Family by Design

by Bonnie K. Winn

  The price Owen dangled stuck in his mind as though carved of granite and painted in neon orange. It would do more than pay for Chrissy’s education. Owen’s offer would allow Chrissy to pursue whatever she might want, a business, travel, a charitable foundation.

  And J.C. couldn’t dispute the value of a living history museum. The town as a whole had decided long ago that they wanted Rosewood to retain its thriving local economy, encouraging entrepreneurs to keep their businesses. That didn’t happen in towns that allowed superstores to invade, undercutting prices, driving small business owners to bankruptcy.

  Rosewood didn’t welcome a tourist economy, either. It was difficult to keep the integrity of their community when constantly pandering to tourists to keep afloat. Of course, some of their business partially came from tourists, like the bed and breakfast and eating places. But those businesses were locally owned. Many of the tourists they served were regulars who came back year after year because they appreciated the town’s inherent difference. Wildflower season bloomed with visitors that they welcomed like old friends. But this … The prospect of changing Rosewood into a clone of other overtaken towns was bitter.

  But it was the other factor, as welcome as the plague, that worried him most. How did Maddie play into this offer? Did she know what Owen was up to? That prospect was sickening. The lovely woman who had brought laughter and warmth into his home, his life … Could she have been part of this?

  J.C. stayed late at the office, prolonging his arrival home. Although the shop was shuttered, as usual Maddie had left two lamps on, a soft welcoming glow. Locking the front door behind him, J.C. instantly thought of the night Owen had brazenly trespassed.

  His feet dragged as he climbed the stairs. Chatter, laughter and cooking smells floated toward him. He had phoned to let Maddie know he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner. She always kept a plate for him in the warming drawer of the oven. The night the ladies had all been gone to the campout flashed in J.C.’s thoughts. Lonely. The heart of the home had been gone and he had desperately missed it.

  Swallowing, he wondered how he would ever fare on his own again. Stupid thought! He had lived by himself for years. But that was before he met Maddie.

  As usual, the doors to both apartments were propped open. Loosening his tie, he chose to enter Maddie’s first. She spotted him and smiled.

  Then her gaze landed on his briefcase. “Did you bring a lot of work home?”

  He took the easy way out, shifting the case in his hands. “Enough to keep me busy all night.”

  Her smile remained constant. “Understandable. I have inventory to work on myself.”

  J.C. couldn’t stand making small talk when there was such an important issue to air. “Fair enough. Chrissy—”

  “She’s helping Mom with her crocheting.” Maddie glanced over at them, lowering her voice. “I think everything’s coming out circle shaped.” She grinned. “Excellent pot holders.”

  Although he tried, J.C. couldn’t force a smile. “Good practice.”

  Maddie met his gaze. “Is anything wrong?”

  He looked at the concern in her eyes, wishing he could see straight through to her soul. “Should there be?”

  “Why … no. Of course not.” Maddie’s smile faded as she tightened her hold on a dish towel.

  “Is Chrissy okay over here for a while?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Sure.”

  Unable to hold up his end of the conversation any longer, J.C. left. The prospect of wading through his thoughts was almost worse, but he couldn’t fence with Maddie. She looked concerned, wounded. And despite Owen Radley and all his implications, J.C. couldn’t bear to hurt her.

  Maddie watched until J.C. disappeared inside his apartment. Although he didn’t completely close the door, he pulled it from its propped open position so that barely a foot of it remained open. Why did he want to shut himself away? Torment was written in his eyes, his face, even his voice. What could it be? Thoughts whirling, she considered the possibilities. There literally was no family of his left that could be ill or in trouble. Friends? She would have heard through the grapevine about their mutual friends in Rosewood. Of course, he had friends from college and med school. Maybe …

  It struck her. A patient. She remembered J.C.’s words about how losing one hurt just as much every time. Before she could change her mind, Maddie sped across the hall, knocking quietly on his door.

  Silence. Then the scraping of shoes as he got up, the footfalls as he approached. J.C. pushed the door open wider.

