Once Upon a Time (The Wacky Women Series, Book 3)

by Day Leclaire

  Julian adjusted his glasses. "Well, green eyes, seems we've got a problem."

  Chapter 8

  Rule #9:

  Great lists are made,

  not born.

  Brutus let out a mournful moan and Callie stiffened, her heart beginning a rapid tattoo. "A problem?" she questioned faintly. "With the will? No... Surely, Jonathan didn't...?"

  Julian dropped the papers to the table and reached for her hand. "No. Not Dad. We inherit everything, Callie. Jointly. Maudie left a letter of explanation." A small smile edged the corners of his mouth. "Seems she's determined to play matchmaker."

  Callie stared at him in bewilderment. "So what's the problem?" She stumbled to a halt, embarrassment flooding through her. "Is it because she wants us to...? She hopes we'll...?"

  He squeezed her hand, quick to reassure. "I can't fault Maudie for hoping we'll get together. It's the only positive thing to come out of this whole mess." Her delight at his admission was short lived. He released her fingers and stood, rubbing a hand across his brow. "There's no money, Callie. Or damned little. And since we both inherit, nothing changes. Our problems, unfortunately, remain. In fact they increase, because now we have to make a definite decision about Willow's End."

  She fought to control her panic. "We can work it out. I know we can. I admit, planning things and saying no to volunteer work, and putting my foot down with Ted and the kids, aren't my strong points. But, don't you see? This is perfect. Those are your strong points. We'll work together and have it all—Brutus and Willow's End."

  "Callie—"

  Fear crept into her voice. "Now that you share custody of Brutus, you'll have to be nice to him. No more name calling or nasty threats." A ragged quality had slipped into her voice, and she leaned down and hugged the dog. "That's why you didn't want Julian to find the will, isn't it? But there's nothing to fear." Please let there be nothing to fear! "He understands about you now. Everything will be just like it was."

  Julian interrupted. "No, it won't."

  "I know, I know. Maudie's not here," she hastened to say, desperate to keep talking so that he couldn't. "And I realize your work is in Chicago, but..."

  She ran out of words, too self-conscious to finish her sentence, painfully aware they didn't have any sort of commitment. Just sex. Just phenomenal sex. Just phenomenal, better-than-chocolate sex. Tears stung her eyes, tears she resolutely forced back. He cared about her. She didn't doubt it for a minute. He also cared about Willow's End. Even now, he traced a finger around the rim of Maudie's rose vase, his touch gentle and loving and poignantly wistful. Suddenly she had to know the truth, had to know what he intended.

  "What are we going to do about the house?" she asked abruptly. The words hung between them. Then Julian dropped his hand to his side. It was such a telling gesture. She knew then, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how he felt, and a cold numbness stole over her. Silently she shook her head. "You want to sell, don't you," she whispered. "You still don't think I'm capable of coping."

  "Callie—"

  Fury ignited within her. "You can't! Not after what we've been through to find the will. Not after..." She met his eyes, defiance in every line of her body. "Not after what's happened between us."

  He crossed to her side and grasped her shoulders. "What happened between us has nothing to do with Willow's End."

  She fought free of his hold and jumped to her feet. "It has everything to do with it. The best things in your life are right here in this house, only you're too blind to realize it. Stop thinking with your head for a minute, and think with your heart."

  "I am thinking with my heart. I don't want to sell Willow's End. It was my home for most of my life. But I've got to consider what's best for you."

  "Willow's End is best for me."

  He stepped closer to her, speaking in a low, passionate voice. "This house is falling down around your ears. You haven't the money or the skill to complete the repairs. If you weren't so stubborn, you'd see this place is an impossible burden."

  Showing some of that stubbornness, she shook her head. "It's not a burden."

  "It isn't just the house," he continued. "It's all the other problems, as well. How do you think I feel when I see people taking advantage of you, when you give away your last nickel to clean some stupid statue, when you wear yourself down doing favor after favor? I can't stand it, Callie. Nor will I stand idly by and allow it to happen. Not when I can do something to prevent it."

