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Those words, more than any spoken thus far, brought the truth home to Lindy. Pops was gone. She was alone. Chester’s voice droned in her ears, but like Reverend Hollister’s eulogy yesterday, Lindy couldn’t concentrate on the words.
Never-to-be-repeated scenes filled her memory. Pops tucking a frightened little girl into bed, reminding her that her parents would always be alive in her heart. Pops feeding her cheese grits and wiping away her tears as she struggled through the forgettable woes of puberty. Pops welcoming her home after she’d left Atlanta like a coward, slipping away without a word to her husband.
How would she survive without his strength? His love? Her knees knocked together and her teeth began to chatter.
I’m losing it.
No, she couldn’t lose control. She locked her knees and clenched her jaw. Pops would not appreciate a weepy show of emotions. Respect for the man who’d raised her since she’d been orphaned at the age of eight demanded she pack away her tears.
Determinedly, she dragged her attention back to Chester, who was still reading her grandfather’s words out loud.
“…a long and happy life. I’ve done a few things I’m not proud of, and I’ve thanked God every day of my life for the love of a good woman. Lindy girl, you’re a lot like your grandmother. You’ve got her good heart. I can only hope you turn out to be as understanding and forgiving as my Muriel.”
A postmortem apology? Lindy couldn’t contain the sob that hiccuped from between her lips.
Her skin tingled as Travis’s hand intertwined with hers. She tried to jerk away, but his fingers flexed, holding her hand in place. The strength of his grip offered much-needed reassurance. Her fingers relaxed beneath his. Lindy knew his support was temporary. But for a moment, she didn’t feel so alone.
“Lindy girl,” Chester’s voice continued, but the words were pure Pops, “I’ve loved you since the night you drew your first breath. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. In the months to come, I hope you can remember that.
“So, to the business at hand. I, Lionel Charles Lewis, leave my entire estate to my granddaughter, Lindy Lewis Monroe, and her husband, Travis Monroe. I make but one stipulation. For a period of no less than one hundred and fifty-four days, they must both reside at the Lewis Family Farm as husband and wife. Should either party refuse, my entire estate shall become a refuge for New Zealand swamp frogs. Neither party shall benefit in any way from this transaction.”
No, Pops. That’s over. He never wanted me.
Travis’s grip became painful, but Lindy welcomed the discomfort, sure that without it, she’d have slid to the floor.
Turning her head to study Travis, she found him staring holes into Chester. She noted the muscle jumping again at his jawline. Angry waves rolled off him.
His anger didn’t have anything on hers. For him, this was just a bump in the road. She could lose everything.
“How dare he!” Lindy pulled her hand free from Travis’s iron grip and jumped to her feet. “How dare you write that fool thing up, Chester. You can’t really expect us to honor such drivel.”
“Trust me, girl, I did everything I could to talk him out of it, but you know how stubborn he was. I knew if I didn’t draft the papers, he’d find someone else who would. Someone less discreet.” Chester’s mouth folded into a grim frown.
Lindy stalked around the guest chairs, into the open space in the middle of the room. She needed to move before she exploded. One hundred and fifty-four days. She’d lose her mind, cooped up with Travis for that long.
And what the hell were New Zealand swamp frogs?
Lindy paced to the door and back, rubbing her fingertips against her throbbing temples. Her heart pounded against her chest hard enough to bruise the skin.
Travis remained frozen in his chair, narrowed eyes riveted to Chester.
“Why, Chester?” she asked. “Why did he do this? And such an odd time period? What’s the significance of one hundred fifty-four days?”
“Lionel felt the two of you gave up too soon. A marriage takes time and work, especially when you hit a rough patch.” The old man leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his rounded belly. “One hundred and fifty-four days is how long the two of you lived together as man and wife.”
Stunned, Lindy stopped pacing. The muscles in her legs went limp. She slithered into her vacant chair.
She’d been certain one hundred and fifty-four days was forever. But as a measuring stick for her marriage, it sounded pathetically short.
The desk chair squeaked as Chester sat forward. “Lionel figured if he forced you two together, you’d find a way to work things out. He didn’t want pride or fear to cause you to wait until it was too late.” His voice gentled. “He knew tying up the farm was the only way to get you to make a move, Lindy.”
Her grandfather’s best friend swiveled his chair, meeting Travis’s stare. After silently studying the younger man for several long seconds, Chester spoke, his gentle tone forgotten.
“Lionel spoke highly of you, young man. Felt certain you’d be there for Lindy if her dreams were threatened. I’d say the fact you haven’t already stormed out of here proves the old goat got a few things right, even if his method was a little off.”
“A little off!” Lindy leaped back to her feet. “He’s trying to control our lives. Did he really think we’d just roll over and say, ‘Oh, what the heck? The old man’s probably got a point. Why don’t we just ignore what we want and give this a shot?’”
Travis’s hand rested on her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him stand. She didn’t shrug off the contact, but she did resist the urge to lean backward. It would be so easy to lose herself in the temporary security of his arms.
