She had one hand on the door when her phone rang. The display showed the name of a reporter from Knoxville, Bailey Garcia.
Of course. Just what I needed. The calls used to be fun, a battle of wits to test how much information she could cram into a passing conversation. Now? Only a determined “making the best of it” would do.
Ignoring the call would mean fewer calls in the future. Winter was tempted to decline.
But Bailey had been so helpful in the battle to save Ash’s job that Winter had to answer. “Hi, Bailey, I haven’t been out to the lodge site, so I don’t have any news to report.”
Bailey laughed. “Direct. To the point. That’s why I always enjoyed your press events, Winter. We didn’t waste time with pleasant conversation.”
Why did that sting?
It was awfully close to the conversation she’d had at The Branch about friendship and sharing. Winter could name a long list of acquaintances like Bailey, people who’d been helpful along the way, but none of them had spent time on “pleasant conversation.”
“How can I help you? I have a nice new art gallery that I’d be happy to give you a tour of.” Then and there, the inspiration hit. If she could get news crews to Sweetwater for the gallery opening, Janet would have so much good press that she’d be an instant success. Did she still have the pull to manage that?
“I was hoping for a quote about Whit Callaway’s new relationship.” Bailey paused. “Have you heard?”
“Why would I care?” Winter drawled while she mentally flipped through all the news stories she’d seen. She would remember a new name linked with Whit’s.
Wouldn’t she?
“Gospel singer out of Nashville. Candace Hawthorne. They’ve been seen all over Knoxville and Nashville for the past three weeks. Speculation is he’s hunting for the first Mrs. Callaway. Well, a replacement first Mrs. Callaway.” Baily added, “We got some footage of them at a fund-raiser last night. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re discussing wedding rings.”
Winter watched the front window of Smoky Joe’s, Sweetwater’s coffee shop. If she had a meltdown on the street she’d have an audience, so she forced herself to take deep breaths.
But nothing worked. He was moving on with his life and with much better strategy than Richard Duncan. Whit was smart. This was a solid move to cast himself in a much better light and to throw a few shadows Winter’s way.
And his actions made it even harder to present herself as anything other than the jealous ex to anyone who might benefit from her political and media savvy.
Candace Hawthorne could have him, with Winter’s blessing, but the voters in the state needed some good advice.
“If that’s the case...” Winter cleared her throat. “Listen, it wouldn’t be the first time Whit Callaway has pulled a stunt like this. I hope every news story is about how that kind of maneuver, rehabilitating a rotten image by pairing it with a squeaky clean one, is one of the oldest tricks in the public-relations handbook. Anyone who falls for it deserves a governor like Whit Callaway.” What does that even mean, Winter? Smart? Determined. Committed to improving education and the support programs for Tennessee’s people. Ready to sacrifice a lot to lead the state. Winter clamped her jaw shut, paused and then asked, “Anything else, Bailey?”
Winter could hear the rustle of pages. Was that pen scratching across paper? Before Winter could tell the reporter not to use her words in a story, Bailey said, “If you have any pull with Caleb Callaway, could you get him to return my calls?” Then she laughed. “I’m guessing you don’t have anything to do with Caleb Callaway at all, do you, Winter? Never mind.”
Winter closed her eyes. She was never intended to be the go-between for Caleb Callaway, but if Bailey could get to him, maybe she would forget Winter’s comments about Candace Hawthorne.
“I’m sure Caleb’s on the job. You want to talk to him, go to the old weather station.” Winter ended the call because she wasn’t going to help anymore or dig the hole she’d stepped into any deeper.
What had she done? She and Whit had negotiated a marriage contract, one intended to cement his win.
But neither one of them had ever wanted anyone else to know that or to make it anything less than a true marriage for the best reasons. It would have been. Eventually.
Would Bailey put together what Winter had almost admitted? That Whit’s new relationship was not that far from the one they’d had, a performance meant to garner followers?
Except Winter had believed the decision to be smart and sound for both of them. What if Candace Hawthorne had another agenda or no agenda at all? What if she and Whit were falling in love? Real love?
The hard knot in her stomach was impossible to ignore. Every time she messed up, that knot made an appearance.
But every good PR person knew the best way to cover a bad story was to make a bigger, badder story.
She’d have to do that. If she could manage to swing good publicity Richard Duncan’s way, too, she could kill two birds with her one stony hard knot.
Janet waved at her from the window so Winter got out of the station wagon. On her way in, she paused on the sidewalk. Her mother didn’t want signs in the yard. Why drive a station wagon if you couldn’t turn it into a rolling advertisement to bring down your enemies? Winter stretched into the back and stood the signs carefully so that anyone passing by could read them. She shoved aside the junk her mother stored in the back to wedge the signs in place and then sighed happily. It was only a little something, but it was something.
Then she realized Caleb Callaway was standing on the sidewalk in front of Smoky Joe’s.
His angry jaywalk across the empty street was fast and Winter was frozen in place.
