by Bird, Peggy
Eyes locked, they held the stare, neither one wanting to be the first to look away. Eva held the door open, wordlessly inviting him inside. Still unsure whether he was willing to pay the price required to obtain the Burroughs collection and whatever else her grandfather had been squirreling away, Beau swallowed his pride and entered the monster’s lair.
• • •
It wasn’t even a fully thought-out plan. It had come to her on the fly, and now she had no choice but to follow through. Eva struggled to think even as she led this stranger through her private sanctuary.
What did she know about this man? He could be an axe murderer or a serial rapist for all she knew. He hadn’t even offered her a business card or credentials of any sort. Not that she’d asked. She should have asked.
But desperate times called for desperate measures. And she was on her own—again. She could fix her own dinner and haul herself up into bed (probably), but after that, what then? Louise was the last in a long line of state-appointed caregivers that she’d given the boot. Too late, she remembered the lecture she’d gotten when the supervisor stopped by personally to visit.
Louise was the last caregiver they would send. If she chose to treat the woman in such a way as to cause her to quit, Eva would be forced to hire a private nurse. Of course the same was to be said of kicking the woman out of her house. She could afford the expense of a nurse, but her pride refused to allow her to hire one.
And then fate had dropped a very good-looking package on her doorstep. Tall, blue eyes, hair that looked like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blond, brunette, or red, so it blended strands of all three together, a jumbled riot of color the way the leaves turned in the fall, her favorite time of the year. He was awfully muscular for someone so interested in books. What other talents could he be hiding? Perhaps he could help her out of the awkward situation she seemed to have gotten herself into.
Blowing out a sigh, she shook her head slightly. Clearly she was more desperate than she realized if she was considering talking this stranger into sticking around.
Eva stopped in front of the library and gestured for Beau to go in ahead of her. Giving herself plenty of room to clear the doorframe this time, she wheeled her chair in and stopped in the center of the Aubusson carpet. If he was truly interested in the book collection, she’d be able to tell by his reaction to this room.
Not disappointing, the man didn’t even bother to hide the gasp that escaped his lips. He turned in circles, his eyes roaming the floor to-ceiling shelves. Eva smirked. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he started drooling. Perhaps she’d found a temporary caregiver after all.
“Do you realize how lucky you are? This has got to be the most extensive private library I have ever seen. It’s amazing.”
“Unfortunately, a good two-thirds are completely wasted on me.” Her tone was flat, but her gaze flitted involuntarily to the wooden ladders mounted to the walls she’d climbed nimbly as a child.
Beau turned around, giving her his full attention. His expression was contrite. “I am so sorry. That was horribly insensitive of me. Please forgive me.”
Eva sniffed. She didn’t need anyone’s apologies. She didn’t need their pity, either. “The Edgar Rice Burroughs books are in a glass case. Just over there.” She flung out a hand toward the special case in the corner.
Wheeling herself to one of the tall windows that bathed the room in the day’s last rays of sunlight, she stared out at the mess that was once her mother’s prized rose garden. She listened to Beau open the display case and cluck over the books inside. Turning around, she was impressed to find that he’d donned a pair of white gloves. So the man took his job seriously.
“Ms. Mitchum, I have to tell you that this collection is in remarkable condition. You could easily get top dollar.”
“I have enough money to keep me in comfort for the rest of my life … Beau. This collection is precious to me. If I were to let it go, it would not be for profit. I would have to know it is going to the right person. A special person.” She watched him tug off the gloves and stuff them in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Ah, yes, well.” He cleared his throat, turning several shades of pink and red under her perusal.
“I have a proposition for you.”
The crimson stain had reached the very tips of his ears. Eva found she quite enjoyed seeing him squirm like this. She had no intention of using him for his body, as he so clearly thought she meant. But it amused her to see just how far he was willing to go to obtain his precious books. Why were they so important to him?
“You need the books, and I need … help.”
“Help?” His voice came out part squeak, part yelp.
She let out a disappointed sigh. This really had been more fun than she’d had in a long time, and it was over entirely too soon for her taste. But it couldn’t be helped.
“I find myself currently between caregivers. You stay here with me, help out with the cooking, cleaning, and assisting me with getting in and out of my chair, and I will give you the books.”
“Free and clear?”
“Did you not hear me?” she snapped. “I just told you the duties required of you. It wouldn’t be free. You would be expected to work to earn them.”
“I told my father I would get him this collection for his bookstore. It is essentially important that I not fail.”
Eva turned her head to smile at her good fortune. There was a story here. She could make this work to her advantage. Tapping her fingers on her wheelchair, she laid out her terms.
“You’ll stay for one month. Complete the month, you get the Burroughs collection and whatever else is of significant value. Leave before the month is up and you get nothing. Your time starts now.” She could count on one hand the number of people who had lasted more than a few weeks in her employ. Eva was confident she would not have to part with any of her grandfather’s books.
“But I don’t have any of my things with me. I’d need to pack a bag with my clothes, toiletries, the basics.”
“Nonsense. I have everything you’ll need. You may use the room across the hall from mine. I have clothes that should fit, and I can get you a toothbrush and anything else you may require.”
