The Man Must Marry

by Janet Chapman

  Willa stared at the closed door. What was she going to tell Jennifer about Abram’s will? And Shelby? Or anyone else, for that matter. She snorted and pulled her sweater over her head. She sure as heck wasn’t telling them she was a multi-multi-millionaire.

  Even if it was only for three months.

  But she was keeping the RoseWind, no matter what happened. Sam had said none of them cared much about sailing, and she couldn’t leave that beautiful sloop with anyone who couldn’t appreciate what a work of art it was.

  “I need a hairbrush,” she said, walking into the main room.

  “I think you need a hairdresser more. Emmett said the RoseWind is the fastest sloop he’s ever built. I wish I could have sailed her here with you.”

  “I wish you had been with me, too. Sam Sinclair was more trouble than help.” She snickered. “He can swim, though.”

  Jen’s eyes widened, her spoonful of cereal stopped halfway to her mouth. “Sam Sinclair was with you?” she squeaked.

  Willa wanted to kick herself. “That is not common knowledge, young lady. Especially don’t tell your mother.”

  Jen set her spoon in her bowl, her breakfast forgotten. “Are Abram’s grandsons as cool as Abram? Are they handsome? And single?” She shook her head. “What am I thinking? If they’re rich and handsome, of course they’re already married.”

  “They are three confirmed bachelors, and women everywhere can be thankful for that. I came this close”—Willa held her thumb and finger an inch apart—“to tossing Sam overboard.”

  “So where is he?”

  “With any luck, on his way back to New York City.”

  Jen sighed and stood up. “Too bad. I’d like to meet one of Abram’s grandsons, so I could at least thank him for the truck. We need to get going so I won’t be late. I found your rain slicker caught on the fence. Here—it’s still raining a bit.” She handed it to Willa as she walked out the door.

  “We’ll stop at the coffee shop, and you can run in and get me a muffin and coffee,” Willa said, smoothing down her tangled hair as she followed.

  Jen giggled, limping toward the main driveway. “I think it’s cool how the coffee shop banned you.”

  “Cool.”

  “Well, yeah. It shows you’re not afraid to stand up for what you believe in.”

  “Um…and at the town meeting last year?” Willa asked, watching her niece out of the corner of her eye. “Do you think that was cool, or did I act like a ‘confounded female’ who didn’t know what in hell I was talking about?”

  “No! Everyone has the right to speak out, especially when their opinion runs contrary to popular sentiment. That’s the whole point of democracy.”

  “But did you agree with me?”

  “It doesn’t matter. There were a lot of pros and cons to having a big-box store built in town, but nobody was voicing the cons. You should have sued them for removing you from the meeting. They completely disregarded your civil rights.”

  Willa merely smiled as she climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV.

  “Okay,” Jen said, putting the key in the ignition. “Promise to be patient with me.”

  “Willa!” Shelby called.

  Willa look out the windshield to see her sister standing on the porch, wearing her bathrobe and slippers.

  “We need to talk.” Shelby lowered her voice to normal when Jennifer rolled down her window. “And you don’t have to take Jen to school. I’ll take her when I take Cody in, and she can practice driving with me this afternoon.”

  “I don’t mind,” Willa said, leaning over to talk out of Jen’s window. “She asked for my help, so she must want me fussing over her.”

  “Oh, for the love of—Willa, Richard called last night. He’s arriving home today.”

  Willa glanced briefly at Jen, then looked back at her sister. “And?”

  “And…he doesn’t know we’ve moved out,” Shelby said, also darting a glance at her daughter. “I just thought you might want to hang around here today.”

  Willa patted Jen’s arm. “I’ll be right back, kiddo. Go ahead and start her up, and get familiar with all the dials and buttons. I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”

  Willa scrambled out of the truck and ran onto the porch. “I’m not sure you want me here when Richard shows up,” she said, keeping her back to Jennifer and her voice low. She glanced toward the door to make sure Cody wasn’t within earshot, either. “When Richard brought Abram’s body down to New York, he…well, he was really mad.”

