A Future to Fight For

by Mindy Obenhaus

  Once inside the musty space, she decided on a quick walk-through before getting started. With Crockett at the gravel plant this morning, she had the perfect opportunity to familiarize herself with the intricacies of the castle. Though, with no one else there, the place was eerily quiet, and every little sound had her twisting to look for its source. At this rate, she’d have whiplash by lunchtime.

  Once she had made her way upstairs, she strolled around the ballroom, smiling as she envisioned brides and grooms dancing beneath sparkling chandeliers. How many times had Angus and Mary Renwick waltzed in here? Paisley had been thinking about the couple ever since Crockett and Molly shared those historical nuggets with her. Learning that a brokenhearted Angus had found love again spoke to the romantic in Paisley and gave her hope that, perhaps, one day she might find love again, too.

  Then again, she’d never be able to duplicate what she and Peter had. They were a perfect match. Saying goodbye had been excruciatingly painful, and if she had to go through that again...

  No, she wasn’t going to go there.

  With a parting glance, she left the ballroom and moved downstairs, making a mental note to pick Crockett’s brain for more of the castle’s history. He sure knew a lot about this place—maybe even more than Molly did—and that information could be helpful for marketing.

  On the main level, she headed to the library, grabbed a roll of packing tape and assembled several boxes. Floor-to-ceiling shelves covered the walls on either side of the fireplace, all laden with novels from a bygone era. At least they were easy to pack, so it shouldn’t take her long. Yet an hour later, she’d barely made a dent. There were far more books than she’d initially thought—so many that she began inventorying them on her phone so she could make Molly aware of what all was there.

  With the aid of the flashlight on her phone, she realized there wasn’t a single volume less than fifty years old and most were much older than that, including first edition copies of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea and Little Women, among other classics.

  When her stomach growled around one thirty, she was more than ready for a break. How could something so simple become so painstaking? She retrieved the ham and cheese sandwich she’d packed in her tote, along with a bag of carrots and a packet of wipes.

  After cleaning her dust-covered hands, she pulled her sandwich from the plastic bag, perched on a gold-and-green wingback chair near the fireplace and mindlessly stared at the carved wooden mantel as she ate. Despite the dim lighting and decades of soot buildup, she soon noticed something more than just a random design. Was that a longhorn?

  She stood, excitement coursing through her as she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her shorts and turned on the flashlight.

  “This is exquisite.” The carving on the front of the mantel was of a cattle drive. Complete with longhorns, cowboys and horses.

  Stepping back, she tried to take in the image as a whole, but there just wasn’t enough light to do it justice. She turned, eyeing the heavy gold brocade curtains. Even though they were open, they still blocked a portion of each of the two smaller windows on either side of a larger one.

  She examined the rods that were near the top of the twelve-foot wall. If she had a ladder, she could take those down. She’d have to run home and grab hers.

  Still nibbling on her sandwich, she wandered into the entry hall, wondering if there was a ladder around here somewhere. After all, people had once called the castle home. She’d been all through the house, though, and hadn’t seen one. Still...

  Maybe in the kitchen.

  Sandwich gone, she dusted off her hands and headed that way, praying she wouldn’t run into any little critters along the way. Pushing through the swinging door, she noticed it was even darker in there. From now on, she needed to bring a flashlight because her phone wasn’t cutting it.

  No signs of a ladder, however there was a door that led outside. Paisley could see a small outbuilding through the window. Problem was, getting there involved walking through a lot of tall weeds and grass. A perfect hiding place for snakes.

  Good thing she’d thrown her rubber boots into her SUV this morning.

  She quickly retrieved them and changed out of her slip-on sneakers before cautiously picking her way through knee-high grass to the old wooden shed with peeling white paint. Lord, please don’t let there be anything unsavory in there.

  Reaching for the door, she noticed the padlock barring her entry. She could only hope one of the keys Molly gave her would open it. Fortunately, they were still in her pocket.

  On her third try, the lock popped open. And right inside the door was a wooden six-foot ladder. Despite its weight, she lugged it back to the house and into the library, grateful for the lightweight aluminum ladders they made today.

  The trio of windows had been dressed as one, and longer rods were always more difficult to maneuver. But she was nothing if not determined. And tomorrow when she came, she was going to bring window cleaning supplies.

  She climbed the ladder, quickly realizing just how high twelve-foot ceilings really were. Even at five foot ten, she had to go all the way to the last rung before she could reach the rod. She attempted to lift it, but it wouldn’t budge. It looked as though it was made of brass. Real brass, not the brass finish they sell nowadays. But why wouldn’t it lift out?

  Further inspection revealed that the pole didn’t simply rest in the brackets, it went through the brackets, making this a two-person job.

  “Well, boo.” In her attempt to straighten, she lost her balance.

  The ladder wobbled beneath her, causing her to sway even more.

  She grabbed hold of the curtain rod in an effort to stabilize herself. But her still-booted foot slipped, sending the ladder toppling away from her.