  "Like taking away my home?" Her voice rose an octave. Brutus bounded up beside her, a soft husky growl rumbling in his throat. She placed a restraining hand on him, forcing her voice back to a more normal pitch. "I know, legally, you could force the sale. If you demand your share of the inheritance, I don't doubt for a minute some judge would order Willow's End to be sold and the profits split between us. Isn't that how it works?"

  "Yes," he admitted.

  "And you'd do that to me?"

  He hesitated. "Callie, I don't want to hurt you."

  "Hurt me!" She lifted her chin and glared. "If you felt anything for me at all, if you cared for me in the slightest, you wouldn't do it. You couldn't."

  "I wish I didn't have to," he said in a weary voice. "But I don't see any other way. Not if I want to live with myself afterward." He looked around, his expression almost bitter. "Sometimes I think this place means more to you than I do. When do we ever have time for ourselves? Willow's End is always in the way."

  His comment hit home. Willow's End did stand between them. It always would, unless they could reach an agreement, one they both could live with. She bit down on her lower lip, blinking tears from her eyes. This was neither the time nor the place to give in to such a childish display. Not when she needed every ounce of ruthless determination she possessed. Brutus gave her hand a supportive lick, which ironically, almost proved her undoing.

  Callie forced herself to speak. "I can think of one way around it."

  "Which is?"

  "You don't think I can handle things here on my own, that it's too much for me. If I prove to you that's not true, by following through on our former agreement, would you be willing to forgo selling the house?"

  "Explain."

  She'd gotten his attention. Now she needed his consent. "We up the stakes on our bet. I say no to any and all favors for one week and you go without your watches and schedules. The winner determines the final disposition of Willow's End."

  "You must be joking."

  Callie shook her head. She'd never been more serious in her life. Nor more desperate. She had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. "My school testing and your work on the book don't count as part of the bet. If at the end of seven days neither of us has lost, I'll be considered the winner. After all, I'll have proved I can take care of myself."

  What had started out as a small wager, a lighthearted joke between them, was rapidly turning into something else.

  Julian took his time deciding. Finally he nodded. "I agree to the terms." He pulled off his glasses and stared at her, his eyes dark and remote. "What if you lose?"

  Callie didn't hesitate an instant. "That's not a possibility."

  * * *

  The library echoed with the battle cries of the two boys.

  "Oh, yeah?" five-year-old Tommy screeched, his face beet-red with anger. "Well, mine has sixty-four different positions and that doesn't even count his robot form. Your stupid toy can only do thirty-eight."

  "Liar! Liar! Mine does ten trillion hundred! And my dad can whop your dad to dust, no problem." David punctuated his comment by sticking out his tongue. "So there."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yeah!"

  Callie hurried into the room and pulled the two combatants apart before they came to blows. "David. Please remember we keep our tongues in our mouths. And Tommy, we use our indoor voice when we're in the house. Surely you haven't forgotten that from kindergarten so soon?"

  She glanced at their respective mothers, both of whom smiled benignly at the child
ren, not in the least put out by the ruckus. Of course they weren't put out, Callie thought, tempted to knock a few heads together. It wasn't their house being destroyed.

  She felt like finding a quiet hole, crawling in and pulling the dirt in after her. Instead she said, "If you could be patient a few more minutes, we'll have you tested and through as quickly as possible."

  "Such a shame the school's being painted and it's out of commission for the next few weeks," commented David's mother with stoic disregard. "I hear they tried the library, but the air conditioning broke down a few days ago. We wouldn't want poor Davey to suffer because of that. Testing is bad enough."

  Callie bit her tongue.

  "It's more convenient for Callie to do the testing in her own home," Tommy's mother added. "Suzanne Samuel said so."

  And because Suzanne said so, that was that. Callie almost made the comment out loud. Instead she sighed. How strange she now resented many of the little things she'd done so willingly before.

  It was all Julian's fault, darn him. If he hadn't planted the seeds of discontent, she'd never be thinking these horrible, petty, selfish thoughts. It wasn't like her.

