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She would not let him rattle her. “Call me Cassie, and don’t worry. I’ll be done in plenty of time. Ten to fourteen days, depending on what you want done. I’m sure you have other business to take care of first, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll come by tomorrow and strip the wallpaper.”
“On Saturday?”
She shrugged. “It’s one of my busiest days. Just keep in mind, if you want any painting done in here, that’s done first. Then the walls will have to be prepped, so it could be a couple of days to a week before we put up the new wallpaper. During that time you can go over paint and paper samples. We can meet at my office downtown or I can bring them here.”
He stared at her in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with it?”
“You can make any changes to the house you want to. Your grandfather gave you authorization so you wouldn’t have to wait the thirty days.”
“It’s bad enough I have to live in this house for a month before I can unload it. I don’t care what you do about any wallpaper or paint.”
She produced a broom from a closet, a task she’d performed many times before. Grateful to have something in her hands, she restored order to the room. While she worked, she stole glances at the tall, handsome man with the lean, yet muscular build.
Mr. Frank had shown her several grainy photos of his grandson along with a written report provided by the private investigator hired to keep tabs on Tanner over the years. But a picture didn’t reveal intensity or Tanner’s true essence.
“Hold on. How did you know about the live-in clause?”
Cassie heard the cold, quiet strength behind his casual question. She shivered. He might look like his father, but he had his grandfather’s suspicious nature.
“Your grandfather told me. But even if he hadn’t, New Haven has an incredible grapevine. Rule number one in a small town—no secrets allowed. You’ll get used to it after a while, Mr. Fairfax.”
“Call me Tanner. Mr. Fairfax was my dad. And I won’t be here long enough to get used to anything.”
We’ll see about that. Tanner might have outsider written all over him—the way he carried himself, the way he had flinched when she’d touched his arm, the guarded look in his eyes—but he belonged in New Haven; he belonged at Fairfax House. He just didn’t know it yet.
Cassie knew firsthand how a sense of roots provided emotional comfort, because she’d been given such a gift. The town, its people, were home. If Mr. Frank hadn’t disowned his son, Tanner would have been born and raised in New Haven and received the blessing of roots as well.
Mr. Frank had insisted that Cassie was the only person who could help him right such a wrong, since she couldn’t imagine being happy anywhere else.
A person made of stone might have refused to help. She, on the other hand, was made up entirely of mush. Mush, with a grain of selfishness. Deep down, she knew that she had agreed to help for another reason. Years ago, she had failed to keep a promise she’d made to her father just before he died. Finally, she had a chance to prove her word meant something.
She watched Tanner as he noted every detail of the room, including her. Especially her. She shivered again and recalled her explosive reaction earlier to the innocent touch of her fingers against Tanner’s skin. Not a problem. She’d keep her hands away from him and on her work, and keep her mind on her promise to Mr. Frank.
A detail in the investigator’s report popped into her head: while Tanner had no shortage of women in his life, he either couldn’t keep them, or didn’t want to, since no relationship ever lasted more than a couple of months.
Why had that little morsel surfaced? He wasn’t even her type. She preferred easygoing and quick to smile.
“This place will need updating in order to sell,” Tanner said, a welcome interruption to her disturbing train of thought. “I want to get moving on this. Since you’re coming tomorrow anyway, go ahead and bring samples of what’s hot right now.”
She frowned as she brushed her fingertips over the faded, water-stained wallpaper. Such a grand house deserved more than the latest color or decorating fad. But the new owner’s determination to take the money and run concerned her more.
She could easily picture Tanner at home in Fairfax House. New Haven would embrace him, give him the sense of belonging and roots he had lost since his parents died. The fact she could see it wasn’t enough, though—he had to, also.
“Unless you have more important jobs,” Tanner added dryly.
She knew what she’d like to do with the sample books. Maybe a bonk on the head would make him realize what a gift he’d been given. Too bad she couldn’t afford to alienate him. “Of course not. I’ll see if I can get the books back from a customer. And for your information, Mr. Samuels asked me to make this house a priority, but I would’ve made it one anyway. This house is special to me. I practically grew up here.”
Tanner’s dark eyes narrowed. “Are you a relative?”
“Heavens, no. Just a pesky kid who hung around.” She sighed and inhaled the familiar, heartwarming scent she would forever associate with Fairfax House.