“Lindy, calm down.” He tenderly squeezed her shoulder. “Your grandfather must’ve known he wasn’t well. What he’s done is meddlesome. And insulting. But I think it was his way of looking out for you.”
“Why can’t anyone see I can take care of myself!” Hands fisted, she itched to pace, but there was nowhere left to go. Dominating men surrounded her.
Travis’s other hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her so quickly she nearly lost her balance. She raised her face to his, shocked to see anger boiling in his eyes.
“That’s always been your biggest problem.” Travis’s voice was low, despite the way his chest heaved. His hands fell from her shoulders and he took a step backward, as if he didn’t trust himself not to take a swing at her. She’d never seen this side of Travis.
“Just because you’re capable of taking care of everything yourself doesn’t mean you’ve failed if you let someone else handle things sometimes. Or, God forbid, share the burden. You think your fears make you weak.” He pivoted with military precision, turning his back on her, stalking to the window.
“Being strong doesn’t mean doing it all by yourself,” he told her over his shoulder. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to trust someone than it does to go it alone.”
Tears burned Lindy’s eyes. “When you trust someone and they let you down, it hurts worse than going it alone!”
“Yeah, I know.” Travis turned and found her eyes. “You taught me that lesson.”
Travis stared out the study window, searching the clouds for answers, ignoring Chester Warfield’s perusal. An awkward, suffocating silence engulfed the room.
What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t let Lindy lose her home, her dreams. On the other hand, he didn’t think he could endure one hundred and fifty-four days of living with a woman who so obviously despised him.
Surely he could find a way to fix this. He needed a plan. First step, get his attorney involved. If anyone could find a loophole in the will, it was Brad Middleton. They needed a valid reason to contest the insane terms of the will.
Whoa. Maybe that was it. The terms were unquestionably insane. If they could claim—
“You’re thinking too hard, boy,” Warfield declared, breaking into Travis’s thoughts. “Say what’s on your mind.”
He turned and faced his wife. “How about having Lionel declared incompetent and ruling the changes invalid?”
“What!” Lindy’s cheeks bloomed with angry color.
Warfield ignored her outburst. “If you could convince a judge Lionel wasn’t in his right mind, you could probably get the will overturned. Only problem is, there isn’t a person in this county, hell, the whole state, that would say Lionel Lewis was anything other than ornery and stubborn. And those aren’t grounds for incompetency.”
“I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing!” Lindy’s fists balled at her sides. “There’s no way I’d do or say anything to ruin my grandfather’s good name.”
Trying to ignore his wife, Travis turned his concentration to the attorney. He needed all the facts before he took action.
“So, as things stand, in order for Lindy to inherit the farm, I’ve got to move in with her for a period of one hundred and fifty-four days?”
Warfield nodded. “Correct.”
Roughly five months. Long enough to earn her forgiveness? Maybe. Maybe not.
“Do we have to sleep together every night?” he asked.
“Ex-cuse me?”
Neither man acknowledged Lindy’s outburst, but Travis rephrased his question. “Do we both have to be in residence on the farm every night during that time period? I have a business to run. What if I need to travel?”
Warfield rubbed his chin as though contemplating the question, but Travis noticed the smile he fought to hide. Apparently the old man was beginning to enjoy Travis’s dilemma.
“While short business trips are a common component of married life these days, the intention is for the two of you to spend time together. Therefore, you must limit yourself to no more than three nights away per month.”
“Darned fool,” Lindy grumbled from across the room. Travis wasn’t sure exactly which one of them she referred to.
“Does ‘husband and wife’ imply anything other than living under the same roof? Presenting ourselves as a couple in the community?” Travis wouldn’t put anything past Lindy’s grandfather at this point. Not even manipulating their sex life.
“No. The wording was chosen to ensure you both reside at the farmhouse without any other live-in guests.” The attorney leaned forward in his chair, stacking his forearms on the desk. “I know this is hard for the two of you to believe, but Lionel thought he’d be doing you a favor by arranging this.”
“Bull—” Lindy reentered the conversation with a very unladylike comment. “If Pops thought I’d be grateful for this little scheme, he wouldn’t have kept it secret. He knew I’d be pissed. He also knew I’d consider it if it was my only way to keep the farm.”
“It’s not the only way, Lindy,” Travis said, but he knew it was. She’d never endorse petitioning for Lionel’s incompetency.
“Yes, it is. I won’t ruin his reputation. Not for anything in this world. And that includes the farm.”
“Final question.” Travis readdressed the attorney. “What happens after we serve the hundred fifty-four days?”
Warfield no longer bothered to hide his smile. The old man was definitely getting a kick out of this.
“That’s between you and your wife, Mr. Monroe.”
Chapter Three
The next morning, Lindy stood before her closet, surveying her wardrobe. Did she really own two dozen pairs of jeans? Yep. And five sets of overalls? Yep, again.
Where were her girl clothes?
