Second Chance Girl--A Modern Fairy Tale Romance

by Susan Mallery

  “Who’s in charge of the fund-raiser?” Ceallach demanded.

  “Atsuko,” Mathias told him. “She owns the gallery.”

  “I’m going to speak to her. I’ll donate a piece, as well. Something the whole world will want to see. We’ll raise enough for the giraffes and whatever they need.”

  Elaine hurried to her husband’s side. “Darling, that’s wonderful. With you donating, they’ll get more press and the whole evening will be special.” She beamed. “Isn’t your father the best?”

  The three brothers exchanged a look. Mathias knew they were all thinking the same thing. Ceallach didn’t give a damn about the giraffes or anyone but himself. He only cared about making sure no one got more attention than him.

  Being in the spotlight had always been their father’s drug of choice and each of them had experienced the pain of stepping between him and that light. Punishment was swift and brutal.

  Mathias started to say something but before he could speak, Ronan slipped out the studio door. Elaine saw him go, as well. Her shoulders slumped and her mouth turned down. She looked old and sad and lost. Then she drew in a breath and smiled at her husband, leaving Mathias to wonder if he’d only imagined the transformation.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CAROL KNEW SHE would wait as long as it took. Mathias had shown up at her door nearly an hour before. She’d let him in and they’d settled in her living room. She’d put on music and had waited for him to speak, only he hadn’t. Every few minutes, he got up and paced the length of the room, then returned to the sofa.

  Just when she was about to give in and ask if he was all right, he looked at her.

  “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Invading your house. Being a pain. It’s my family.” He shook his head. “Mostly it’s my father, but the rest of them aren’t helping, either.”

  She wanted to say she was fine with whatever he needed, that knowing he saw her place as a refuge meant a lot to her. What she said instead was, “Want to talk about what happened?”

  “Nothing. Everything.”

  She glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine. “Did you eat anything today?”

  He flashed her a smile. “It’s not your job to take care of me.”

  “We’re friends. I don’t see it as a job. Besides, you’re dealing with a lot right now. I want to help.”

  “You are. Thank you.” He leaned back against the sofa. “Has Atsuko called you?”

  “No. Is there a problem with the auction?” Her mind whirled with possible disaster. Had someone dropped Ronan’s donation, shattering it and Millie’s herd into a million pieces?

  “Not a problem.” He glanced at her. “My father is going to donate something to the evening. Whatever it is, it will go for a lot of money and bring a lot of attention to the event. Atsuko doesn’t have much time to pull it together, but if anyone can do it, she can.”

  Carol honestly had no idea what to say. “Wh-why?”

  Mathias’s mouth twisted. “You want the politically correct answer?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s a worthy cause. He wants to help where he can. Pick your platitude.”

  “And the truth?”

  “He doesn’t want to see Ronan getting all the attention.”

  She angled toward him. “Seriously? But Ronan is his son.”

  “Glory is far more important. Ceallach came and toured the studio today. He made sure to criticize everyone’s work. When he saw the bird piece he asked what it was for, then thrust himself in the middle of all of it.”

  He took her hand in his. “It’s okay. He’s always done this. When Ronan and I were in the second grade, he came to parent-teacher night. When he saw the display of our artwork, he had to immediately do a few sketches, then sign them. God forbid some kid should be center of attention when he was around.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “He’s horrible.”

  “That he is. Did I tell you how we found out about Ronan being his bastard?”

  “You didn’t, but Pallas mentioned that he was in the hospital after a heart attack.”

  Mathias nodded. “He asked Ronan and me to come see him. It was still early and we had no idea how bad things were. For all we knew, he was going to die.”

  His hold on her hand tightened. She wasn’t sure he even knew they were touching—but that was okay. She knew.

  “He told us about the affair and said that Ronan was the result of that, but Elaine had taken him in. Then he said he was tired and wanted to sleep and that we should leave. Oh, and not to tell our mother. That was it. Don’t tell your mother.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. We didn’t say a word. I tried to talk to Ronan a few times, but he refused. I didn’t want to go to Mom. Ceallach’s heart attack turned out to be mild, so life went on as it had for everyone else, but not for us.”

  He grimaced. “The worst part was he never said a word. Not to me and not to Ronan. He acted like it had never happened. Who does that? Why wouldn’t he have checked in on us, or at least on Ronan? But he didn’t and after a few weeks Ronan told me he had to leave. I couldn’t let him go alone, so I went with him.”

  “I know he was grateful.”

  “I hope so. I keep thinking one day he’ll just disappear and I won’t be able to find him. I’ve tried talking to him, I’ve suggested he see a therapist.” He rolled his eyes. “That didn’t go well. The thing is, I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do or say.”

  “Maybe he has to work this out for himself.”

  “What if he doesn’t? It’s been five years. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t care if he is only my half brother. To me, he’ll always be my twin.”

  Which made him about the best man she’d ever met, she thought with a sigh. How was she supposed to resist that?

