Under his accusing stare, Penelope dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap.
How can I feel so guilty about this? If only he’d back off, give Grandpa—and me—some breathing room.
When she looked back up, he was already moving to the door.
The chairman of the commissioners leaned forward and spoke into his mike. “I think it’s clear here how the public feels about this. But, folks, according to our lawyer, there’s not one whit that can be done about it. We got no zoning ordinance, no land-use ordinance—something the county residents voted down two to one just a few years ago. It’s Penelope Langston’s land, and she’s got the unbridled right to do whatever she wants to with it.”
Penelope barely noticed the grumbles of discontent in the audience. She couldn’t think of anything except what Brandon had said.
The chairman rapped his gavel again. “Now, as we can take no action on this, we’re going to move on to the next portion of the meeting.”
Grandpa Murphy startled her when he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Let’s get out of here, nothing more they can do to us. We’ve sat through their public flogging. Now we can do what we please.”
He followed in Brandon’s wake. For a moment, Penelope simply sat there, too numb to move. Then she saw Rudy follow Grandpa, and Todd hurrying to pack up his equipment. She crossed over to the table and began helping him. Her fingers fumbled with electrical cords and cables, and she dropped one of them. Todd retrieved it.
“Hey, don’t let them get to you,” he whispered. “That’s nothing compared to what we’ve seen before.”
Right. Nothing. A man she loved—her heart squeezed at this realization... How could this have happened? How could she have fallen in love with someone who wished so much ill on her family?
Outside, Brandon was nowhere to be seen. Rudy and Grandpa were talking near Rudy’s rental car.
Todd let the door close by itself as he came out to join her. “Glad that’s over,” he said as he shifted his laptop case and the projector in his hands. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it was nothing compared to other communities. We should have taken Mr. Murphy up on his offer when he first came to us three years ago.”
“You mean two.” Penelope pulled her jacket tighter around herself. “He’s only had the land for two.”
“Oh, no. It was three. I remember. We’d been run out of one county, and he’d heard about it. Came to us and said he had his eye on a piece of land he could pick up for a song and wanted to know if we were interested. At the time, I hate to admit it, but I thought he was shooting off at the mouth. I mean, the property might have been perfect, but it wasn’t even his and the owner at the time told us he wasn’t interested in selling at any price. Guy hung up on us as quickly as if we’d been aluminum siding salesmen. Wouldn’t even listen or take down our contact information. But your grandfather pulled it off, just like he said he would, and now we’ll all be sitting pretty.”
The blood turned to ice in Penelope’s veins. The late evening swirled around her. She grabbed for anything to keep her knees from buckling.
“Are you okay?” Todd’s voice seemed to come from a distant place.
She shook her head. She’d never be okay, never, ever. Her grandfather had lied to her—Brandon had been right. Grandpa Murphy had wanted Uncle Jake’s land three years ago, for this. He’d played her. All along, he’d played her.
What have I done?
The bile rose in her throat. She had lost Brandon, and for what?
She dashed back inside and made the turn into the ladies’ room. Falling down in front of the lone toilet, the cold tile floor biting into her knees, Penelope retched.
CHAPTER THIRTY
WHEN SHE CAME out of the bathroom, Grandpa Murphy was waiting for her in the anteroom of the commission offices. “Penny-girl, you sick? Todd said—”
“I’m not selling.”
“What?” At first, he went slack jawed with disbelief. Then he smiled and reached out to touch her. “Don’t let ’em get you down, Penny-girl. Life’s not a popularity test.”
“I mean it. I’m not selling.”
“Because a bunch of complainers and whiners flapped their jaws?”
“Because I know how long you’ve been working on this deal. Brandon was right, wasn’t he? You did steal that land from Uncle Jake. You stole it so you could sell it to them.” She jerked her head out the door where Rudy and Todd waited, concern on their faces.
“Who cares how I got it? It’s mine.”
“No. That’s where you’re wrong, Grandpa. The land is mine. And I do care how you got it. I can’t sleep at night knowing you’ll profit from whatever deal you made to get this land.”
He grabbed her by the arm, shook her. “Now you listen here, girl. I need that money. Three years ago, it was just a nice little cherry on the top, but now I need it! And you’re gonna get it for me. That money’s mine, and I worked hard to get it.”
Her reflexes kicked in before she could even think. With a sharp jab to the instep of his foot and an elbow in his soft belly, she was free. He staggered backward. “Penny-girl, you’re acting like a stranger.”
“You didn’t work hard to get that land.” Her stomach churned, but there was nothing else to come up. “You stole it. To me, you are a stranger.”
