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“You don’t want to spend the summer in a stuffy old bank.” Becca’s face had lit with anticipation. “We’ll find great jobs at the beach. Think of the gorgeous guys we’ll meet.”
Becca always had managed to meet gorgeous guys everywhere, and they both knew their parents wouldn’t allow Becca to go unless Annie went to take care of her. But she’d said yes, because she couldn’t bear to see Becca’s disappointment if she hadn’t.
The jobs hadn’t been wonderful, but they had met Davis and Link, college roommates who’d had the same idea as Becca. Davis, fair and smiling, had taken one look at Becca and been a goner. His tall, dark-haired friend hadn’t had Davis’s looks and polish, but he’d made Annie’s heart do something she’d never felt it do before. She’d always been careful, never falling in and out of love the way Becca did. Then Link reached right past her guard and touched her heart.
Everything had been perfect—until Link decided his friend was getting too serious about Becca. In an instant he’d turned into someone Annie didn’t know—grim, determined, implacable. If he’d bothered to explain what he had against Becca—
Well, no. Link couldn’t have come up with any reason that would have satisfied her for trying to part Becca and Davis. She and Link had quarreled, if you could call it quarreling when one person argued and the other stood as unmoving as a…a block of granite.
Davis and Becca had married in spite of everything Link had done to stop it. The two men had eventually mended the rift, settling in Davis’s hometown to start their construction business. Becca had even asked Link to be Marcy’s godfather.
Everyone had been able to forget the quarrel but her. She’d seen Link every time she came to visit Becca, but she’d maintained a polite, smiling distance. The man had dented her heart and hurt her beloved sister. She wasn’t about to become his dearest friend.
But now he didn’t want her to be his friend. He wanted her to be his bride.
A chill went through her in spite of the warm September sunshine that poured through the windows. If Link was right about the Lesters…
Please, show me what to do, Lord. Every time I think of Link’s words, I feel paralyzed.
She badly needed some impartial advice. She reached for the white phone on the marble-topped table. But who?
Her father was probably exhausted from the drive back to Boston and the effort of soothing her mother’s distress at his absence. Alzheimer’s had robbed her mother of knowing who he was, but she did seem to realize she depended upon him.
Dad would have to know, but not yet. She dialed Sam Watson’s number.
Sam, an attorney she’d dated casually over a year ago, had remained a friend even after they’d drifted apart. That seemed to be the romantic pattern of her life. Maybe the ability to inspire passion had just been left out of her makeup. If so, she was doing very nicely without it, especially after the fiasco with Link.
Once Sam answered, she quickly described the situation, leaving out Link’s proposal. She waited for Sam to say something reassuring.
“I’m not an expert in family law.” Sam’s tone was cautious. “Your sister and her husband ought to have spelled out their wishes in a will. You need a good local attorney.”
For once she was impatient with caution. “Give me your best guess. Will I have problems getting custody of Marcy?”
“Custody wouldn’t be a sure thing, even if your sister had named you in her will. The court could still exercise its discretion.” He hesitated. “If these cousins do file for custody, the court might favor a local married couple over an out-of-state, single, working woman.”
That was what Link had said, and her heart sank. “What can I do? I might feel differently if they even cared about Marcy, but they don’t.”
“Get a good attorney,” he said. “And pray for a sympathetic judge.”
She sat staring at the phone after she’d hung up, trying to think her way through this. Had Becca ever mentioned an attorney she might call?
She was leafing through Becca’s address book when she heard a faint wail. Dropping the book, she hurried up the stairs to Marcy’s room.
Becca had decorated the nursery with pastel-colored animal figures. A line of yellow giraffes ambled across the wallpaper border, while a pink elephant formed the base of a lamp. Marcy stood in the white canopied crib, shaking the railing impatiently. Her fine blond hair curled damply around her face, and her cheeks were rosy with sleep.
“Up, up,” she demanded, holding out chubby arms to Annie. “Up, Nan.”
She’d happily be called “Nan” until Marcy mastered “Aunt Annie.” She scooped her niece from the crib, putting her cheek against the soft curls. “Did you have a good sleep, sweetpea?”
Marcy patted her face, and Annie’s heart melted. Nothing had prepared her for the wave of sheer love she’d felt when she first held her sister’s child. Blood of my blood, she’d thought, and known the infant had her heart in a tiny hand.
She dressed Marcy, listening to her mostly incomprehensible chatter, and took her downstairs. The doorbell rang as they reached the family room. Her defenses went up instantly, and she marched to the front door carrying Marcy. If Link had come back to press her for a decision again—
But it wasn’t Link. Frank and Julia Lester stood at the door, wearing identical smiles.
“Frank. Julia. I wasn’t expecting you.” She had an irrational urge to close the door in their faces. She stepped back. “Please, come in.”