  “Enough,” he said firmly. “Let’s talk about you. Tell me something I don’t know about your past.”

  “When I was eighteen and Violet was sixteen, our mother took us to get matching tattoos.”

  He stared at her. “No way.”

  “It’s true. The three of us have a little butterfly on our hip.”

  She could practically hear the wheels turning in his brain. They’d had sex...sort of. Shouldn’t he have noticed a tattoo?

  “It’s very small and you were pretty drunk,” she said, trying to be helpful.

  “Thanks for reminding me.” He leaned back on the sofa and rested his forearm across his eyes. “I’m okay with Violet having the same tattoo but I’m less sure about your mother. Did you have to tell me that?”

  “You wanted me to tell you something you didn’t know. It wasn’t as if I could talk about my three broken engagements.”

  The arm lifted. “Do you have three broken engagements?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “Nope. And I don’t have a tattoo. Damn. Now I have to get one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to be one of the cool kids, too.” He straightened and drew her close. “Any chance I could convince you to show me what I’ve been missing?”

  His voice was teasing. Had she thought he was the least bit serious, she would have ripped off her clothes in a heartbeat and done her best to seduce him right there on her sofa. Which probably meant she wasn’t mad at him anymore. So much for standing on principle or righteous indignation.

  She leaned in and lightly brushed her mouth against his. “You have to get home.”

  “I could text Del and let him know I’m going to be late.”

  “Or you could go home.”

  “I could.”

  He stood and pulled her to her feet, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. His mouth lingered fo
r a second before he drew back.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Mathias.”

  He looked at her and for a second she thought he was going to say something. Maybe hint at what he really felt about her or beg her to take him to her bed. Because it wouldn’t take very much on the begging front to get her to change her mind.

  But in the end, he simply smiled and promised to see her soon and then he was gone. Carol sagged back on the sofa and wrapped her arms around a pillow.

  Doing the sensible thing, even when it was right, really sucked. In her next life, she was going to be bad all the time. Or maybe come back as a spoiled lapdog, which was pretty much the same thing.

  * * *

  ULRICH STROLLED THROUGH Happily Inc on his own. Violet had a meeting with a client—something about a bride who wanted her gown to be covered with stars. Beading and pearls wouldn’t do, so Violet had been on the hunt for star-inspired buttons and was going to show her what she’d found.

  He would have preferred them to spend the afternoon together. They only had a few more days until he had to fly back to England, but he of all people knew the importance of duty. He couldn’t walk away from his and he had no right to get in the way of hers. So he window-shopped and enjoyed the warmth of the desert sun, all the while knowing every second that ticked by meant he was that much closer to returning home.

  He didn’t want to go. Barring that, he wanted to take Violet with him. The thought had haunted him for a few days now—the endless loop in his brain asking if it was possible. Could they make a relationship work? He’d made what he thought were all the right decisions with Penelope—he’d known her, had thought he understood what she wanted from him. In the end, he’d been wrong about all of it. Did it make any sense to throw caution to the wind and commit to someone he’d only known a few weeks?

  A question he wasn’t prepared to answer, he thought as he walked by the river. And perhaps that was the point—that there wasn’t an answer at all. That he was meant to take a step of blind faith.

  He found himself outside of the Willow Gallery where the fund-raiser would be held. He would attend that with Violet, then drive to Los Angeles the following morning for his flight home. She had promised to come visit him and while she might be convinced to stay for a few weeks, then what? They were an ocean and a continent apart.

  He saw two men carrying a large glass statue of a bird in flight and hurried to open the gallery’s rear door.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He nodded at the statue. “The donated bit of art to raise money for Millie?” he asked, following the men inside.

  The men put down the bird. They were both about his height, with dark hair and eyes, and similar features. Brothers, he thought. As he spoke, they glanced at each other.

  “Bit of art?” the first man asked with a grin. “That’s one way to put it.” He stared at Ulrich. “You’re that English guy dating Violet. Mathias Mitchell.” He stuck out his hand. “This is my brother Nick.”

  “Nice to meet you both. Ulrich Sherwood.”

  Mathias turned to his brother. “He’s lying. He’s some lord or earl or something. Carol told me. Carol is Violet’s sister.”

  “Yes, we’ve met. She’s the one with the giraffe.”

  “Technically it’s an animal preserve. Giraffes, zebras, a few gazelles.”

  “There’s a water buffalo,” Nick added. “You’d think it was a boy, but nope. All girls. Nobody’s having babies.”

  “Are they sure?” Ulrich asked. “Let us remember the lesson of the movie Jurassic Park.”

  Mathias grinned. “Nature finds a way. Great movie. Scared the crap out of me when I was a kid. I didn’t sleep for a week.”

  Nick shook his head. “He’s the baby of the family, what are you going to do? So, what brings you to Happily Inc?”

  “I had business in the area,” Ulrich said, avoiding mention of his first encounter with Violet where he’d accused her of stealing, if not the family jewels, then something else equally valuable.