Bypassing her extensive denim collection, she dug far in the back of her closet and unearthed the most feminine thing she owned, a periwinkle-blue dress with a full skirt and three-quarter-length sleeves. Ah, yes. This should do just fine.
Not bothering with the back zipper, she tugged the dress over her head and smoothed the fabric over her hips until the hem fell to her midcalves. The lightweight jersey knit clung to her curves. And the color certainly set off her eyes.
She fluffed her curls, dabbed on her favorite floral perfume, and pulled out her only tube of lipstick. Pursing her colored lips, she twisted in front of the mirror, surveying herself from every direction. Despite the dark circles under her eyes, she looked ready to handle today’s mission.
She’d tossed and turned all night, struggling to find a way out of this mess. Around one in the morning, a crazy idea had popped into her head. By the time she got out of bed this morning at five-thirty, the idea had grown into a full-fledged plan. Now, she just had to find the courage to see it through.
Once she refused to honor the will, she’d be on her own. If she wanted to make a success of Country Daze without involving Travis in her grandfather’s crazy scheme, she needed cash.
This morning’s trip to the bank was the first step. She refused to let her dreams slip through her fingers again. Making Country Daze a reality had saved her sanity over the past year. She’d lost Travis, their child and now Pops. Her dream was all she had left.
Down on her knees, she rummaged through the boots and dirty sneakers on her closet floor, digging up a comfy pair of sandals. Before she lost her nerve, she slipped them on and dashed downstairs, ducking into the kitchen to grab her keys just as Alice Robertson let herself in the back door.
Her neighbor let out a wolf whistle that would’ve made any construction worker proud. “Lord Almighty. You look like a girl.”
“I sure hope so.” Despite the heaviness in her heart, Lindy put her hands on her hips and struck a runway pose. “Girls are the best bait for a manhunt.”
Alice raised one red brow. “Gracious, child, no need to set out the bait. You could have any man in Holcombe County with just the wiggle of one finger.”
Yeah, right.
“I think I’ll stick to my plan.” She bussed her lips across Alice’s cheek. “Wish me luck.”
“Whatever you’re up to, that dress oughta be all the luck you need.”
Lindy grabbed a sweater off the hall rack and raced outside to Pops’s old truck, anxious to get this charade behind her. Her stomach felt like one huge ball of nerves. At three o’clock this morning, she’d been sure her idea was foolproof. Under the bright lights of morning, though, doubts crept in. Pressing her foot against the accelerator, Lindy increased her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and did her best to block out her second thoughts.
At precisely nine o’clock, she parked her old truck in the front row of the People’s Bank Building. More than ready to escape the close confines of the cab, she snatched her purse off the bench seat and quickly hopped down.
Pretending to rummage through her purse, she stood at the curb for a minute, gulping in fresh air and willing her heart rate to settle. She hated this whole weak-kneed, churning-stomach feeling she got every time she forced herself to drive.
With a final loud exhale, she walked through the double glass doors and entered the bank’s lobby. Pinning a confident smile in place, she approached the woman who’d been the bank’s receptionist for over twenty years.
“Good morning, Mrs. Carstairs.”
“Good morning, Lindy dear. I sure was sorry to hear about Lionel.”
Lindy’s face curved into the same grateful expression she used every time she heard that sentiment. Pops had been such a popular man, she knew she’d still be accepting condolences a year from now.
“Thank you. How’s Lucy doing?”
“She’s carrying low. Sure sign the baby’s a boy.”
Lindy felt a twinge of envy, but pushed it aside. “That’s fantastic.” She rested one hand on the faux-marble reception desk and flattened the other over her twittering stomach. This was it. No more stalling. Time to do what had to be done.
“Is Mr. Harper in this morning?” No turning back now.
The receptionist’s penciled-on eyebrows rose. “Why certainly, dear. Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Resisting the urge to make a break for it and forget the whole thing, she settled into an overstuffed chair. In less than two minutes, Mark Harper appeared from behind a wall of smoky glass. His ever-present pocket protector overflowed with pens and his thick glasses hung precariously on the tip of his nose. He was still too thin for his height and he needed a haircut. And he represented her only chance at escaping this predicament.
Hating herself for what she was about to do, Lindy imposed a fake wobble in her voice and extended her hand to one of the nicest guys she’d ever known. “Mark, thanks for seeing me.”
“N-no problem, Lindy. Come on in.” He placed his hand on her back and ushered her into his office. His perspiration dampened the material at her waist.
Yep. She was about to do a really despicable thing. But Pops had her cornered.
Fifteen minutes later, Lindy stormed out of the bank building, so angry she didn’t know whether to spit or cry. Unfortunately she could do neither in the middle of the town square.
Focused solely on getting the hell out of Dodge before she lost control of her temper and no longer cared about making a public spectacle of herself, Lindy blindly marched to her truck.
A creative string of curses dripped off her tongue as she dug into her purse for her keys. A familiar whiff of cedar drifting on a sea breeze distracted her. She raised her head, pointed her nose into the wind, and walked straight into the source of the smell.
