by Holly Jacobs
But she resisted.
Finn had no such compunction. “Mathilda.”
She hated her name and he knew it. He’d meant to annoy her, and he’d succeeded with that one word. She corrected him immediately. “It’s Mattie actually.”
Her crush on the six-foot giant had lasted for a mere blink of an eye. After which, she’d only had sympathy for Bridget—having a brother like Finn was a trial. Mattie had two brothers of her own, but Finn was worse.
Finn Wallace was too smart and way too handsome for his own good. His black hair was always perfectly styled, unlike her own wild blond hair. The fact he needed glasses couldn’t even be considered a flaw—they only served to call attention to his sky-blue eyes. She’d loved those eyes once. She’d studied her own watery blue ones in the mirror and wished they were his stunning blue instead.
Finn’s jeans were ironed with a crispness her own with holes lacked. His dark blue fleece complemented the light blue work shirt underneath it. A work shirt that looked as if the only work it had ever seen was jumping from the dryer to the ironing board.
And he was suing her for custody.
Again, the urge to slam the door in his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face was almost overwhelming. Or maybe a well-placed stomp on his leather-clad foot. The shoes were probably Italian leather. Rich both in softness and in cost. She white-knuckled the door, forcing herself to keep her foot firmly planted on the floor.
“What brings you here...unannounced?”
“I thought we should talk” was his response.
Talk? She’d promised Bridget she’d get along with Finn, that she’d let him be as active in the children’s lives as he wanted. Obviously he wanted, or else why would he sue her?
If she thought he simply wanted the children, she might let him have them, but she suspected it was more a case of him not wanting her to raise his nieces and nephew, mixed in with a bit of always-needing-to-be-the-winner. Finn Wallace wasn’t the type of man who was accustomed to someone telling him no any more than he was accustomed to not finishing first.
The fact that Bridget had chosen Mattie over him had to stick in his craw.
Promise me, Bridget had demanded, knowing that Finn and Mattie had never gotten along. Promise me you’ll find a way to work with Finn. Trapped by yet another promise, she scowled at him as she opened the door wider and let him step inside. She shut the door behind him and merely said, “I got your papers today.”
She waited for him to justify suing her. To tell her what a loser she was and why he would be a better guardian for his sister’s kids, even if he planned on leaving most of their care to nannies. Maybe they were too old for nannies. Babysitters? Day care? After-school care? Didn’t matter what kind of care it was, most of it wouldn’t fall on his shoulders.
“Well?”
Finn didn’t offer her any justification or even an explanation. What he said was, “I’m here because of the engagement party.”
Mattie stifled a groan. She should have realized that Finn would be invited. He’d grown up with Colton and Sebastian. The three had been thick as thieves in school. And while they no longer lived in each others’ back pockets, they were still friends. Best friends.
“Colton said that Sophie asked you to be a bridesmaid?” he continued.
She nodded her head. “Yes.”
The fact that she was a bridesmaid meant there was no way of skipping out of the party tonight. She felt obligated to say yes when Sophie asked her to be in the wedding party. Sophie had moved to Valley Ridge long after Mattie had moved away. Sophie had become friends with Bridget. She’d been so good to Bridget when she was sick. So had Lily, the home health-care nurse Finn had hired—possibly to combat his guilt over not being there himself.
The three of them had bonded over Bridget’s illness in a way that led to intimacies and a level of friendship they might not have achieved otherwise. Mattie knew Bridget would have been angry if she’d said no when Sophie asked her to be a bridesmaid. Her mother would have, too. Besides, Mattie was happy for Sophie, and for Colton, too, for that matter. So Mattie had said yes, but she felt trapped, as if she were suffocating. There was so much about being home that made her feel like the walls were closing in on her.
When she was in a new city, surrounded by strangers, there were no expectations placed on her. No obligations. Here in Valley Ridge, New York, there were expectations and obligations around every corner, and Mattie had never felt that she’d lived up to any of them with the degree of success she wanted to.
