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“Like I said, news travels fast.”
“Why would your mother invite me to dinner?”
Cassie smiled patiently. “She went to school with your dad. They were sweethearts once. Later on, Mom took care of your grandmother until she died, and then did the same for your grandfather. They treated Mom, my sister and me like family.”
He shook his head and frowned. “I just don’t get it.”
“You will. Eventually.” At least, Cassie hoped that someday soon he’d realize family and roots meant everything. She carried the plant over to the sink and placed the ivy on the window ledge above it.
“Is that some kind of plant? What are you doing?”
“Someone threw out the plants that used to be in here. So, I brought a replacement.” She untangled the vines and smiled. Perfect. “The kitchen looks more cozy already.”
“Cozy? I don’t care about cozy. And I certainly can’t take it with me, since I’m never home.”
She could almost see the protective walls form around him. “I can’t imagine not wanting a place to feel like home, even for a little while.” But then, she decorated the inside of her van.
“Look, home is just an apartment where I collect the mail and clean clothes and that’s the way I like it.”
Cassie guessed that finding himself completely alone at seventeen had shattered any illusions about home and hearth. Although nothing could bring back his parents, she could help him connect to a part of his family he’d never known. But first, he needed to forgive his grandfather.
Boy, did she ever have her work cut out for her. “Fine,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll take care of the plant for you.” She held up a can of coffee. “I didn’t know what brand, but guessed you at least wanted caffeine.”
“Definitely.” His expression even more puzzled, he approached the table. “How much do I owe you for the groceries?” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.
She waved away the offer. “If you pay, then I’ll have to assume that because my gift isn’t homemade it doesn’t measure up. I’m not much of a cook or a baker, so I can’t compete with all this wonderful food.”
“That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Good.” She grinned. “Here’s rule number two in a small town—when someone is nice to you, a simple thank you is enough.”
She expected some sort of resistance, either a rationalization to pay, or even the return of his earlier wariness. Instead, his dark gaze grew warm, the firm lines of his mouth softened. His expression held something that unnerved her even more—interest.
Tanner snapped out of his flustered fog, jolted by Cassie’s lighthearted explanation of why he should put back his wallet. She could have just as easily pouted or acted insulted by his offer of money. How refreshing. He smiled. “Thank you.”
Her eyes grew wide, her face flushed. She fidgeted with the denim hat that covered most of her rich brown hair. Not many women pulled off wearing hats, in his opinion, but it looked natural on Cassie.
“You—you’re welcome.”
In fact, he suspected she’d look good in just about anything. Tonight, instead of overalls, faded jeans outlined dangerous curves. A sleeveless blouse revealed well-defined arms. Bright-pink toenails poked out of sandals, the vivid, feminine color a further reminder that she was all woman.
As if he could forget.
She inched backward toward the kitchen door. “I—I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night,” she said, then left.
Tanner walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He untucked his shirt and used it as a towel, hoping to also wipe away the image now firm in his mind of Cassie’s tempting package of curves and muscle, firmness and warmth.
Damn. He wanted to see Cassie as just a hired hand, not a woman. She was too sentimental and emotional. Tears had threatened at the mention of his power-hungry grandfather. She’d reacted to a smile and a thank you the way some women responded to a compliment or flowers.
Yes, he had derived satisfaction from managing to fluster her. And he couldn’t deny he was glad, even grateful, to discover that she also felt the chemistry between them. But he’d ignore the attraction. One reason had brought him to New Haven—to inherit the house in order to sell it.
Thirty days and counting. After that, the entire town could swarm Fairfax House. He’d be gone.
Saturday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Cassie knocked on the kitchen door of Fairfax House and braced herself to see Tanner again. She just hoped he wouldn’t mention her frazzled state last night, which had been entirely his fault. His unexpected smile had softened his features and reminded her of how moments earlier she’d found him adorable. Then he’d given her that look.
Once home and in her own bed, she’d tossed and turned for hours. Had she imagined the curiosity in his gaze? If her instincts were correct, would any interest on his part prove a complication or an asset in her attempt to convince him to remain at Fairfax House?
No. The tantalizing notion wouldn’t get another thought. Besides just being plain wrong to capitalize on whatever chemistry existed between them, she’d never been one to do things the easy way.
The aroma of strong coffee and cinnamon streamed through the screen door and made serious thinking difficult. Her mouth watered, her stomach grumbled, and she silently cursed her weakness for sweets. She didn’t need any distractions.
She wanted something from Tanner Fairfax, something she could almost taste, the way she could already taste the perfect blend of cinnamon and sugars in Miss Eva’s famous rolls. She didn’t care if Tanner acted bitter, suspicious, flustered or even flirty. She’d deal with whatever he threw at her.
“Come in.” He held the door open.
“Thanks.” She stepped inside. Her determination to act naturally took a nosedive at the sight of Tanner, obviously fresh out of the shower. Drops of water clung to his hair. A navy T-shirt outlined his broad chest. Gray gym shorts revealed tanned, lean, muscular legs.
