The Millionaire's Proposal

by Janelle Denison

  “Oh,” Grace breathed in understanding, her hands stilling on a stem of English ivy. “Did you find out who the new property owner is?”

  “Sure did.” Her tone was calm, but undeniably disturbed as she taped the sides of the bakery box. “Title was transferred today, along with confirmation from Hank that we’ll be out of business within the next two months in lieu of a new theater and shopping center.”

  Grace’s heart plummeted at that devastating news. “Oh, Marie . . . Maybe we can contact whoever it is, and try to talk to them. See if we can’t work something out that would benefit them and the tenants here.”

  Marie finally turned around, placing the dessert on the counter. Her gaze held Grace’s steadily. “You can talk to him this evening, I’m sure.”

  Certain she’d misunderstood the other woman, Grace shook her head. “Excuse me?”

  Marie washed her hands and dried them on a terry towel. “FZM, Inc., isn’t that the development company that bought Cutter Creek? The same business Ford owns?”

  A numbing sensation spread within Grace, and she had to sit down on the stool next to her. “Yes.”

  A sad smile touched Marie’s mouth. “Well, then, it looks like your husband is going to be our new landlord until he tears the place down.”

  “That’s impossible, Marie,” Grace said in fierce denial, refusing to believe it could be true. “Ford knows how I feel about whoever is planning to redevelop this property.”

  Surprisingly, Marie expressed no anger, just resignation at the twist fate had delivered. “Which is probably why he hasn’t said anything to you.”

  Ford parked his car next to Grace’s van in the driveway and drew a deep breath, knowing the time had come for him to tell Grace about his recent acquisition, which would change the future of Whitaker Falls. The property and building that housed After Hours and the strip of shops was finally his, to do as he pleased. To make peace with his past.

  Now he just needed to convince Grace that his ideas for the piece of land were viable, and beneficial to the town. He needed her to understand how important this was to him, and how much he wanted her support in his new endeavor to tear down the existing structure and rebuild a theater and new, modernized shops. Destroying After Hours was his main goal, but in the process he wanted to offer Whitaker Falls something that would appeal to all.

  Considering how staunchly Grace defended the current tenants, he had his doubts about her empathizing with his point of view of the situation, even if they had come a long way in their marriage. He’d spent the past few months cultivating her faith in him, needing her to believe in him, and stand behind him, for what he planned to propose.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to reveal his intentions, and he wasn’t so certain Grace was ready to accept them.

  Frustration tightened the muscles across his shoulders. He needed more time to sway her to his way of thinking. He had at least another week before he sent letters to the tenants of the building and informed them of his plans for the property, which gave him another week to discuss the issue with Grace, and most importantly, to do the one thing he’d put off for far too long.

  He needed to tell Grace he loved her, and make her confident in his feelings for her. He’d held back on the vulnerable emotions, so uncertain of where he stood with her, other than the obvious reason that had brought them together: their baby. Tonight, he planned to find out. And from there, they’d work together to solidify their future, and that of Whitaker Falls.

  Satisfied with his plan, he grabbed his briefcase and exited the vehicle, heading up the brick pathway to the front door. He stepped inside, saw the two suitcases sitting in the foyer, and couldn’t stem the foreboding that slithered through him . . . couldn’t squash the sudden intuition that the week he’d thought he’d had to sway his wife had just been squeezed into non-existence.

  Refusing to think the worst until he had an explanation for that luggage, he set his briefcase on the dining room table, and followed the rustling sounds he heard to his master bedroom. Sure enough, his wife was packing all her personal belongings, stuffing them haphazardly into the handled bags on the bed.

  He leaned against the doorframe and forced a calm he was far from feeling. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Her body tensed at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t look at him. “I’m moving out.”

  The pressure in his chest increased. “May I ask why?”

  She cast him a quick glance as she marched to the armoire to gather her things from a drawer. The contempt in her gaze cut sharper than a knife. “You shouldn’t have to ask why,” she said, her tone just as double-edged. “But since you feel the need for me to clarify my reasons, I refuse to live with a man I don’t trust.”

  He found her statement too ambiguous, and until he knew exactly what she was referring to, he decided to abstain from revealing anything. Pushing off the doorjamb, he entered the bedroom, and stopped next to the bed. “What are you talking about?”

  A disgusted sound slipped past her lips. “I’m talking about the fact that you’re the one who bought the After Hours property, Ford.”

  He felt as though he’d been punched in the gut, and tried not to let his unease show. He had to remain calm and rational, though he was feeling anything but. “How did you find out?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked, her voice high and incredulous.

  “Yes, it does,” he insisted, unable to temper the irritable emotions touching his voice. “Especially when I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  “Hank called and told Marie today, not that that changes anything.” She pushed a handful of socks and panties into the bag, and zipped it up with awful finality. Then she turned to look at him with accusing brown eyes. “You lied to me.”

  He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, trying to hold on to the calm that seemed to be deteriorating by the minute. “I never lied.”