* * *
UNCLE JAKE LOOKED up from the piece of paper in his hand. “Penelope, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes. I can’t keep this land a minute longer.”
“But...you’re giving it to me, well, selling it for a dollar. And now you’ve got that nice little house on it...”
She could almost weep at the thought of leaving the first home of her own, but she shook her head. She’d known it was useless to stay when Brandon wouldn’t even listen to her after the meeting. “No, you’re not going to change my mind. I’ll pack everything, put it in storage, something.”
“Darlin’, you’re upset. Wait at least until morning. I would be no gentleman to sign this here paper. It would be taking advantage of you in the worst way.”
She pushed the chair back from the old man’s table. “I’m leaving. I can’t stay here. I can’t—not after—” Penelope swallowed, her throat tight. “I’m flying back to Oregon. Tonight. And I won’t be back. So consider the land yours. It is yours. It was never mine, and I’ll figure out some way to pay off the loan.”
“Oregon?” Uncle Jake shook his head. “You got to go tonight?”
“Yes. I’ve got—I’ve got a lot of patching up to do with my mother. At least, I hope she’s not like Brandon and she’ll still forgive me.”
Uncle Jake traced a spot on the papers with a gnarled finger. “Now, girl, you listen to me. That Brandon is stubborn. Of course he is, ’cause he is a Wilkes. But let me tell you, all he’s doing is kicking the tires of a broke tractor. You walk off now, well, you know what happens to tractors that get left.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “But Uncle Jake, I’m the one who broke that tractor for him. And I don’t blame him. Because after all is said and done, I don’t deserve a chance.”
* * *
A MONTH LATER, Brandon knelt down, inspecting the piping that irrigated his strawberries. The cool earth yielded to the weight of his knee. His uncle’s soil. Once again, this land was back where it belonged.
He hadn’t understood what exactly had been the breaking point for Penelope. At first, he was just glad she was gone and she’d refused to sell to the waste-dump people.
The land is safe. That’s what you wanted. Right? And you can be content with that.
But Brandon couldn’t help but look at the dark, silent house. The doors on the barn were shut, but he’d seen the moving truck come in after Penelope had left. They’d cleaned out the barn. It was cold and empty.
&n
bsp; Like your heart.
Uncle Jake walked stiff legged through the field, no fence blocking his way. First thing Brandon had done was finish tearing it down.
“You’re looking in the wrong place,” Uncle Jake shouted.
“For what?”
“For Penelope. You won’t find her here.”
Brandon froze. “Who says I’m looking for her?”
Uncle Jake hitched up his overalls. “Maybe you’re not. Maybe all this mooning around you been doing is what every fellow does when he finally gets what he wants.”
“I’m not—” Brandon rubbed a hand over his face. Who was he fooling, anyway? Not Uncle Jake.
Geraldine had followed her master and was now trotting through Brandon’s strawberries, delicately nosing around to see if there was any ripe fruit.
“Now, Geraldine!” Uncle Jake scolded. “Out of them strawberries, and don’t you step on a single plant.”
The hog high-stepped it over the rows. Uncle Jake, apparently satisfied with his pet pig, turned back to Brandon.
“Now, all this mooning around you say you’re not doing, well, it’s what a fellow does when he gets what he thinks he wants.” The old man put his fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle. “C’mon, Geraldine. No more fun and games for you, old girl. You get out of that pen one more time today, and it’s pork chops for you, no matter how much you bat your eyes at me. Pork chops, I say, and this time I mean it.”
* * *
PENELOPE RUBBED her eyes and erased an errant line off her sketch paper so hard she tore a hole. She had to get this right, and nothing was working.
Crumpling up the paper, she tossed it on the overflowing heap in the wastebasket. Theo lifted his head and looked at her in disgust, his slumber interrupted.
How can you create anything with a broken heart?
But this chance—a much smaller project than Love at Infinity—wouldn’t wait around forever, no matter if forever was what it felt like it would take to heal. The company wanted her final sketch and model by the end of the week.
She looked around her grandmother’s living room. It would do for now. Even if it was a drafty old place and she couldn’t hear the frogs sing at night like she had in Georgia.
And you don’t have Brandon.
A million times she’d picked up the phone to call him, then put it down. After all, in all these weeks, he hadn’t called her. If he hung up on her, she didn’t think she could take it. What was she after anyway? Forgiveness?
Your heart. You’re after your heart. You left it in Georgia.
Over the drum of rain on the windows, Penelope heard loud knocking. She frowned. Who—her mom? That’s who it had to be. Her mom should have never driven over the mountains in this weather.