  This ridiculous bet had her rattled. Three days he'd managed to get through. Three days without a single slip. How was he doing it? She'd stopped all the clocks in the house and hidden the calendars. Not that it bothered Julian. Heavens, no. He'd managed just fine.

  She, on the other hand, had been late for every one of her testing appointments. Not only that, but she now realized winning the bet wouldn't be the snap she'd assumed. How could she ever have thought it would be easy? Callie groaned. Easy? Reasoning with a rhino would be easier than saying no to the multitude of favors she'd been asked over the past seventy-two hours. Nor was saying no her only problem.

  In the past six hours alone, she'd coped with fractious children and their equally fractious parents. She'd fought against an anger and frustration alien to her nature. And she'd begun to wonder if Julian hadn't been right in his assessment of her, at least in part.

  She'd begun to suspect that Callie Marcus was a pushover. She'd struggled through only half the day and already found herself exhausted, close to tears, and very, very miserable.

  Tommy's mother cleared her throat and looked pointedly at her watch.

  Callie sighed again. Perhaps she could restart one clock. Just a little inconspicuous one. Maybe Julian wouldn't notice.

  "I'm almost finished with Joannie Baker," Callie informed the mothers. "If you could keep everyone quiet for a few more minutes—"

  "Hello? Hello?" Two more mothers came through the front door with what seemed like half-a-dozen four-year-olds in tow. "Is this where they're conducting the kindergarten testing? Suzanne Samuel sent us over."

  It took every ounce of Callie's self-control to keep from bursting into tears. It wasn't fair. Dear sweet Julian sat sunning by the lake with Donna and Cory, while she slaved away indoors testing obnoxious little—

  She brought herself up short. Surely she hadn't been about to call these precious youngsters—she gulped—brats? She put a hand to her brow. Perhaps she'd caught a bug. That was it. She was very, very ill which explained her abnormal behavior. Well, thank goodness for that. She felt much better now.

  "Everyone sit down," she ordered tersely. Sick people weren't expected to be sweet and cheerful. Sick people were permitted to be a bit grumpy. "Pretend this is a library and be quiet. I'll get to you when I can." With that she spun around and left the room. Though not soon enough.

  "Well! If she thinks I'm going to expose my little Ashlee to such an unhealthy attitude..."

  Callie didn't hear the rest. She closed the door behind her with more force than necessary. One step at a time, she told herself, taking a deep breath. One rotten kid at a time. And when she'd finished with the very last one, she'd never, ever speak to Suzanne Samuel again.

  * * *

  Callie awoke from her nap on the study couch, delighted to find herself wrapped in Julian's arms. How he'd managed to maneuver in beside her, she had no idea. Not that she intended to complain. Discovering her body molded to his, his mouth inches from her own, their hearts beating in tandem, gave her an indescribable surge of pleasure. Her truly rotten day now took a decided turn for the better. She settled deeper into his embrace, needing the loving comfort he offered.

  She touched her lips to his throat and felt his quick inhalation. "I wish we could always wake up like this," she murmured, then blushed, realizing how suggestive her comment sounded.

  His chuckle rumbled against her lips. "Waking up together the past four days has been nice. Incredible, as a matter of fact."

  "I agree." She cleared her throat. "Though, eventually you have to return to Chicago, right?" No sooner did she ask the question, then she wished she could call the words back.

  "We still have a few weeks."

  "But if you're going back, we wouldn't want to rush into anything." She gazed up at him hopefully. "Would we?"

  "No."

  Then why did his arms tighten around her, as though he dreaded letting her go? And why did she cling to him, as though afraid they'd be snatched apart at any minute? She could feel him tense and knew he hovered on the verge of pulling away. She didn't want their embrace to end. Not yet. She buried her face against his shoulder and held him tight, willing it to continue for a few minutes more.

