by Debbie Mason
“I’m sorry.” He stepped closer, lifting his hand to gently stroke her hair. “I overreacted. But it’s not safe, Evangeline. I’m not trying to scare you to get out of the bet or to make you walk away from Holiday House before your month is up.”
She nodded, curling her hands into fists, clenching her teeth in an effort to regain control. And she had to regain it fast or she might give in to the temptation to take two steps closer and lean on Caine. She hadn’t had anyone to lean on in a long time. She didn’t like burdening her friends with her problems. Yet oddly, since Caine was the one who had created her biggest problems, she felt like he was the one person she could unburden herself to. She didn’t understand why she felt that way, nor did she like it. The only reason she could think to explain the feeling was because he was rich and powerful and had shoulders that looked like they could take on the weight of the world.
“I know you have a lot to deal with and that your mother coming is an added stress you didn’t need. So I have a suggestion that might help.”
“What is it?” She raised her gaze but looked beyond him. Not ready to look into those piercing blue eyes just yet.
“You stay in the guest bedroom until the electrical is taken care of. That way you don’t have to clean everything out. I’ll put Lenore up at Greystone Manor.” He raised his hand. “Before you tell me you’re not a charity case or start looking for an ulterior motive, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’d like your mother’s opinion on the day-to-day operations of the manor.”
“You want my mother to spy on the Gallaghers?”
“No. I want her opinion as to whether or not the manor is self-sustaining.”
His offer was incredible. The best offer she’d had in weeks, months, years, but she couldn’t accept it. “An opinion you’ll use to what? Lower your offer for the estate? Use to convince the Gallaghers the manor isn’t worth saving? Just like you’ve tried to convince me to give up on Holiday House.”
He studied her for a long moment before answering. “I’m a businessman, Evangeline. I don’t make my decisions based on emotion. I deal in facts. But I do require that the facts are based on the truth and that those facts haven’t been colored by emotions—mine or anyone else’s. If your mother’s analysis of the situation agrees with mine, then I’ll move forward as I had intended. If it turns out the manor’s future is not as bleak as the one I envision, then I will reevaluate my options.”
“So it’s possible my mother’s opinion could save the manor?”
“The probability of that happening is the same as you winning the Powerball.”
“But there is a chance?”
“Yes. Now let’s get out of this death trap. And, Evangeline, this conversation never happened.”
* * *
Whoever said food was the way to a man’s heart had it wrong. It was tears. Or the hint of tears, because Evangeline hadn’t cried. Caine inhaled a noisy breath. Why was he talking about his heart? She hadn’t gotten into his heart; she’d gotten in his head. And clearly, he’d lost his mind. How else could he explain telling her, a woman who was compassionate and kind and good friends with half the Gallaghers, including Theia, that there was a chance (no matter how slight) that he’d reconsider his plans for the manor?
He had, of course, been having doubts about how they were going about acquiring the manor, but not once had he considered abandoning the takeover all together. He still hadn’t. And the reason he hadn’t was because of his grandmother. The resort deal he was days away from closing in the Canadian Rockies, the office tower on Main Street, the developments in Portugal—those were the projects Caine believed in and was passionate about. Acquiring the manor had been all about satisfying his grandmother’s need for revenge.
But now it seemed there was something else at stake. As if his grandmother knew he’d be torn between his loyalty to her and his loyalty to Theia, she was holding everything he held dear over his head. If he didn’t bend to her wishes, she’d strip him of everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. The company was his life.
Just like Holiday House seemed to be Evangeline’s, he thought as he unplugged the last of the artificial Christmas trees. He stood up to see her looking around the shop with a disheartened expression on her face. It bothered him, which didn’t make sense since he’d no doubt put that same expression on her face at least a hundred times over the past year. He wondered if he’d made her cry too.
Feck. He had to get away from the woman and this house and get back to his real life. The one where he knew exactly what he was doing and didn’t second-guess his decisions.
“All right. Don’t plug anything else in, and you should be good until the electricians arrive.” He brushed glitter off his knees, turning over his hands to see they sparkled too. “The stuff multiplies,” he said when Evangeline came over. “It’s like glittergeddon in here.”
Her lips tipped up—and he was glad to see her smile. “It won’t hurt you. It’s pretty,” she said.
She looked pretty with the touch of glitter on her face and in her hair. “I’m a man, Evangeline. I don’t do pretty.”
“I know that, but it’s not like you have a phobia or anything, right? I’m sure you’ve bought a card decorated with glitter before.”
“Is this going somewhere? Because you seem a little too interested in my thoughts about glitter.”
“No. It’s just that some of the angels on the tree have been decorated with glitter, and I wouldn’t want that to impact your decision. What if the perfect wish for you was on an angel decorated with glitter. It would be a shame if you lost—”
“One of them is yours, isn’t it?” he said as he walked over to the tree decorated in paper angels.
“It’s possible. Okay. One of them is mine,” she admitted when he raised an eyebrow.
He nodded, keeping an eye on her as he reached for a powder-blue angel with wings that sparkled. Bingo, he thought when her eyes flicked to him. The blue angel was hers, which meant it would probably be the most difficult wish to fulfill. He reached for the white angel beside it, and Evangeline’s face fell.