  “About what?” Shelby asked.

  “He claimed I talked you into asking for a divorce.” Willa felt her face heat up. “And then Sam Sinclair showed up, and they got into a fight. Then the other two grandsons lugged Richard off and put him on that cargo ship headed to Italy.” She shook her head. “Richard blames me, Shel. But if you want me to be here when you confront him, I’ll come back after dropping Jen off.”

  Shelby frowned at her.

  “I guess he’s right to blame me. But I’ve missed hearing you laugh like you used to, Shel. I know you haven’t been happy for a long time now. Richard’s always putting you down, and you…you never defend yourself.”

  “That’s because I no longer care what Richard thinks of me. But I didn’t realize how it was affecting my children. Then one day last month, Cody said something to me, and I heard Richard’s words coming out of his mouth. It wasn’t so much what Cody said, it was the tone he used. That’s when I knew staying for the sake of the children was actually hurting them.” She reached out and touched Willa’s sleeve. “I’m sorry he accused you, Willy. I told him the divorce was my idea and that you had nothing to do with it.”

  Willa shook her head. “Sam showed up just as I slipped and fell, trying to walk away from Richard, and he thought Richard had attacked me. You should have seen them, Shel; they were like two mad dogs going at each other.”

  “I’m going to be late!” Jen shouted.

  Willa patted her sister’s arm. “I’ll check in at the factory, then come back here for the day. You can help me move my stuff into the cottage.” She ran down the stairs before Shelby could respond.

  “Okay, kiddo,” she said, climbing into the truck and fastening her seat belt. “Let’s see if we can get to school without breaking any speed records.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Willa searched the cupboards of her office bathroom for her hair dryer and finally found it in a box she’d brought in when she had first opened Kent Caskets. She plugged in the dryer. In four years, she’d never once showered at work.

  There had been such a fuss over her having an executive bathroom when they renovated the old factory she’d bought. Her chief of operations, Silas Payne, had insisted that Willa have an entire office suite, saying she needed to present herself as a successful businesswoman. Maureen, head of casket interiors, had told Willa that Silas was so insistent because he couldn’t very well have his own private bathroom if his boss didn’t. Apparently, in big business, bathrooms were status symbols.

  Willa hadn’t envisioned Kent Caskets as a big business, but if her staff wanted to pretend it was, who was she to burst their bubble?

  She frowned at herself in the mirror. So, okay, maybe there was a grain of truth in what Shelby had said last night. Maybe she had started up Kent Caskets to give the bored residents of Grand Point Bluff something to do. But she had to earn a living, so it was a win-win situation for everyone.

  Willa turned on the blow dryer and started brushing her hair, smiling as she remembered her hair-raising ride to work that morning.

  Jennifer had to be operating the forklifts and equipment at Emmett’s yard; she’d driven the eight miles to school like a seasoned pro. However, Willa couldn’t get the hang of driving with her left foot if her life depended on it. She must have looked like a giant jackrabbit, spastically jerking the accelerator, then slamming on the brakes.

  When she’d peered into her rearview mirror after dropping Jennifer off, Willa had seen
a horrified look on her niece’s face. She didn’t know if she was embarrassing Jen beyond redemption or if the teenager had feared her beautiful new truck would return minus some paint.

  Once she’d managed to get on the road—after squealing the tires leaving the school driveway—she’d had to keep pulling over so the accumulating rush-hour traffic could pass. It was a miracle she hadn’t been stopped for driving drunk, which is exactly what she must have looked like. Nevertheless, she was writing an editorial letter to the newspaper first thing tomorrow, explaining horn-honking etiquette to all the idiots who thought they owned the road.

  She shut off the dryer, only to hear a knock on her office bathroom door, quickly followed by the familiar tap-tap-tap of Maureen’s cane.

  “Everyone’s in the break room waiting for you, boss,” Maureen said, taking the brush out of Willa’s hand. She hung her cane on her arm, then started brushing the back of Willa’s hair. “We want to hear all about your trip to New York. I especially want to hear about the board meeting. I hope you knocked the stuffing out of those suits.”