“Naturally we came by to see how you’re doing.” Frank led the way into the living room as if this were his home. “Yesterday was so difficult for all of us.”
“So difficult,” Julia echoed, her expression blank.
“Thank you.” They all stood awkwardly on the pale beige carpeting Becca had chosen. She should ask them to sit down, but if they stayed, she might blurt out Link’s suspicions. “I appreciate everything you did to help, you know.”
“As Davis’s closest relative, I felt responsible. Who else would do it?” Frank looked at his wife as if silently prompting her.
Julia glanced down at her silk jacket, then held out her hands to Marcy. “Why don’t you let me take her.”
Annie’s arms tightened around the baby, tension traveling along her nerves. Frank smiled, and Link’s words echoed.
Frank smiles and smiles, and all the time he’s looking for a weakness.
She told herself she didn’t believe that, but Link’s suspicions affected her anyway. “She just woke up. She doesn’t feel like going to someone else just now.”
Julia stepped closer, determination in every line of her fashionably thin figure. “The baby loves Cousin Julia. She’ll come to me.”
Ridiculous, to feel menaced by the woman. Annie tried to produce a smile. “Not now. Much as I’d like to chat with you, I have a great deal to do. So if you’ll excuse me…”
“Of course, of course. I’m sure you’re busy getting packed to go back to Boston.” Frank’s smile didn’t falter. He moved closer, almost as if he and Julia were closing in on her.
Annie’s tension jacked upward. “I’m not—”
“We realize how eager a career woman like you must be to get back to your job.” Frank reached for Marcy. “So we’ve come for the baby.”
He should have known Annie wouldn’t let herself be swept along with his idea. Link swiveled his desk chair to look out the window of Conrad and Morgan, Builders. Their tiny offices were located diagonally across the town square from the house that had been “the Conrad place” for generations.
No, he should have approached Annie in a way she’d understand. She’d always had to have every detail at her fingertips.
That had come between them before, when he couldn’t explain why he was so opposed to Davis’s abrupt decision to propose to Becca, bound as he’d been by promises and obligations. Whatever had started between the two of them had come to an untimely end.
He rubbed at the tension that had taken up residence at the back of his neck since the state police call had wakened him with the news of Davis and Becca’s accident. He and Davis smiled from the silver-framed photo atop the bookcase, taken the day they’d won the tennis doubles cup. He’d never hear Davis laugh again, never enjoy the interplay of ideas as they planned a new project, never see Davis’s joy in his baby daughter.
Something steeled inside him. All he could do now for his friend was to ensure Marcy’s inheritance. All he could do to protect the life he’d built in Lakeview was to save the company. Everyone in town knew how quickly Frank had run through his inheritance from his father. He wouldn’t let that happen to the company, for Marcy’s sake and his own. If the only way to those aims was marrying Annie, so be it.
An image of Annie’s stubborn face formed in his mind. Now he had to convince the bride.
Once, he’d been intrigued by that cool exterior of hers, wanting to know what lay behind it. He’d thought he was breaking through to her until everything blew up in the face of Davis’s sudden decision to elope.
He might be able to reach Annie again, but that armor of hers was probably stronger than it had been before.
The phone rang, and he reached for it. He’d given Vera Rowland, their secretary-receptionist, the day off, assuming he’d get nothing accomplished so soon after the funeral.
“Link?”
Annie’s voice sent him bolt upright in his chair. She sounded panic-stricken, and it took a lot to panic Annie Gideon.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Frank and Julia are here—” She choked on the words. “You’d better come.”
“I’ll be right there.” He was on his feet as he said the words. “Hang on.”
He covered the small outer office in a few strides and slammed out the door. Crossing the street, he jogged diagonally across the pocket-size park that formed Lakeview’s town square. At this hour on a September afternoon the only occupants were a couple of mothers with strollers and two elderly men feeding the squirrels. The park, like the Conrad house, exuded stability, roots, belonging. All the things he hadn’t had before he’d come to Lakeview. All the things he wouldn’t give up.
The door was unlocked, and he didn’t bother to knock. Apprehension carried him into the living room.
Annie clutched Marcy, with Frank and Julia pressing in on her. Embattled, she sent him a look of appeal mingled with relief. That must be some kind of first—for Annie to feel relief at the sight of him.
He moved toward them, feeling the balance of power shifting at his presence. Frank had obviously planned some sort of preemptive strike. Well, it wasn’t going to work.
“Frank, Julia.” He’d keep a polite demeanor if it killed him. Losing his temper with Frank would only play into the man’s hands. “What are you doing here?”
Frank’s smile didn’t falter. “I told Annie there was no need to call you. This is family business.”
“And I’m an outsider, I suppose. Annie did call me, so that means she wants me here.”
Annie was putting up a good front, but fear filled her brown eyes. “They wanted Marcy.”