  “You omitted the truth, which is something you’re pretty good at doing.” The soft lips he’d kissed so ardently just the night before, in this very bed, were now drawn into a tight line. “You acted as though you knew nothing when we sat in Marie’s Cafe and talked about what the new owner might do to that property! To me, that’s as good as lying, just like you omitted the fact that you were moving to Cutter Creek that first day I saw you.”

  He ground his teeth to tamp his growing aggravation. “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s not fair to me, Ford,” she argued, picking up the two handled bags. “I’m your wife, and I didn’t have the slightest clue what you’d planned. I feel deceived and betrayed by my own husband.”

  He grabbed the totes from her grasp in an attempt to relieve her of the burden, and to keep her from leaving. “I had reasons for waiting to tell you about me buying the land. I wasn’t even sure I’d get the property.”

  “Well, congratulations, Mr. McCabe, it’s yours,” she said sarcastically, granting him no leniency. Seemingly not caring whether she had the bags he held in his hands, or not, she turned on her heel and headed out the door.

  Ford panicked. “Grace!” he called after her, even though he knew his obstinate wife wouldn’t come running back at his demand. “Aww, hell,” he muttered, and dropped her bags on the floor so he could stalk after her. He caught up with her in the foyer, stepping between her and the luggage waiting for her there before she could pick them up.

  “Dammit, Grace, I’m not done talking to you!”

  Instead of the anger he’d expected, she looked up at him with a wealth of disillusionment shimmering in her eyes. “Just be honest with me about one thing, Ford. You’re tearing down those shops, all of them, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am,” he said, hating how ruthless he sounded. But that’s how he felt about his reasons for purchasing that property in the first place. “Those shops are old, and I want After Hours gone. Even you agree that the bar is an eyesore.”

  Her brows snapped into a scowl. “I do
n’t want After Hours torn down at the expense of putting other good, honest, hard-working people out of business because of your selfish ideas!”

  His jaw firmed. “I can’t do it any other way.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  The past rose up to haunt him, brooking no compromise. “I can’t, Grace.”

  “Well, I can’t do it any other way, either.” Her expression saddened. “I can’t live with a man I don’t even know. A man who won’t even confide in me for the most important decisions in his life. I thought we’d come at least that far in this farce of a marriage.” She attempted to step around him to pick up her luggage.

  He blocked her path, but didn’t touch her, though he wanted to. Badly. “Our marriage was never a farce.”

  “Wasn’t it?” she insisted, vulnerable emotions trembling in her voice. “You married me because I was pregnant with your baby, and now I see everything for the sham it is. You moved back to Cutter Creek to prove something, and you’ve certainly created a nice illusion for yourself, with a sprawling house, a wife, a baby, a family. You’ve come a long way since the wild, rebellious kid you were, and I’m just an asset in your life to make you look respectable.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “Dammit, Grace, that’s the furthest thing from the truth!” She didn’t look at all convinced that his motives toward her had been emotion-driven. Desperation coiled through him, and instinctive words blurted from him. “I love you, and I don’t want you to leave!”

  She nearly unraveled at his declaration—he saw the softening in her gaze, the wonderment of the possibility that what he said was true. But then the moment was gone and she gave her head an imperceptible shake. “You’ve given me no choice but to leave, because I can’t even be sure if you really love me, or if you’re using my emotions to get what you want.”

  “Which is?”

  “My cooperation. My approval.” Her chin jutted out mutinously. “You want me to stand by you in your decision to tear down all those shops, but I can’t do that, Ford. I care for those people who’ve worked hard all their lives and won’t have a means for income any longer. You’re destroying more than those shops, Ford, you’ll be destroying people’s dreams at the expense of exorcizing your own demons.” She pulled in a shaky breath, the briefest hint of compassion entering her eyes. “Tearing down After Hours and rebuilding something new won’t make the pain of your past go away, or give you what you want so badly.”

  The only thing he wanted so badly at the moment was her. Nothing else. But he didn’t know how to breach the ever-widening chasm between them, didn’t know how to shake the defensive emotions that gripped him inside.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she valiantly blinked them back. “If you want to be respected and accepted in this community, then you need to do something respectable. And until you figure out a way to do that, I’ll be living at the cottage.”

  His hands clenched into fists at his side. “You’re my wife, Grace,” he said, emotions harshening the tone of his voice. “And I want you here, where you belong.”

  “And you’re my husband, Ford, and I need to trust you,” she whispered as one fat tear spilled out of the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. “Right now, I don’t.”

  This time, when she stepped around him, he let her go, knowing there was nothing else he could say or do to stop her from leaving.

  As he heard the front door close softly behind her, he was struck with the realization that for all he’d gained, he’d just lost the single-most important thing in his life.

  His wife.

  Chapter Ten

  Ford scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the burn of a two day stubble against his palm. It had been that long since Grace had left him, and he’d spent both days holed up in his office at the back of the house, spending his time between taking calls from his estimator who worked out of the office in Richmond, and pouring over the proposed plans he’d developed for the property he’d coveted for so many years.

