by Francis Ray
“We’ll give you forty-five.” Brandon laughed and followed them out of the house. He waved as they pulled away.
“Thank you for loving my daughter and making her so happy,” Paul said.
“Loving Faith is the easiest and smartest thing I’ve ever done.” Locking the door, Brandon handed the key to his father-in-law. “I’m just thankful she loves me back.”
Paul pocketed the key and headed for his truck. That was the important thing—being loved back. He hadn’t been.
CHAPTER THREE
Paul was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He wanted to be gone by the time Faith and her mother returned, but if he left, he’d disappoint Faith. He’d done enough of that already. He’d checked into his room and just hoped it wasn’t anywhere near his ex.
The grin on Brandon’s face alerted him that Faith and her mother had returned. His two boys’ faces lit up the same way when their wives came into the room. Maybe that’s what their mother had wanted, but that hadn’t been his way. The thought had no more formed than anger pushed it away. It wasn’t his fault she’d gone off with another man.
Brandon came to his feet and glanced at his watch. “Thirty-three minutes. A record.”
Faith grinned up at him. “I had an incentive to hurry.”
Brandon pulled out a chair. “Please have a seat, Mrs. McBride.”
His ex cut a glance at Paul, then took the chair next to him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Brandon reached for the other vacant chair for Faith.
“Thanks.” Faith had barely settled before she placed a folder stuffed with brochures on the table. “Daddy, wait until you see these fixtures. The house is going to be amazing, but we want to keep some things, like the claw-foot tub.”
Paul was glad he was looking down at the booklet with kitchen cabinets. The tub had been a surprise for his new bride. She’d always talked of wanting one. When Mr. Montgomery called about a customer getting rid of theirs for a Jacuzzi, Paul had rushed over. The first night the tub had been installed, they’d made love in it.
“Some of the light fixtures and crown molding you installed as well.” Brandon braced his arms on the table. “We want to modernize the house without losing the history, like the growth notches of Faith and her brothers on the bedroom doors.”
“The hardwood floors definitely stay,” Faith added with a grin.
“Duncan had asthma when he was little,” Stella said quietly. “The same day the doctor recommended getting rid of the carpet in his room, your father sent us to the hotel and he and Mr. Radford pulled up the carpet and replaced it with hardwood flooring. After that, Duncan never had a major flare-up. Two years later, he’d outgrown the asthma.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Brandon said. “Even before I started coming around, Cameron and Duncan always said what a great father they had. After that first meeting, I knew they were right.” He smiled at Mrs. McBride. “They also had high praise for you. You always made me feel welcome. Both of you did.”
Stella’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “We were always happy to have you, Brandon. You’re the perfect and only man for Faith.”
Brandon’s arm went around his wife’s shoulders. “That means a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“You won’t have to find out,” Faith said, then stiffened as if realizing what she’d said. Her gaze snapped to her father, then her mother.
“What about the kitchen sink?” Paul asked. This mess wasn’t Faith’s fault. “You thinking double or triple with a vegetable wash?”
Gratitude shone in his daughter’s eyes. “Double, and a small island with a wire rack overhead for all of Brandon’s cookware.”
Paul nodded. His ex had talked of an island, but they’d never gotten around to it. She liked to cook when she had time. She’d been a great cook. “I can start the kitchen tear-out first. Still thinking about Corian?”
Faith pulled out another pamphlet. “Definitely. We’ve already measured. I spoke with the dealer and it can be cut and ready to install in ten days.”
“It looked gorgeous and so did the knobs she picked out.” Stella smiled across the table at her daughter. “The house will be functional with touches of warmth, charm, and elegance.”
Paul snorted. “Elegance! Faith doesn’t need elegance. She’s not like you, always wanting more. Never satisfied.”
Quietness settled over the group like a blanket. Paul realized his mistake. If he didn’t care what she thought, he wouldn’t have said a word. However, from the crushed look on her face, she just thought he was being cruel. That thought irritated him even more. He came to his feet. “Sorry, Faith, Brandon. If you’ll excuse me, I want to take a look at the house again.”
Faith came to her feet and placed her hand on his arm. Brandon stood as well. “It can wait until tomorrow. You probably didn’t stop to eat. I’ll have something sent to your room. We’ll talk later.”
No recrimination, just understanding and love. He hugged her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Daddy. After you eat, take a nap, and that’s an order,” she said, her smile unsteady.
She was hoping for reconciliation. It wasn’t happening. “I’m depending on you, Brandon, to take care of her.”
“You know I will, sir.” Brandon’s long arm curved around Faith’s shoulders.
With a brisk nod, Paul left the restaurant and headed for his room. On the way, he contemplated how in heaven’s name he was going to be able to work with his ex for the next three weeks when he couldn’t even sit at a table with her for five minutes.
He didn’t want to lash out at her, but he did it anyway. That wasn’t the way he wanted to behave, especially not in front of Faith. He was hurting his baby girl because he was hurting. He paused at the entrance of the restaurant and glanced back. His heart clenched.
His ex sat with her head down. Faith had scooted closer to put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. What a mess, and it would only get worse. He loved a woman who had walked out on him and, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t stop. Swallowing, he headed to his room. Perhaps there he’d find a semblance of peace. Yet, somehow, he didn’t think so.