So, her customer was attractive. Not a problem.
She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts back to business. “Before I forget, another customer still has my wallpaper books. I can have them here in a day or so, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” The door banged shut as he walked across the kitchen, his weathered sneakers silent on the tiled floor. “How about coffee and a roll before you start? This good food shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded at two places already set with paper plates and napkins at the kitchen table.
She didn’t know what to make of his almost formal manner, the polite smile. Not a smidgen of curiosity. Apparently, she’d tossed and turned for no reason last night.
She was okay with that, though. Polite, she could handle. “Only a fool would turn down that offer.” She took a seat, determined to keep things light, friendly, but still professional, in order to win his trust.
“Butter?” he asked.
With a guilty start she shook her head and turned her thoughts to the safer topic of breakfast. She unwound a portion of the roll coated with homemade icing, tore off a piece and popped it in her mouth.
“Heaven,” she murmured, savoring the sinfully rich confection, heavy on the cinnamon and some other blend of spices which remained Miss Eva’s secret. Bit by bit, she unraveled the roll, enjoying each delicious bite.
She glanced up to find Tanner staring at her. “What’s wrong? Do I have a frosting mustache or something?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “Nothing like that. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone eat a roll like that before.”
“When something is this good, I try to make it last even longer. Don’t worry, though. With wallpapering, I charge by the roll, not the hour.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin next to her plate. Teetering on the edge of sugar overload, she took a sip of coffee as strong as the aroma had promised.
Over the rim of her cup she caught him studying her as if she were a complex blueprint. What had she said or done?
“I’m not worried.” He nudged his plate away, having already inhaled two buttered rolls before she’d finished one. Obviously, he didn’t share her tendency to savor. “I didn’t mean to rush you,” he continued, “you were on time this morning, which is refreshing in itself.”
“I can’t take credit for that. I live across the street in Mrs. Boone’s upstairs apartment.”
He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Seems like I was recently told that when someone says something nice to you, a simple thank you is enough.”
She smiled, surprised and much too pleased by his sudden shift from impersonal politeness to friendly bantering. “A quick study. I like that. And you got points last night for not commenting on the fact that I don’t cook or bake.”
“Big deal. I’ve never spent any time in a kitchen, either.”
“But my mom and sister put Martha Stewart to shame.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” She much preferred this relaxed version of Tanner over the guarded one, for the sake of keeping her promise to Mr. Frank, of course. She had to earn Tanner’s trust. “Have you checked out the barn yet?”
“It was locked. I’ll call the lawyer about a key.”
“A spare key is in the broom closet. You’ll love the barn, Tanner. There’s so much history in it. Right now, it’s just storage for your grandfather’s old Thunderbird, but when your great-grandfather lived here, this house was actually out in the country and he traded horses. The town spread out until Fairfax House ended up in the middle of town. You’re allowed to keep the barn because it’s the original structure.”
Her cellular phone rang. “Excuse me, Tanner.” Cassie dug the phone out of a bib pocket and checked the phone number. Good. “It’s my painter. I’ll just be a minute.” She put the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Georgie.”
“Hi, Cas. I’m on my way to Mr. Dibble’s place. And I wanted to thank you again for letting me off early yesterday. Emily scored the team’s only goal!”
Cassie grinned as she pictured the curly-haired six-year-old in her purple-and-white uniform. “Not a problem, Georgie. Looks like I owe her an ice-cream cone.”
“Now, Cas, it isn’t necessary to bribe. She lives to tear up the field.”
“I know. But she’s so cute, I’d end up treating her anyway. Oh, and in case you forgot, wait a while after you ring Mr. Dibble’s doorbell. He uses a walker and might take a while to get to the door. And don’t waste much time going over paint chips. He always ends up choosing the original color.”
“Okay. I’ll check in later, then. Bye.”
“Bye.” Cassie hung up and dropped the phone into a pocket, aware that she didn’t have any time to waste, either. She had less than a month to make Tanner feel connected to Fairfax House, to New Haven.
“Is your business a family operation?” Tanner’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
“No. There’s only me. But I’m all for the idea. I think a family that works together, stays together.” She had observed too many couples drift apart while chasing after different dreams; her sister was a perfect example.
Tanner looked as if he’d taken a bite of lemon. No surprise there.
“Why do you ask?” she persisted.
He shrugged. “I just assumed. Why else would you know if a worker is hurting for money, or if their kid has a game?”
Cassie smiled. Questions, the first sign of interest. “That’s the beauty of small-town life. It’s second nature to me, since I’ve either grown up with or around these people. I always prefer to use local subcontractors, people I can trust.” When she cared, remembering the important things was easy. “I take it things are a little different where you come from?”
“You could say that.”
Darn. A closed door. Somehow, she needed to spark Tanner’s interest in the house, in his family history. Maybe she should start with what fascinated her the most about the mansion. “This may sound crazy, but I have a favor to ask.”
Tanner raised his eyebrows. “A favor?”
