Runaway Heir

by Cardello, Ruth

“Yeah.”

  “The site is only a few miles out of town. Why don’t you follow me there? I’ll give you a quick tour around.”

  “You have the keys?”

  “I know how to get in.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  The sheriff smiled for the first time. “Who’re they gonna call?”

  Bryant chuckled. “Good point.” There was no reason for him to go see an empty factory—on the other hand, he also wasn’t keen to return to New York. He couldn’t go back to Paisley’s—not yet. Why not? “If you’re up for it, I’d love to see the Miller factory.”

  An hour later, Sheriff Todd concluded a surprisingly detailed tour of the closed factory that finished with him explaining that the land was now owned by one of his cousins, a fact that made Bryant less concerned about using a hidden key for access.

  It could have been his own reluctance to leave Nicolette and his desire to help her, but he could now picture how the factory could be adapted for robotics assembly. The price was cheap enough. The location was private but within good proximity to universities capable of supplying qualified workers.

  Making an offer wasn’t completely out of the question anymore.

  “So what do you think?” the sheriff asked.

  “It has possibilities. I’d have to read the property disclosures before I’d feel comfortable bringing it up to my business partner.”

  “My wife would be able to answer most if not all of your questions. She’s a real estate agent.”

  Of course she is. Am I out of my mind? Lon is definitely going to think so. Iowa?

  The idea seemed less crazy a short while later when Bryant was seated across from Pat, the sheriff’s middle-aged wife, in their home office. The tall, slender brunette dressed sharply but in an understated way—reflecting the hidden depths of everyone he’d met in MacAuley. She had a confidence about her that he looked for in his employees.

  She had just listed the number of major tech companies the area had recently courted with state and local incentives. Although Bryant’s arrival had been unexpected, she’d pulled together an impressive amount of information while her husband cooked dinner for them.

  “MacAuley has the land and the government funding. This area is ripe for economic development,” she said.

  “I agree. I just want to make sure I’m considering the area for the right reasons.”

  She closed her computer, putting it aside, and said, “What’s the wrong reason?”

  From the doorway, Sheriff Todd said, “Dinner is ready, and the wrong reason is always a woman.”

  “That’s not what you told my father,” his wife said with a cheeky smile.

  Without missing a beat, the sheriff replied, “We all stretched the truth back then. You told me you loved to cook.”

  Pat stood, waving for Bryant to join her. He did. “Did I say cook? I meant eat. What smells so good?” She kissed her husband as she passed him.

  Sheriff Todd’s chest puffed with pride. “Stuffed chops.” He nodded at Bryant. “You ever had them?”

  “Not that I recall,” he said.

  “I use apples, corn, honey, and a secret ingredient I’d have to kill you over if I told you.”

  Bryant’s eyebrow rose. “That is funny only because you’re no longer wearing a gun.”

  Sheriff Todd laughed. “You ever try apple-pie moonshine?”

  “No, but I keep hearing about it.”

  “Then take a seat. Nothing goes better with stuffed chops than Lily and Lucy’s moonshine.”

  “Is that the recipe from the cemetery?”

  The man’s face lit up. “It sure is. Look at you, already an expert on MacAuley history.”

  Bryant sat down at the table and took a whiff of the steaming center plate of pork chops. “It smells delicious.”

  Pat sat down next to him and poured a shot for each of them. “Careful, this moonshine is deceptively smooth. It’ll kick your butt if you underestimate it.”

  Her husband took a seat at the table and winked at her. “Just like a good woman.”

  Bryant chuckled and raised his shot glass. “Here’s to good things happening for a town that has also been underestimated. Hopefully that’s about to change.”

  They all drank to that.

  When Pat went to pour him a second, he put a hand up. “I’m already muddled enough sober, but it was surprisingly good.”

  Sheriff Todd asked, “Were you heading toward the airport when I came across you?”

