A Family Forever (Contemporary Romance Novella)

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  "Why are there empty boxes?"

  "Every time I make a release, I leave a box, but the animal doesn't always keep using it. Sometimes they return to the box for a few days then leave. It's likely some of them have even wandered out of the garden and live in the surrounding fields. Once they vacate the box, I'm never sure where they go."

  Adam brightened. "That's good news. I thought we'd have to move ninety animals. Fewer will make the job a lot more manageable." He ran his gaze down the list she'd laid beside the diagram. "So there are thirty-two boxes, six are empty, eight contain adults with young and the other eighteen just contain adults."

  "That's right. I made a few calls last night and this morning. I have local places arranged to take six boxes, but that's all I could organize."

  "So we need to find sites for twenty boxes."

  "Twenty." Victoria gazed out the window at the ramble of greenery, a sigh rushing out between her lips. That didn't sound like many, but she knew from experience it was difficult to find safe places for the animals.

  "Hey, don't worry. We'll crack this." Adam rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

  At least she didn't have to do it alone. Her grandmother's old saying, "A problem shared is a problem halved," was true.

  "I'm glad you bought this place."

  Adam gave an ironic laugh. "I doubt that. My plans have caused you a lot of trouble."

  "The situation could be much worse. Most developers wouldn't care less about the hedgehogs."

  "I suppose you're right." He turned his attention back to the map, circling a finger over the rural area to the north of Great Monkton. "Shall we head up here to start with? There's a fair bit of woodland. I'm guessing that's good for small animals."

  Victoria nodded. For months she'd intended to do more prospecting for release sites and knock on a few doors, but never got around to it.

  "Anyone home?" a man's voice shouted.

  "Ah, that'll be my rental car." Adam hurried out and Victoria wandered after him curiously. Why did he need a rental car when he already had a car?

  Adam signed some documents and accepted the vehicle keys, then the man jumped in a small car and was driven off.

  "This should do." He strode out and Victoria stepped into the open doorway to see outside.

  A chunky four-wheel drive stood by the fountain. Adam opened the driver's door and checked inside. "I thought this would be better for what we have planned." He opened the trunk and beckoned her over. "There's enough room to carry the hedgehog boxes in here." He glanced across at his sleek, low-slung saloon. "My car's not designed for transporting livestock."

  How nice it must be to have the money to order whatever you wanted when you wanted it. Not that Victoria was jealous. She loved her little cottage, her life with Sophie, and her hedgehog work, but juggling her tight budget to pay for hedgehog food, medicine, and boxes on top of everything else was a challenge.

  Adam dashed back inside and returned, folding the map as he came. He locked the front door and tossed some jackets in the back of the new vehicle. "Let's call the kids and get started."

  Harry and Sophie jumped into the four-wheel drive talking nonstop, asking questions about where they were going, demanding snacks and drinks.

  Victoria checked her watch. "You've only just had breakfast. Give it an hour or so and we'll stop for something."

  They headed along narrow country lanes flanked by hedges and visited a number of farms. A couple of farmers were interested, but the trouble with farms was the working dogs. Experience had taught Victoria to be wary of releasing animals where dogs like collies and terriers lived. It was in their nature to ferret out wildlife, and dog bite injuries could be fatal to hedgehogs.

  Next they entered an area of expensive homes with big gardens and knocked on a few doors. By now the kids were bored and complaining. They grabbed a sandwich at a convenience store for lunch and by the afternoon both Harry and Sophie had fallen asleep in the back of the car.

  "Peace," Adam said with a glance over his shoulder. "Not that I don't love having the kids along but those two talk incessantly. I reckon Harry's said more today than he usually does in a month."

  "Soph doesn't usually chat quite so much. They certainly hit it off."

  Adam gazed at Victoria and she felt the same strange tingly sensation she'd had the previous evening when they'd sat in her back garden and eaten pizza.

  "We do as well," Adam said.