  Maddie placed one hand on his. “I know, J.C.”

  He stared at her with utter bleakness.

  “I’m so sorry. I know how deeply this affects you.”

  “Maddie?” His voice was hoarse, gravelly.

  “Losing a patient … I know how you suffer.”

  J.C. glanced down.

  “I’ll keep you in my prayers. I hope you can think instead about all the patients you’ve helped, like Samantha and Mom. Now, I’ll let you be alone. But remember, you don’t have to be … alone, I mean. I’m just across the hall.” She patted his hand a final time, then turned to cross the hall. Oddly, she thought she felt his gaze on her back the entire time. But not wanting to intrude on his emotions, she kept her face forward, hoping her words had helped.

  As the days passed, J.C. couldn’t shake Owen’s insinuations. Or Maddie’s overwhelming concern. Working until late every evening, he made sure he wasn’t home until long after dinner was eaten. And each evening she left a special meal in his refrigerator. But his appetite had disappeared.

  J.C.’s staff had begun to notice. He waved away their concern. But today Didi had brought him one of his favorites from the café, hoping to tempt him into eating. He had to do something.

  Seth McAllister was his only friend who also knew Maddie fairly well. Fortunately, Seth had time to meet with him, so J.C. drove over to his current work site, an old Victorian home, to talk.

  The oak-lined, brick-paved street was in the oldest part of Rosewood. Many of the homes were still lived in by descendants of the town’s founders. Its permanence resonated with J.C. How would this neighborhood look in twenty years if a superstore took hold of the town? Would it eventually become run-down or deserted because the owners’ businesses could no longer compete?

  Seth’s truck was parked out front. J.C. pulled in behind it. The place was quiet. Plans rolled out on a makeshift table, Seth sat on a crate of tile. He gestured to another one close by. “Pull up an uncomfortable hunk of wood.”

  “Where’s your crew?”

  “I told them to take an extra hour for lunch.”

  J.C. winced. “That wasn’t necessary.”

  Seth unscrewed the lid on a thermos bottle. “I can enjoy an hour with an old friend.” He poured coffee into two foam cups.

  J.C. straddled the extra crate, then picked up a cup.

  Seth sipped his coffee, letting J.C. begin at his own pace.

  “Do you know Owen Radley?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s important, Seth.”

  “I did one job for him. He undercut the price we agreed on, imposed penalties that weren’t in the contract, made up restrictions so he could charge the penalties. Worse, he treated my men … poorly.”

  J.C. told Seth about Owen’s offer to buy the building.

  “Wagner Hill? Nothing personal, but what does he want with the building? I appreciate the fine craftsmanship, the history of the place, but I’d be surprised if he does.” Seth pulled his eyebrows together. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  “A lot. He wants to turn Wagner Hill into a living history museum of Rosewood and he’ll pay plenty for the privilege.”

  Seth frowned. “That doesn’t sound like something he’d be interested in.”

  J.C. nodded in agreement. “But he has a valid point about Chrissy’s future. His offer is sixty percent over the highest appraisal from top market years.”

  “Jay and Fran left enough
money for college, didn’t they?”

  “With their life insurance.”

  Seth was quiet.

  “So you’re wondering why I’d consider the offer? Why Chrissy would need the money? I don’t know that she will. But it would give her any opportunity she could dream of.”

  “That she won’t have otherwise?” Seth shifted his weight and the crate creaked beneath him. “Don’t you believe the Lord will give her endless opportunities?”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Not always.”

  “For me it does.” J.C. exhaled. “There’s something else. Owen says he’ll make sure we don’t get a superstore on Wagner Hill’s land, or a tourist shop.”

  “Funny, I’d have thought bringing a superstore to Rosewood would be right up his alley.”

  J.C. nodded.

  “That’s not what’s bothering you.”

  He smiled bleakly. “You always see right to the heart of things. I don’t know what Owen and Maddie … if they’re in a relationship.”