  A scream caught in her throat as she latched on to the pole with her other hand. Moments later, she found herself dangling as the racket beneath her finally ceased.

  Her breaths were fast and furious. How was she going to get down?

  Fortunately, the pole was sturdy. Her grip, on the other hand, was growing sweatier by the second.

  This was such a bad idea. Almost as bad as letting go. She didn’t relish the thought of breaking a bone.

  She studied the window in front of her. It was narrow enough that she might be able to stretch her legs and arms between the casings and walk herself down the way Logan had done in one of the doorways at their house outside of Atlanta. Until she scolded him, anyway. Now she just needed to figure out how he’d done it.

  She shoved her left foot against the far casing then finagled the right into place. Sort of. Talk about awkward. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Now, if she could just duck under the upper casing.

  A sound echoed from the entry hall.

  “Paisley?” She couldn’t decide if Crockett’s timing was good or bad.

  “In here.” She hated the panic in her voice.

  She heard his footfalls until—

  “What on earth?” He rushed toward her, clamped his hands around her waist and eased her to the floor.

  “Oh, thank you.” The breathless words spilled from her lips as she turned and dropped her forehead against him. “That was terrifying.”

  “What were you doing up there?”

  “I needed more light, so I was attempting to take the curtains down and accidentally knocked the ladder over.” Her breathing leveling off, she looked up to discover deep caramel eyes filled with concern fixed on her. She swallowed, once, twice, wondering when and how her hands had come to rest against Crockett’s muscular chest. Beneath her fingertips his heart pounded almost as erratically as her own.

  “Good thing I showed up when I did.” A mischievous smile played at his lips. “I only wish I’d had time to get a picture of you up there straddled between that window.”

 
; “Crockett Devereaux.” Frowning, she lowered her hands and pushed out of his embrace, away from the appealing scent of sunshine and hard work, and turned so he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. “You are a brat.” A brat who swept in right when she needed him, reminding her how good it felt to have a protector.

  She rubbed her arms, struggling to recall how long it had been since a man had held her. Obviously, too long if she was reacting so strongly to the one that only two weeks ago she’d considered her arch enemy. And while they’d become more amicable in recent days, there certainly wasn’t anything romantic between them, nor would there ever be.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Crockett right the ladder. He was a wounded soul with trust issues. Yet trust was the basis for any good relationship, so she’d best get ahold of her ridiculous thoughts and concentrate on the castle. After all, there would never be anything more than business between her and Crockett.

  * * *

  After dropping the kids at school Wednesday morning, Crockett continued on to the castle and parked outside its walls, afraid to attempt maneuvering the gooseneck trailer he’d used to haul his tractor and shredder through the castle gates. One wrong move and he’d be taking a crash course in stone repair.

  He took a swig of coffee from his travel mug and looked up at the pale gray sky, thankful the safety inspectors had chosen yesterday to visit Devereaux Sand and Gravel. Though definitely not his favorite part of running a business, it had given him an excuse not to be at the castle with Paisley. After what happened Monday afternoon, the last thing he wanted to do was share the same space as her.

  How could she smell so good after working in that musty house all morning? Like vanilla and spice. Warm. Inviting. Comforting. Much like the woman herself.

  Dropping his skull against the headrest, he scrubbed a hand over his face. What was wrong with him? So he hadn’t been in that close proximity to a woman since Shannon walked out his door five years ago. That didn’t mean Paisley should have had that kind of effect on him. She was a friend and business partner and nothing more.

  The morning air was still and sticky as he got out of his truck to unlock the castle gates before moving to the trailer. Tackling the unruly castle grounds was his top priority today. And with four acres of tall grass to tend to, the shredder was his best option for bringing it under control. Once the grass was at a manageable height he’d come back with the zero-turn mover for the actual grooming process. He didn’t know how long it would take him to return the grounds to the way they’d looked when his grandfather cared for the place, but he was determined to do his best. Besides, working outside would keep him away from Paisley.

  He removed the tie-downs from the eight-foot aluminum ladder he’d brought from home. Paisley had risked life and limb in an attempt to take down those curtains Monday. The least he could do was see to it they were removed without issue.

  The sound of an engine had him looking up as Paisley’s SUV eased alongside him.

  “Wow.” She eyed his John Deere. “You brought out the big guns.”

  “Quickest way to get rid of all that high grass.”

  “I expect so.”

  “Gate’s already open, so you can go on in.” He hoisted the ladder off of the trailer and followed her.

  She stepped out of her vehicle as he approached, wearing a gray Georgia Bulldogs shirt over denim shorts.

  Knowing what a staunch fan she was, he said, “You know, you could get into trouble wearing a shirt like that around these parts.”

  “Not likely.” In the shade of a large live oak in need of some pruning, she tossed the door closed. “This Bulldog isn’t intimidated by Longhorns or Aggies.” She pointed at his Texas A&M shirt.

  “I see. Just ladders, huh?” He gestured to the one he held.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her gaze, seemingly pondering her retort. “Does this mean you’re planning to help me with the curtains?”

  “Maybe. If you ask me nicely.”