  “Shit, I forgot about something. Hang on.” He took out his phone but hesitated before texting his pilot. He should say that he was delayed and would be there shortly, but the truth was, he didn’t want to leave MacAuley.

  “What’s her name?” Pat asked.

  “Nicolette,” Bryant said without looking up.

  “The one I told you about, Pat. The Westerly woman.” Sheriff Todd held out the plate of pork chops toward Bryant. “Shelby said you make a nice couple.”

  He took one and passed the plate to Pat. “We’re working on it.”

  “Then why are you leaving?” she asked.

  “That’s what I’m asking myself. It’s complicated, though. Her father just arrived, and I don’t believe I am presently his favorite person.”

  Bryant was passed a basket of corn muffins. “I’ve been there,” said the sheriff.

  Pat poured glasses of water for everyone. “Yes, he has. My father was a farmer. His father was the sheriff. They both had strong opinions that didn’t always match. I went away to college, and my father thought my coming back to MacAuley meant he’d wasted a lot of money. Todd and I eloped and pissed them both off. Our first Christmas together was lively, but they got over it.”

  “I’m optimistic by nature,” Bryant said, “but I don’t think I can see our families working out as well. It doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t see much of my father.”

  “Why not?” the older man asked, seeming genuinely interested.

  Normally Bryant would have said, “He’s a dick,” and left it at that. But needing to dig deeper so they would understand, he added, “We had a falling-out when my mother died. I didn’t think he did enough for her. It wasn’t a pleasant time for either of us, and we never came back from that.”

  “That’s a shame,” Pat said. “But it happens.”

  Sheriff Todd made a circle with his hands. “Shake her family tree enough, and all kinds of assholes drop. We keep the holidays small.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t look bothered. “Really? That’s why? I’m not the one who has a cousin with sticky fingers. Imagine, a sheriff who gets robbed on a regular basis by his family.”

  Sheriff Todd grimaced. “I can’t arrest my cousin. At least not until I catch him in the act.”

  “Family,” Pat sighed. “You can’t pick them. All you can do is lock your shit up and hide the moonshine.”

  It was refreshing to hear family issues discussed without anger. Most people he knew tried to sell their situations as perfect. In reality, everyone was dealing with something. He looked down at his phone again. “Is there somewhere to stay nearby besides Paisley’s?”

  “We have a spare room,” Sheriff Todd said. “I don’t make breakfast, though.”

  “I don’t want to intrude. Is there a hotel or motel?”

  Pat tapped her husband’s arm. “Looks like we’re not good enough for him. He’s one of those city types who needs his pillows fluffed.”

  With a grin, Sheriff Todd said, “Guess no one ever warned him about what happens when you offend small-town law enforcement.”

  Bryant looked back and forth between them, trying to gauge how serious they were. “Oh, that’s where we’re going to take this?”

  Pat shrugged, looking innocent.

  Her husband’s grin widened.

  “Fine,” Bryant said. “I’d love to see your guest room.” He sent two quick texts out—one to the pilot and one to Lon to tell him not to expect him back just yet.
>
  They spent the next few hours swapping stories like old friends.

  To give her shaking hands something to do, Nicolette made a coffee for her father, and the two sat at Paisley’s kitchen table, having a conversation every bit as painfully awkward as every other one they’d had—times a million.

  Her father’s expression remained tight, but she wasn’t sure if that was because of what he’d walked in on or a sign of what he was about to say to her.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Nicolette said, twisting her fingers painfully on her lap.

  “That was obvious,” he said.

  “Bryant—”

  “I didn’t come to talk about him,” her father cut in.

  “Of course.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. Dereck took a sip of his coffee. Nicolette told her churning stomach to calm.

  “Nicolette, your mother and I are working things out—things we should have addressed long ago.”

  Like me? She didn’t ask him aloud. There was so much she wanted to say, but it was all bottled up inside her. She felt if she said anything at all, it would all pour out and end whatever chance they might have at a conversation. She knew all her issues—what she needed to hear was whatever he’d come to say.