She rarely allowed distractions during work, but she had more than one job to do. The price and the time frame for the repairs to the kitchen had already been agreed upon. Her other job, her promise to do all she could to convince Tanner to make Fairfax House his home, was a freebie, no invoice required. “Would you mind if I went upstairs for a look-see?”
“Do you suspect more water damage?”
“No. The damage was limited to the separate roof above the kitchen. This is sort of personal.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’ve been in this house many times, but my sister and I were never allowed to go upstairs. It seems silly, I know, but the spiral staircase always reminded me of a beanstalk.”
She paused and grinned. “I desperately wanted to be like Jack and climb that sucker. Later, when I got closer to Mr. Frank, it seemed too much of an invasion of privacy to ask. Not to mention sort of odd. But I’ve always wondered what was so special or scary about the upstairs that kept it out of bounds.”
“But you’ve been working in this house. If it was that big of a deal, why didn’t you just look on your own?”
“I was tempted. But it felt disrespectful.”
“Some willpower.”
“Tell me about it. But now that you’re the owner, I won’t feel guilty if you say it’s okay.”
Tanner unfolded his long frame. Dark eyes shined with amusement. “Lead the way.”
“Great.” She hurried through the parlor and formal living room to the ornate staircase, breathless with anticipation. The last time she recalled feeling this excited was as a child on Christmas morning. Well, maybe as an adult last Christmas. She hadn’t changed that much. The fact that Tanner followed closely behind only added to her eagerness.
Maybe she could hook his interest with one of her favorite stories. “This staircase originally came down into the dining room. Your grandmother mentioned how much better it would look this way, and the next day Mr. Frank brought in an architect. He would’ve done just about anything for her.” Anything except admit he’d been wrong about what mattered to her most—their son.
Cassie paused at the bottom step. The stairs seemed to have shrunk over the past twenty years, but what lay beyond was huge and she felt daunted by the immense responsibility before her. She had learned not to take promises lightly; she would not let Mr. Frank down.
“Go on.” Tanner urged. “But don’t get your hopes up. I did a quick inspection last night—I was too beat from driving straight through to do more. It’s just hallways and rooms.”
Cassie refused to buy into his pessimism. Although she had asked to explore as a ruse to snare Tanner’s interest in his family, she was still excited to finally have the chance to appease her curiosity.
She slowly made her way up the wooden steps, trailing her hand along the smooth banister. She’d waited a long time for this opportunity and wanted to savor every moment. “I’ll bet Mr. Frank is smiling right now. He always warned me that I had an overactive imagination.”
“I don’t get it, Cassie. Once you got older, what made you want to hang around an old guy you weren’t even related to?”
Her plan had worked! More questions, the first step toward understanding. “My father died when I was nine. My mom and sister found comfort in doing things together. Cooking, baking, sewing. Things I was dreadful at. That’s why I enjoyed puttering around with my dad in the yard and garage so much.” Having lost that connection, she’d never felt so alone in her life. And guilty.
Just before her father passed away, he’d asked her to promise to be less of a tomboy. Her mother didn’t need more to worry about, and she fretted that Cassie would never fit in. Once he was gone, they would all need to lean on one another.
Cassie had tried to act more like her sister, a girlie-girl, but it proved such a bad fit, she’d given up. So much for keeping promises. “Your grandfather, bless his heart, saw how lost I was and found things for me to do around this house.”
She realized, looking back, that the old man had been just as lost as that frightened young girl. Before long, she even thought of the house as a lost soul—locked in dark colors and heavy wood, unhappiness and regret in every corner.
Such a treasure deserved a second chance. If Tanner decided to put down roots in New Haven he could bring the house into the light, turn it into a home, not just a pristine, cold showcase.
More importantly, though, Tanner would have found where he truly belonged. He’d lost so much already. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one.” Cassie opened the door and strolled inside the room, surprised to find she had been holding her breath.
Darn. Just peach-colored walls, elegant furniture and a lingering scent of mothballs.
Tanner followed Cassie inside the room. He pictured her, lonely and missing her dad, racing off to do repairs in the old house, and felt a sharp tug on his heart.
He knew how working with your hands could soothe your soul. After he’d lost his parents in a car wreck when he was seventeen, a nonprofit group called Mentors, Inc. had hooked him up with a master carpenter who specialized in framing and building cabinets on-site.
Tanner had thrown himself into the part-time job to curb his loneliness. Wood was solid, yet he could coax it to his will. He determined the shape, texture, even the color. Control of any kind had worked like a bandage against the open sore of helplessness that had raged inside of him.
He doubted he’d have to explain to Cassie how that job had become a lifeline to an angry, scared kid in search of direction and purpose.
At least he’d been old enough to declare himself emancipated, and could make his own decisions about his future. He had stayed with neighbors, who were also close friends to his parents, until he graduated from high school and got his own apartment. Man, he hadn’t thought about those dark times in ages. Didn’t care to, either. He’d rather contemplate the fascinating woman next to him who was real, unpretentious and obviously unaware of her effect on him.