“But my job. My father’s store.”
“How much do you want this collection, Beau? I was under the impression that you were willing to do what was necessary to procure it.”
“I was. I am.”
Again, they found themselves in a staring contest. Eva’s heart pounded like a bass drum as she waited to see if he’d call her bluff. She’d never expected any of her caregivers to live under her roof, had never wanted them to. But Beau didn’t know that.
“I’ll call my father. I’m sure if I explain the situation, he will understand. It will do his health good to stay put for the next few weeks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming embarrassed that he’d shared too much.
“One month in this house. I don’t leave, you don’t leave. You want my grandfather’s collection, it’s really as simple as that.” Eva started to leave the room, then turned her chair at the last moment, and fixed Beau with a hard look. “I am confined to the ground floor. There is no reason for you to go upstairs. Promise me you won’t go up there.” She waited for his acquiescence before leaving.
She’d been working on a painting of the rose garden for her mother when the accident happened. The tragic car wreck that had taken her parents, brother, and sister from her and left her trapped in this miserable chair. Unable to look at the horrible reminder of a gift she’d never be able to deliver, Eva had insisted it be hidden upstairs, along with her easel and all her watercolor supplies. They could rot right up there alongside her tennis racket and riding equipment.
All the things she’d no longer need now that she was only half a person.
Chapter Three
“I’m going to run this load of laundry down to the basement. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”
&
nbsp; Eva looked up from her computer screen to find Beau waiting in the doorway, a plastic laundry basket perched on his hip. Pain gripped her in a tight fist when she realized he wore the clothing she’d loaned him. Her father’s favorite blue oxford button-down shirt. Though he never would have rolled the sleeves up like that. She swallowed hard as she studied the corded muscles in Beau’s forearms, the dark dusting of hair.
And he’d paired the shirt with Colby’s old jeans, the threads on the right knee worn down to white on the dark blue denim. Her brother used to wear those jeans with grubby old concert Tshirts. He never would have chosen a button-down shirt unless he was going to a wedding or a funeral. Her sweet, pain-in-the-ass big brother. Eva batted back the tears before Beau could see how much this had affected her.
“Eva?”
“What?” The shrillness of her own voice grated on her already raw nerves.
“Never mind. I’ve caught you at a bad time … or something.” Beau shrugged and turned to leave.
A sob lodged in her throat, Eva lashed out at the closest thing she could find—a glass of lemonade sitting in a pool of condensation on her desk. The shatter of glass on the hardwood floor wasn’t nearly as satisfying as she’d hoped.
“Are you all right?” Beau hurried to her side, checking her over for cuts before kneeling down to pick up the largest shards.
No, she wasn’t all right. She was hurting. She missed her family. They didn’t deserve to die so young. She didn’t deserve to spend the rest of her life alone in this rambling mansion. And here was this frustratingly kind stranger, parading around in their clothes and reminding her of all she’d lost.
“The floor will need to be scrubbed. I can’t have that sticky residue messing up my chair.”
“Of course.”
“And the drapes will need to be washed.”
He looked up, the first glint of anger sparking in his eyes. “Now why the hell would the drapes need to be washed?”
“The lemonade splattered all over the fabric.” She waited a beat. “And since you’re washing this set, you may as well take down the ones on the other window. Oh, and the set in the library. They haven’t been properly washed in months.”
Beau had turned back to his task, dropping pieces of broken glass into the wastepaper bin. He didn’t say a word, but the bunched muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt belied his tension.
“That won’t be a problem, will it? After all, you did say you were doing laundry today anyway, correct?” She sent him a saccharine smile when he finally met her glance.
“No problem at all.”
“Perfect. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to ordering groceries. I was thinking chicken cordon bleu for dinner one night next week. Doesn’t that sound scrumptious?”
“I don’t know. Are you cooking it?” he asked, turning his back to her as he coaxed the rest of the smaller fragments onto a stiff piece of paper.
“Of course not. I don’t cook.”
She watched him for a moment, fingers itching to touch the soft fabric of his shirt. She was a fool for asking him to stay in her home. She’d only end up getting hurt.
“The mop and bucket are in the broom closet beside the pantry. Don’t forget to rinse them out before you put them back.”
A damned fool.
• • •
Out of habit, Beau took a deep breath as he entered the library. It wasn’t quite the same as his father’s bookstore. In some ways it was far better. That old book smell wasn’t as pronounced, but it was there to a lesser degree. He walked the perimeter of the room slowly, his fingertips gently brushing the worn spines. Oh, to lock himself away in this room for the length of his incarceration! He snorted his disgust.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t been warned about Eva. She was a monster, they’d said. She was cruel to strangers, employees, and caregivers alike. Three weeks, five days, and four hours … give or take. He could do this. Eyes on the prize.
Crossing the room, he stood before the Burroughs collection. This was what Mr. Phillips was after. The man was their biggest customer, and Beau knew, without a doubt, that when he offered to pay top dollar for these books, he’d deliver. His father wouldn’t have to travel anymore. A mere glance at other titles told him his father could retire outright if Eva agreed to sell him more than just the one collection. And the first thing Beau would do is insist on a head-to-toe physical to identify that frightening cough and make sure his father was healthy.