CHAPTER SIX
CALEB’S WEDNESDAY GOT off to a late start thanks to an overcast sky, which meant he’d overslept because no natural sunrise alarm had poured in through the skylights. When he’d discovered his coffeepot was cold and unresponsive, he’d taken it as a second sign that he might be able to take his time getting to the job site that day.
For him, the kind of bachelor who did not cook, life in Sweetwater had meant surviving on frozen dinners and cereal. And slim pickings if he wanted to eat out. However, coffee was critical to his success. In Nashville, he could drive five blocks in any direction and find a place that served coffee through a to-go window. In Sweetwater, not so much.
Then he remembered passing the coffee shop as he’d been driving through town, and the world had stopped spinning in a caffeine-withdrawal-driven whirl.
One plus for Sweetwater? Parking was a snap. That morning, the street was deserted.
Because everyone had already beaten him inside Smoky Joe’s.
Standing in line to get a cup of coffee was uncomfortable when the rest of the coffee shop crowd was dead silent. No one stirred while Caleb waited. That gave him plenty of time to mentally list all he had to accomplish to catch up. While he was in town, he could leave a check for Janet at Sweetwater Souvenir.
He’d also have a chance to remind Winter of what she owed him. Anticipation added an impatient tap to his boot as he waited.
She was a worthy opponent. Working alongside her would create an unstoppable team. What had Whit been thinking? A smart man would never have disappointed her enough to drive her to drastic measures in the first place, much less end their relationship.
Admiring his brother’s ex wasn’t going to make it any easier to manage her reaction.
Eventually, the man in front of him stepped aside, his hands filled with a tall, steaming cup and a plate holding a large, single slice of homemade banana-nut bread.
Battling with Winter required fortification. He deserved a piece of that bread. “I’ll have the same thing. To go.”
The elderly woman behind the counter narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, yeah?” She raised her chin. “Do I know you?”
Confused, Caleb paused in the middle of pulling out his wallet. What did that matter? He was a customer. With money.
Then he realized in small-town Sweetwater, everyone knew everyone. That made it easier to close ranks against the outsider. Repairing the Callaway reputation here would need to be accomplished by someone on the inside. Since the Callaways lacked any inside source, he’d have to wiggle his way under the town’s defenses.
This woman and the crowd watching their conversation could be his first attempt.
Caleb offered the woman his hand and prepared to shake gently, since she looked like she’d evaporate like a vampire in the sun if he pressed too hard. “Caleb Callaway.” He didn’t have to say anything more.
Biting back the wince that wrinkled his lips when she squeezed his hand took some effort.
“Call me Odella.” She tapped her name badge. “This is my shop. I don’t have to serve anyone I don’t want to.” She raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to serve you?”
Caleb took a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet. “I can pay you. Coffee and a slice of that bread. Please.”
“Well, now...nice manners.” She pinched his money between her finger and thumb and rubbed it as if she was testing to make sure it was real. “Good enough for me.” She made change and then took the bag and cup the younger girl behind the counter had handed to her. “You’ll be back, too. This could be the start of a long-lasting friendship.”
Caleb sipped his coffee and considered how long she expected this friendship might stretch. How old was she? At least a hundred.
Then he managed a bite of the bread and realized that their friendship was going to grow deep and quick. “Odella, I came in today because my coffeepot isn’t working.”
“But you’ll be in tomorrow because...” She smiled patiently.
“Because I’m smarter than I appear. And this is the best banana-nut bread in the state.” Maybe it was some special ingredient, but his overwhelming frustration at being stuck in Sweetwater lessened. He should have come in here before confronting Winter.
“Coffeepots are easy to come by.” Odella pointed at the bread. “That you cain’t find anywhere else. It’s the secret to my success and my longevity.”
His mouth was full so Caleb held up a finger. “’Nother slice, please.”
Her creaky chuckle suggested she didn’t use it much, but her smile was contagious. She slid the bag across to him and then cleared away the money he’d set on the counter.
“Keep the change.” Caleb saluted her with the second bag and then headed for the door.
“And a generous tip. Callaways’ll surprise a person now and then.” Odella’s voice carried well enough to follow him out onto the sidewalk. There he spotted Winter Kingfisher crawling around in the back of an ancient station wagon, a campaign sign displayed in the window.
And he remembered his intention to settle this. He shoved what was left of his breakfast in the Callaway Construction truck and marched off across the street.
“Shouldn’t you be out at the lodge already?” Winter asked. “The day’s disappearing as we speak.”
Caleb slammed to a stop in the middle of the street. Why would he care if she questioned his routine?
Unfortunately, the tone she’d used, which questioned why he was wasting time in town, reminded him of someone else. Normally, it was his stepfather’s voice demanding he explain himself or do better.
“You want me out of Sweetwater. I want me out of Sweetwater.” Caleb covered his heart with one hand. “Honest. We both have incentive to make the lodge build go quickly, but here you are making a statement with your signs. Why can’t you let this go?” He motioned at her station wagon. “Is this your car? I mean, did your parents give it to you at birth?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget that.”
