Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  Tense, Kaylin tried and failed to relax. She didn’t want to discuss her father’s estate. She just wanted the pain to be over. But she had no choice. This was her responsibility.

  The attorney cleared his throat, eyeing the paperwork through thick black-rimmed glasses. “You’ll be pleased to know your father had a life insurance policy left over from his teaching days at the university. While not a large sum, it should cover the funeral expenses.”

  “I didn’t know Henry had taught,” Sawyer said.

  Mr. Lansky handed over the life insurance documents to Kaylin. She closed her fingers tightly on the papers without reading them. “After graduation, Dad worked exactly one semester at the University of Florida in Gainesville before running into political differences with the department head. He must have bought the policy back then.”

  Sawyer leaned over and peered at the policy limit. “If that won’t cover it, I’ll help.”

  “Thanks.” His offer was kind, generous. Sawyer had always been thoughtful. As if cognizant of how much of her father’s time he’d taken up, Sawyer hadn’t intruded into family time. He’d avoided their house—women’s territory, her father had said he’d called it. Sawyer didn’t come around for supper or to celebrate Christmas with them, not even to exchange gifts.

  Although last summer when the roof had leaked, they’d returned from church to find him patching a hole with tar paper and shingles. She’d recalled he’d gone shirtless then, too, and the sun had bronzed a chest that was glistening from honest labor, calling attention to a fine dusting of hair that added to his sex appeal. His short dark hair had spiked with sweat, his five o’clock shadow emphasizing his cut cheekbones. The man was damn attractive, but he seemed to accept it much as he did everything else—with a shrug. He didn’t seem to have one pretentious atom in his body. When he’d caught her looking at him, his lip had curled in a satisfied half smile—part challenge, part interest that had caused her stomach to flutter. At the time, she’d chalked up her attraction to him as due to having gone too long without a man.

  They hadn’t had many face-to-faces since then. She kept to the house and her studio, he to the lab. But when they’d rolled across the grass to put out the fire on their clothing, she’d felt the power of him, the way he’d instinctively cradled her body to protect her, how his hands kept her head from slamming into the ground. Although part of her cherished the memory of his kindness, she also resented it. Because one thing she knew for certain—if she let another man back into her life, it sure as hell wouldn’t be a man like her father and Sawyer.

  Kaylin was too practical to fall in love with a dreamer like her father. She wanted solid and down-to-earth. A man who had health insurance and knew he could pay the mortgage. And Sawyer had told her straight up that he didn’t want a corporate job. Even with no resources, he hadn’t given up on the biodiesel. She’d seen the fire in his eyes when they’d discussed it, heard the determination in his tone. Despite losing Henry, despite the lab explosion, Sawyer wasn’t giving up, and she feared that, like her father, Sawyer would spend his life chasing a dream that would never happen. She really didn’t want to be around him, didn’t want to give the attraction she felt any room to grow.

  She had to remind herself that Sawyer hadn’t asked to be here. And he’d just offered money to help with funeral expenses. She stared at the condensation on her glass of tea. Swirled her fingers through the wetness. And wished she could be anyplace but here. Under any circumstances but these.

  The attorney rustled the papers. “The house, Henry’s car, and personal belongings go to you. It was your father’s wish that you take care of your sisters and allow Mitzy and Billy to remain at the residence, but it was a request, not a requirement of inheritance.”

  “I understand. My sisters and I will share the house, and I’ve already invited Mitzy and Billy to stay.”

  “The business part of the estate is more complicated. Basically, Sawyer gets half, the rest is yours.”

  “Half?” Sawyer was clearly shocked. And touched. “That was good of him.” He paused, then asked softly, clearly baffled, “Were you privy to Henry’s reasoning?”

  “He was counting on you to make his venture profitable. He felt Kaylin would do better with fifty percent of something, than one hundred percent of nothing.”

  “I’ll do my best to get the business going again,” he told Kaylin. “But it won’t be easy.”

