Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir

by Heidi Betts

  Within the hour, he’d been in touch with everyone he’d needed to contact back in Pittsburgh. Put out the word that he would be staying in Summerville indefinitely, and that his right-hand men—and women—were in charge of Keller Corp until further notice.

  As far as Vanessa knew, though, he hadn’t told them why he would be away for a while. She’d overheard him on the phone with his brother, but all Marc had said was that the business he was thinking of investing in looked promising and he needed to stick around to take a closer look at the premises and financials.

  Keeping the true reason to himself was probably a smart move, she admitted reluctantly. No doubt if Eleanor Keller learned that her cherished son had a child with his evil ex-wife, she would go into a tizzy of epic proportions. Her already just-sucked-on-a-lemon expression would turn even more pinched and she would immediately begin plotting ways to get both Marc and Danny back into her circle of influence.

  But not Vanessa. Eleanor would be plotting ways to keep Vanessa from reentering her or her son’s lives.

  Vanessa imagined that where Marc took it as a given that he was Danny’s father, Marc’s mother would insist on having a paternity test conducted as soon as possible. She would pray for a result that proved Danny was another man’s child, of course, leaving Marc free and clear.

  Free and clear of Vanessa, and free and clear to marry someone else. A woman Eleanor would not only approve of, but would probably handpick herself.

  She didn’t verbalize her inhospitable thoughts to Marc, however. He didn’t know how truly horrid his mother had been to her while they’d been married and she saw no reason to enlighten him now.

  “There,” he said, pushing through the swinging door into the kitchen where she and Aunt Helen were keeping themselves busy. He slipped his cell phone into his pocket, then shrugged out of his suit jacket altogether.

  “That should buy me a few weeks of freedom before the place starts to fall apart and they send out a search party.”

  Aunt Helen was up to her elbows in bread flour, but her feelings on the subject of Marc staying in town were clear in the narrow slits of her eyes and the force she was using to knead the ball of dough in front of her.

  She didn’t like it one little bit, but as Vanessa had told her while Marc was making phone calls, they didn’t have a choice. Either Marc stuck around until he got whatever it was that he was after, or he would drag Vanessa and Danny back to Pittsburgh.

  She’d considered a third option—sending Marc back to Pittsburgh on his own—but knew that if she pushed him on the issue, it would only cause trouble and hostility. If she refused to allow Marc time with his son, in one town or another, Vanessa had no doubt it would only spur her ex-husband to throw his weight and his family’s millions around.

  And what did that mean? A big, ugly custody battle.

  She was a good mother, so she knew Marc could never take Danny away from her on that basis alone. But she didn’t fool herself, either, that the system wouldn’t be swayed by the amount of money and power the Kellers could bring to bear. Eleanor alone wasn’t above bribery, blackmail or making up a series of stories to paint Vanessa in the most negative light possible.

  No, if there was any way to avoid a custody fight or any amount of animosity with Marc whatsoever, then she had to try. It might even mean making arrangements for shared custody and traveling back and forth to Pittsburgh or having Marc travel back and forth to Summerville. But whatever it took to keep Marc happy and Danny with her, she would do.

  Even if it meant letting her ex move into her life—and her business and possibly her house—for God knew how long.

  Finished filling a tray with fresh squares of turtle brownies, Vanessa wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel. “What about your things?” she asked. “Don’t you need to go home and collect your personal items?”

  Marc shrugged, and she couldn’t help but notice the shift of firm muscle beneath his white button-down shirt. She remembered only too well what lay beneath that shirt, and how much she’d once enjoyed knowing it belonged to her and her alone.

  “I’m having some clothes and such shipped. Anything else I need, I’m sure I can purchase here.”

  He hung his jacket on a hook near the door, where she and Helen kept their aprons when not in use, then crossed to the bassinet she’d dragged back out of the storeroom once Marc had figured out what was going on. Danny was sleeping inside, stretched out on his little belly, arms and legs all akimbo.

  “The only question now,” Marc said, gazing down at his son, then reaching out to stroke a single finger over Danny’s soft cheek, “is where I’ll be staying while I’m in town.”

  Vanessa opened her mouth, not even sure what she was about to say, only to be interrupted by Helen.

  “Well, you’re not staying in my house,” her aunt announced in no uncertain terms. Her tight, blue-washed curls bobbed as she used the heels of her hands to beat the ball of bread dough into submission.

  Though her aunt’s clear dislike of Marc brought an immediate stab of guilt and the sudden urge to apologize, Vanessa was unaccountably grateful that Helen had the nerve to blurt out what she’d been unable to find the courage to tell him herself.

  “Thank you so much for the kind invitation,” Marc said, lips twisted with amusement, “but I really couldn’t impose.”

  How typical of him to take Helen’s rudeness in stride. That sort of thing never had fazed him, mainly because Marc knew who he was, where he came from and what he could do.

  Plus, Aunt Helen hadn’t always hated him. She didn’t hate him now, actually, she was just annoyed with him and took his treatment of Vanessa personally.

  Which was at least partly Vanessa’s fault. She’d shown up on her aunt’s doorstep hurt, angry, broken and carrying her ex-husband’s child.

