COWBOY FOR SALE--A Second-Chances Spicy Romance (31 page)

“First, let me begin by extending my condolences to you. Tillie will be greatly missed here in Faythe. She and I were friends for many years--ever since I started my practice here, actually. Everyone who knew her liked her and respected her. She was an important part of the community in many ways.”

“Can you tell me how she died?” Jake’s voice caught in his throat just a little, and he heard a rustle from Cory’s direction as she shifted in her seat.

Weismann sat in the chair behind the desk. “I do know she passed peacefully in her sleep with no pain or suffering. The doctor pronounced legally that her heart just stopped; that her body was simply finished. Tillie and I had completed some changes to her will, true, but there was no sign there was a need for haste. Though, after the fact, I wondered if she’d had an idea her time was coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’d notified me when she’d hired Ms. Richards, here, about a year ago to help keep up the house and to assist with the cats. It was only after Tillie died that I learned that Ms. Richards is actually a private duty nurse.”

Jake looked at Cory, his brow furrowing. Why hadn’t his great-aunt mentioned she needed real help? But he knew the answer even as the thought was complete. She wouldn’t have done anything that would have disrupted his career. She’d even said as much to him, how she was so happy he seemed to have found his niche and not to ever worry about her.

The attorney cleared his throat and began again. “Tillie and I talked about you a few months before she died.”

Weismann swiveled in his chair toward a tall, oak filing cabinet and pulled a large manila envelope out of a drawer and put in on the desk.

“I’m sorry to be so formal, Jake, but could I make a copy of your identification?”

Jake pulled his wallet from a back pocket and took out his driver’s license for the attorney.

“Thank you,” he said as he walked a few steps to a copy machine to scan the document.

“I’m sorry I was late,” Jake whispered to Cory.

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she spoke. “Al will be able to explain everything much better than I could have last night anyway. Did the Lakeview Motel work out?”

He nodded as the attorney returned and handed his license back to him and took his seat again.

“Before we continue, perhaps you both might like a cup of coffee? I was just about to offer Ms. Richards some when I heard the bell when you arrived.”

Jake nodded. “Yes, actually, that sounds good. Black is fine for me.”

“Cream and sugar,” Cory added.

The attorney walked to the far side of the office and filled two mugs with steaming coffee, returning with them on a silver tray.

“Jake, your great-aunt always made me drink a cup of tea when I visited her,” he said, handing Jake one of the mugs. “Some kind of herb tea, I imagine.”

“Tasted like dirty bath water?” Jake smiled at the attorney who nodded back, a small smile tugging at his lips making his mustache twitch. Aunt Tillie served chamomile tea to every visitor, whether they wanted it or not. Jake had learned at an early age to make it palatable with as much honey and cream as he could stir into the dainty china cup she insisted on using.

“I never had the heart to refuse her,” Weismann said.

“I know--God-awful stuff. I never refused either.” Jake pointed at the envelope and asked, “Is that her will?”

“Actually, Tillie has set up a rather unique situation.”

“Unique in what way?”

“Ms. Richards became a good friend to Tillie, and she liked and trusted her implicitly. More than once Tillie shared with me how important Ms. Richards had become to her. They shared a deep and special bond. Within the first addendum to Tillie’s will, Ms. Richards has been given the opportunity to earn half the value of the house and its contents upon its sale.”

Jake looked at Cory, whose own gaze remained on the attorney.

“Let me start by reading you both something,” Weismann said as he dumped the contents of the large envelope onto the desk. Out of it came a DVD and three white envelopes. One envelope was opened, the other two were sealed. The attorney glanced up at Jake for a moment, then opened one of the sealed envelopes.

“Ms. Richards already knows the contents of the first envelope that states Tillie’s request that she stay in the house at least four months. During that time she is to renovate and furnish the house to get it ready to sell, as well as find homes for Tillie’s cats. She agreed to do so and has three months remaining in her commitment. This next part is being revealed to you both for the first time. Ready?”

Jake nodded, then turned his head slightly, noticing Cory’s slender shoulders straighten.

“This first part is a short letter from Tillie to you, Jake,” Weismann explained.

Jake leaned back in his chair while Cory leaned forward. The end of her ponytail almost reached her waist and it hung in one long s-curve. She looked so different, and yet somehow much the same. She hadn’t aged much, and her skin was creamy and pale so unlike the perennially tanned women he was more used to in the city. Women in the city were interested in looking successful—bronzed, like they were just back from some exotic vacation. Career women. Women he understood.

“All right,” Weismann began, slipping his glasses back on his nose, “I’ll read you the first part. It’s quite brief.”

Jake sipped his coffee, sneaking a glance at Cory every few seconds. Her face was relaxed and she seemed confident, completely at ease.

The attorney cleared his throat, then began to read out loud.

Dear Jacob:

Please know that Mr. Weisman is a true and trusted friend, as well as my attorney. I know he will explain to you what has happened and will make my desires clear to you now that I am gone.

I hope you will choose to honor my request, Jacob, for you must believe I have my own good reasons for what I am asking of you.

I have such fond memories of our times together, dear. And please know that I love you very much and want your continued happiness above all, happiness that you deserve.

My wish and hope is that all works out for the very best.

All my love,

Tillie

Jake stared as the attorney placed the page on the desk and scooted it toward him. It didn’t make sense. “That’s it?” he asked.

“Well, that’s Tillie’s introduction to what I’ll be explaining to you both now,” he said. “As you know, Ms. Richards is currently living in the house so she can place Tillie’s cats into good homes and also to get the house spruced up--”

“Which is why Aunt Tillie asked me to come,” Jake interrupted.