  “Was there property insurance?” Kaylin asked, unable to suppress all hope. She understood her father had trusted her to do right by her sisters, and she would. Whatever he’d left Kaylin would be equally shared with Lia and Becca.

  “Yes, but the policy lapsed last year,” Sawyer told her. “Your dad—”

  “—didn’t have the funds,” she completed his sentence for him and stood. “Obviously, continuing the business is impossible.”

  “Not necessarily,” Sawyer disagreed. “I know the direction of your father’s research. I might be able to find backers or get a government grant.”

  Kaylin looked in Sawyer’s eyes and saw fierce determination, but she also recalled how many times her father had had that same mind-set, yet had never attained his dreams. “Well, if that covers everything—”

  “I’m afraid there’s one more item on the agenda.” Mr. Lansky raised his eyes to Sawyer. “Your presence here is no longer necessary.”

  Sawyer nodded and shoved to his feet. “If you need me, I’ll be outside.” She must have had a blank look. He added, “Painting.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Kaylin sat down abruptly.

  What could Dad have left her? The extra life insurance money would come in handy. As far as she knew, he had no other assets. She didn’t understand and didn’t like surprises.

  After Sawyer left, the air in the room grew tense. Mr. Lansky placed the large stack of papers on the coffee table, but held one envelope in reserve. “Kaylin, what I’m about to tell you may come as a shock.”

  She sensed he hesitated to speak out of kindness. But waiting for bad news had her stomach clenching into one giant knot. “Nothing you can tell me could be worse than what’s already happened. I’ll be fine.” She braced her back, squared her shoulders, and raised her chin, hoping he couldn’t discern her trembling. “Just tell me.”

  “Your mother’s mother, your grandmother, is still alive.”

  He had to be wrong. “She died of an illness before I was born.”

  “That’s what you were told.” Mr. Lansky nodded in agreement. “But your parents lied to you.”

  Stunned and shocked, she didn’t know what to think. “I have a living grandmother? You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would my parents . . .”

  “They had their reasons. Apparently your mother’s folks, the Carstairs, did not approve of their daughter’s marriage to your father. They considered him a bad choice and threatened to disown your mother should she marry him.”

  “The Carstairs are wealthy?” she guessed.

  He nodded. “Apparently, despite the threats, your parents eloped.”

  “My mother loved my father very much.” Enough to leave her own parents. Kaylin couldn’t imagine such a thing. No wonder her mother had sometimes looked sad during family get-togethers. How different all their lives might have been if the Carstairs had helped out financially—just a little.

  If the family could have afforded medical care, her mother might have been vaccinated for hepatitis B. And if she hadn’t so badly needed to work three jobs, she might not have ignored her own health. But after Mom had gotten sick, she’d continued to work and come home exhausted, insisting she just had the flu. By the time her mother had finally seen a doctor, her liver was too damaged for medicine alone to work. Her immune system had been compromised, and she’d been too weak for a transplant.


  Even her father might have had better lab equipment and not have blown himself up if they’d had financial help. At the thought of a wealthy grandmother, resentment buffeted her. No wonder her parents had shielded them from such a narrow-minded woman.

  “After your parents wed, the Carstairs cut Danielle out of their lives.”

  Kaylin, Becca, and Lia had a grandmother. And while she might not be someone Kaylin wanted to meet, she might have other relatives. “Do I have aunts and uncles and cousins?”

  “I don’t know. However, I do know that after Danielle’s liver shut down, when she was on her deathbed, your father went to her parents. They refused to come to the door.”

  How horrible. Her poor mother. It made her stomach knot just imagining her father frantic with grief and going to those horrible people for her mother’s sake—only for them to rebuff him.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Your father thought if anything happened to him that you should know the truth.” He peered at her through his thick glasses. “There’s more.”

  Kaylin braced herself. “I’m listening.”