Finn didn’t seem to notice her claustrophobia as he looked her over with a piercing stare. “Then we’ll be working together on some of the bridal party responsibilities. I thought, given our circumstances, we should talk first.”
Yeah, working together might be complicated by this pesky lawsuit, she thought and then his words truly sank in. “You’re a groomsman?” she half asked, half stated. Of course he was.
“Me and Sebastian. Who’s the other bridesmaid?”
“Lily.”
During the last few months of Bridget’s illness, Mattie, Lily and Sophie had been together every day.
The one person who’d been decidedly absent from Bridget’s bedside stood in front of her now. Dr. Finn Wallace was too important to rush to see his dying sister. His visits had been sporadic at best, and the last day of her life, he’d been blatantly missing.
“Where are you staying?” It was a challenge, a warning. What she was really saying was, you better not think you’re staying here, especially given the fact that you’re suing me. Her promise to Bridget didn’t include finding a bed for Finn.
Finn didn’t seem to notice her icy tone. He simply shook his head. “I’m staying at JoAnn’s B and B down the street.”
“Oh.” She felt deflated. Maybe she’d wanted him to fight her, to insist on staying here simply so she could kick him out.
“So can we talk?” he pressed.
Remembering the manners her mother had worked so hard to ingrain in her, Mattie said, “Come on into the living room.”
She saw him study the room and she was pleased that she’d already straightened it up. If she hadn’t, he’d probably pull out his cell phone and snap pictures of anything he found amiss to use as ammunition against her. Courts looked at things like that, right?
She didn’t know.
Would this even go to a court, or would it be someone else making the decision? Social services? An arbitrator? No matter, whoever decided the case, it was going to boil down to the fact that Finn held all the cards. He’d probably hire the best lawyer in the state.
She was working at her brother’s coffee shop, had less than a thousand dollars in her checking account, a small nest egg that wouldn’t go far and had no legal representation—good or bad—on speed dial.
The only thing she had in her favor was the fact that Bridget wanted her to raise the kids and had said so in writing. That had to count for something, she tried to assure herself.
“I want to explain that my lawsuit isn’t meant to be personal. Rather it’s my attempt to do what’s right for the kids.”
“And that would be to move them away from their home—the community they’ve grown up in—and take them to Buffalo, where you work, what...twelve-hour days? Where you’re on call 24/7?”
He didn’t respond, so she continued. “Listen, Finn, I get it. When you look at me, you see a screwup. I haven’t lived in the same apartment, or even city for more than a year since I graduated from high school. I don’t have a degree in anything. I’m a coffee barista at the moment, and before that I had a bunch of other jobs—none of which saved lives on a regular basis. I don’t wear a halo, and I wouldn’t have been my first choice, if I were the one picking who should raise the kids. But I was Bridget’s choice. And I love these kids. I’m willing to stay put, to stay here and care for them. Like. Your. Sister. Wanted.” She enuniciated each word slowly, hoping it would finally sink i
nto Finn’s thick skull. “I’d like to think your lawsuit was motivated strictly by your belief that you’d be a better guardian than I am, but I can’t help but wonder if part of this lawsuit is because you’re pissed.”
“Why would I be angry?” he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion, even anger.
Mattie noted that he’d said angry, not pissed. Yeah, saintly Dr. Finn Wallace didn’t use words like pissed. He didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve...if he had any emotions at all.
“You’re pissed,” she said, using the word he’d avoided, “because your sister picked me. You’re pissed because Bridget thought I’d do a better job raising her kids than you would. After all, you’re Finn Wallace, captain of everything, Ivy League this and that. Dr. Finn Wallace, a man who heals the world one patient at a time. You’re used to being the best. You’re accustomed to winning. The fact that Bridget picked me, not you, fries your ass.”
“Nice imagery.”
