Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set: Through the StormHome for KeepsThe Firefighter's RefrainTo Catch a Wife

by Rula Sinara

  The other girl looked upset. She wasn’t even wearing her usual heavy makeup. “I can’t believe it! Your dad and that Huber woman visited my foster home and got Mrs. Watson all freaked out. She told me to get my stuff ready to move because they’re going to the police about the campground prank. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  Angela felt a thrill of fear. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I haven’t been in one place long enough to recharge my phone.”

  “What are you going to do? Don’t run away.” Angela would be devastated if she lost her best friend.

  “I don’t want to run. I’m nearly done with this school year. I have to finish.”

  “I’ll talk to my dad.” Even if she had to beg.

  “Maybe I should talk to him. We were just fooling around. It didn’t hurt anybody.” Then Kiki added, “He even told old Watson that I made a scarecrow or something. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Oh, that.” Angela reassured her, “They found some contraption that was meant to scare people near Green Meadows. I told Dad I would have known if you did that. And you didn’t.”

  Huddling together, they talked about Kiki hiding out somewhere...at least until the school semester was over. And then Angela told Kiki about her visit with her mother.

  When Kiki heard the details, she remarked, “Wow, sounds like she knows a lot.”

  “She thinks I could get my art into galleries in Santa Fe. I bet we can get your art sold, too. She has a friend she wants to introduce me to. He makes a living with his art. She says my dad doesn’t believe in making dreams come true. He’s all about the practical and that’s why they didn’t get along.” Angela frowned. “Maybe I’m more like her than him.”

  “Maybe,” Kiki agreed. “Your dad has done a lot, though, Angela. I kind of admire him. He has a house and a profession. What’s your mother doing with her life?”

  “Well, she can do a jingle dance.”

  Kiki’s eyebrows shot up quickly. “A what?”

  “A Native American dance that’s supposed to promote healing.”

  They stayed in the library for a while longer, laughing and catching up. Soon Angela had convinced her friend that things would be all right, even if she had to hide Kiki in another sweat lodge in the backyard. If they built one before, they could do it again.

  * * *

  CALEB STOPPED IN to see Grace in her office at the end of the afternoon. She was sorting through a file in the reception area as her secretary got ready to leave. She looked as beautiful as usual, wearing a crisp apple-green outfit with her typical high heels.

  She looked up, her face brightening. “Caleb! And how’s your day been?”

  “A mix of good news and bad.” And it promised to be getting better just being near Grace, something he wanted to do more and more often.

  “How about giving me the good news first?”

  “We found listings for two Elizabeth Hartls, women who probably would be around the age of Kiki’s grandmother.”

  “We?”

  “I got my mother involved. She has a lot of connections through her social work.” He took a piece of paper, a printout, from his pocket. Being that she’d pressed him into investigating the grandmother’s whereabouts, he was doubly pleased to show this to her. “One of these Elizabeth Hartls lives in Chicago. The other one is in Nebraska.”

  Her face lit up as she scanned the information. “Now we have to contact them.”

  “Yeah, I already tried. I left a message for the woman in Nebraska. The phone in Chicago just rang and rang.”

  “No voice mail, huh?”

  “It may no longer be her number.”

  She appeared thoughtful. “And what’s your bad news?”

  He sighed. “Lily contacted me and wants child support.”

  “I thought you said Angela doesn’t want to live with her.”

  “The last time I talked to her, she didn’t. Lily claims she’s changed our daughter’s mind.”

  “She’s persistent. I’ll give her that.”

  “I’m afraid she’ll move out of state and take Angela with her.”

  “She can’t do that, can she?”

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking I’m going to have to get a lawyer involved.”

  Grace pushed him gently down onto one of the comfortable chairs in the reception area. Then she stepped behind to massage his neck and shoulders. “That’s a worry, isn’t it?”

  Just her touch made things better. “That feels great.”

  “If worse comes to worse, my dad and I know a lot of good lawyers.”

  “I figured you did.” Though that wasn’t the reason he’d told her about the problem. It seemed important to tell her everything. And hear everything from her in return. Though he was beginning to think he wanted to share more than just talk. “How was your day?”

  “I’ve had bad news and good, too.”

  He leaned back into the massage. “Tell me.”

  “I started the day with an article from the Kenosha Journal.” She stopped kneading his neck muscles with a gentle pat. Then she went to the desk and picked up a newspaper. “Take a look at this.”

  He frowned. “Haunted Green Community! Oh, great! Where did they get this information?”

  “I wondered about that, too.” She sat down across from him and laughed.

  He couldn’t help feeling surprised. “You find this amusing?”

  “Well, keep reading. By the end of the article, there’s a wonderful description of the green community and hints about the perks of living there. We had two calls this afternoon from people who read the article and want to look at condos or townhomes.”

  “They want to live where there are ghosts?”

  “They probably don’t believe in them. They said they hadn’t heard about the community until now—thanks to the article being in lifestyle instead of real estate.” She smiled, her blue eyes bright. “The reporter did us a favor.”