Tears threatened to form once again but she refused to cry. She had to remain strong in order to gain the new owner’s confidence. “I love that smell, don’t you?”
Tanner sniffed the air. “I can’t place it. What is it?”
“Vanilla. Your grandfather simmered some on the stove every day, and whenever I’m here I do the same thing. He said it reminded him of your grandmother. Did you know she was only sixty when she died? Cancer. But she didn’t suffer long.” Mr. Frank, though, had never recovered from his loss.
Love certainly didn’t come with any guarantees. Cassie’s father had died of a heart attack at thirty-four, leaving her mother without the love of her life way too soon. Cassie had no intention of wasting time when she found The One. They would live, play and work together, a concept a man like Tanner would never understand. He obviously preferred to love ’em and leave ’em, if one could believe the reports from the investigator. “I teased Mr. Frank that they made vanilla candles and air fresheners, but he said they weren’t the same. I sure miss him.”
Cassie blinked back the tears, reminded afresh of the pain of losing her dear friend. A friend she refused to let down. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tanner, around nine,” she said, and left through the back door of the kitchen.
Tanner watched Cassie disappear, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He’d never met a woman who wore her emotions so close to the surface. No doubt about it, she’d taken the old man’s death hard.
Tanner couldn’t imagine his rigid grandfather simmering vanilla for a wife long gone. The ice water in his veins wouldn’t allow such a sentimental ritual.
What had Cassie seen in such an old, manipulative person? Tanner could only think of two explanations: she was just another one of his victims, or a schemer who had gained more than a repair job from the old man.
Tanner made a mental note to check the details of his grandfather’s will. He had no living relatives. Although he wasn’t the sole beneficiary, he couldn’t remember Cassie’s name on the list.
He’d been warned that small towns had no secrets, so he shouldn’t have much trouble finding out more about Cassie. Suspicion was good. Anything was better than dwelling on why he’d felt such relief at discovering she wasn’t a relative.
He didn’t want any complications. For the next thirty days he intended to relax. A former boss, retired and bored, had jumped at the chance to fill in as manager, so for once, the lengthy time away from his company didn’t present a problem.
He’d spend his time getting a feel for what his truck-driver dad’s life must have been like growing up in New Haven, Ohio. From what little he knew, things hadn’t soured for his dad until he defied his father and left town after high school graduation.
Tanner’s mind wondered back to how familiar Cassie seemed with the house. She’d fetched a broom as if she’d done so many times before, had known of his grandfather’s habits and the conditions of the will.
For some reason the familiarity, imagined or not, bothered him. His reaction made no sense whatsoever. He was the one who had ignored every bribe and turned down all invitations to come live in Fairfax House.
Tanner refused to waste another minute on the confusion he felt over being in the huge, dark house again.
“Yoo-hoo,” yelled a high-pitched voice from the front of the house. Rapid pounding followed.
“Now what?” Tanner muttered, and left to answer the front door. He gave the rooms he passed along the way a cursory glance. Elegantly curved furniture filled the formal living room and dining room. Pictures in old-looking frames covered the top of a buffet. To his left, he noted a den that had obviously been turned into a bedroom. He’d stash his gear there, later.
He opened the door and discovered a woman with orange hair piled on top of her head, wearing enough makeup to start her own cosmetics business. Oven mitts covered her hands. Steam escaped from a glass dish of green beans. He took a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of cream of mushroom soup and dried onions and his mouth watered.
“I want to be the first to officially welcome you.” The woman smiled, ducked under his arm that held open the door and zeroed in on the kitchen.
He blinked, floored by the idea that a stranger had just bulldozed her way inside, then quickly followed.
“We’re so sorry about your grandfather,” the stranger said. She placed the dish on one of the burners on the stove and shoved the mitts into apron pockets. “But we’re just tickled to have another Fairfax in this house. It’s Tanner, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m Mrs. Boone, from across the street.” He shook her offered hand. “Mr. Boone would’ve come, too, but he’s recovering from surgery and can’t get around just yet. Your grandfather loved my green bean casserole, so I just know you’ll love it, too. And if you have any questions about New Haven, I’m the town historian. I’ve lived here all my life, so I’ve seen it all.”
