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“You’re not telling me the whole story here, are you, Mr. Riley? And I’m not going anywhere with you until you do.”
“Call me Mack,” he replied, a look of resolve coloring his eyes. He cranked the truck, motioned toward the seat. “And I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Summer had learned all about deceit on the streets of New York, from working with women who lived through the worst kind of deception and deprivation. She could smell it a mile away. “I think you know more about my grandparents than you’re telling me. And I want to hear the truth, all of it.”
He let out a long sigh, as if he didn’t know how to handle such a direct statement. “I said I know them. Can’t that be enough for now?”
“Nope,” Summer replied, smiling sweetly. “You might not be dangerous or a wanted man, but you’re being mighty quiet about my grandparents. And I want to know why.”
He looked up and down the long road, then nodded. “I guess you deserve an explanation. Get in and I’ll give you one, I promise.”
Mack Riley stared over at the assertive, no-non-sense woman sitting in his truck. She was a looker, no doubt about that. He’d heard enough about Summer Maxwell to know, though, that all that long blond hair and those bright-blue eyes couldn’t hide the fact that she was also very intelligent and sharp.
Too sharp. And right now, not too trusting, either.
What was he supposed to tell the woman? That he knew her grandparents on a first-name basis. That he also knew her rich, jet-setting parents, through conversations with Jesse and Martha, and through having met them on the rare occasions they decided to drop in and check on Summer’s grandparents. That he recognized her now, from the many pictures of her growing up that Martha had displayed in her living room. And that he knew enough about Summer herself to fill a book and his own needy imagination.
Mack wasn’t ready to open up and have a heart-to-heart with this intriguing woman. Not yet. So he did what he’d always been so very good at doing. He tried to avoid the issue.
“I’m waiting,” Summer said, causing him to glance over at her.
He tried to deflect that in-your-face-look. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say, or where to begin. Okay, I do know your folks—real well. Is that a crime?”
“Oh, no,” she said, folding her arms as she stared at him. “The crime would be in you withholding information from me. And I think you are. You said you’d explain things. So start talking. Just tell me—is one of them sick? Has something happened, something terrible, that I don’t know about?”
Mack made a turn onto yet another long highway. “They’re both just fine,” he said. “But…a lot has happened over the last few months. When was the last time you talked to them?”
“I saw them at Uncle Stuart’s funeral,” Summer replied, her blue eyes going dark. “They invited me to come home for a visit. I told them I’d think about it. I did, and so here I am.”
“That funeral was over two months ago,” he said, reasoning that she might not know all that had happened since then after all.
“Yes. But they both seemed fine, in good health. Of course, we were all upset about Uncle Stuart.”
“So you didn’t call ahead, to let them know you were coming?”
She squirmed a bit. “No. I didn’t want them to worry since I decided to drive across the country. I wanted to take my time, do a little sightseeing.”
Mack got the feeling she hadn’t noticed the scenery on her long trip home. Maybe she’d just needed some down time.
He could understand that.
“Well, they’ll be surprised, that’s for sure.”
Then he witnessed some of that famous temper Martha had told him about.
“Listen, mister, I’m getting very bad vibes here. You’re scaring me. If there’s something I need to know about my grandparents, good or bad, then you’d better spit it out.”
Mack stopped the truck in front of the old two-story white farmhouse that had been the Creswell home for many years.
Summer looked up at the house. “Oh, we’re here.”
“Yes,” he said, hating to be the one to break the news to her. “But…there is something you need to know.”
“I knew it,” she said, her expression grim. “Something bad has happened, right?”
Mack looked at the house, then back to Summer Maxwell, deciding he’d have to be up front with her. There was just no other way. “Depends on how you look at things,” he said, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
“Because?”
“Because, well, Summer, your grandparents no longer own this house.”
“What?” She opened the door of the truck and ran around to stand in the tree-lined yard, her gaze moving from him to the house and back. “What do you mean?” she asked as she turned and stomped back to him.
Mack got out of the truck, dread filling his heart. “I mean, your grandparents decided to sell out and move. Your dad bought them this fancy patio apartment in a new retirement village about a mile up the road.”
“He did what?” Summer shouted, her vivid eyes flashing a fire that only added to her obviously fiery nature. “I can’t believe this! He sold their home? How could he do that? Memaw and Papaw have lived here for over fifty years.”
“I know,” Mack said, wishing he could soften this news for her. “I know all about this house.”
“Oh, yeah. And how come you know so much about all of this?”
Mack glanced at the house, then down at his scuffed work boots. Then he lifted his head and looked straight into Summer’s fighting-mad blue eyes.