But when Penelope opened the door, Brandon, soaking wet, stood waiting to be let in.
* * *
BRANDON STOOD just inside the door, his clothes stuck to him, his heart in his throat. How could he get the words out when he didn’t know what to say?
“How—how did you get here?” Penelope asked as she pushed the door shut.
“A plane. And a pill the doctor said would take the edge off my fear of flying laid me flat. That’s why I wasn’t here yesterday. I thought I should stay overnight in Portland and, uh, sleep off my anesthesia at a hotel.”
“You flew? By yourself? But you hate flying.”
“I needed—”
“If it’s about the land,” she started, “if there’s anything wrong with the title or—I’ll fix it.”
“Yeah. There’s something wrong with the land,” Brandon managed to get out.
“What? I thought I’d taken care of everything.” She frowned and turned. “C’mon in. Forgive the place, I’ve been working on a project.” She stopped so suddenly that Brandon nearly cannoned into her. “Can I take your coat?”
“Uh, yeah.” Why couldn’t he just say it? Why was he wasting all this time with small talk?
She slid the coat from his shoulders, her hands lightly skimming over his damp shirt. “I’ll hang this in the bathroom.”
“No, Penelope, wait. I wanted to tell you what was wrong with the land.”
She stopped again, coat dripping in her hand. “I’ll fix it. I mean it. Whatever it is. It’s Uncle Jake’s land, and I was wrong not to believe you. I—I’m sorry. I should have...should have known.”
“That you had a criminal for a grandfather? Nobody wants to believe that. And even crooks have granddaughters.”
Penelope looked away. “Mom told me, finally. About the arson. I wish she’d told me years ago.” She twisted the collar of the coat in her hands and more water oozed out. “This coat, it’s dripping. Let me—”
Brandon took it from her and slung it on the nearby table. “Forget the coat,” he told her, but the words came out hoarse. “Listen. Please, listen. I thought everything was right again when you left and Uncle Jake had the land—”
“Just tell me what’s wrong!” Her voice broke.
“You. You’re what’s wrong. You’re not there.” For a panicked moment, Brandon thought he might actually cry. He sucked it up, put a lid on his emotions.
“Me? But you didn’t want me.”
“I didn’t know what I wanted. But I do now. Penelope, I flew on a plane to get here. That ought to tell you something.” He gulped, his throat dry. “The question isn’t what I want. It’s what you want. We’ve been concentrating on what I want—or what I thought I wanted—for way too long.”
Brandon’s heart banged against his ribs as he waited for her answer. As she started to speak, his cell phone buzzed.
He yanked it out of his pocket to turn it off, but saw the sheriff’s department on the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Brandon? That you? Are you really in Oregon? ’Cause it sounds like you’re right here in Brazelton County.”
“Prentice. What are you doing tying up the department’s line?”
“Sheriff let me. Said I could. Have you asked Penelope to marry you? Did she say yes? Is she coming back? ’Cause I wanna see that alien man and woman she’s fixing up.”
“Prentice, I don’t know if she’s going to marry me, because I haven’t asked her yet.” Brandon realized what he’d said. He took in Penelope’s face, her eyes tearing up, her smile as radiant as the day he first met her. “But you know what, Prentice? I’m gonna hang up and ask her right now.”
“Call me back! And I’ll tell everybody! Brandon and Penelope sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g—”
Brandon closed the phone and tossed it to join his coat. “Uh, I really made a hash of that, didn’t I?”
“I can’t think of a more beautiful proposal,” Penelope whispered.
“So...what you want is...what?”
“Home. I want to go home. With you. And hold your hand on the plane. And see my house—your house—”
“Our house.”
She nodded. “Our house. Can we go home?”
“I was sure hoping you’d say so. I don’t have a ring yet, but will a slightly soggy, nonrefundable one-way ticket to Savannah do for now?”
“Perfectly.” A frown marred her forehead. “But we’ve got to see about Theo—”
“Of course. I checked on that. It’s all taken care of.”
Penelope reached up and kissed him. “Did you?”
“Cat’s part of the package. Like Uncle Jake’s Geraldine.”
“I’ve missed Geraldine. And Uncle Jake. And Prentice.” She laid her head on his chest, not complaining about how damp his shirt was.
“You know Prentice will insist on being the best man.”
“As long as you’re the groom, and I’m the bride. That’s what I want.”
Brandon tipped up Penelope’s face to kiss
her again. “And I’ve got what I want right here.”
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781460301340
Copyright © 2013 by Cynthia R. Reese
Originally published as NOT ON HER OWN
Copyright © 2008 by Cynthia R. Reese
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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A Place to Call Home (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 20
