Ever After (2 page)

Hallie believed in looking on the positive side of life, but sometimes she felt like applying for a job in some faraway, exotic place.

When Hallie turned down her street, she immediately noticed
the blue BMW parked in front of her house. It stood out from the Chevys and Toyotas like a jewel in a pile of gravel.

Across the road, Mrs. Westbrook was opening her mailbox. “Braden's home,” she called before Hallie could pull into the driveway. “You should come over and say hello.”

At the mention of the lawyer son, Hallie's heart did a little flip. “I look forward to it,” she said honestly. Since she was a child, Hallie had often gone to the older woman—a substitute mother—when Shelly's give-me-give-me attitude got to be too much. Chocolate lava cake did wonders to soothe Hallie's tears.

She parked the car, got out, and closed the door quietly. She didn't want to meet whoever was visiting Shelly. But as Hallie glanced at the shiny car, she did wonder who it could be.

Hallie opened the back door slowly so it didn't squeak. As soon as she was inside, she saw the envelope on the table on the far side of the kitchen—and she could hear voices. Since there was an open doorway leading into the living room between her and the package, she didn't know how she was going to get across without being seen.

But the man's voice took her mind off the papers. She'd heard it before but couldn't place it. When she peeped around the doorway to look into the living room, what she saw startled her.

Shelly, seen in profile, had on one of Hallie's suits. She was taller and thinner than Hallie, so the skirt was shorter and the jacket too big, but she did look businesslike.

On the coffee table were a cake and cookies, and what Hallie knew was Mrs. Westbrook's best tea set. Obviously, Shelly had known the visitor was coming, but she'd said nothing.

The man on the couch was facing the kitchen, but his attention was fully on Shelly. He was talking in a low voice, something about a house, and for a moment Hallie thought he was a Realtor. But, no, she had seen him before.

When Hallie turned back to the kitchen, she remembered.
He was Jared Montgomery, the famous architect. In school she'd dated an architecture student who'd wanted her to go to a lecture with him. The guy had raved about the architect who was speaking. Hallie had expected to be bored—and she was by what he said, but the speaker was very good-looking: tall, slim but muscular, with dark hair and eyes.

She hadn't been surprised to see that most of the audience was female. The girl next to her whispered, “I hope he's doing that thing of imagining his audience naked.” Hallie couldn't help but laugh.

So what in the world was the famous Jared Montgomery doing sitting in
her
living room?

Hallie tried to hear what they were saying, but their voices were too low. She didn't know if she should step forward and introduce herself or tiptoe out and leave them alone.

She had just turned to leave when she heard Mr. Montgomery say, “Now, Hallie, if you'll just sign here, the house will be yours.”

Hallie froze in place. Shelly was pretending to be her and selling the house to this man?!

She stepped into the living room. Shelly, pen in hand, had just finished signing a paper. “May I see that?” Hallie asked softly, her voice controlled in spite of the anger she could feel bubbling inside her.

Shelly, her face draining of color, handed the paper to her stepsister. It had the small print of a contract, and on the bottom was Hallie's full legal name written in a rather good imitation of her handwriting.

“Just let me explain,” Shelly said, her voice near to panic. “It's only fair that I get a house too. It's not fair that you get
all
of the inheritance, is it? I'm sure Dad would want me to have half of whatever he owned. He would—”

“Excuse me,” the man said, “but would someone please explain what's going on?”

Hallie's anger was rising to the surface. She held out the paper toward him. “You're Jared Montgomery, the architect, aren't you? I can assure you that if you plan to put a skyscraper in here, the neighborhood association will fight you to the very limit of the law.”

Her statement seemed to amuse him. “I will do my best to repress my tendency to build skyscrapers wherever I go. Are you Hallie's stepsister?”

“No.
I am Hallie
.”

The smile left the man's handsome face and for a second he looked from one young woman to the other. Without speaking, he pulled a paper from inside his briefcase and handed it to her.

Taking it, Hallie was shocked to see that it was a photocopy of her passport—only in place of her photo was one of Shelly. When she looked closely, she could see where her stepsister had carefully cut around the edges of the picture to make it fit. If you were looking at the actual passport, what she'd done would be obvious, but the photocopy hid what Hallie knew was criminal fraud.

“I
had
to do this,” Shelly said, her voice frantic. “You wouldn't listen to me, so I did what I had to. If you would only
listen
, I wouldn't have been forced to—”

Her look made Shelly stop talking. Silently, Hallie went to her bedroom, opened the top drawer of her bureau, and took out her passport. She went back to the living room and handed it to Mr. Montgomery.

He studied the two documents, then looked at Hallie, who was still standing. “This is my fault,” he said. “I didn't examine this carefully enough. Now I see what's been done.” He looked at Shelly, his dark eyes narrowed and angry. “I don't like being part of something illegal. My lawyers will contact you.”

“I didn't mean anything bad,” Shelly said, tears welling in her pretty eyes. “I was only trying to be fair, that's all. Why
should Hallie get so much while I get nothing? Dad would have wanted me to have—”

“Quiet!” Jared said. “Sit there and don't say another word.” He looked back at Hallie. “I'm beginning to see the enormity of this and I can't apologize enough. I take it I haven't been emailing
you
for the past two weeks?”