“Nice...” She almost slipped and said, nice ass, but that wasn’t what she meant. “I don’t want to go to court.” She reeled in her emotions and tried to sound reasonable as she asked, “Can’t we work something out?”
“Are you willing to give me custody?” he countered.
“No.” She thought again about how easy it would be to say yes, to simply leave the kids with Finn and go back to her life, but a promise and love held her firm. “No. The kids belong here in Valley Ridge. They belong in this house, where their mother’s memory is still strong. They need to sleep in their own beds every night. They deserve someone who considers them a priority. Could you do that? Could you put them above your practice and patients?”
“Of course not,” he said, all prim and proper. “I know my job’s demanding. People count on me. But other people manage to juggle a demanding career and a family. I can balance work and the kids. I’ll hire help and—”
“We had this discussion when you first asked. I know your argument and you know mine.”
He nodded, as if her response wasn’t a surprise. “Then we’ll let the court decide.”
That’s not what Mattie wanted, but she didn’t have a choice. “I guess so.”
“About the wedding...” It wasn’t quite a question, but Mattie understood what Finn was almost asking.
“We can’t let anything mar Colton and Sophie’s wedding,” she agreed. If she were that sort of woman, she’d go all swoony at the thought of Colton and Sophie’s upcoming nuptials. The two of them were... Well, the only word that ever came to mind when thinking about Sophie and Colton was perfect. They seemed in perfect sync, in total harmony. They had the sort of relationship that everyone aspired to have. The kind of relationship that Mattie’s parents had.
They were the kind of couple that seemed like two halves of a whole. The two of them made one complete unit.
Mattie sighed. “Nothing should upset them or spoil their wedding.”
“And the kids?” he asked.
“They’re still emotionally devastated over losing their mother.” One of Mattie’s biggest frustrations was knowing there was nothing she could do to ease their pain or hurry the grief process along for them, though she’d give anything if she could. “We can’t say anything to them, either.”
“So it will be between you, me and the judge.”
“That’s not what I want, but I don’t have a choice, do I?” It felt as if all her choices had died when Bridget died. And having that thought made her feel guilty. This wasn’t about her. It was about the kids. They had to be everyone’s priority.
“I’ll go tell the kids you’re here.”
* * *
FINN WATCHED AS MATTIE picked up a basket heaped with shoes and books, then beat a hasty retreat upstairs. She hadn’t reacted the way he’d expected. He’d expected her to rage at him. Mathilda Keith had never been someone to hold back her opinion. Instead, she’d been icy, yet polite, which was more than he would have managed. And she’d invited him into the house and agreed to keep things quiet until they got the custody matter resolved.
Now, he surveyed the living room. This was the house he’d grown up in. After his parents died, they’d left it to him and Bridget. She had bought out his half. And when her louse of a husband left, she’d kept the house. Not only had she kept it, she’d kept it pretty much the same.
His grandmother’s rocking chair still sat in one corner. His mother had replaced the fabric on the cushioned seat, but otherwise, the curved pieces of wood had the same dark finish he remembered. He could almost see his grandmother rocking in it as she knit. He had no memories of her that didn’t involve having her knitting in hand or on the table next to the chair.
Finn leaned down and ran a finger along the top of the huge cedar chest they’d used as a coffee table. His mother had refinished it a number of times, but no amount of sanding could take out the divet where he’d dropped a weight on it. Why he’d felt lifting hand-weights in the living room was a good thing, he couldn’t remember, but he remembered his mother’s look of exasperation when she’d seen the big dent in the coffee table. The marred chest still sat between the couch and the stone fireplace. In addition to dropping a weight on it, he remembered doing homework on it. Playing Matchbox cars on it.
The family had done jigsaw puzzles on it every Christmas, too.