  He cleared his throat. “When we are children, we see our parents in unrealistic terms. They are supposed to know everything, be everything to us. The reality is, they aren’t perfect. They make mistakes. They lie. They disappoint.”

  “Yes,” she said in a tight voice.

  “Your mother made mistakes, and they have come back to haunt her—haunt you—but she loves you.”

  “Her definition of love and mine don’t match.” It was no more than the truth.

  He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “You’re angry.”

  “Yes.”

  “I know that feeling well.”

  Nicolette’s heart softened toward the man across from her. “Why did you let all of us believe you were the one who had cheated?”

  He took a deep breath. “I will always love your mother. To me, she will always be the woman I fell in love with in college. We were young. She made me so happy. The life I imagined with her was full of laughter, kids, travel. Easy.”

  “Then your father killed himself.” Nicolette had heard this part of the story.

  “And everything changed. No—I changed. I no longer had the luxury of coming home to share a meal with her. My time, my energy, my soul, were required to save the family business that my father had lost control of. My mother pushed me because she didn’t want me to fail, as my father had. I became a very different man than the one your mother married. So I was the first one to break our wedding vows. I didn’t cherish her.”

  Nicolette wiped at the corner of her eyes. “You did what you had to do.”

  “Maybe. A relationship—any relationship—requires investment from both sides. She was faithful to me for years and suffered in lonely silence. I knew she was unhappy, but I was equally miserable. My mother saw Stephanie as unsupportive and draining, so she tried to drive a wedge between us.”

  “She succeeded.”

  “But it didn’t have to be that way. I could have—I should have—chosen Stephanie. The truth is, I was afraid I would become my father. I didn’t know if I had what it took to turn the family company around. I made unconscionable deals and became someone I didn’t recognize. I saw Stephanie pulling away, but I didn’t fight for her. I begged her to stay, but I didn’t make any changes. The family fortune was secure. I knew what it took to succeed, and I wasn’t willing to risk breaking my stride . . . not even for her.” He swallowed hard. “Not even for my children.”

  Nicolette shook her head. “At least you were honest with her. She lied and would have continued to lie had the truth about Spencer not come out.”

  He stared down into his coffee for a few long moments. “She is not without flaws. Nor am I. When she finally did divorce me and marry the man I was pretty sure was Spencer’s biological father, I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t go to their new home to pick you up, see that man with the woman I still loved, not hate him for being able to make her laugh again.” He looked up with such pain in his eyes, more tears instantly filled Nicolette’s.

  “I understand. You weren’t sure if we were even yours.”

  His mouth pressed in a tight white line before he said, “That never stopped me from loving you, Nicolette. I never asked for a blood test, because you and Spencer were mine. I was there when you were born. I held you first. I should have put aside my pride. You shouldn’t ever have waited for a father who didn’t come—not once. That you did, that you thought it meant I didn’t care—that’s my greatest mistake.”

  Nicolette’s body began to shake. She refused to reduce to tears in the middle of what might be one of the most important conversations of her life. She needed to hear what he had to say, and she needed him to hear her as well. “I did think it meant you didn’t care.”

  His hands gripped his coffee cup. “I know.” He took out an envelope. “I gave a sample of my DNA to this clinic. If you want to know, all you need to do is contact them and provide a sample of your own. But before you do that, Nicolette, know that I don’t care what the results are. I am your father. Maybe not the one you needed. Maybe not the one Mark would have been, or was, but I love you, and I want to be part of your life and to take care of you.”

  Nicolette accepted the envelope with a shaky hand. “I don’t want your money—no matter what the results are. This isn’t about that.”

  He laughed without humor. “God, you are every bit as proud and stubborn as I am. I hope you see that before it costs you as much as it did me. The walls you use to protect yourself, they don’t just keep people out—they trap you in.”