“No.” Hallie was glaring at Shelly, who had her head down, tears dropping onto her hands clasped in her lap. “I only know who you are because I attended one of your lectures at Harvard.”

Jared ran his hand across his face. “What a mess this is!” He looked back at Hallie. “Since I don't know what's true and what isn't”—he glared at Shelly—“I'd better start at the beginning. You are a physical therapist and you just got your Mass license?”

“Yes.”

“That's a relief! What do you know of your father's relatives?”

“Very little,” Hallie said. “He was orphaned young and raised in foster homes. He had no living relatives that he knew of.”

“Right,” Jared said. “That's what I was told. It seems that—” He glanced at Shelly. Her tears were now accompanied by sobs growing increasingly loud.

Shelly raised her head and looked at her stepsister. Her eyes were pleading. Pleading for what, Hallie didn't know. Forgiveness? Or to prove her “fairness” by doing what Shelly wanted?

“Shelly,” she said quietly but very firmly. “I want you to deliver the envelope of papers on the kitchen table to Dr. Curtis's office. I know you have no idea where I work, but the address is on the envelope. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Hallie, of course you do, but when I get back, you and I must talk. And this time you have to listen to me so you'll understand—”

“No!” Hallie said firmly. “Shelly,
this
time I am
not
going to forgive you. Now get the extra keys, take my car, and leave.”

Shelly had the self-righteous look of someone who had been falsely accused of a crime, but she did what Hallie told her to.

When she was out of the house, Jared said, “If you want to prosecute, I'll bear all the financial responsibility. I feel really stupid about this.”

“It's not your fault, Mr. Montgomery,” Hallie said in dismissal, and he told her to call him Jared. She glanced down at the forged signature on the paper on her lap. With this as evidence, she knew she could prosecute. But she also knew it wasn't in her nature to do so.

“Hallie,” he said as he looked at her, “I have a lot to tell you, explain to you—and even more to make up to you. Hallie—I mean Shelly—was going to leave with me today.”

“I see,” Hallie said, and for the first time she noticed her own luggage piled in a corner. Her tone told what she thought of that liaison.

“It's not like that,” Jared said. “My wife and I live on Nantucket, and in about an hour I have to leave to board a friend's plane and return home. Shelly was to go back with me, but I can assure you that it was purely business.”

Hallie wasn't understanding anything. “But what about the house? Why are you trying to buy it?”

“
This
house?” He glanced around at it. “No offense, but—” He broke off when he realized how badly he was explaining things. “Your stepsister wasn't trying to steal
this
house from you. I'm the executor of the will of the late Henry Bell and he left his house on Nantucket to
you
.”

This news so shocked Hallie that she was barely able to reply. “I don't know any Henry Bell.”

“I know.” He tapped his briefcase. “It's all in here, and I sent copies of the documents to your stepsister. It will take some time for you to read them all. And…” He let out his breath.
“There's something else you should know.” He paused for a moment. “Hallie and I,” Jared said, “I mean, Shelly and I have been corresponding, but she's also been writing to a cousin of mine. She said she was a physical therapist and since he—”

“Tore all four ligaments of his right knee while skiing,” Hallie said as puzzle pieces began to fall into place. “Shelly grilled me about how to rehabilitate that specific injury.”

“Uh…Yeah, well…” Jared said. “How do I say this? She gave permission for the old workshop on your property to be equipped as a gym.” He hesitated. “And she invited my injured cousin to move into the downstairs living room of your house. She was to have the upstairs to herself. The plan was that her job for the next few months would be to get Jamie back on his feet.” His eyes widened. “If this, uh…exchange hadn't been found out, how could she have done your job?”

“I have no idea,” Hallie said. “But then I never second-guess my stepsister.” For a few moments she looked at him in silence as she tried to take in what he was saying. The first thing was to clear her mind or else anger would take over. As far as she could tell, right now she had two choices. She could stay here, start a job that was stable but offered little in the way of advancement, and live in her childhood home. But that would mean that she'd have to deal with Shelly's never-ending whining about the injustices of her life—all of which could be solved if Hallie just gave more, did more, cared more for her stepsister.

Or
, Hallie thought, she could go to Nantucket and…She didn't know what was waiting there for her and right now that sounded heavenly.

She took a breath. “Are you saying that I have a house and a job waiting for me on the beautiful island of Nantucket?”

Jared smiled at her tone. She sounded like she was on the receiving end of a magic wish. Considering what he'd just seen of her stepsister, that's what she was being offered. “If you want them, that is. You could leave with me now, or come later. Or I
could sell the house for you and send you the proceeds. It's your choice. I'll help you, whatever you want to do. I certainly owe you.”

For the first time since she'd come home, Hallie smiled. “Can I have twenty minutes to pack?”

Jared grinned. “I'll call the pilot, delay the flight, and you can have thirty.”

Hallie went to her luggage, which Shelly had filled with her own clothes, emptied the contents onto the floor, and pulled out her things that her stepsister had “borrowed.” She looked at Jared. “If Shelly wanted to do this, that means your cousin Jamie must be either gorgeous or rich—or both.”

Jared shrugged. “I don't know about gorgeous. He's short and stocky, just a kid, really, but his stepmother is the writer Cale Anderson.”

Hallie nodded. “Rich. I thought so. I'll be ready in twenty-five minutes.”