He looked around the room that still bore his mother’s and his sister’s stamp in every nook and cranny. They’d been so happy then. Mental images cascaded through his mind, but the memories collided with guilt. He crossed to the fireplace and studied the pictures that lined the mantel. One of him and Bridget as kids. Their mother had dressed them as cowboys. Bridget had kicked up a fuss at being called a cowboy and insisted she was a cowgirl. His mom had split the seams of his sister’s cowboy pants and turned it into a skirt, much to Bridget’s delight.
The next one was of Bridget and Mattie. Bridget had always seemed more serious when she stood next to the flaxen-haired, blue-eyed Mattie. Mattie, who wore a perpetual smile and had a penchant for excitement. Mattie still favored her hair in a ponytail and didn’t look much taller than she’d been in high school. Maybe five five? He was at least half a foot taller than she was. She was so petite, he could probably lift her with no more difficulty than if he were lifting Abbey.
When they were kids, Mattie had dragged Bridget along with her on her many adventures. Their parents had worried that after high school, Mattie would beguile Bridget into joining her in her cross-country wandering, but Bridget had gotten pregnant with Zoe. She’d settled into married life and motherhood while Mattie had moved from city to city, and Finn had gone to medical school. His path hadn’t crossed Mattie’s again until last year when Bridget had been sick. Then the happy-go-lucky Mattie had surprised him by coming home to care for his sister.
He’d come home as often as he could, but his surgical schedule didn’t leave time for many visits. He felt...
Hell, he didn’t know how he felt. He noticed a picture of his parents at Easter, with Bridget and himself, all decked out for church.
It would be easier to leave his sister’s children in Mattie’s care. He didn’t doubt that Mathilda Keith loved them. But he did doubt that she’d be able to stay put in Valley Ridge. And he certainly doubted that she was the best one to raise them.
And then there was money. He simply didn’t see how Mattie could afford to support herself, much less the kids. She was working for her brother at the coffee shop. He doubted being a barista paid well. The kids’ father was long since gone. He’d signed over parental rights and responsibilities, and to the best of Finn’s knowledge, the man had never looked back. Alton Langley was a total jerk and should help with the cost of raising the kids, but Finn knew that would never happen.
Finn was aware that Bridget hadn’t left much money after her medical bills and debts were settled, and what there was had been placed in a trust for the kids. Mattie, as their guardian, had access to it, but he had access as w
ell, and kept an eye on it. To date, she’d taken nothing and had said she looked at that money as a college savings plan. She said that since the house was paid for, free and clear, she could handle the rest without taking money from the kids’ account. But Finn knew that Mattie wouldn’t be able to give the children everything they deserved—not on a barista’s salary.
Bridget’s children deserved the best. He could give them that.
Why couldn’t Mathilda Keith see that?
“Hi, Uncle Finn.”
Finn turned around and saw his eight-year-old nephew, Mickey, with his blond crew cut sandwiched between his two sisters who said nothing. Eleven-year-old Zoe, was grimacing at him, her blondish hair was parted in a way that showed the odd red streak down the side. Six-year-old Abbey with her red braids was the only one to give him the slightest smile.
None of the kids needed glasses. At least not yet. The entire Wallace family was known for their poor eyesight.
He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about glasses. He pushed his own up higher on his nose and asked, “How are you guys doing?” He immediately realized what a dumb question that was.
Before he could regroup and think of something else to say, Zoe informed him, “I’m not a guy,” as Abbey said, “We gotta go finish picking up so Aunt Mattie will take us out for lunch then she’s gonna buy me some of Mommy’s lotion, right?” Abbey asked Mattie.
Mickey didn’t say a word.
“Right,” his sister’s best friend assured his youngest niece.
Abbey’s statement was all he was going to get because when Mattie agreed, Abbey bolted back up the stairs, and her siblings followed.
“I’m sorry,” Mattie said.
“For what?” he asked.
“For their less than enthusiastic greeting. We’re trying a new routine. Saturday morning we pick up the mess, then lunch and shopping in town. It leaves Sunday for fun. I think they’re anxious to finish the work portion of the weekend.”