  They all walked out of the gallery and toward a large, low building with lots of windows. Their studio, Ulrich would guess. When they walked inside, he saw he’d been right.

  There were large desks, cabinets and workstations, along with a huge oven and all kinds of equipment he couldn’t begin to name. Even more compelling were the pieces of art scattered everywhere. There were carvings, creations done with paper instead of paint, an origami mobile and several wood carvings.

  “You’ve been busy,” he said quietly.

  “Let me take you on a tour,” Mathias told him. “Nick and I work here most of the time. I have a small studio at home but it’s mostly for sketching. My brother Ronan has a studio at his place. He’s the one who created that bit of art we were carrying.”

  Ulrich held in a smile. “No insult intended.”

  “None taken,” Nick said with a grin. “But if Ronan gets riled, you’re on your own.”

  “I shall be on my best behavior.” He glanced around. “Who works with wood?”

  “I do.” Nick crossed to a large log mounted vertically on a stand. “Still trying to figure out what this one is supposed to be. I keep seeing some guy holding a lute, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.”

  As all Ulrich saw was a log, he was impressed. He looked at Mathias. “You work with glass, correct?”

  “Mostly everyday stuff. Dishes, bowls.” He motioned to the pieces stacked on shelves by the window.

  “So Ronan made that?” he asked, pointing to the piece in the back. It was made up of two separate statues. A giraffe—Millie, he would guess—bending down to greet a woman. As he moved closer, he recognized the features. Carol, he thought. Carol and Millie together.

  “I did that,” Mathias admitted. “Just something I’ve been playing with.”

  Ulrich walked around the pedestal and he looked more closely. Millie seemed ready to take a step. He would swear he saw Carol breathing. There was talent in the piece, and something more. The artist who had created this loved his subjects. He wondered if Mathias knew what he was telling the world with his work.

  “It’s brilliant,” Ulrich told him. “Will you be selling it at the event?”

  “It’s not for sale and I don’t know if I’ll display it or not.”

  “Someone might accidentally knock it over,” Nick grumbled as he walked to the coffeepot on a table by the front door. He held up a mug. “Ulrich?”

  “Yes, please. Black is fine.”

  “Good, because we don’t have tea.”

  Ulrich sighed. “You Americans do love your stereotypes.”

  “That we do.” Nick handed him the coffee, then poured a mug for himself and his brother.

  Ulrich looked back at Mathias’s artwork. “Why would it be damaged?”

  The brothers exchanged a look. “You get along with your father?” Nick asked.

  “I used to. He passed away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am, as well. He was a good man. Kind and generous.” Ulrich had always aspired to be like him. When the responsibilities of the estate seemed unmanageable, he reminded himself his father had done it all with a broken body racked with pain, and he’d never once faltered.

  “Our father isn’t like that,” Nick said. “He’s a famous artist who doesn’t like anyone doing better than him. Not even his sons.”

  “I see.” Ulrich didn’t know much about the art world but even he had heard of a famous glass artist with the last name of Mitchell. “It’s unfortunate he can’t be proud of you.”

  “Not his style,” Mathias murmured, then sipped his coffee. “You’ll meet him on Thursday.”

  “He’s attending?”

  “He’s donating something, as well.”


  “Ah. To share in the glory?”

  “Sure,” Nick said. “Will you be bidding?”

  Ulrich chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I have an old, drafty house with bad plumbing.”

  “Uh-huh. Let me guess. The drafty old house is a five-hundred-year-old estate with a couple hundred rooms.”

  Ulrich sipped his coffee. “Something like that. And the plumbing is awful. But I shall be hoping for a blowout in the bidding.”

  “Didn’t Millie cause your car accident?” Mathias asked.

  “I’m not one to hold a grudge.” Not when the accident had resulted in him spending more time with Violet. “From what I’ve been told, Millie needs her herd. Here’s to that happening.”

  He chatted with the brothers for a few more minutes before excusing himself and walking back toward Violet’s store. She should be finished with her client by now and he wanted to spend every second he could with her. Despite their short time together, she’d become extremely important to him. So important, he wasn’t sure how he was going to leave her. But return home he must, and therein lay the dilemma.

  * * *

  CAROL SILENTLY YELLED at herself the entire way up the mountain—worse, she knew she was right. It was a family matter—she shouldn’t get involved. No good deed went unpunished. The list went on and on. Still, she was compelled. She had to do what she could, even if it went badly. Despite their cruel and disinterested father, the Mitchell brothers were all basically good guys. If the meeting went badly, she would throw herself on Ronan’s mercy and beg him to forgive her. Or at least not tell anyone what she’d said.

  She parked by the front door and took a second to admire the grandeur of the house. The solitude of the structure had a peaceful quality to it. Not that she was having anything close to house-envy. She liked where she lived just fine. Her view of the animal preserve was all she wanted.

  She got out of her Jeep and headed up the path. The front door opened before she could knock.

  “You’re unexpected,” Ronan said mildly.