  Julian groaned. "I'm saying one thing, but what I feel is far different." He rested his chin on top of her head. "I want you, Callie. I want to steal you away from here. I want to take you where there aren't any home repair projects, or screaming kids, or crazy wills, or screwy electrical repairmen. I think the next time someone asks you to do a favor, I'll toss you over my shoulder and carry you so far from here we'll never find our way back."

  Her breath caught and she eased out of his arms. "You mean abandon Willow's End? I couldn't do that."

  He swore softly, yet virulently. "When will I ever learn? This house always comes first with you, doesn't it?" He shifted so he lay beneath her and stared up at the ceiling, a muscle working in his jaw. "I've spent the past four days wondering who you love the most, me or this house. I don't dare ask you to choose between us, because I know I'd lose."

  Callie started in dismay. "No, Julian, you've got it all wrong. You don't understand."

  "You're right." He took a deep calming breath, speaking with a gentleness and compassion she'd never heard him use before. "So explain it to me. Why are you dead set against selling Willow's End?" He gave her waist a light squeeze to stem her hasty retort. "Take a minute and think about it. You know things can never be the way they were when Maudie was alive. The house holds a lot of wonderful memories, true, but it's just a house. This could be your chance for a new start. Why don't you want to take it?"

  She'd anticipated this question, but that didn't make it any easier to answer. Still, she owed Julian a truthful response. She settled her head more comfortably against his shoulder.

  "I've never told anyone else this." She gave it a moment's thought and amended, "Except Brutus. Maudie knew how I felt without my having to put anything into words. You see, I love Willow's End. Truly love it. The years I've spent here have been the happiest of my life. You've no idea what it was like for me before I moved to Willow."

  He inclined his head. "Knowing Helene, I can guess."

  Her fingers curled against his chest and she laughed without humor. "Yes, you can guess. But you'd never fully appreciate it, unless you lived it. I don't even remember my real father. He died when I was a baby. Until I came here, the longest I ever stayed any one place was thirteen months. We were always on the move. And Mother changed husbands with about as much frequency as residences. Your father was my fourth 'daddy.'"

  It took her a minute to continue. She didn't often think about those years. They'd been unpleasant and unhappy. She'd worked hard to put them behind her and, thanks to Maudie, she'd done so. She shivered within the comfort of his arms.

  "When we m
oved here, I thought I'd landed in some sort of magical fairy tale." She closed her eyes, savoring the memory. "I knew I'd found my true place in the world. Maudie understood. When Mother decided she'd had her fill of rusticating among the farmers—her expression, not mine—Maudie was the one who saw to it she left me behind."

  Julian regarded her thoughtfully. "I don't remember any of this. It must have been the year I left for graduate school. How did Maudie manage to pull it off?"

  "It wasn't difficult. Maudie suggested I stay in Willow temporarily until Mother could get relocated." Callie shrugged, shifting to a more comfortable position. "After a while she realized not having a sixteen-year-old daughter around provided her with much more freedom. When Maudie insisted I stay, Mother didn't put up much of a fight. I guess she was glad for the excuse to leave me behind."

  The word Julian used brought color to Callie's cheeks, but she held him with an unwavering gaze. "Maybe now you'll understand why Willow's End means so much to me, why I don't want to sell it. When you go as long as I did without a home, you'll do whatever it takes to keep it and care for it."

  Julian spoke in a low intense tone. "Call off the bet, Callie. Making it was a mistake." He gripped her shoulders, speaking rapidly. "Forget about Willow's End. Move to Chicago and start a new life with me."

  She covered his lips with her fingers. "No, Julian. This would always hang over us. It needs to be resolved before we can make that sort of decision. You haven't changed your mind about my ability to cope with running this place, have you?"

  He released her and leaned his head back against the couch cushions. "No, I haven't."

  "I thought not." She gave him a tremulous smile. "Which is why I won't end the bet. I think it's done me more good than you may realize. I'm not just proving something to you anymore. I now have something to prove to myself."

  He sighed. "Believe it or not, I want you to win. If the disposition of Willow's End falls on me, I can't promise you'll like the results. You know that, don't you?"