  Willa sighed to herself. Anyone who wore a tie to work was a suit to Maureen, who still held a few grudges from when she had worked in Boston four decades ago. She’d been passed over for more than one promotion, the positions going to men who were often less qualified than she was. Which was why Maureen had moved to Keelstone Cove and opened a fabric shop twenty-five years ago, having realized there were no glass ceilings for business owners. She had eventually sold the Quilted Lobster for a tidy sum, moved into Grand Point Bluff, and agreed to become Willa’s director of casket interiors only because she would finally have a boss who wasn’t a man. That didn’t, however, stop Maureen from butting heads with Silas on a regular bases. There were days when Willa felt more like a referee than a business owner.

  “I knocked out my own stuffing, Maureen,” Willa said with a laugh. “I was so nervous I nearly killed myself getting off the elevator. Um…about those beautiful suits you lent me? The brown one is okay because I was wearing it, but the green one has a tear in the skirt. The elevator ate it—along with the slacks Joan lent me.”

  Maureen blinked at her in the mirror. “Can it be repaired?”

  Willa turned to face her. “I don’t think so. The elevator chewed it up pretty badly.” She turned back to the mirror and started braiding her hair. “We’ll get on the Internet tomorrow, and you can pick out a new suit that you like.”

  “It was a Pendleton, Willa. It cost me a week’s wages.”

  Which was somewhere around a hundred and fifty bucks forty years ago, Willa figured. “You can also pick out a matching blouse and even a purse if you want.” She tied off the end of her thick braid and tossed it over her shoulder. “And just between you and me,” she said in a conspirator’s whisper, “I had those stuffed suits shaking in their shoes by the end of the meeting. I told them I wasn’t voting Abram’s shares until I was good and ready. Then I told the three grandsons that they were taking me to dinner that night, and we wouldn’t resume the board meeting until I was ready to vote.”

  Maureen’s eyes widened. “I bet they didn’t like that.” She tapped her cane on the floor. “You did good, boss. Didn’t I tell you to walk in there as if you owned the place? God, I wish I’d been there to see it. Which one of the boys did you vote for?”

  “I didn’t get to vote. Abram died the next morning, and my proxy died with him.”

  Maureen’s excitement instantly vanished. “The old poop.” She turned to leave. “This place isn’t the same without him running around sticking his nose into everything.” She stopped at the door and looked back. “Are you coming to the break room? You can at least tell us about the funeral.” She smiled. “Abram looked right good in his casket, didn’t he?”

  “You saw him in it?” Willa asked in surprise.

  “Spencer arranged a viewing for us before Abram was shipped out. We all wanted to say our good-byes. That Spencer is a really nice fellow, for a lawyer.” She frowned. “Except he invited the coffee clubbers to come say good-bye, too. The mood sort of disintegrated when they walked in.” She lifted her chin. “Those people are really annoying. They were acting as if Abram was their best friend.”

  “He had breakfast with them every morning, Maureen.”

  “Still. That Doris Ambrose tucked an angel figurine in Abram’s casket, bawling like a baby. After she left, Silas shoved it down to Abram’s feet so his grandsons wouldn’t think we’re all wacko up here. So, are you coming to the break room?”

  Willa sighed. “I’ll be there in a minute, and I’ll tell you all about Rosebriar, the grandsons, and the funeral.”

  Maureen rushed off to inform the others, and Willa took her time straightening her bathroom. Before she’d left, she’d endured three days of being told how to act in a big-business board meeting, and her mentors were expecting to hear the details.

  Willa stared into the mirror. She owed these sincere people so much for supporting her these past five years, and they deserved nothing but honesty from her. Besides, the majority of them were retired executives with cumulative decades of experience; surely they could help her figure a way out of the bequest.

  Willa walked out of her office and down the hall, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of hardwood resin. What had made her think that she could ever sail off into the sunset? She belonged here, in Keelstone Cove, in her factory, taking care of her adopted family. And Emmett. And Shelby and Jennifer and Cody. There might be times when she felt damned if she stayed, but she would surely die inside if she left.