“Yes, and all of this was quite unexpected, you see, but there are details in place that deal with things as they are right now--now that you’re here.”

“Go on.”

“It may sound a bit convoluted to you, Jake, but I assure you Tillie was quite insistent about how she wanted this plan to roll out.”

Plan?
Jake shook his head. It was sounding more and more strange.

“As I said, Ms. Richards has specific tasks to accomplish, you see, and the overall goal is to get the house ready to sell. Now that you’re here, though, things are a bit different. As it stands now, if you agree to stay for three months and assist with repairs, you’ll each earn half the value of the house upon sale.”

“Three months?” Two weeks away from the Stuart account was feasible. Three months would give Rod Thomas a chance to slip into the limelight, something that would create consequences he’d worked hard the last couple of years to divert. And besides, he wouldn’t do it to his boss. He owed him as much as he owed Tillie. Three months was a big problem. “And if I can’t stay?”

The attorney held his gaze for a long moment, then moved it toward Cory. “Then Tillie’s will awards the entire house and contents, or the value after sale, to Ms. Richards.”

“The whole house?” Cory asked, her voice incredulous.

“Yes, Tillie was quite clear. She had told me you had shared with her your desire to stay in Faythe and make a home here.”

Jake tried to wrap his mind around the words. It was hard to fathom that his great-aunt was willing her estate to someone she’d known...what...a year, at most? He turned to look out the office window, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts. The sash was up and a breeze fluttered the sheer curtains and carried in the sound of people talking on the sidewalk outside the hardware store below.

Three months? And not just three months in Faythe...three months living with Cory Wells, or Richards or whatever her name really was. Three months away from important accounts that would definitely be affected by his absence, three months juggling house repairs here in Faythe, plus everything it would take to keep his hands on what was happening at Think Tank. But, what choice did he really have? None. The analysis was simple: if Aunt Tillie wanted him to stay, he’d stay. He’d just have to make it work...somehow.

“Would you like some time to think things over?” Weismann asked.

“Jake, you don’t need to decide this minute--so much has happened...it’s all so unexpected,” Cory’s soft voice urged.

He felt the feathery touch of her fingers on his arm, sending a shock wave that surged to his stomach. He moved his gaze from the window back to Weismann, shrugging his shoulder to disengage from her touch. “No. I don’t need any time to think about it. It’s what Tillie wanted, that’s all I need to know.”

“Then I’m sure you and Ms. Richards have things to discuss. Why don’t I leave you two alone while I print out some papers for you both to sign. My computer is in the next room; I’ll only be a moment.”

Weismann opened an interior door and disappeared, leaving Jake nothing else to do but to turn to Cory. “Richards? Not Wells?”

She held his gaze steady as her chin tipped up defiantly. “Divorced. But I’m changing my name back.”

“Anyone I knew from high school?” As soon as he’d said the words he realized how stupid he must sound. Why should he even care if he knew the guy? She’d had a life. He’d had a life. None of it should really matter.

“No, I met Ed in college.”

“So, exactly how long did you know my great-aunt?”

“I’ve been here over a year. Jake, I’m as surprised as you are about this.”

“Hardly--”

Before Jake could continue, Weismann returned and placed a paper and pen in front of each of them. “Jake, I understand you and Ms. Richards are already acquainted?”

“We both went to Faythe High School.”

“Hmm. Odd that Tillie didn’t mention this to me, but it should make things a bit easier, eh? You’re not total strangers at least.”

Not easier. No, not easier. But, he’d do it. He’d do it because he owed Tillie.

Chapter Three

Jake left the attorney’s office, still stunned at how everything had changed so dramatically since he’d driven into Faythe.

He rolled his shoulders as he walked down the stairs, trying to relieve the ache in his bones. His whole body hurt from the tension of the last twenty four hours, and from the saggy mattress he’d endured at the Lakeview Motel. As predicted, he’d been unable to sleep at first, blaming the caffeine as well as the shock of Tillie’s death. He’d paced his motel room floor for hours trying to watch HBO, then channel surfed until he’d finally given up and forced himself to lie down.

Then his mind began its nonstop replay of the recent chain of events: how he’d volunteered to go to London, how the European branch of Think Tank had gone crazy over his ideas and wanted more, and how they’d made it so damned easy to stay. That’s what he regretted most of all. If he’d been in Chicago where he should have been, he would have been there when Tillie had needed him. He’d let her down and the feeling was going to be with him forever, like the forever-ache of a long-mended broken bone. But this would never mend, and he knew it with every fiber of his being.

Now he stood on the sidewalk below the attorney’s office and wondered what to do with himself. Cory had already gone, declining his offer of a ride back to the house, saying she needed to stop at the library while she was in town. They’d agreed to meet back at the house in an hour.

Jake drove to The Java Hut where he found a rumpled copy of yesterday’s Sun Times and ordered a scone and a large coffee.

***

As Cory paused at the top of the library’s steps, she shifted her bag of books so she could push open the heavy door with both hands. The cool interior of the historic building soothed her warm skin and eased the heat of the day...and the heat of the uncertainty she felt about everything that had just been dumped into her lap.

She walked up to the counter, forcing a smile on her lips. “Hi, Sara.”

“Hey, girlfriend, you’re early. My lunch break’s not ‘til one.”

“I just stopped in to get a rain check.” Cory piled her library books on the counter and watched the scowl grow on her friend’s face.

“What--painting or planting that can’t wait?”

“Can we go somewhere?”