He moved closer, putting his arm around her and the baby. She stiffened, then relaxed as if accepting that he was on her side.
He focused on her face, intent on erasing the fear. Frank shouldn’t know she was afraid. “No one is taking Marcy. We won’t let that happen.”
“This is family business,” Frank repeated. “As Davis’s closest living relatives, my wife and I are the logical people to take care of little Marcy.”
“And take care of little Marcy’s inheritance, too, I suppose.” His anger sparked.
Frank didn’t seem affected by the accusation. “We’re family,” he repeated. “As you said, you’re the outsider.”
He tensed, but before he could say something he’d regret, Annie straightened.
“I’m Becca’s sister. I’m the one she wanted to take care of her child.” The fire was back in Annie’s eyes. “I won’t let her down.”
That fire seemed to bank Link’s fury. Frank’s attempt to take the child had wakened Annie to the danger they faced. That would work to his advantage in convincing her.
“I think a sister trumps a cousin, Frank. Maybe you and Julia better leave. You’re not going to get what you want here.”
“Choosing sides, are you? Maybe you should reconsider, Annie. We can give Marcy a real family. You want what’s best for her, don’t you?”
“I’m what’s best for her.” Her mouth set with a stubbornness he could have told Frank wouldn’t be moved.
Maybe Frank recognized that fact. He shrugged, then gestured Julia toward the door. “Fine. We’ll see you in court, then. I think you’ll find Judge Carstairs will recognize the value of what we have to offer that little girl.”
They swept out. He felt Annie sag with relief when the door closed. Then, as if she realized she was leaning against him, she took a step away.
“Down,” Marcy said loudly, and Annie gave a weak laugh as she set the toddler on her feet.
“She was so still the whole time they were here. She must have sensed how scared I was.” She met his eyes gravely. “Thank you, Link.”
“I hate to say I told you so, but I did. Now do you understand?”
Annie’s brown eyes clouded, and she crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “You were right about the Lesters.”
“And I was right about what we have to do.” Didn’t she realize that? “If you want to keep that child, this is the only solution, and the sooner we do it the better. The Lesters are probably consulting their attorney as we speak. There’ll be a hearing, and we’d better go into it married if we’re going to have a chance.”
“We have to see an attorney.”
“Annie—”
Anger flared in her eyes, but behind it he saw vulnerability. “I’m not going off half-cocked, so you might as well get used to the idea. We see a lawyer first. Then—” She seemed to take a breath. “Well, then we’ll see what’s best.”
He could say he already knew what was best, but he suspected that wasn’t going to sway her. “I’ll call Chet Longly. He’s the lawyer the firm uses. Will he do, or do you want to find someone yourself?”
“He’ll do.” She shivered.
He nodded, picking up the phone. At least she seemed to accept that he was irrevocably involved in this. For once, she couldn’t avoid him.
And that was just as well, because one way or another, he intended to marry her.
Chapter Two
Annie held the baby on her lap as she sat next to Link in the attorney’s office the next morning, watching as every avenue of escape was blocked to her. Each word Chet Longly spoke seemed to make marriage to Link loom more inexorably.
She gazed past the attorney, trying to ease the sense of things closing in on her. His office, like every other important thing in the small town, faced the town square. Two days ago the flag at its center had hung at half-staff, in mourning for the funerals of two prominent citizens. Today the banner snapped in a brisk September breeze, colors bright in the sunshine.
Marcy wiggled, restless after a half hour’s worth of adult conversation. Holding one arm around the baby’s rounded middle, Annie reached into the diaper bag and pulled out one of the soft toys she’d tossed in before leaving the house. Maybe that would occupy Marcy for a moment at least.
Becca’s next-door neighbor had offered to watch Marcy during the appointment, and she’d turned her down so quickly that it was a wonder the grandmotherly woman hadn’t taken offense. After that episode with the Lesters, she was afraid to leave Marcy with anyone. Maybe there wasn’t anyone in this town she could trust.
Well, probably the man who had been Davis’s attorney was trustworthy. He’d been openly apologetic that he’d never succeeded in getting Davis to make a will. Davis, like so many people, hadn’t thought there was any hurry.
Who would have expected the unthinkable?
Lord, why did this happen? Why Davis and Becca?
There wasn’t any answer to that, just as there hadn’t been any answer during the long night when she’d asked God whether this marriage was the right thing to do.
She shot a sideways glance at Link while the attorney patiently explained the ramifications of a custody hearing. Link’s grave, composed face gave no hint to his feelings. He thought he already knew the only answer.
“So, as I say, there’s no cut-and-dried solution.” Chet Longly spread his hands, his open, friendly face troubled. “The judge has a great deal of discretion in a custody case. Even if you had written proof that Davis and Becca wanted you to take Marcy, the judge could decide against that. It’s not likely, but it could happen.”