Eva’s grandfather didn’t seem to have a preference for a particular genre. There were books on history, poetry, classic horror, and early romance. Every single book in this library was in excellent condition. It was clear this family valued reading.
In a back corner, a large coffee-table book on mollusks was wedged onto the shelf. Beau pried it free, straightening the wrinkled edges of the slightly torn book jacket. Behind the book was a picture frame, the photo covered in dust.
Beau swiped at the glass to clean it, smiling wistfully as he understood the reason it had been hiding behind the book. The photo was of an older gentleman, sitting in one of these very same wingback chairs, if Beau wasn’t mistaken. In the man’s lap was a very young girl. The red highlights in her dark brown braids hinted that he was seeing Eva at approximately three or four years old. Beau couldn’t see the title of the book they were reading together, but it didn’t matter. The love and trust that she felt for her grandfather was evident in the way she snuggled into his lap. She’d been so happy.
“Snoop much?”
Jesus! Gripping the frame tightly, lest he have another batch of glass to clean up, Beau took a breath to calm his jangled nerves. Setting it gently on the shelf, he refused to hide the photograph behind the stupid mollusk book. Instead, he moved the book to the bottom shelf, where there was enough room for it to fit, spine out, without damaging the jacket further.
“You were a cute kid.”
“Yes, well, now you know why I want to hang on to these books.” Eva’s eyes darted to the framed photo she probably hadn’t seen in years, judging by the layer of dust he’d had to wipe through in order to see it.
“If you’d truly wanted the books, you wouldn’t have asked me to stay. You want your grandfather back. You want to turn back time.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits, and her nostrils flared. She opened her mouth to speak and immediately shut it again. Her jaw hardened as she silently stared him down. Before she could blast him with a suitably nasty rejoinder, Beau brushed past her, nodding. He’d return to his sanctuary later.
• • •
His pork chop was cold.
Of course that was to be expected when one wasn’t allowed to sit down to eat his own dinner until he’d done fifty thousand things for his new “employer.” Four days into his thirty-day sentence and he swore she got more and more creative with her unrealistic commands. Beau shook his napkin out, giving it a little snap before smoothing it over his lap. He refused to make eye contact with Eva. Every time he did, she thought up a new reason for him to leave the table.
He hadn’t minded the first few times. Could he please get her a glass of water to go with the milk that was already sitting beside her plate? She needed a clean fork; this one had a speck on it. But when she’d dropped her own napkin for the third time, he had to grind his back teeth to keep from barking at her. He wasn’t stupid. She was doing it on purpose. Well, she wasn’t going to win.
Scooping up a fluffy forkful of rice pilaf, Beau thought back to his phone conversation with his father when he’d first explained Eva’s conditions. He’d expected the man to be put out, angry that his sole employee had taken off for a month without so much as a day’s notice. But his father had offered his sympathies. Apparently he, too, had heard about Eva Mitchum’s reputation with those who had attempted to buy her book collection. It was why he hadn’t reached out to her himself. The older man had cautioned Beau to beware of her motives. She’d never let any of the other potential buyers throu
gh the front door, let alone asked them to stay for an entire month. He’d finished his speech with a hacking cough that concerned Beau. The sooner he left Rochester and got back to Syracuse, where he could keep an eye on his father, the better.
The clatter of silverware bouncing off of marble tile roused Beau from his own thoughts.
“Oh dear, how clumsy of me! I’m afraid I’ll need a new fork.” Eva flashed him an insincere smile.
“They’re in the drawer in the kitchen.” Beau continued to chew his food.
“I think I know where my own forks are. This is my house, after all. What I don’t understand is why you aren’t moving. I asked you to get me a fork.”
“And I told you to get it yourself.”
“But you work for me! You are my caregiver.” Her chest heaved as her breathing sped up.
“I am doing this for you without pay, without benefits, and without any sort of thank yous. It’s not hard to see why you can’t hold on to staff. You are rude. You are demanding. And you deliberately bait people just to see how miserable you can make them.”
“Congratulations. It took you a fraction of the time it took all the others to figure that out. Must be all those books you’re so fond of.” She sneered. “As you didn’t bring anything with you, it won’t take you long to pack up your things. So sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Oh, I have no intention of leaving.” Beau cut into his pork chop and popped the juicy bite into his mouth.
“You aren’t getting me a new fork like I asked. I’ve fired people for far less.”
“Eva, did I leave after you insisted I replace the sheets I’d just put on your bed because you thought they were too colorful? Did I leave after I spent an hour on the roof adjusting the satellite dish, only to learn that you’d just unplugged the TV? Or when I had to scrub out all the cupboards when you claimed to have seen a cockroach in the kitchen? I still don’t believe you, by the way. But I’m still here. A shame that you can’t fire me, hmm? Give it your best shot, sweetheart. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for.” Beau nearly laughed at the murderous look in her eyes. Eva Mitchum was a woman used to getting her own way.