“What’s wrong with my car?” Winter crossed her arms over her chest as she moved to stand in front of it protectively. Or aggressively. One or the other. “And what is wrong with Sweetwater? I love this place. You’re lucky you get to spend every day out at The Aerie, Caleb. But like the rest of your family, you don’t appreciate what you have.”
He admired a woman who came out swinging. That was part of his problem with Winter. He admired her too much. She had an impressive uppercut.
“Lucky we have Winter Kingfisher to tell us where we’re wrong.” Finally, a good line. Caleb propped his hands on his hips. “You can’t let this go, not even for me and our bargain. What will happen if I tell everyone I know that you’re the one who slipped Duncan the report? And almost lost Sweetwater the lodge? And almost got your brother fired? And that I, a lowly Callaway, did the heroic thing? And all because you asked me to?”
Why was she fighting this so hard? Because Whit had broken her heart? This dogged insistence was coming from somewhere besides a true commitment to politics or the governor. Had to be. No one in their right mind would work so hard for Richard Duncan. Caleb had been forced to make dinner conversation with the guy more than once, and he had the depth of a mud puddle. Conviction wasn’t driving Winter’s determination.
So if it was hurt over Whit, what could Caleb do about that? Tell her she deserved better. True, but not really helpful.
“Go ahead and tell everyone you took the heat for me. People will understand that I did what I did because I love the reserve.” Winter squared her shoulders. “Do your worst. So will I.”
“My worst? Like turning the first station wagon that ever chugged off an assembly line into a rolling billboard?” Caleb studied her face as she smoothed a hand over the glossy fall of hair. Something, anger or nerves, made her lips tighten, and she instantly glanced away from him. Was she bluffing? “You don’t think I’ll do it, do you? You don’t believe that I’ll tell your secret, even to make my family forgive me or to get public sympathy.” He mirrored her stance, arms crossed and feet braced. “You trust that people in this world still have enough integrity to keep something so flimsy as a promise, when it would be to their personal gain to do otherwise. And from a lousy Callaway, no less.” Amazing.
“I want to. I want to believe that people keep promises. Your brother let me down,” Winter answered softly. “We were partners, but he turned on me and my family in an instant. You aren’t going to do that, are you?”
She was right about that, but he’d never understood why she’d done what she’d done. “Why an anonymous report, Winter? Didn’t you break a promise you made to Whit? Like, loving and cherishing promises, forsaking all others?”
“We weren’t married yet, Caleb.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead and studied the ground for a second. “Whit and I did make promises to each other. We were partners. Our goals were the same. We were working together for our future and for Tennessee.”
“So, what changed?” Caleb asked. She had never struck him as the type to hide her activity. Why had she tried to go around Whit instead of loudly and proudly facing off against him.
Love. Had to be.
“Whit let me down.” She shook her head. “And I love this place more than all our plans.”
Where did Whit fall in that? Between Sweetwater and their plans? Shouldn’t she love her fiancé more than a piece of land? Wouldn’t Whit be her first priority if she loved him enough to marry him? Her words rolled back through his brain and snapped into place.
When Winter talked about his brother, she never mentioned love.
“You and Whit, this was a marriage of... What? Political dynasty or something?” Caleb asked. No one did that anymore, did they?
Her stiff shoulders convinced Caleb he was on the right track with...something.
“My being disappointed by my best friend was one thing. Whit and I would have recovered from that, but Whit and Senior turned on my family, too.” Winter shook her head. “He let me down. Please don’t do the same, Caleb. Your promise matters.”
Did she believe that? That a promise meant something to Caleb Callaway?
Here, facing off with him in the street like Old West gunfighters, he was convinced she did.
Winter trusted he’d keep his promise to her, no matter the incentive to tell the world.
Even after the other Callaways had fought hard and dirty.
Her faith robbed him of the ability to ever attempt the bluff again that he’d tell her secret.
He wanted her to trust him, admire him. Why? Answering that honestly would take some consideration. Examining it too closely was a bad idea.
“This? It’s a couple of political signs.” She smiled at him and shrugged. Her whole demeanor had transitioned from “I will go toe to toe with you” to “Me? I’m harmless.”
Her charm was nearly irresistible. Senior’s frowning face in his head was the antidote.
“Low profile. I get in and out. Take those signs down.” Caleb’s lips were a grim, tight line. “I expect you to do the right thing here.” He turned around and crossed the street.
Refusing to glance back to see if she was watching him was difficult, but he pulled it off. Then he headed for the old weather station, prepared to put her out of his mind.
But the idea that she and Whit had been more about a marriage of convenience than a love match explained why it had seemed easy for them both to walk away. Why did that bring a ray of light out on an otherwise gloomy day?
* * *
WATCHING CALEB STALK AWAY, a cloud of suspicion or confusion or even disappointment drifting behind him, was hard. That had always been Winter’s weakness—a fear of letting people down. She excelled. She underpromised and overdelivered in order to keep people raving over her abilities. Always.
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