  Caleb realized the enormity of that favor. It might make Phase 2 a reality, which would give Grace a reason to stay indefinitely. He grinned at her. “This is great news!”

  She nodded. “Sometimes you actually can make lemonade from lemons.”

  He reached over to take her hands in his. “Sometimes you can.”

  * * *

  SPRING WEATHER WAS getting warmer. Enjoying being outside for a change, Nellie sat on one of the benches in the courtyard of the condo complex and chatted with her neighbor Fran. Darkness had fallen and the automatic lights had come up along the walkways and what would be a fountain of some sort once the landscaping was done.

  Still, both women wore light sweaters.

  “This is why I moved here,” Fran told her. “The feeling of community.”

  “You can get that in a town, too,” said Nellie. “But you have to put more work into it. Here, we live closer and have places to hang out that are only footsteps away.”

  “You’ve had community for years through that quilting collective you belong to.”

  “It’s not a collective, just a bunch of women with similar interests. And I volunteer at the Seniors Soup Kitchen, as well as run my store. I know a lot of people.”

  “You’re busy.”

  “Too busy, I think, at times. I’m going to have to slow down one of these days.” Nellie adjusted her large glasses. “Did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  Nellie stared in the direction of open space between two buildings, leaning forward. “Over there. I saw a blob of white.”

  “Oh, no!” Fran started to get agitated. “The ghost?”

  “There is no ghost,” Nellie said firmly. “No matter what the newspapers say. That reporter was just trying to attract attention...and get his article
published.” She settled back. “Probably just the wind blowing a bunch of leaves or something.”

  “Mr. Cassidy said the ‘haunting of Green Meadows’ went viral on the computer. What does that mean?”

  Nellie frowned. “That ridiculous ghost rumor must have been repeated on the internet in various news pages or blogs. Whatever. I’ll have to look it up on my computer at the store.” She didn’t keep one of the confounded things at home, though she knew how to use one.

  “Who told the reporter all the details? It must have been a resident.”

  “Everyone denies it,” said Nellie. All the residents she knew at the complex had read the latest Kenosha Journal. She slapped at an insect that flew too close to her face. “Dratted mosquitoes are out.” A given in Wisconsin with all the lakes and streams. “I’ll have to spray myself with insect repellent the next time I plan to spend some time out here.”

  “Let’s go inside,” said Fran. “I need to get the dog ready for his evening walk.”

  Both women rose and headed in opposite directions. Nellie had unlocked her apartment door and slipped inside when she heard Fran’s scream and Sampson’s outraged barking. Heart beating fast, adrenaline flowing, she grabbed her broom and ran back outside as fast as she could.

  “Help!” Fran was sprawled on the stoop and a large white figure was moving away from her into the shadows, with an irate poodle clamped to its leg.

  A yeti? Bigfoot? A polar bear? Nellie could hardly believe her eyes. But she wasn’t about to let whatever it was get away with terrorizing them. She picked up her broom and swung as hard as she could. The broomstick connected and someone or something made a pained sound.

  “O-o-omp!”

  “Come here, you!” Nellie yelled, striking again.

  “A-a-gh!”

  And with a desperate shake, the white creature took off, dragging the poodle.

  “Sampson!” cried Fran. “Don’t let him take my dog!”

  Brandishing the broom, Nellie followed, not thinking about the uneven ground, stopping only when she reached the end of the building.

  To her relief, Sampson came running to her. “Hey, boy.”

  Then she peered around the building, out toward the walking paths, but saw absolutely nothing. Not even a bunch of leaves blowing in the wind.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ANGELA WAS ON her way to Gran Maddie’s house when an old beat-up pickup slowed and pulled over to the curb. To her surprise, Lily sat in the driver’s seat and leaned across to roll down the passenger window.

  “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

  Hesitating, Angela asked, “Where did you get this truck anyway?”

  “It belongs to a friend,” Lily told her, “and speaking of friends, I got hold of that artist I was telling you about. He’s agreed to talk to you. He’s interested in young talent. I’m sure he’ll be very helpful. C’mon, get in.”

  “Right now?” Angela still felt doubtful.

  “Yes, right now. You need to seize an opportunity when it appears.”

  Finally, intrigued by the idea of meeting her mother’s friend, enough to push aside her reservations, Angela opened the door, threw in her backpack and climbed inside.

  Lily wrestled the pickup into second with a grinding of gears. Instead of taking the road that went out to the rez, she turned the vehicle onto the road that led to the main highway bordering the town.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere nearby.” Lily smiled. “So you can talk privately. It’s no one else’s business.”

  Angela became concerned when the old truck passed the town limits and picked up speed. “How far is this?”

  “Oh, uh... Milwaukee.”

  “That’s sixty miles. How long are we going to be gone? Gran and Dad will be worried.” Not to mention angry. Angela slid her phone out of her pocket. “I have to let them know.”

  Before she could punch in a number, Lily reached over to grab the phone and tossed it out the window.

  Angela stared openmouthed. “Wha-at?”