  After spilling out the story of her rocky marriage, subsequent divorce, unexpected pregnancy and desperate need for a place to stay—with Marc filling the role of bad guy-slash-mean old ogre under the bridge at every turn—her aunt’s opinion of him had dropped like a stone. Ever since then, Aunt Helen’s only objective was to not see her niece hurt again.

  Vanessa was still fighting the urge to make excuses for Helen when Marc said, “I thought maybe you could recommend a nice local hotel.”

  Vanessa and Helen exchanged a look.

  “Guess that would be the Harbor Inn just a couple streets over,” Helen told him. “It’s not much, but your only other option is Daisy’s Motel out on Route 12.”

  “Harbor Inn,” Marc murmured, brows drawing together. “I didn’t realize there was a waterway around here large enough to necessitate a harbor.”

  Vanessa and Helen exchanged another look, along with mutual ironic smiles.

  “There isn’t,” Vanessa told him. “It’s one of those small town oddities that no one can really explain. There’s no harbor nearby. Not even a creek or stream worth mentioning. But the Harbor Inn is one of Summerville’s oldest hotels, and it’s decorated top to bottom with lighthouses, seagulls, fishing nets, starfish…”

  She shook her head, hoping Marc wouldn’t think too badly of the town or its residents. Even though some parts were a little backward at times, this was her home now and she found herself feeling quite protective toward it.

  “If nothing else, it’s an amusing place to stay,” she added by way of explanation.

  He looked less than convinced, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved away from the bassinet and started to unbutton his cuffs, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows.

  “As long as it has a bed and a bathroom, I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll be spending most of my time here with you, anyway.”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened at that. “You will?”

  One corner of his mouth quirked. “Of course. This is where my son is. Besides, if your goal is to expand the bakery and possibly branch out into mail-order sales, we’ve got a lot to discuss, and possibly a lot to do.”

  “Wa
it a minute.” She let the spatula in her hand drop to the countertop, feeling her breath catch. “I didn’t agree to let you have anything to do with The Sugar Shack.”

  He flashed her a charming, confident grin. “That’s why we have so much to discuss. Now,” he said, flattening his palms on the edge of the counter, “are you going to show me to this Harbor-less Inn, or would you prefer to simply give me directions so you and your aunt can both stay here and talk about me after I leave?”

  Oh, she wanted to stay behind and talk about him. The problem was, he knew it. And now that he’d tossed down the gauntlet by effectively telling her he knew that’s exactly what would happen the minute he left the room, she had no choice but to go with him.

  Which was exactly why he’d done it.

  Reaching behind her back, she untied the strings of her apron and pulled it off over her head.

  “I’ll take you,” she said, then turned to her aunt. “Will you be okay on your own while we’re gone?”

  The question was just a formality; there were plenty of times when Vanessa left Helen in charge of the bakery while she ran errands or took Danny to the pediatrician. Still, her aunt shot her such a contemptible look that Vanessa nearly chuckled.

  “All right. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  She headed for the door, saying to Marc as she passed, “I just need to grab my purse.”

  He followed her out, waiting at the bottom of the stairs while she ran up to collect her purse and sunglasses.

  “What about the baby?” he asked as soon as she returned.

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure your aunt can take care of him and the bakery at the same time?” He pressed as they moved past the store-front’s display cases and small round tables toward the door.

  Vanessa smiled and waved at familiar customers as she passed. Once outside, she slipped on her sunglasses before turning to face him.

  “Don’t let Helen hear you asking something like that. She’s liable to hurl a cookie sheet at your head.”

  He didn’t laugh. In fact, he didn’t look amused at all. Instead, he looked legitimately concerned.

  “Relax, Marc. Aunt Helen is extremely competent. She runs the bakery by herself all the time.”

  “But—”

  “And watches Danny at the same time. We both do. Truthfully, she’s been a godsend,” Vanessa admitted. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Or what she would have done without her, when she’d found herself jobless, husbandless and pregnant all in the space of a few short months.

  “So are we taking your car or mine?” she asked in an attempt to draw Marc’s focus away from worrying about Danny.

  “Mine,” he said.

  Vanessa kept pace with him as he turned on his heel and started down the sidewalk in the direction of Blake and Fetzer where he’d left his Mercedes. She was still dressed in the skirt and blouse she’d worn for her disastrous meeting earlier that morning. She wished now that she’d taken the time to change into something more comfortable. She especially wished she’d exchanged her heels for a pair of flats.

  Marc, however, looked as suave and at ease as ever in his tailored suit pants and polished dress shoes. His jacket was slung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked casually into his slacks.

  When they reached his car, he held the door while she climbed in the front passenger side, then rounded the back and slid in behind the wheel. He slipped the key in the ignition, then sat back in his seat, turning to face her.

  “Will you do something for me before we head for the hotel?” he asked.

  A shiver of trepidation skated beneath her skin and she immediately tensed. Hadn’t she already done enough? Wasn’t she already doing enough simply by accepting Marc’s presence in town when what she really wanted to do was snatch up her child and head for the hills?