  "Yes." Her reply whispered over her lips, barely audible. Adam was so easy to be with, so easy to talk to. Her first impression that he was a city businessman out of place in the country was not wrong, but despite the differences between them, they just sort of clicked. She really would like to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

  "Well, we've found homes for another five boxes today."

  "Five down, fifteen to go." They had pretty much exhausted the area they'd checked. It had been a long and tiring day.

  "I have a meeting with my project manager at Larchfield tomorrow morning, then I'll go out and knock on a few more doors for you."

  "I can come with you. I don't work Mondays and Soph will be at school. What about Harry?"

  "His private tutor is due to come down from London first thing. He's staying at the Plume of Feathers for the week."

  "Just the two of us tomorrow, then. Let's hope we have as much success as we've had today."

  "Yes. Here's to success." Adam raised his can of soda.

  Victoria grabbed her drink from the cup holder and they tapped cans. This task could have been a worrying chore, but being with Adam had turned it into a fun day out.

  He covered her hand with his. "Keep smiling. We'll crack this."

  The warmth of his palm engulfed the back of her hand and spread up her arm. His positive attitude infused her with confidence.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "What for?"

  "Just being you."

  Chapter Five

  "I've had an idea," Adam said the moment Victoria climbed in his car on Monday. "The obvious place to move the hedgehogs is the field beside Larchfield. If the farmer agrees, we can simply lift the boxes over the fence and put them in the hedges. The owner of the Plume of Feathers is his daughter. She said her father's name is Geoff Andrews, but I imagine you already know him."

  Victoria's startled gaze darted to his face, then away. "That would be a good idea if the field was owned by someone else, but there's no point asking Mr. Andrews. He doesn't like me."

  That sounded a bit odd. "What reason does he have to dislike you?"

  "I don't know. He's had it in for me ever since I moved in to my cottage."

  A flutter of unease passed through Adam. "What exactly has he done?"

  Victoria flapped a hand. "Don't worry. I just ignore him."

  Adam kept his gaze on Victoria, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. He didn't like the sound of this at all. He needed to dig deeper and find out more. Meeting Andrews might help him get the measure of the man.

  "I need to introduce myself to him as his land borders mine. I want to warn him about the development, make sure he knows there will be heavy machinery working at Larchfield in case it frightens his cows. I might as well mention the hedgehogs while I'm at it."

  Victoria shrugged. "Okay, but you're wasting your time." Victoria directed him to Willowbrook Farm a few miles away. Adam turned up the cracked concrete driveway bordered by straggly wire fences and brambles.

  He slowed the car and paused when the farmhouse came into view. Gauging a building's moneymaking potential was second nature for him, and Willowbrook set bells ringing. The farmhouse looked to be eighteenth century and must once have been magnificent.

  Now the building was run-down with tiles missing from the roof and even a few broken windows that had been boarded over. No doubt the inside required major remodeling. There was definite potential for someone to improve the property and sell it on. This wasn't his sort of project—he preferred lar
ger developments—but in the right hands it would turn a tidy profit.

  Adam drew up beside a filthy, dented Land Rover. "You stay here. I'll see what I can do."

  The whole place reeked of neglect, the outbuildings in poor repair, the yard dirty. Even to his untrained eye, Adam could tell the farm machinery lying around was old and poorly maintained.

  As he headed towards the back door, two collies tied to a ring on the wall charged him, barking aggressively like guard dogs. He halted just out of range as they both reached the ends of their chains and pulled up sharply, growling, teeth bared.

  Adam was wondering how to get past them to knock on the door when a short, stocky, gray-haired man in a tweed jacket and rubber boots came out. He hollered at the dogs to shut up and headed Adam's way.

  With a shotgun broken over his arm and a scowl on his face, the man looked anything but welcoming. "What d'you want?"

  "I'm Adam Cantrell, the new owner of Larchfield Hall."

  "Heard it were sold," the farmer said. "What d'you want from me?"