“Because I own it now,” he said. “Your daddy sold this house and the surrounding land to me.”
Chapter Two
Summer blinked. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right? Did you say you own this house now?”
Mack Riley nodded, shifted his feet, let out a long sigh. “I bought it fair and square about a month ago.”
Summer blew at the wispy bangs slanting across her face, one hand on her hip as she wondered whether just to let him have it and get it over with, or wait and attack her father instead. “Fair and square? Fair and square? Yeah, I’ll just bet my father sold it to you fair and square. How in the world did he get them to agree to this?”
Mack stepped closer, holding his hands out palms up, as if to protect himself. Which wasn’t a bad idea right now, by Summer’s way of thinking. “Your grandparents seem happy with the arrangement. In case you haven’t noticed, this house is old and in great need of repair, and…well, your grandparents are in about the same shape.”
She advanced. “And just who are you to be telling me about my own grandparents?”
He stepped closer, no fear in his eyes. More like defiance and that resolve she’d seen earlier. Which only made Summer even more mad.
“I’ll tell you who I am,” he said. “I’m about the only one around here who does know about your grandparents. You see, I talk to them on pretty much a daily basis. Your father and mother call every now and then, and you…well, you said yourself you haven’t seen them or talked with them since your uncle’s funeral. So that leaves me. And believe me, I think they are better off in that retirement village. At least there, they’re among friends and near qualified people who can help them.”
Summer couldn’t believe he was standing here preaching to her! “Oh, well, excuse me. Since you obviously know so very much about my shortcomings, and since you are such a saint for watching over my grandparents, I guess that gives you every right to just bully them out of their home.”
“I didn’t bully anybody,” he retorted, his voice low and full of frustration. “I liked the house and knew it was where I wanted to live. So I bought it.”
“Fair and square, of course.”
“Yes. I made them a good offer and they took it. It’s that simple.”
Summer stomped to the truck to get her duffel bag. “Oh, there is nothing simple about this. This…this isn’t right. But then, I should have known a man in cahoots with my wayward father wouldn’t understand the implications of something so horrible.”
“Hey, hold on,” Mack said, taking the bag right out of her hand with surprising ease. “I’m not in cahoots with anyone. I just moved here and needed a place to live. So I bought this house from your father. End of story.”
Summer tapped her platform sneaker against the aged wooden steps of the house, her blood boiling just like the radiator on her car had been doing earlier. She could almost feel the hot steam coming out of her ears. “Oh, I think there is much more to this story, and I intend to find out the whole truth.”
Such as, how had her father become the spokes-person for her grandparents, and if the house was in such bad repair, why hadn’t James Maxwell forked over the funds to renovate his in-laws’ home? It just didn’t make any sense. But lately, nothing much in her life had made any sense.
She turned and headed to the house, then stopped, hitting a palm to her forehead. “Silly me. I can’t stay here now. Not with you.” Then she plopped down on the steps and looked up at him. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Mack had never seen a more dejected sight. A beautiful, uptown blonde in worn jeans and strange shoes, sitting on the broken steps of a hundred-year-old farmhouse, her eyes brilliant with tears she refused to shed, her expression bordering on outrage, and…her hands trembling slightly as she dropped them over her knees.
All of his protective instincts surfaced, reminding him that he’d come here to find some peace and quiet, not get tangled up in a family squabble. But he had to help her, even if she was fighting mad at him, and the world in general. If for no other reason than to get her off his doorstep.
Thinking she didn’t look so bad sitting there, however, he said, “Look, you know there’s plenty of room in the house.”
“I can’t stay here with you,” she repeated, gritting the words between her clenched teeth. “First, I’d rather eat nails than do that, and second, this is a small, old-fashioned town. I wouldn’t want my grandparents to hear any rumors.”
“I admire your stand,” Mack said, daring to sit down on the bottom step. “But even if you did want to stay here, the house is being renovated. There’s very little furniture and the plumbing is barely working. I’m not even living here full-time myself right now. How about you get a room at that motel out on the highway?”
“How about that?” she said, hitting her hand on her knee. “Great, just great. I look forward to a visit home and I get to stay in some fleabag motel. That should help my burnout and stress level a lot.”
Mack could recognize all the signs of her type-A personality. She was a live one. And she looked just about ready to explode into a doozy of a meltdown. The dark circles under her pretty eyes only reminded him of a time when he’d felt the same way. But he sure didn’t know how to help her. Or maybe he was just afraid to help her.
Then Mack lifted his head and glanced over at her. “Hey, what about your parents’ house? They’re in Mexico, last I heard. Won’t be home all summer.”