  Nicolette buried her face in her hands for a moment. That was exactly how she felt. Trapped by her own choices. “I don’t want to be you, Dad.” She looked up as she realized how that must sound. “I don’t want to be me, either. I have been pushing people away.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I see that now. When I get scared, I get defensive and pull back.”

  He placed his hand over hers. “And you doubt you’re my daughter? It’s like looking in a mirror.”

  “Are you here to cheer me up or depress me?” she asked with a half laugh.

  His mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile. “I’m here because my daughter needs me, and I may have failed her in the past, but that’s the past. This is a god-awful uncomfortable conversation to have, but I’ll have it every day until you believe me. I love you, Nicolette. You’re my daughter. No test result could ever change that.”

  Her eyes filled with tears again. She was ready to take a leap of faith. “Can I hug you?”

  He stood up, blinking back his own tears. “Come here.”

  She walked into his arms and cried. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  “Oh, baby. So am I. We can’t go back—but we can go forward.”

  She wept for the little girl who had stopped believing this moment would ever happen. Wept in release as she finally let that girl go.

  When she finally calmed down, she walked to the kitchen sink, blew her nose, and wiped a wet paper towel over her puffy eyes. She felt like she’d been through a wringer, but a necessary one. She turned around, resting back against the sink. “So are you flying back tonight?”

  He looked around. “I was planning to stay here. I’d like to help with whatever you’re working on.”

  “Stay here?”

  “If there is a room available.”

  While Nicolette was still processing that, Bruce and Tera burst into the kitchen. They were laughing over something, but both stopped when they saw her father.

  Nicolette sniffed, smiled brightly, and said, “Dad, this is Bruce Russo and his daughter, Tera. Bruce’s sister, Paisley, owns the bed-and-breakfast.”

  Bruce and Dereck shook hands.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dereck said.


  Bruce responded in kind.

  Tera put a hand on her hip. “You’re Nicolette’s father?”

  Without hesitation, Dereck said, “Yes.”

  “Holy tomatoes,” Tera said and strode over to him. “Finally, someone who knows Water Bear Man. My name is Tera. I’m going to marry your son, so that will make you my father-in-law. Right, Dad?”

  Dereck started to say, “My son Eric is—”

  “She knows.” Bruce put his arm around his daughter. “Tera, we’ll talk about this later.”

  “But he can get Water Bear Man to come here.” Tera pouted.

  Nicolette winked at her father. “She’s hoping by the time she’s old enough to marry, Mrs. Water Bear Man might be . . .” She made a hatchet sign across her neck.

  Dereck chuckled and went down to eye level with Tera. “You do realize that by the time you’re that age . . . he’ll be as old as I am.”

  With a gasp of horror, Tera exclaimed, “That old?”

  In a somber tone, Dereck suggested, “You might want to pick a younger superhero.”

  “I will, thanks.” Eyes wide, she nodded with an insulting amount of sincerity.

  Dereck straightened and winked back at Nicolette.

  She smiled.

  For the first time in her life, it felt like they were on the same team. Two people sharing a common cause. Magic.

  Her cheeks warmed as she remembered the scene on the stairway. Could they work past that as well?

  “Have you seen Paisley lately?” Bruce asked.

  “She and Jordan went out for a drive,” Nicolette answered.

  Her father asked, “Jordan Cohen? I didn’t know he was here as well.”

  “He came by to check in on me.”

  Bruce frowned. “Paisley’s not answering her phone.”

  “I’m sure everything is fine,” her father said with confidence.

  “I hope I don’t have to kill him,” Bruce said.

  “I know exactly how you feel,” Dereck added without missing a beat.

  Bruce looked from her father to Nicolette. “Bryant Taunton? I’ve met him. Seems like a nice-enough guy.”

  Dereck’s nostrils flared. “Meeting him was eye-opening.”

  Nicolette rushed to her father’s side. “Dad, let’s see if we can find a local hotel for you. I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable in a place like that.”