* * *
“Mama, why don’t we look at these in your room?”
Stella stood, her hands clamped around her purse, her head down. She was so embarrassed and ashamed. As painful as it was to admit, Paul had been right. She had been swayed by the glamorous lifestyle and a powerful man.
“Thank you again, Mrs. McBride.” Brandon gave her a brief hug. “You probably want to rest tonight, but if you aren’t tired tomorrow evening, I’d very much like for you to come to the Red Cactus for dinner.”
Not if Paul is there, she thought. “I’ll see.”
Stella could feel Brandon’s and Faith’s questioning gazes on her, but she refused to look up. How had she ever thought this would work?
“Bye, Brandon.” Faith curved her arm around her mother’s waist. “It will be all right,” she whispered, leading her from the restaurant.
No, it wouldn’t, and she only had herself to blame.
* * *
Brandon ached for Faith. She loved her parents deeply. Her forcing them to be together, and seeing how much it wounded both of them, had to be killing her. There wasn’t anything in the world he wouldn’t do for her.
With firm determination, he walked straight to the Pueblo restaurant. Henri, the hotel’s executive chef and Brandon’s arch cooking rival, would be there getting things ready for their evening opening. The hotel had two restaurants: Mesa for casual and the Pueblo for fine dining.
Brandon nodded to the staff setting up in the elegant dining room and continued to the kitchen. As expected, Henri, in his pristine white chef’s jacket, stood in front of a mixer, probably preparing a dessert. Once Brandon had tried to hire him for the Red Cactus. He was glad that God and the Master of Breath hadn’t let it happen. While they both loved Faith, their feelings for each other
were in the gray area.
“Hi, Henri, I need to talk with you.”
The French chef picked up a spatula and held it to the side of the mixing bowl. “I’m sure you don’t allow people to interrupt you while you’re creating a masterpiece.”
“It’s about Faith.”
His head snapped up. Fear leaped into his dark eyes.
Brandon reached out to steady the man who was at least a foot shorter. “Both parents are here and she needs your help.” The words weren’t as difficult to get out as he’d expected. If not for Faith, he’d never ask Henri anything.
Henri shut off the mixer and motioned Brandon to follow him into the storage room. Their staff was like a family, but sometimes each family member didn’t need to know everything.
“I’m listening.”
Since his arms weren’t crossed, and he wasn’t posturing, Brandon took that as a good sign. “They’re here to remodel their old house that I bought for us.” Brandon blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. Although Henri had come after Mrs. McBride’s second marriage, many of the employees had worked there before Duncan was born. “She loves both of them. She’s with her mother now. Her father went to his room a bit earlier. Faith said she’d order him room service, but I’m not sure she had the time. Her mother probably needs a tray as well, but I’m not sure she’ll eat.”
Henri was silent for several seconds. “I know what each prefers. I’ll personally prepare small portions and deliver it myself. I’ll give them my personal cell phone number so they won’t have to go through room service and coordinate everything with Faith.” He tilted his head to one side. “Is there anything else you can think of that I could do?”
If the proud and arrogant chef had dropped to the floor to break-dance, Brandon wouldn’t have been any more surprised by the question. But then he was proud and arrogant as well. Just a couple of the reasons they butted heads. Yet, as he’d known, they’d each do anything for Faith. “No. Thank you.”
“Well, then, if you’ll please leave, I have work to do.” Henri crossed his arms over his chest.
Back to square one, but now Faith wouldn’t have so much to worry about. “Thank you.” Brandon left, the words only marginally sticking in his throat.
* * *
Once in Faith’s office, Brandon called his assistant manager to tell her he wasn’t sure when he’d return, then he texted Faith that he’d wait in her office for her, and told her that he’d spoken with Henri about food for her parents. He had no intention of leaving until he saw how she was doing.
Growing up, he and his siblings were known around town as the Grayson Brood. They had lost their father, an airline pilot, when Luke, his oldest brother, was just nine years old. It had been just them and their mother, Ruth Grayson. They couldn’t have asked for a better mother or life.
Their mother loved them unconditionally, but she never let them get away with anything. She had an uncanny perception that always put her two steps ahead of them, perhaps because she was full-blood Muscogee American Indian. Or perhaps some mothers were just more attuned to their children.
In any case, they were all glad she was since her uncanny matchmaking ability was responsible for all of them finding love and happiness. Except Sierra, who liked to remind them on occasion that she’d picked out Blade. Since they’d always catered to her, loved her and Blade, none of the four brothers minded, especially when they all were so happy.
His cell phone rang. Sierra. Intelligent, successful, and the baby and only girl of the family. She’d once been kidnapped because of her connection to Blade. He’d made sure that wouldn’t happen again. Regardless, she liked having her way and tried to one-up her bodyguards and Rio, the head of security for Blade properties and his personal bodyguards.
So far, there was no clear winner.
“You can’t be hungry. Martin is at the castle and at your beck and call.” His sister and her husband lived in a castle outside of town. Martin was Blade’s personal chef. He adored Sierra and loved cooking for her.