  "I wanted to be neighborly and let you know there's likely to be noise and disruption at Larchfield. I'm building on the land. I wasn't sure if it might frighten the livestock in the field."

  The old man chewed his cheek and assessed Adam as if he didn't trust his honesty. "That one's a big ol' pasture. The cows'll just head over to the other side of the field if they're spooked."

  "Well, that's good. It won't affect you then. Perhaps you can be neighborly too. I'm looking for somewhere to move the hedgehogs that are in the garden. While I'm building, it won't be very wildlife friendly. I was hoping I could put the animals in some of your field hedges. It shouldn't inconvenience you."

  The old man's gaze narrowed, his bushy eyebrows wriggling down like two hairy caterpillars. "I ain't got nothin' against you, Cantrell, but I won't help that O'Shea woman."

  His words fired Adam's protective instincts. Victoria obviously hadn't exaggerated the farmer's bad attitude. "Whatever you think she did to offend you, I'm sure it was unintended."

  "The answer's no, Cantrell. And if I see any of them hedgehogs in my fields, I'll kill 'em."

  Disgust at Andrews's callous attitude turned Adam's stomach. But arguing wouldn't solve a thing. He glanced over his shoulder at where Victoria sat in the car. Thank goodness she hadn't heard the threat, otherwise she'd worry for the safety of the hedgehogs that had wandered away from Larchfield and already lived in the fields. At least the animals were nocturnal and the farmer was unlikely to see them.

  The old man's jaw set in a stubborn line. Adam knew he'd be wasting his breath to say another word. He simply turned his back and headed to the four-wheel drive.

  The sound of shuffling footsteps made him look over his shoulder. Andrews hurried after him with his bandy-legged gait, his gun clutched in his hand. Adam picked up his pace. He jumped in his vehicle and started the engine.

  Victoria's breath hissed in as the farmer appeared at her side window.

  "Get off my land!" He banged a fist on her window. "You ain't welcome here."

  Adam gunned the engine, trying to drown out the man's words.

  "Stay outta my fields and keep them prickly vermin out as well."

  Adam pressed his foot on the gas and shot down the bumpy drive. A glance in his rear view mirror showed Andrews was staring after them waving his gun.

  "That guy's got a screw loose. I should have listened to you. I'm sorry to subject you to his temper," Adam said.

  Once they reached the road, Adam eased up and glanced at his passenger. Victoria's eyes shone with tears as she bit her lips.

  Oh, hell. Why hadn't he listened to her and kept away from Willowbrook Farm? He pulled onto the edge of the road and reached for her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

  She leaned into his arms and he cradled the back of her head in his hand. Her silky hair slid against his palm. He leaned down and touched his nose to the top of her head. Her sweet floral fragrance filled his senses. Lord, the woman smelled good. And he shouldn't be thinking this way. Not when she was upset.

  She pressed her face against his shoulder. "It's-not-your-fault," she whispered, obviously struggling not to cry.

  He wished desperately he hadn't taken her to Andrews's farm. "I'm going to sort this out for you. He won't shout at you again." He wasn't sure how, right now. But he'd find a way.

  She shook her head. "No. You'll just make him worse."

  Adam longed to press his lips against her forehead. Instead he pressed his lips together.

  He was damned if he'd walk away in a few days and leave this situation unresolved. The miserable old blighter was obviously intimidating Victoria. Adam would not stand for that. He treated people fairly and had a good rep among his employees, but he could be tough when he wanted to. In some countries where he'd worked, that was the only way to gain people's respect.

  Geoff Andrews might think his behavior was none of Adam's business, but Adam had just made it his business.

  Her silent tears dampened his shirt. "I wish I had a clean, neatly folded hanky to offer you," Adam said, "but I'm not that well organized."

  She gave a watery laugh and drew back. "Sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to blubber all over you." She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I promised myself I wouldn't let him get to me."

  "You shouldn't have to put up with that kind of treatment."