  “Your grandfather has passed away. But your grandmother sent me a note after Henry’s death.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve always been your father’s attorney. A little research would be all it would take to find me. In the note, your grandmother asked me to tell you that if you ever needed her, she’d be there for you.”

  “My grandmother offered help? The same woman who wouldn’t go to her daughter on her deathbed?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d have to be insane to contact her.”

  “Kaylin, I can’t tell you what to do, but years have passed. She could have changed. It’s also possible that although she disliked Henry, she doesn’t hold that against you.”

  “If she were a forgiving woman, she would have contacted my mother after she married my father.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know.” Talk about being shocked. She hadn’t realized her parents were capable of keeping such secrets from their children. She wondered what else she didn’t know. “I’m not even sure if I should tell Becca and Lia. We might be better off alone.”

  “My dear, the decision is strictly yours. If you wish to contact her, and if I can be of service, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kaylin wondered if she were better off thinking she had no relatives. Ugh. She couldn’t imagine disowning a daughter because she disapproved of her husband. What kind of people would refuse to make amends with their own child on her deathbed?

  Kaylin, in a daze, saw Mr. Lansky out the door. Although she wanted to share more of the responsibilities and decision-making with Becca and Lia, she didn’t want to hurt them. They’d just lost their only living parent. Yet, her father had made certain she knew about her grandmother. He’d opened a door. And her grandmother had sent a note. Still, contacting her might only lead to more pain. She wanted to think about what to do. None of them needed more disappointment right now.

  9

  SAWYER REMOVED his shirt and started on the other side of the gable eave with the brush. He reminded himself to paint slowly, because he enjoyed working with his hands and found the repetitious labor soothing. Especially after that meeting. He could tell from his conversation with Kaylin that she hadn’t believed one word he’d said about getting the business back on track. But proving himself to her wasn’t his biggest concern. Between the missing laptop, the Middle Eastern visitors, and the attempted break-in, he didn’t need to read the forensic report to suspect something was wrong. He’d known Henry too long to believe the lab explosion had been a careless accident. So after Sawyer finished the paint job, he’d have to find other reasons to stick around and watch over the Danner sisters.

  He hadn’t expected Mitzy, Lia, and Becca to come outside and pump him for information about Henry’s will. So instead of enjoying the fresh air and the exercise in the April sunshine and relatively low humidity, he was trying to keep his answers short and vague.

  “So what happened in there?” Becca asked. Dressed in a blouse, jeans, and spiked sandals, she was about to lean against the fresh paint.

  “Look out,” Sawyer warned from atop the ladder. “That paint’s still wet.”

  Becca jerked away, her dark hair barely missing the paint, but when she twisted, her heel snapped off her shoe with a loud crack. Becca swore. Lia held back a grin. Mitzy put a motherly arm over her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Fine, thanks.” Becca gazed up at Sawyer and shaded her eyes from the sun. “Tell us. Did they kick you out?”

  “You could say that. Mr. Lansky wanted to talk with Kaylin alone.”

  “How come?” Lia asked, her tone curious, uncertain. Kaylin’s sister always had looked younger than her sixteen years. With her lack of self-confidence, she looked as if a strong wind could blow her away.

  “I don’t know a thing,” Sawyer answered truthfully and began to sweat, although it had nothing to do with work or the heat. He enjoyed being around the Danner women. Their house smelled good. Something in the kitchen was always cooking on the stove or in the oven. And the women were just so feminine, each in her own way. However, right now he wished Kaylin would show up. Then he’d be off the hot spot, and she could answer all these questions.

  “So what do you know?” Becca asked, her annoyance coming through in her question.

  “If I keep talking, I won’t finish today.” Sawyer kept his tone light. He required more paint for the roller but didn’t relish the job of climbing down the ladder. It wasn’t his place to tell them the terms of Henry’s will.

  “Is there anything left of Daddy’s business?” Becca asked.

  “Anything besides bills?” Mitzy added.