Bollocks. She’d had a crappy day, indirectly because of him, an even crappier week, indirectly because of him, and a crappy year, for which he took credit, although unintentionally because he hadn’t set out to hurt her. Like he’d told her, he didn’t let emotions factor into his business decisions. It was nothing personal.
He picked the powder-blue angel with the sparkly wings off the tree and was rewarded with a smile that took Evangeline from cute to beautiful. He turned the angel over to read the wish, then lifted his gaze to the woman with sparkles on her face and in her hair. She was a devil disguised as an angel. And if he needed further evidence that he should never allow emotions to factor into his decisions, this was it.
Chapter Eleven
Colleen trudged after Clio and the housekeeping cart. The Secret Keeper of Harmony Harbor was still missing, and Theia’s search of Clio’s room had proved as unfruitful as her own. Colleen was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe Clio hadn’t slipped the leather-bound book under the towels on the housekeeping cart after all.
But her memoir hadn’t vanished into thin air, and Colleen was positive she hadn’t been having an out-of-body experience. Except, in a way she was, wasn’t she, she thought with a chuckle. Then she shook her head at herself for finding humor in the situation. The consequences could be dire should her book fall into the wrong hands.
Her inner chatter was brought to an abrupt halt when she walked into Clio. Something had caused her great-granddaughter to stop on her way to the elevators. Colleen looked around the grand hall (or lobby, as the younger generation referred to it) but didn’t see any reason for the calculating expression that had come over her great-granddaughter’s face. Until Colleen heard a familiar deep voice that made her think of rolling green hills and Guinness.
As though the sounds of home called to her, Clio parked
the housekeeping cart beside the elevator and set off in search of the man behind the voice.
“He’ll draw you in as easily as his voice has, lass, but you keep your eyes in your head and your hands to yourself.” Born with a winsome charm and a sweet face, Clio was as big a flirt as her father. “Caine Elliot is your cousin. Cousin,” she yelled near the girl’s ear as she followed her to the bar, where Caine spoke with Jasper, but her warning had no effect on the child.
Whatever the two men were talking about was serious, Colleen surmised from the tense expressions on their faces. They turned as Clio approached.
“Miss Clio, is there something I can do for you?” Jasper asked in a resigned tone. Clio hadn’t been making Jasper’s life easy these past weeks.
If only he knew how difficult the child could make their lives. Ignorance is bliss, she thought, while also reminding herself there was a possibility, no matter how slight, that the child didn’t have the book. Or if she did, she’d gotten bored and put it aside. Colleen scoffed at the idea of anyone getting bored reading her memoirs.
“The front wheel on my cart is wobbling.” The girl pointed to where she’d parked it at the elevator. “I’ll have myself a coffee while you fix it.” Bold as brass, she moved to the coffee urn on the bar.
Jasper looked down his long nose at Clio, drawing in a frustrated breath that caused his chest to expand beneath his black suit jacket. He nodded at Caine. “The team can continue their work in the tunnels, Mr. Elliot. But I’ll need more time to address your request about Ms. Johnson.”
It was a good thing Colleen knew what Jasper was about or their conversation would have done more than give her pause. Though she wondered who Ms. Johnson was and vowed to find out.
“As always, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Jasper,” Caine said with a touch of a smile before turning his steely gaze upon Clio.
“You’re not pleased with how she disrespected Jasper, are you, my boy? Good, because neither am I, and I can’t do anything about it. If you ask me, the whole family is cutting the child too much slack on account of Daniel.”
“If you worked for me, that move would have cost you your job. You owe Jasper an apology.”
“Good thing I don’t work for you, then, isn’t it?” Clio looked at him as she added a tablespoon of sugar to her coffee. “I shouldn’t have to work for them. I’m one of the owners of this fine establishment, you know?”
“Ah, I see.” Caine nodded. “You’re Daniel’s daughter. Clio.”
“I am, and I know who you are, Mr. Elliot. My father worked for you, and now he’s in jail.” She took a sip of coffee, made a face, and set the cup on the bar. Then she gave Caine a smile. And not a nice one at that. “From where I’m standing, that means you owe me.”
“You silly child. Can you not see he isn’t a man to trifle with?” Colleen said.
“Your father is in prison because, for once in his life, he’s trying to do the right thing. He’s owned up to his crimes. He didn’t report ancient artifacts from a dig in Greece and tried to sell them on the black market.”
“I know what he did. But I shouldn’t have to suffer for it. You were supposed to help him.”
“I did. I hired him an excellent attorney, who ensured that your father will be out of jail in three months and will only serve a hundred hours of community service instead of the four hundred hours the prosecutor wanted. As to his time in my employ, Daniel was paid for his services. How he chose to use that money is on him, not me.” He pulled his vibrating phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and glanced at the screen. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.”
“No. Wait. I have something. Something you’ll want.”
Colleen pressed a hand to her chest, praying Clio wasn’t about to offer Caine her memoir.
“If you plan to offer me your share of the estate, you’re wasting both our time, Clio. Your sisters have made it clear—”
“I don’t have sisters.”