  She sighed and leaned back in her seat. "Can we pop in to Prickly Ball Cottage for a few minutes? I'd like to freshen up a little and repair my makeup."

  "Of course. No problem." Adam headed back into Great Monkton and stopped outside the quaint cottage. "Do you want me to wait in the car?"

  "No, don't be silly. Come in and we'll have a cup of tea before we leave again. I feel as if I need something to bolster my strength."

  Adam followed Victoria inside. While she nipped upstairs, he put the kettle on and made a pot of tea. She returned in a couple of minutes with makeup disguising her flushed face and red eyes. She'd put something pink and shiny on her lips and they looked very tempting as she pursed them to sip her tea.

  In the quiet moments before Adam fell asleep last night, she'd invaded his thoughts. Now the memory of her slim body in his arms and the fragrance of her silky hair was going to plague him. This woman had cast a spell over him with her gentle smile and luminous blue eyes.

  In the tight space of the tiny kitchen, she brushed past him as she tidied up. He longed to take her in his arms again, to kiss her and make her forget about the miserable old farmer. But as he was only here for a few weeks, it would be unfair to start something between them

  When they finished their tea, they headed back to his car and set off to explore another area for potential hedgehog release sites.

  Unfortunately, the rest of the day continued as it had started. The people they called on were mostly disinterested, a few actively hostile. By the end of the day, they had only found one place that would take a hedgehog.

  That evening, as Harry slept in his camp bed in the sitting room at Larchfield, Adam spread the map on his sleeping bag and examined the area surrounding Great Monkton. He circled Willowbrook Farm in red pen, and chewed his lip as he surveyed the green fields around the property.

  From the map, it was impossible to tell how much land old Andrews owned, but he certainly owned the field beside Larchfield. Adam wanted that field. If he could persuade the old guy to sell, it would solve the hedgehog relocation problem. From the state of Willowbrook Farm, the farmer obviously wasn't flush with money. Adam knew from experience that a wad of cash often talked when words failed.

  Victoria had confided in him that Andrews regularly threatened her when she walked across the field. If Adam bought it, she would be able to walk all over it to her heart's content and release her hedgehogs into the hedges without fear of intimidation.

  He needed to ask around, find out more about the farmer. The obvious place to start was with the man's daughter who owned the pub.
<
br />   Chapter Six

  "Come on. Out you get." Adam held open the car door and watched his son clamber out, a scowl on his face. Harry had hardly said two words to him that morning. He didn't know what he'd done to earn the cold shoulder.

  "Cheer up. It's a lovely day." They headed across the Plume of Feathers' car park and around the side of the pub to the garden at the back where they'd arranged to meet Harry's tutor.

  Tim Donaldson sat at one of the wooden tables under a fluttering green umbrella, reading a newspaper. This early in the day, the garden was quiet. They had the grassy area to themselves.

  Wooden tables and benches with umbrellas above dotted the lawn. Ducks sat on the grass or wandered around pecking at the ground. The peace was broken only by the noise of the birds and the rushing water in the river that ran past the pub.

  The place was a far cry from noisy central London where Adam and Harry lived. Even when they walked in the parks, they could never escape the ever-present drone of traffic and the smell of pollution.

  Harry had taken his lessons from Tim on planes and yachts, in hotel rooms and the backs of cars, by a pool in Florida, on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean in Greece, and once, in a sheik's palace. But it was the first time they'd sat in the English countryside for a lesson.

  Tim raised his hand when he spotted them. "Hi there. Ready for a morning of math, Harry?"

  Harry grunted, drawing a frown from Adam. His son adored Tim and normally enjoyed his lessons. Today, Harry dropped down on the bench seat, his shoulders slumped. He barely managed a hello before he fired up his laptop.

  "What's the matter, pal?" Adam rested a hand on his son's shoulder.

  "Nothing," Harry mumbled.

  Adam met Tim's gaze and the young tutor raised his eyebrows in question. Adam shook his head to indicate he had no idea what had caused his son's bad mood.