  “I’m not sure.” In truth Sawyer now owned half of a corporation that received dwindling royalties on an old paper mill patent and a bunch of unproven biodiesel formulas . . . if only they could find Henry’s laptop. With the lab gone, the records burned in the fire, the business’s primary asset remained the land the building had stood on, a lot that had been mortgaged several years ago with the house. There likely was little equity.

  But Sawyer would find a way to build it back up. Henry was counting on him to do right by his daughters and he’d known Sawyer’s dreams had coincided with his own. By giving him half ownership, Henry had given him a way to continue. If he could find Henry’s laptop or duplicate his work, Sawyer could start over.

  Keeping his thoughts to himself, Sawyer stalled, praying Kaylin would come soon. Instead of climbing down for more paint, he pretended he’d missed a spot and kept smoothing the roller over the same area.

  Finally Kaylin and Mr. Lansky came outside. She walked him to his car and shook hands before he drove away. Kaylin had her purse strap over her shoulder and her keys in hand as if she intended to head somewhere. Her face composed, her steps quick, she walked with the grace of a dancer. For a moment Sawyer feared she was going to take off without stopping to speak to her sisters, but when she spied them with Mitzy and Sawyer, she headed over.

  Kaylin wore an expression Sawyer couldn’t read. Part angry, part thoughtful, part sad, she seemed such a mix of emotions—no way could he predict her state of mind. If he had to put a name to her primary sentiment, he would have said uptight. And since she’d been fairly relaxed when he’d left, he guessed Mr. Lansky must have revealed something alarming.

  “So tell your sisters what happened and put their minds at ease,” Mitzy urged, her tone kind, as if she understood the undertones of Becca’s jealousy and Lia’s uncertainty.

  Kaylin’s voice was surprisingly upbeat. “Dad left his affairs in good order. All three of us will share everything, except half the business goes to Sawyer.”<
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  But she was hiding something.

  On her one good heel, Becca hobbled over to Kaylin. “The business is gone, isn’t it?”

  Kaylin gave a careless shrug, almost as if the business wasn’t on her mind, and she had other troubles on her shoulders. “We’ll be fine. Dad had a small life insurance policy that will cover his funeral expenses.”

  “What did Mr. Lansky say after Sawyer left?” Lia asked.

  Before Kaylin could answer, Becca stumbled on her broken heel. To steady herself, she reached for Kaylin and knocked her purse from her shoulder to her elbow. A paper flew out. “Sorry.”

  “I’ve got you.” Kaylin balanced her and noted the broken heel. “You should take those off.”

  Lia reached for the paper, picked it up, read it. “Oh . . . God. What’s this?” Lia shook the paper in Kaylin’s face. Sawyer recalled the trifold paper with its distinctive orange sun, the same image he’d seen on the airline ticket jacket in Kaylin’s studio. Lia’s voice rose an octave. “You’re leaving us? You’re going to New York?”

  Sawyer climbed down the ladder. Lia was close to hysteria. She looked white enough to faint.

  Kaylin plucked the airline ticket from Lia’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Becca peered at the ticket and pointed. “But your name is right there. You were leaving and not coming back? When were you going to tell us?”

  “Never.” Kaylin’s mouth tightened. She ripped the ticket in half and tossed it into the bushes. “I’m not going. End of story.”

  “Kaylin, Becca, Lia, all of you calm down,” Mitzy pleaded. “We can talk about this without letting the neighbors know our business. Please . . . the last few days have been—”

  Lia paid no attention to Mitzy’s plea. “Mama left us. Daddy left us. Now Kaylin wants to leave us, too.”

  Kaylin looked like she was going to be sick. She swayed on her feet. One person could only take so much. Sawyer wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her away from her sisters. From all this responsibility. From their accusations. This had been one hell of a week. Her father had died, and then she’d had a nasty fight with Becca. The attorney had dumped more stress on her, and now Lia was tearing into her.