  Her arms promptly dropped, and she continued to the back of her SUV. “Now that I’ve cleaned the windows in the library, they’re just fine where they are.”

  He puffed out a laugh, recalling her annoyance with him the other day. “Now who’s behaving like a brat?”

  “That reminds me.” She sashayed toward him, years of dried leaves crunching beneath her sneakered feet. “The church committee meeting last night.”

  “What about it?”

  “The vote was unanimous for the sand-colored carpet.”

  “I’m aware. I was there, remember?”

  “That means you voted against your idea for the wood-look tile.”

  He sure had. With good reason. “I was coerced.”

  One perfectly arched brow lifted in question.

  “A couple of the more mature ladies in the congregation cornered me after church Sunday. They let me know in no uncertain terms that they did not approve of my idea.”

  “Imagine that.” She smirked. “Though I’m surprised someone as prickly as you allowed them to intimidate you.”

  His own gaze inadvertently narrowed. Paisley thought he was prickly? “Trust me, they might come across as sweet little old ladies, but they can make life difficult for anyone who crosses them, and I have Mac and David to think about.”

  “I see. Well, perhaps you should have thought of them before you brought up the idea, instead of looking for ways to stick it to me.” That jab was as unexpected as a left hook.

  First she called him prickly and now she was calling him out for something that happened weeks ago? He thought they were making a fresh start. Obviously, he was wrong. But then, when women were involved, he always got things wrong.

  “I’ll put this inside, just in case.” Without another word, he fished his set of keys out of his pocket and deposited the ladder in the entry hall before returning to his truck. He wasn’t sure what bugged him more. That Paisley called him out or that it bothered him. All he knew was that he was glad he didn’t have to be anywhere near her anytime soon.

  Pausing at the truck, he donned his protective glasses and noise-reducing earmuffs before climbing atop the tractor to ease it off the trailer. He maneuvered it up the castle drive and onto the grass. The shredder cut a wide swath as he slowly moved beyond the castle and toward the river, the aroma of fresh-cut grass filling the air. All the while, Crockett tried to figure out why Paisley’s words had stung so much.

  Maybe because she’s right.

  Yes, he had challenged her from time to time, but he’d told her why. Obviously, it hadn’t changed her opinion of him. That is, unless she wasn’t who she appeared to be.

  He continued along the riverbank, eyeing the fast-moving water. Now that Paisley had gotten what she wanted—the castle—she had no need to stay on his good side. What if everything she’d done prior to signing those contracts and meeting with Molly was simply to get him to go along?

  Do you really think she was faking it when she protected your children during the storm?

  She’d protected herself, too. Besides, his kids were his weak spot. What if she was using them to get into his good graces?

  A breeze sifted over him as he turned the tractor onto the far edge of the property, his stomach knotting. Paisley was supposed to help Mac with her party this Saturday. At least that was what she’d promised before their meeting with Molly. What if she conveniently had a change in plans?

  Mac had always thought a lot of Paisley.

  True, but Paisley wasn’t making her promises before. His daughter had heard enough lies from her mother. Crockett wasn’t about to see Mac hurt again.

  By the time he traded the tractor for his polesaw to trim several low-hanging limbs a few hours later, he was regretting having ever consented to the Renwicks’ offer. If they hadn’t been willing to sell the castle, then he should have just left
it alone and gone on down the road. Instead he’d allowed himself to be sucked in by memories and false promises.

  You’re forgetting that Paisley was ready to back out, but you talked her out of it.

  Big mistake on his part.

  He was in the process of trimming the pecan tree he and Papaw used to gather nuts from when he noticed movement in his periphery. A quick glance revealed Paisley moving toward him with an insulated bag dangling from one arm. She stopped a few feet away, obviously wanting his attention.

  Reluctantly, he killed the engine on the saw and removed his hearing protection. “Yes?”

  Her gaze slipped from his to scan the freshly mown grounds and the river. “It looks great out here. You did a good job. The tractor was a smart idea.”

  Why was she suddenly being so nice?

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s a big pecan tree.” She slipped the bag from her arm to hold it with both hands.

  Birds chirped overhead as he swiped an arm across his brow, thinking how nice some water would be right now. “What’s in the bag?”

  “A peace offering.” After a slight hesitation, she looked him in the eye. “For what I said about you trying to stick it to me. I was out of line. Guess I got a little caught up in my gloating. I’m sorry. You apologized to me, and I forgave you. I had no business resurrecting past sins.”

  Crockett was at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting an apology. On the contrary, he was ready to dig in and go to battle.

  Because you keep comparing Paisley to Shannon instead of seeing her for who she is.

  Old hurts were hard to put away. Particularly when his children were involved.

  “I, uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing what to say. “What does this peace offering look like?”

  She smiled then. “Lunch. Chicken salad sandwiches, chips and peach cobbler.”

  A nervous laugh spilled out. “Have I mentioned how much I love peach cobbler?”

  “Would you hold it against me if I say yes so you’ll think I made it especially for you?”