  She had just started to push open the door to the break room when she heard a familiar male voice say, “And this is where the mainsail winch took the first chunk out of me. They really should put safety guards on those things.”

  What was he doing here? Willa inched open the door and peeked inside, then immediately let it close, putting her back to the wall, her hand covering her heart. Holy hell, she’d forgotten how handsome he was. The last time she’d seen Sam, he’d had a five-day beard and more bruises than a prize fighter and had been stuffing his face like a caveman.

  Damn, he cleaned up good.

  He obviously had no intention of going back to New York. Did he think to pick up where Abram had left off, hoping to rally her workers to his cause? By God, she’d fire them all if they even hinted that Sam would make her a wonderful husband.

  The door suddenly opened, and Maureen walked out, giving a surprised yelp. “Land gracious, Willa, you startled me! I was coming after you again. You’ll never guess who’s here.” Then she frowned. “Wait, you knew Sam Sinclair was in town, because he said he sailed in on the RoseWind with you. How come you didn’t tell me about him when I came to get you?”

  “I forgot,” Willa said, walking past her into the suddenly silent break room. “Carl, I sold that custom rock maple casket last night and put the sales slip on your desk.” She went to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, then turned and smiled at her crew. “I see you’ve all been very busy while I was away,” she drawled. “Last night, when I stopped in to get Cyrus a casket for Gramps, I had to go back outside and look at the building to make sure I was in the right place. It amazes me how you can suddenly decide to remodel the reception area and get it completely done in less than ten days—all without the owner of the business knowing she even wanted to remodel.”

  Nobody said anything.

  Willa kicked her smile up a notch. “And I see you’ve all met Abram’s grandson Sam.” She looked directly at him. “Thank you for stopping by on your way back to New York, to thank everyone personally for their condolences.”

  Sam brushed the front of his shirt, sprinkling the floor with tiny wood shavings. “Actually, I stopped by this morning looking for a job.” He nodded toward Silas. “Mr. Payne was nice enough to give me a position in the planing room. I had no idea how precise woodworking is, but I hope I can get the hang of it in a few days.” He glanced toward Levi, the master carpenter, and
smiled. “Assuming Levi doesn’t run me through the planer for ruining another bird’s-eye maple board.”

  He was working here?

  Willa’s hormones started doing their little happy dance, and she firmly tamped them down. “Wonderful.” She looked at Silas Payne. “Though I just got back, I have to leave for the day, I’m afraid. Shelby’s moved in with me, and we have to do some house rearranging.”

  “Shelby left Richard!” Maureen shouted, thumping her cane. “I knew that girl would come to her senses!”

  Shelby was a regular at Kent Caskets when her kids were in school, sometimes filling in when a worker was sick and sometimes just visiting. Everyone knew she was unhappy, and in their own subtle way, all had encouraged her to leave Richard.

  “But why did she move in with you?” one of the women from interiors asked. “Why didn’t she kick Richard out?”

  “She can’t, Mabel,” Willa explained. “That house has been in the Bates family for five generations.”

  “But that means Ida Bates will have to move back home to take care of Richard,” another woman said. “We’re going to lose our fourth for bridge.”

  “Richard Bates can damn well take care of himself,” Maureen interjected. “Ida’s not about to move back to that drafty old farmhouse. She loves her apartment at Grand Point.”

  Willa set her coffee mug in the dishwasher before heading for the door. “I have to go. Richard is getting back today, and he doesn’t know Shelby moved out.” She stopped in the doorway. “I promise to tell you all about New York tomorrow. Try not to remodel anything else until then, would you?”

  She headed down the hall and out the back door and had just made it to Jennifer’s truck when Sam called out, “Wait up, Willa. I want to talk to you.”

  Willa turned to watch Sam loping toward her. She turned and eyed Jennifer’s truck. She smiled, reaching into her pocket for the keys and tossing them to Sam.