  “Live free for once. Artists don’t schedule their lives.”

  With a thrill of fear, gazing at the blur of landscape as they sped along, Angela realized she had no control over her own life at the moment.

  * * *

  THE MORNING AFTER the attack on Fran Willowby, Grace talked to both Fran and Nellie, as well as to the police chief. A report was filed, since Fran had banged up her knee, though, luckily, the injury wouldn’t require surgery. Grace was perplexed about who was out to make trouble for the green community. She didn’t believe it was Angela, and she didn’t want to think it was Kiki. Both girls would have to be questioned.

  There were other, positive issues to deal with, including more calls from people wanting to look at condos. As she made notes and met with a couple of real estate agents, Grace couldn’t help thinking on what exactly she was going to tell her father about the attack and the article.

  Most important, she told herself, she simply had to change the way she dealt with her father. She needed to be straight about what she wanted, instead of avoiding confrontation. Caleb’s remarks about not speaking up for herself had struck home.

  Just before noon, her father arrived at the Walworth Builders offices. He waved at Grace, motioning for her to put aside whatever she was doing and come into his private office.

  Okay, here goes. She assured him, “I’ve got everything under control.”

  He frowned. “Control? You don’t even know what I have to tell you.”

  Not liking the intent look he gave her, she went on swiftly, “The article in the Kenosha Journal is actually bringing us business. We sold one townhome already and we’re showing a couple of condos tomorrow.”

  “At Green Meadows? I don’t care about Green Meadows.”

  “What are you riled up about then?” This threw a wrench in her plans. She had thought about what to say to him all morning.

  “I’m dealing with something important,” he said, emphasizing the word. “Green Meadows is just one of our ventures...and a small one at that.” He leaned toward her. “We’re having trouble with the board of directors. Bachman sold his shares to Davidson and he has a bigger vote on projects now. He wants to concentrate on commercial real estate, especially in urban areas.”

  His dismissive tone irritated her. “We’re not abandoning Green Meadows. It’s nearly ready to begin Phase 2.”

  “With you nursing it along like it was a private hobby,” her father said. “But that’s got to stop. You can put someone else in charge here and take your place as head of the business. I want to retire in January.”

  “You don’t sound like you want to retire.” As usual, he was giving orders. And he was so specific about what was going on with the company and where it might be headed that she had the feeling that he would still expect to have control, retired or not.

  “I’ve made a definite decision. You need to move back to Milwaukee and take up your responsibilities. The transition from me to you has got to be smooth.” Laying his briefcase on the desk, he sat down in his big black leather chair.

  “I don’t want to return to Milwaukee right now,” was all she could say. She had thought about this moment often and was never sure what she would do. Faced with it now, however, she said firmly, “I have plenty to work on here.”

  “Delegate the work,” he ordered, his voice clipped. “We have a meeting in Chicago tomorrow morning with a big wallboard supplier. I have a driver picking us up in another hour.”

  “I am not going to Chicago,” she declared. “Not at the moment.”

  He pulled a pad out of his desk and started making notes. “You’ll need to pack a bag, since we’ll be there overnight.”

  “You’re not even listening to me!”
<
br />   He looked up. “What are you yelling about?”

  Her face warm, she spoke even louder. “I said you’re not listening to me. I am not going to Chicago!”

  He frowned. “Now is not the time for some petty rebellion, Grace. We have a lot on the line.”

  “Well, you’d better figure out how you’re going to deal with it and with whom because it’s not going to be me!”

  He rose and actually looked her in the eye. “Grace! What is going on with you?”

  It all spilled out. “I don’t want to be president of the board. I don’t want to be head of Walworth Builders. I want to finish the green community and—”

  “Then what?”

  “Whatever I think should be next. Another green community, maybe something bigger.” She looked at him pleadingly, as if begging him to understand. “I want to be myself, Dad, not a clone of you.”

  “It’s that professor you’ve been dating, isn’t it?” he said with disgust. “He has you all mixed up.”

  “No, it is not that professor, although he has helped me think about things more clearly.” She gathered her courage. “I’ve never wanted to be president of the board or CEO of Walworth Builders, Dad. I guess I never told you that directly, though I’ve indicated as much in other ways.”

  “I’ve planned for a family legacy all these years.”

  “I know that you have.” And she felt a mix of pain with her anger. “But that’s what you’ve wanted. What about me? You’ve never asked what I wanted. I would be miserable cooped up in those meetings all day.”

  His face was growing red. “What you want? You’re shirking your responsibility! You are a spoiled girl, Grace.”

  Spoiled? That made her even angrier. “How much responsibility are you talking about? We aren’t the royal family of England, Dad. And, even so, the monarch has the freedom to abdicate. Walworth Builders is just a business.”

  “Just a business? What about all that I’ve taught you? Why do you think I helped you get yourself straightened out?”

  She couldn’t believe he’d gone there. He’d helped her as a troubled teen so he could train her to be a business leader? “How about you helped me because you wanted me to become the best person I can be? Or maybe because you loved me?”