“Thanks, but I won’t be here—”
“Why, you’re the spitting image of your daddy. Frankie was quite the charmer.” She leaned toward Tanner. “Not at all like your grandfather. That Frank, Sr. was short on charm, but he was fair and a man of his word.”
Tanner was already weary of the praise for a man who must have hidden his shortcomings from the town. “I see. Well, thanks again, Mrs. Boone.”
“You’re more than welcome. Tell me, are you as full of pluck as your daddy was? ’Cause this town could use shaking up.”
“Frankie, you’re finally home,” a feeble voice called out from behind the screen of the kitchen door. A stooped, white-haired woman shuffled inside.
Mrs. Boone placed her hand on the old woman’s elbow. “Oh, no, Mrs. Johnson. Frankie and Susan passed away years ago in that horrible car accident, remember?”
“Nonsense, child. I’d know that hair and those eyes anywhere. Why did you stay away so long, Frankie?”
A mixture of emotions jackhammered Tanner. The warmth and joy in the stranger’s voice, the lines of concern and compassion on her face, and the fact that she’d obviously known and liked his father caused Tanner’s throat to grow tight. He swallowed hard. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he craved to know the details of his parents’ childhoods.
“The town hasn’t been the same since you left, dear boy.”
Tanner had no idea how to respond to the woman without confusing her more, so he played along. He smiled. “How have you been, Mrs. Johnson?”
She sighed. “Teaching isn’t what it used to be. No respect, no joy of learning. Your daddy thought you could scare kids into doing the right thing, or at the very least bribe them. But I daresay I disagree. Where is the rascal, anyway?”
A sad smile crossed Mrs. Boone’s face. “Mrs. Johnson was the best math teacher New Haven High ever had. She lives just across the alley. On her good days she liked to come over to spar with your grandfather. You could hear those two all the way downtown. Obviously, today isn’t a good day. Come on, Mrs. Johnson, I’ll walk you home.”
Tanner looked forward to a good day when they could go back in time together. “I’ll drop by for a visit sometime, if that’s okay with you, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Any time, dear boy. It’s time I have plenty of.”
Mrs. Boone led the stooped woman toward the door. “Oh, look, Tanner!” Mrs. Boone said over her shoulder. “You’ve got more company. And you’re in luck. Looks like Miss Eva brought cinnamon rolls. One whiff, and you’ll agree they’re to die for.”
His warm, nostalgic mood evaporated at the sight of several strangers approaching the house. He worried he was caught in the Father Knows Best version of The Twilight Zone. What else explained why strangers felt free to wander into his house, or why people admired a jerk like his grandfather?
No matter. He knew the man for what he really was—a scheming, coldhearted tyrant.
Every citizen in New Haven could line up at his door with gifts and kind words about his grandfather. Tanner didn’t care; he’d ignore them all.
And he for damn sure wouldn’t give in to any interest or attraction he might feel toward Cassie Leighton.
Chapter Two
Cassie cradled the grocery sacks against her chest and hurried across the street. A quick glance at Tanner’s truck revealed it hadn’t budged since she’d left Fairfax House earlier that afternoon. A single light in the old house led her to believe he was home. Good. She hated to think she’d wasted time deciding what to wear for nothing. She’d fretted less for a date, for Pete’s sake.
But she had to walk a fine line. Tanner was not only a customer and a neighbor, but someone Mr. Frank had entrusted her to look after. So, she’d chosen comfortable jeans, a white sleeveless blouse, sandals and her denim floppy hat. Casual, but a step up from shorts and T-shirt with her company logo.
She shifted the stuffed paper bags in her arms and tapped the door with her foot. “Come on, Tanner,” she mumbled. “Open the door.” On a mission to welcome him to the neighborhood, she also hoped her gifts would make him realize how much she’d loved and respected his grandfather.
Unfortunately, she had another, less pure motive for such a quick return visit: Tanner had filled her thoughts all day.
After she’d left Fairfax House, she had stopped by the office to log in any deliveries and bring home the mail. For the remainder of the afternoon she had helped her crew install light fixtures at a job site. Thank goodness the routine work hadn’t required her full attention.
All her life, Cassie had been told she had too much curiosity, so her job proved the perfect fit. She saw hidden treasures in old, beaten-up things. Stripping paint from a piece of furniture to expose the natural beauty underneath was a joy, not a chore.