  She also couldn’t help remembering the many times they’d been alone in a car together in the past. Their first dates, where they’d steamed up the windows with their passion. After they were married, when a simple trip to the grocery store or out to dinner would include soft, intentional touches and comfortable intimacy.

  She was sure he remembered, too, which only added to the tightening of her stomach and nervous clench of her hands on the strap of her purse where it rested on her lap.

  “What?” she managed to say, holding her breath for the answer.

  “Show me around town. Give me the ten-dollar tour. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but you can’t be dropping everything every time I need directions.”

  Vanessa blinked and released her breath. Okay, that wasn’t nearly as traumatizing as she’d expected. It was actually rather thoughtful of him.

  Since her mouth had gone dry, for a second she could only lick her lips and bob her head in agreement. With an approving nod, he started the car and began to pull out of the lot.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  It took her a moment to think of where to start, and what she should show him, but Summerville was so small that she finally decided it wouldn’t hurt to show him pretty much everything.

  “Take a left,” she told him. “We’ll do Main Street, then I’ll take you around the outskirts. We should end up at the Harbor Inn without too much backtracking.”

  A lot of the local businesses he could make out for himself. The diner, the drugstore, the flower shop, the post office. A little farther from the center of town were a couple of fast-food restaurants, gas stations and a Laundromat. In between the smattering of buildings were handfuls of houses, farms and wooded parcels.

  She told him a bit of what she knew about her neighbors, both the owners of neighboring businesses and some of the residents of Summerville.

  Like Polly—who ran Polly’s Posies—and went around town every morning to deliver a single fresh flower to each store on Main Street free of charge. The vase she’d provided Vanessa was front and center on the counter, right next to the cash register, and even though she never knew what kind of flower Polly would choose to hand out on any given day, she had to admit the tiny dot of color really did add a touch of hominess to every single business in town.

  Or Sharon—the pharmacist at Main Street Drugs—who had given Vanessa such wonderful prenatal advice and even set her up with her current pediatrician.

  She had such close relationships with so many people in town. Something she’d never had while living in Pittsburgh with Marc. In the city, whether visiting the grocery store, pharmacy or dry cleaner’s, she’d been lucky to make eye contact with the person behind the counter, much less make small talk.

  Here, there was no such thing as a quick trip to the store. Every errand involved stopping numerous times to say hello and catch up with friendly acquaintances. And while she’d never missed that sort of thing before, she knew she would definitely miss it now if she woke up one day and realized it was no longer a part of her life.

  “That’s about it,” she told him twenty minutes later, after pointing him in the general direction of the hotel where he would be staying. “There isn’t much more to see, unless you’re interested in a tour of the dairy industry from the inside out.”

  A small smile curved his lips. “I’ll pass, thanks. But I think you missed something.”

  She frowned, wondering what he could possibly mean. She hadn’t shown him the nearest volunteer fire department or water treatment plant, but those were several miles outside of town, and she didn’t think he really cared about that sort of thing, anyway.

  “You didn’t show me where you live,” he supplied in a low voice.

  “Do you really need to know?” she asked, ignoring the spike of heat that suffused her from head to toe at the knowing glance he sent her.

  “Of course. How else will I know where to pick you up for dinner?”

  Five

  As much as Vanessa would have liked to argue with Marc about his heavy-handedness, in the end, she didn’t bother. He had a nasty habit of gett
ing his way in almost every situation, anyway, so what was the point?

  She’d also reluctantly decided that, for as long as Marc was determined to stay in her and Danny’s lives, it was probably better to simply make nice with him. There was no sense antagonizing him or fighting him at every turn when he potentially held so much of her future in his hands.

  At the moment, the only thing he seemed to want was time with and information about his son. He wasn’t trying to take Danny away from her or making threats about trying to take him later, even though they both knew he was probably within his rights to do so.

  The threatening part, not the actual taking. But if she were in his shoes, anger and a sense of betrayal alone would have had her yelling all manner of hostile, menacing things.

  So this afternoon when Marc asked her to show him where she lived with Aunt Helen, she took him to the small, two-story house on Evergreen Lane. It wasn’t much compared to the sprawling estate where he’d grown up with servants and tennis courts and a half mile, tree-lined drive just to reach the front gate, but in the last year, it had become home to her.

  Helen had given up her guest room to Vanessa and helped turn her sewing room into a nursery for Danny. She’d volunteered her kitchen to thousands of hours of trial and error with her family recipes before they’d felt brave enough to move forward with the idea of actually opening a bakery of their very own.

  In return, Vanessa helped with the general upkeep of the house, had planted rows of brand-new pink and red begonias in the flower beds lining the front porch and walk, and had even taught Helen enough about computers to have her emailing with friends from grade school she’d never thought to be in contact with again.

  Though Vanessa still believed there was no way she could ever truly repay her aunt’s kindness in her time of need, Helen insisted she enjoyed the company and was happy to have so much youth and activity in the house again. Which, in Vanessa’s book, made the tiny white house on less than an acre of mottled green and yellow grass more of a home than Keller Manor, with all its bells and whistles, could ever be.