  The land was now his. He thought he’d feel vindicated somehow, since one of the establishments on that property was the cause of so many awful memories for him. But his triumph was over-shadowed by the parting comment Grace had made to him. If you want to be respected and accepted in this community, then you need to do something respectable.

  Her words haunted him, as did the thought of losing Grace forever.

  He stared at the blue prints spread out on his drafting table in front of him. Two months ago, he’d been pleased with the design and layout of the new structure he’d planned to build in town, envisioning so many opportunities for new businesses and jobs in Whitaker Falls. He’d been optimistic, and so very hopeful that his plans would appeal to the vast majority of the community. Now, he saw his ideas through Grace’s eyes, the demolishing of thriving businesses, and destroying the livelihood of so many people who’d worked hard to gain security for themselves, and their families.

  All these years he’d thought only of himself and what he’d gain with this acquisition—peace and closure to a haunting past. Buying the property had been a personal decision, as well as a business one, but he was struggling with a compromise that would benefit the businesses already established on the property, and his own internal goals.

  He wanted After Hours gone, wanted to tear down the ramshackle bar that had sucked the life out of his mother, which in turn had destroyed his youth. He couldn’t offer a concession on that issue, but as he spent another two hours perusing the blueprints that sketched out the theater he’d planned to build, along with over a dozen other modern shops, he came to the conclusion that there was no reason why the other businesses had to suffer the same fate.

  An idea formed in his mind, a respectable proposition certain to appeal to all parties involved. But first, he needed to make changes to the blueprints, then he needed a sketched rendition of what he had in mind so there would be no misconstruing what he intended.

  With a glimmer of excitement, he picked up the phone and dialed the number of the architect who’d originally designed the new structure. Hopefully, by the end of the following week he’d have the respect of the town, and his wife back at home where she belonged.

  “Why do you suppose Ford is calling a meeting here at Whitaker Towne Square?” Darcy asked, peering out Grace and Charm’s front windows to the crowd gathering in front of the small platform set up in the middle of the plaza.

  The ache in Grace’s heart that she’d been carrying with her for almost two weeks, since the day she’d left Ford, increased in pressure. “I’m sure he’s going to let everyone know what he plans to do with the property that’s now his.”

  Darcy gave her a pained look. “Let’s hope the crowd doesn’t decide to lynch him.”

  Looking out at the sea of angry faces waiting for Ford to arrive, Grace could only nod in agreement. She presumed this formal gathering was Ford’s way of confirming the rumors that had been circulating about his agenda to tear down the entire structure, and to build a new center. That bit of speculation had been met with open hostility and opposition, not that Ford had been around to endure the town’s animosity. He’d been smart, and had kept himself scarce. Indeed, he hadn’t even made any effort to contact her, which only confirmed that he intended to follow through with his original plans.

  The realization caused a wave of misery to well up in her throat.

  The flyers that had been distributed to every home and business in Whitaker Falls had certainly done their job in drawing out the citizens of the town. A few hundred people packed the courtyard, and the crowd was beginning to get restless.

  Grace glanced at her wristwatch, which revealed there was only five minutes to go until the meeting started. She released a sigh of resignation. “I guess we should go join them and see what he has to say.”

  Darcy nodded solemnly. Together, they walked outside, standing at the very back of the assemblage. Right on time, Ford arrived, stepping from his car with a large, thick presentat
ion board in his hands. He made his way up to the platform and set the board on the easel sitting next to the podium.

  The upset congregation had no qualms expressing their displeasure of the man they believed would destroy a part of their town for his own gain, and Grace couldn’t blame them for being so irate, because she was equally so. Everyone knew she was opposed to Ford’s plans, that she supported the tenant’s rights to keep their businesses.

  He tapped on the microphone to quiet down the buzz of conversation filtering through the crowd. He appeared nervous standing in front of so many incensed people, but there was also a quiet confidence about him that made Grace wonder what he intended.

  “Before you start jumping to conclusions that aren’t necessarily true, I want you all to hear me out, until the end.” His voice was strong, and polished, exhibiting just how far he’d come from the underprivileged kid he’d been. “First off, I do want to clarify that my company, FZM, Inc. is now the new property owner of the strip of stores that used to belong to Hank’s father.”

  Grumbling and grousing could be heard from some of the crowd, but overall everyone listened intently to Ford, wanting to hear what he had to say.

  His gaze scanned the audience as if searching for someone—her? Grace wondered—but he remained focused on his speech. “When I first made the decision to return to Whitaker Falls, I did so for the sole purpose of returning where my roots are. I’d grown up here, and my grandfather owned Cutter Creek, which should have been mine. Things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped as a kid, but then I wasn’t given the chance to absolve myself of the stigma I’d lived with all my life.” There was no bitterness in his tone, just a statement of fact. “I wanted to come back to Whitaker Falls and make a difference in this town.”

  “By putting people out of business?” A deep male voice hollered angrily from the crowd.

  “What I’m proposing won’t put the main establishments out of business,” he said, bracing his hands on the podium. “If anything, what I’ve decided to do should draw more attention to those existing businesses, and help them out.”