“Really? Because from what I’ve heard, Theia, Daphne, and Penelope consider you their sister. And from where I’m standing, you could use them right about now. Talk to Theia. She—”
“I don’t care about any of them. They’re not my family. I just want what is owed to me.”
“Be careful. You’re beginning to sound like your father, and look where that got him.”
Caine went to move away, and Clio grabbed his arm. He looked down at her fingers clutching the black leather and raised an eyebrow.
She dropped her hand, the look in her eyes suggesting she had seen the other side of Caine. “I have the book. Colleen’s memoir, The Secret Keeper of Harmony Harbor.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she said, “I’ll sell it to you.”
Colleen didn’t know when she’d ever been more disappointed in one of her great-grandchildren. “Caine’s right. You’re just like your father, taking what isn’t yours for ill-gotten gains.”
“How much?” Caine asked, stealing what little hope Colleen had that he’d tell the child to give the book to the family. Then Colleen remembered that he was family too. Only he had an ax to grind. She supposed in Clio’s mind, she did too.
“A million dollars,” the child demanded.
Caine laughed and turned to walk away.
“A hundred thousand, and I won’t go lower than that. I know what you were willing to pay for the shares in the estate. I know what it’s worth to you.”
“I’d have to authenticate the book before I gave you the money. I need proof it’s real.”
“I was unable to locate the problem…” Jasper looked from Clio to Caine. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all. It was nice to meet you, Clio. I’m sure I’ll see you again, Jasper.”
* * *
As he headed for his car in the manor’s parking lot, Caine returned his uncle’s call. He noted Theia wasn’t back from her fitting for her wedding dress, which was good. He didn’t relish the idea of running into her right now. Not with Colleen’s memoir within his grasp. Theia would know something was up and not give in until he told her. There was a time when he could have shared this with her, but not anymore.
“Uncle Seamus, what’s the emergency this time?” Caine had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the bitter, salt-tinged breeze coming off the ocean. Tiny pellets of ice water stung his cheeks, and the wind whipped his hair from his face. “Hang on a minute,” he said, unable to hear anything but a muffled voice on the other end. Caine beeped the lock on his fob and opened the car door, sliding inside.
“Okay. What’s going on?” He frowned at the silence. Seamus must have hung up.
Caine wasn’t worried the emergency was something serious, like a fire at Holiday House. The electrician had called him with his findings last night, and he and his team of three were back at the house today. They’d be finished with the job tonight. Caine refused to pay for a complete electrical overhaul on a building that would be bulldozed to the ground in a matter of weeks.
He had a feeling his uncle’s emergency had to do with Evangeline’s mother. Seamus had been calling to complain about Lenore from the moment he’d picked her up at the train station. As Caine had learned earlier today, Lenore wasn’t an easy woman, but he did admire her work ethic. Since he hadn’t cleared access to the manor’s books, she’d insisted Caine pick her up at the manor this morning and deliver her to Holiday House at eight a.m. sharp, which he’d done.
He’d dropped her off at the front door and then headed for the hotel he owned in Bridgeport, only to turn around on the highway when he received a call from Jasper, demanding he return to the manor to deal with an issue with the mold-inspection crew.
It turned out to be a more productive meeting than he had hoped for thanks to Clio Gallagher. He’d bide his time, let her sweat a bit, and reach out to her in a day or two. She knew he was her best bet. But he wouldn’t be paying a hundred thousand dollars for Colleen Gallagher’s memoir. And once he read
it, he’d give it to Theia as an early wedding gift.
Now, with everything resolved in Harmony Harbor, Caine could return to the suite he was working out of in Bridgeport. His staff had begun the onerous job of packing up the offices in Boston to move into the rented space nearby. Hardly the ideal solution to the problem created by Evangeline’s delay tactics.
If it hadn’t been for her, they would have been packing for their move to Harmony Harbor. Caine had received an offer for his building in Boston early last year, an offer that had been too good to refuse. He would have had he known just how difficult Evangeline would make his life.
Now she was doing it again. His appointment with his wish family was at seven this evening. As soon as Evangeline had relayed the information to him yesterday, he’d left Holiday House for his hotel. He didn’t wait for the electrician or for Seamus to return from the train station. He’d been too furious to stick around.
He’d been played, and he resented it. He resented Evangeline digging into his past. Just as he resented the part his uncle had played. Evangeline wouldn’t have found the information from simply Googling him. His grandmother had buried his past as easily as she’d cut ties with his family.
Caine’s phone rang, and he pressed the dashboard screen. “Okay, Uncle, what’s the problem now?”
“It’s not your uncle. It’s me, Evangeline.”
It surprised him to hear her voice coming through the speakers. A sweet voice that wrapped around him, reminding him of the moments he’d spent with her in the attic yesterday and the bathroom the night before. Warm and soft were the words that came to mind to describe her in those brief intimate moments they had shared. At the flicker of need and want he felt building inside him, he replaced warm and soft with cold and hard. Words that better described the stubborn woman he’d dealt with on an almost weekly basis this past year.
“I told you I’d be there at seven, and I will, Evangeline,” he said as he drove under the manor’s stone arch.