  “Not one I’ve heard about and Emma usually sniffs out that sort of thing pretty well. Claims it has to do with designing wedding gowns, that she’s tuned into romance.” Seth paused. “Have you asked Maddie?”

  “Owen’s made … insinuations.”

  “I bet he did,” Seth scoffed.

  J.C. stared at the ground. “Do you think she could have planned this buyout with him?”

  “Have you met the woman?” Seth shook his head in disbelief. “Think about it. A diabolical plan? First step, taking her mother to you. Of course she’d have to know that you’d offer to help her set up a shop and renovate the apartments. Then, have Owen buy the place? Kind of a stupid plan. Why use all that time and energy if Owen wanted to turn Wagner Hill into a museum? I don’t think much of Owen, but from experience, he doesn’t throw his money away. If anything, he would try to drive the price down.” Seth frowned more deeply. “I don’t like the sound of any of this.”

  “The man’s arrogant, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

  Seth’s face was still grim. “I know firsthand that danger comes in all kinds of packages. Even to Rosewood.”

  “I may be gullible, but my concerns about the danger are more … emotional than physical.”

  “Don’t take things at face value, J.C. Talk to Maddie, find out for yourself how she feels about Owen.”

  “I don’t have any claims on her.”

  “An even better reason to ask. Maybe it’s time you do.”

  J.C. looked sharply at his friend.

  “Even I can see that you’re crazy about her. And Emma will tell you I’m usually the last one to know.”

  Maybe.

  But this time, J.C. reasoned, he was the last to know.

  J.C. held Seth’s advice close for days. If he questioned Maddie, he had to be prepared to share his own past, explain why it was so hard for him to trust. By the end of the week he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer and returned home in time for dinner.

  Maddie greeted him with a hopeful smile. “I’m so glad you don’t have to work late. We’ve missed you.”

  Chrissy spotted him. “Uncle James!” Putting down her book, she ran to his side. “You haven’t been home in forever.”

  “Not so long,” he replied, giving her shoulder a quick hug.

  “You missed your turn to pick out what we do on Saturday!” She grinned mischievously. “So I got to pick.”

  “Hopefully we’re not climbing the water tower.”

  Chrissy giggled. “No, silly.”

  “Your uncle’s probably tired and hungry,” Maddie intervened. “Why don’t you help me dish up the vegetables?”

  J.C. wandered into the living room. Lillian was crocheting something in a fine ivory yarn. Her hands trembled only slightly, a sign that she was holding her own. “Evening, Mrs. Carter.”

  Looking up, she tsked. “Sit down, you look as tired as week-old bread.”

  Her words brought a reluctant smile and he sat on the end of the sofa closest to her chair.

  Lillian reached into her yarn bag, rustled around, retrieved a roll of Life Savers and handed it to him.

  Accepting one, he extended the rest to her.

  But Lillian waved him away. “Appears you can use the whole roll.”

  Even though he knew every facet of her neurological history, he sometimes saw insights in Lillian that defied her medical condition. “What about you and Chrissy?”

  She dove back into her yarn bag and pulled out another roll.

  Chuckling, he relaxed. “As long as you’re covered.”

  Lillian sniffed, catching the scent of what Maddie was cooking. “Dinner ought to be ready pretty soon, shouldn’t it?” She frowned. “Wouldn’t be lunch I don’t think …”

  “Dinner,” he confirmed. “Smells good.”

  “My Maddie’s a wonderful cook, always has been. When she could barely see the top of the kitchen table, she wanted to roll out biscuits and stir cake batter. Her father built her a special little set of stairs so she could reach. He was afraid she’d fall off a step ladder.”

  Chrissy ran into the room. “Dinner’s ready! Come on, Uncle James, Mrs. Lillian!”

  J.C. got up, then offered his hand to Lillian. Accepting, she leaned on him as they walked to the table. He pulled out her chair, then helped her get settled.