“Just finished fresh trout and now I’m working my way through this huge slice of five-layer coconut cake.” Sierra’s laughter came though clearly.
Despite the situation, Brandon had to laugh. She had an appetite like a long-distance truck driver, and the metabolism to never gain a pound. She also worked hard as a Realtor. “What sold?”
“The Cortez listing at one-point-seven mil,” she promptly replied.
“Your third seven-figure sale in less than a month.” Brandon whistled. “Tell that real-estate mogul husband of yours that he better watch out.”
“Already done.”
His baby sister wasn’t afraid of anyone. The thought reminded him of Mrs. McBride. “It’s not going well.”
“That’s the real reason behind the call.” Her voice sobered. “Rough, huh?”
“Definitely an understatement.” He sat behind Faith’s neat desk. There was a collage of pictures of their wedding day. He was there with his mother, but there were separate shots of Faith with her mother and father.
“Brandon.”
“Still here.” He told her everything that had happened at the restaurant. “We might not be able to make this work.”
“Because Faith is caught in the middle and hurting for both of them.”
Sierra was almost as uncanny and perceptive as their mother. “Yeah. The only other time I’ve ever seen her so shaken was…”
“When you broke things off with her,” Sierra finished when he paused.
“Those were some of the worst, if not the worst days of my life. Thanks again for setting me straight and saving my sanity.” He’d been angry and bullheaded until Sierra had set him straight.
“What are sisters for?” she came back.
He chuckled. Sierra was never at a loss for words and she never lacked self-confidence. “I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but maybe we should ask Mama for help.”
“You’re learning to think like a woman. I’m proud of you.”
Brandon shuddered at the thought.
“Mrs. McBride and Mama have remained good friends despite other women turning their backs on her. She understands that people make mistakes they regret later,” Sierra said. “But what’s most important is her no-nonsense ability to give you a swift kick to get you on the right track.”
“That’s our Mama,” Brandon said proudly.
“Me and my two shadows will take a drive over to the house this afternoon when Mama is home from the college. I’ll tell her about the project and she’ll take it from there,” Sierra said.
His sister’s shadows were her bodyguards. “I know Mama is fierce and unshakable, but do you really think she can help get them back together?”
“If she can’t, nobody can. Bye.”
That’s what he was afraid of. “Bye.”
Faith’s office door opened. Brandon quickly rounded the desk to take his wife’s trembling body into his arms. “It’s going to be all right. Mama is going to help.”
Faith’s head lifted; worry receded from her eyes. “Then we still have a chance. There’s no one like your mother.”
On that Brandon had to agree.
* * *
Early that evening Stella sat at the small dining table in her suite with her hands clasped in her lap. On a white rectangular plate was a beautiful presentation of meatloaf, creamed potatoes, candied yams, collard greens, and macaroni and cheese. It looked like a work of art and no more than three of four bites of each. Henri had clearly gone to a lot of trouble to prepare the food for her. He’d remembered she was a Southern girl and liked her comfort food.
She’d met Paul when they were both students at St. John’s College. They’d married the year they’d graduated. Santa Fe was a far cry from Charleston, but she didn’t mind the vast difference in the two cities because she was in love and so happy. Somehow she had allowed herself to forget and ruin her life.
If there was ever a time in her life that
she needed comfort, it was certainly now. Her eyes shut tight with remembered humiliation and embarrassment at Paul’s accusation. To her everlasting regret, he’d been right.
She had been awed by the trappings of wealth, but she’d been swayed just as much by Trevor’s smooth charm and charisma. He’d made her feel as if he lived and breathed just for her.
Paul worked long hours in the hotel; they both did. Much too often on different shifts. They’d drifted apart. It was a too-old story of a woman being lonely and easy prey for a smooth-talking stranger. She’d initially listened to Trevor in hopes of making Paul a bit jealous, to make him pay more attention to her. Instead, she’d forgotten her plan and let herself wonder, then believe. She didn’t excuse herself for her actions. She should have known better.
There was a knock on the door. It was either Henri returning to pick up the tray and report to Faith, or Faith herself. Stella took a small bite of the meatloaf and dabbed her fork in the buttery creamed potatoes so she wouldn’t have to lie about eating.
“Coming.” She went to open the door. Faith stood there with a tray and a bright, cheerful smile.
“I thought we’d eat together.” Her daughter came inside and took a seat across from her mother’s tray at the dining table. “I remember Granny cooking meals like this for us when we went to visit in Charleston. When I saw what Henri was cooking, I couldn’t resist.”
Stella remained by the door. “Aren’t you eating with Brandon?”
Faith placed her linen napkin in her lap. “Not tonight. Sometimes our schedules don’t allow us to.”
Remembering the beginning of when she and Paul grew apart, Stella closed the door, crossed to the table, and took a seat. “Don’t let a day go by that you don’t talk or see each other.”
“We don’t.” Faith blushed prettily. “Whatever our schedule, we never go to sleep unless the other is home. We always allow time in the morning to catch up on things.” She laughed. “It helps that Brandon loves to cook if we spend the night at his place. If we’re here, we go to the Mesa.”