So, why wouldn’t a man such as Tanner, unlike the other men in New Haven, fascinate her? He had more walls built up around him than the mansion he’d inherited, which probably explained why he’d never had a long-term relationship with a woman.
Too bad for him that she lived to tear down walls. But, of course, she had no personal motives. She just had to know him better in order to figure out how to convince him to stay.
She gently kicked at the door again. Still no answer.
Movement in the nearest window caught her attention. The door slowly opened. “Come in. Hurry,” Tanner whispered.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with forced nonchalance. Curiosity over his odd behavior battled with her unwillingness to appear too eager to see him again. Unfazed by the darkness, she headed for the kitchen. She could find her way around the house blindfolded, had done so many times during games of Blind Man’s Bluff with her sister. “You act like you’re in hiding.”
A dimmed swag light revealed the kitchen table crammed with foil-covered dishes and platters. Her mouth watered at the unmistakable aroma of Mrs. Boone’s green bean casserole, Mr. Dunne’s barbequed chicken and Miss Eva’s cinnamon rolls, along with many other specialties just as familiar.
Cassie made room on the table for the sacks. She tore her glance away from the enticing spread and studied Tanner, only to discover something even more tempting—vulnerability.
“You bet I’m hiding, Cassie. I haven’t had a minute’s peace since I set foot into this house. People have been coming out of the woodwork in droves. Look at all this.” He gestured at the food, then glanced back at her. “I didn’t even notice you had the sacks or I would’ve carried them for you. Sorry. It’s just that I’m…I’m…”
“Flustered?” The corners of her mouth involuntarily turned upward. Nothing was more adorable than a flustered male. Adorable? Tanner? She didn’t want to go there. “Surely you’ve been in small towns before. We pride ourselves on friendliness.”
“I’ve worked in hundreds, but never lived in one.”
“Hundreds? That’s a lot of traveling. What kind of work do you do?” Although she already knew the answer, she wanted Tanner to talk about himself. Something told her that he’d be furious to know an investigator had reported on most aspects of his life.
“Carpentry. And I own a construction company.”
When Cassie had first learned of Tanner’s chosen field, she had felt an instant kinship with him, sight unseen. Now that she’d met him, so restless, closed off, and full of anger, she knew not to read anything into the fact they both owned their own company and enjoyed working with their hands. He had the most beautiful hands, large and tanned….
She shook her head and forced herself to focus on her plan. If he wanted to be truly happy, Tanner needed to understand the importance of roots and accept his birthright. “Construction must be in the blood. That’s how Mr. Frank got his start. Residential, mostly. Then he expanded with businesses related to construction—a hardware store, remodeling and repair. But I guess you already know that.”
“I’m strictly commercial.” Tanner folded his arms against his chest and his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt. “I know all I need to know about my grandfather. He was used to getting his own way.”
Tanner was bullheaded. Just like his grandfather. “Yes, well, most successful people are. And if you don’t know it already, the remodeling business I own belonged to your grandfather until two years ago.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s pretty young to buy and think you can run your own business.”
“Twenty-three isn’t that young when you consider I had worked for your grandfather for nine years before that. My father had left me a little money, so between that and a loan, I was able to offer Mr. Frank a fair price. You can check the papers you got from Mr. Samuels.”
“I don’t care about any of that.” Tanner ran a hand through his thick black hair and paced, his boots pounding against the hardwood floor. “This is what I don’t get.” He gestured at the food. “What do these people want from me?”
Cassie’s heart ached from Tanner’s dismissal of his grandfather, a man she had grown to love as surely as if he’d been a blood relative. She had to make Tanner see how much his grandfather cursed his own pride and stubbornness that had driven away family, that he had loved Tanner, regretted not being in his life, and had wanted to make up for the mistakes he’d made. “All these people want is to make you feel welcome, show how much they respected your grandfather.”
“But why would they care what I think? They don’t know me.”
“You’re a Fairfax. That’s all they need to know.” She grabbed the chilled gallon of milk, then the eggs, bread, cheeses and coffee from one sack. From the other, she gently removed a small pot of ivy, napkins and other paper products.
Tanner stopped pacing and stared at her as if she’d swapped the denim hat she wore for a bucket. “It’s that simple?”
“Yep. And I’m warning you, if you haven’t gotten an invitation to dinner from my mother yet, it’s coming.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been in town one day.”