Summer groaned, laid her head in her hands. “Go to my parents’ house? Oh, that’s just peachy. I hate that overblown facade of a house. All that modern art and fake-rustic country-French charm? Like I want to stay at that overpriced country club of a house!”
“It’s a nice house,” Mack said, thinking it had probably set her parents back a cool million, at least. “And it’s safe—”
“Oh, I know all about the gated community and the exclusive homeowner’s policy, and the golf course and the country club. My mother fairly gushed about it…last time I bothered to talk to her.”
“What is it with you and not talking to your relatives?”
She laughed, the sound bubbling up in her throat like a fresh waterfall hitting rock. “I guess my grandparents didn’t let you in on all the family history, after all. We’re a bit…estranged, my parents and me.”
“Oh, yeah? And why is that?”
Summer pushed at the thick blond hair cascading around her face and shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because they never had any time for me when I was growing up, so now I make it a point never to make any time for them.” Then she gave him a hard glare. “And besides, that’s none of your business.”
He knew he was heading into deep water, but he didn’t get it. “Your parents seem like nice folks. The times I’ve been around them—which is few, I’ll admit—they seem to be happy and fun-loving. I wish I had their kind of carefree energy.”
She gave him a harsh frown. “And I wish they’d use some of that fun-loving, happy, carefree energy on staying in one place. Just once, I wish they’d settle down and actually notice that they have a daughter.”
“You have issues, don’t you?”
“More than you can imagine, buddy.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
She kept staring at him long enough to allow Mack plenty of time to get caught up in the blue of her eyes. “I want to see my grandparents, make sure this is really what they wanted.”
“It is, I promise.”
She jumped up, pointed a finger in his face. “I don’t believe in promises, understand? I’ve been promised so many things that didn’t work out, it’s sickening.”
“Well, I keep my promises, and I’m telling you, Jesse and Martha are doing better than ever.”
“I need to see them,” she said again, her voice going all soft and husky. “I can’t explain things with my parents—it’s a long story and it’s something I have to come to terms with. But…I can tell you that I love my grandparents, and I came home to see them. So can I please just do that, go and see them?”
That gentle plea melted Mack’s defenses with all the slow-moving force of butter meeting honey on a biscuit, and he knew he was a goner. “Want me to take you to Golden Vista?” At her puzzled, raised-eyebrow expression, he added, “The retirement community where your grandparents live.”
“Golden Vista? That just sounds depressing.”
“It’s a nice place. I think your father invested heavily in—”
Summer shot around him, her long-nailed fingers flailing out into the air. “Oh, I get it now. My father invested in this fancy retirement home, so he’s just making sure he covers his assets, right? By forcing my mother’s parents to go and live there? He just gets lower than a snake’s belly with every passing day.”
Mack didn’t know how to deal with so much bitterness and anger spewing from such a sweet-looking mouth. Although there was a time when he’d been the same way, he reminded himself. But not anymore. “I don’t think—”
“I’m not asking you to think,” she countered. “Just give me a ride to this…Grim Reaper Vista.”
“It’s Golden Vista,” he said, hiding a grin behind a cough. At least she was entertaining—in a Texas twister kind of way.
“Whatever. Just get me to my grandparents. I’ll handle things from there.”
Mack could only imagine how this bundle of blond dynamite would handle things.
Not very well, from the looks of her. There was sure to be a whole lot of fallout and carnage left along her pretty, pithy path.
Just one more thing for him to worry about.
One more thing he really didn’t need to be worrying about right now.
“So this is Golden Vista?”
At Mack’s nod, Summer looked around at the rows and rows of compact wood and brick apartments set against the gentle, rolling hills of East Texas. “It looks like some cookie-cutter type of torture chamber or prison.”
Mack grinned over at her, which only made her fold her arms across her waist in defiance. She didn’t want to like him. In fact, she refused to like him. He was the enemy.
“It’s not a torture chamber and it’s certainly not a prison,” he said as he guided the truck up a tree-shaded drive. “The residents here aren’t in a nursing home. It’s called a retirement village. It’s a community, completely self-contained. And very secure. It has lots of benefits for people like your grandparents, looking for a place to retire.”
“I’ll just bet. Retired, as in, shuffleboard in the morning and bingo in the afternoon. My grandparents are probably bored to tears!”
“I’m telling you, they love it,” Mack replied. “They can come and go as they please, and Jesse and Martha do just that. They have a new car—”
“Courtesy of my generous father, I reckon?”
“Uh, yes. It’s a sturdy sedan.”