  He thought about the blessing while they all assembled. Bending his head, he silently prayed for guidance. “Lord, we thank You for this nourishment, the blessings You bring us every day, for each of our loved ones. Let us appreciate these blessings, and keep in mind You are with us in each step, each day. Amen.”

  A quiet murmur of amens circled the table.

  Glancing up, he met Maddie’s gaze. She sat across from him, watching, her eyes simmering with questions. Tonight they were the softest of blues, their dark-rimmed edges making them more luminescent, more enchanting.

  “I’ve read more books than everybody in class except Susan Porter. But she reads all the time, even during lunch.” Chrissy passed him the basket of rolls. “And she didn’t do the extra credit in science.”

  Lillian winked at her. “You’ll catch up.”

  J.C. felt himself thawing.

  “That’s right,” Maddie agreed. “You made the best poster in class. And your teacher’s going to enter it in the science fair.”

  Chrissy grinned.

  The phone rang.

  Maddie started to rise, but Chrissy jumped up first. “I’ll get it.” She scampered into the kitchen and was back in a flash. “It’s for you, Maddie.”

  “I wonder who’s calling at dinnertime,” she mused.

  “Owen,” Chrissy replied, reaching for potatoes. “Ra … Ra something.”

  Startled, Maddie quickly put her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. “I won’t be a minute.”

  She could take an hour, J.C. told himself. A day, a week, a year. Because he didn’t want to hear what she had to say about Owen Radley.

  “Owen,” Lillian mused. “Maddie’s fiancé. Nice young man.”

  The sinking in J.C.’s gut nearly did him in.

  It was true, then. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  Except prepare to say goodbye.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Maddie paced the cobbled walk in the far northern corner of Rosewood’s town park. Away from the swings and slides, even the picnic tables, the spot was sheltered by the low-hanging branches of an ancient oak tree. The curving wrought-iron bench beneath the tree was a beacon for couples young and old, a place to sit and hold hands, to declare their love.

  Owen’s phone call the previous night kept running through her mind. Meet me at our bench in the park. Furious over the assumption, she had refused. But then he’d warned her that if she didn’t, he would ruin J.C. and Chrissy’s futures. She couldn’t imagine how, but she wasn’t prepared to risk it.

  Striding down the walk as though he owned it and every piec
e of land on either side, Owen arrived. He gestured toward the bench.

  “I’ll stand,” she replied, unwilling to sit next to him. What, she wondered, had happened to the young man she once loved? Had these rotten seeds been in him all along?

  Owen sent a proprietary gaze over the bench. “We spent a lot of afternoons here, talking about our future, planning our lives.”

  Anger dissolved into pity. “Owen, that was so long ago. We’re different people now, too different.”

  “And J. C. Mueller isn’t?”

  “Why did you want to meet? You talked about his future and Chrissy’s—”

  “And yours. Maddie, I want to buy out your lease.”

  Puzzled, she stared at him.

  “For your shop. I’ll pay you twice what it’s worth.”

  “I don’t have a lease.”

  Owen frowned. “You rent the place month-to-month?”

  “No. It’s …” She paused, wanting to say it was none of his business, but she needed to know how he was threatening J.C. and Chrissy. “Why do you want to buy my lease?”

  “Because I don’t want you to lose your investment.”

  Truly baffled, she shook her head. “That won’t happen. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Owen, but my shop, my business doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Even though I’m buying the Wagner Hill building?”

  Shock struck hard and fast. “That’s not true!”

  “Why do think I paid off your account at the costume shop? To keep you from going further in debt. You’re probably not making enough in your tea parlor to cover costs.”

  Maddie shook her head, hating what she was hearing. “I’ll pay back every cent.”

  “I can afford it. It’ll be a write-off when the deal goes through for the building.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Ask J.C.”

  She knew J.C. wouldn’t agree to Owen’s deal. “Last night you said that if I didn’t meet with you, it would ruin his and Chrissy’s future. What did you mean?”

  “I’m paying above market price, way above. You think anyone else would? That child can have an Ivy League education, then anything else she wants. J.C. knows a good deal when he sees it.”