles said, ruffling the hair of his youngest, then turned to the person behind him. "And this is Anne, but I think you've already met?"

  "Yes." He finally looked at her. She had changed her outfit into a classy blouse and jeans and had redone her bun so hair no longer threatened to cascade to her shoulders. Yet, even in t
he more flattering outfit and lighting, she still had changed, looking older, more tired, more worn out. A stab of pity rose up within him, but he stabbed it dead.

  "We've met," he added before Anne could offer a response--he had no interest in what she could possibly say--and pivoted to face the Musgroves. "I have a few more pictures to take if you don't mind?"

  They gave their permission without hesitation and, as he had hoped, Louisa and Rietta trailed after him, keeping him company so no one else could do the same. To his surprise, the one person he wanted to avoid seemed to be avoiding him equally as well. Without giving him a single glance, she followed Mrs. Musgrove's beckoning and steered the two boys to a smaller table away from the main and settled them down for lunch.

  "Lunch is ready!" Mr. Musgrove called and Louisa and Rietta pulled him to the table, assigning him a spot where they could sit on either side of him. Rick expected Charles or Mary to take Anne's place at the kid table, but to his surprise, both joined him at the adult table, leaving Anne alone with the boys. Neither did any of those at the adult table seem surprised by the seating arrangement. Apparently, this was a common occurrence.

  "Have you traveled much?" Louisa asked, breaking Rick's attention from the kid table.

  "Yes. I was stationed in Japan for several years."

  "Japan!" They all exclaimed and pressed for details. Rick began to run through some of his favorite stories, like when his military pals hatched the not-so-brilliant plan to investigate a canal in a semi-rural part of Japan, then ended up getting stuck and having to scale a wall, only to find themselves in the middle of a graveyard. At night. With no flashlights.

  "It wasn't the smartest thing we've ever done," Rick said as everyone laughed.

  "What about Italy?" Mary abruptly asked. "Have you ever been there?"

  "Yes, I was stationed there for a few months. Good country. Great food. But not," he gave a nod toward Mr. Musgrove, "as great as yours."

  "Better than Italian food?" his daughters gushed but he waved his hands. "I like my cooking, but not even I would claim to be better than native Italians. However, if you have any cooking tips, I'd be happy to hear them!"