Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (18 page)

“What if we showcase King’s together?” She scooted away from him, and then stood. “Maybe it is time to show you the remodel.”

A few minutes later, Priscilla led Griff out the back door and around to the front of the house. She tugged on his hand. “We couldn’t just walk down the hall?” he muttered.

“You can’t get the full effect that way. Now, don’t look.”

“How can I see where I’m going?”

“I’ll direct you.” She positioned him on the walkway. “You can open your eyes.”

He did. It took a few seconds for him to comment. “I like it. I’m not a flower person, but it makes all the difference.”

Priscilla grinned. The flower pots filled with colorful bouquets on the side of each step leading to the newly painted white door brought the entrance to life. “Ready to go in?”

At his nod, she linked her arm through his and walked to the house. She slipped the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

“Close your eyes again.”

He obeyed.

“Step over the threshold. That’s it. Now a few more steps, so I can close the door and put the light on,” she instructed. “All right, you can look.” Her voice rose with excitement and anticipation.

Griff whistled, low and long, as he took in the details. “It’s incredible.”

“Do you like the color?”

“Yes. I never thought I’d like blue or is it blue green?”

“Both. Would you like to see the living room?”

“Try to stop me,” he said, smiling at her.

With just a few steps and sweeping aside the temporary curtain, Priscilla ushered him into his new living room.

He strolled into the room, apparently taking it all in. He halted in the center of the room and slowly turned.

Priscilla held her breath, wondering if the same shade of blue on the two facing couches and the hints of it, along with dashes of tangerine, in the larger pillows on the white upholstered chairs would please him.

The chocolate brown edging on the walls carried into the fabrics and rug. The blue glass vases with a hint of glitter on them stood on side tables and she’d highlighted two of the black and white framed photographs with a touch of the same shade and a splash of orange, making the landscapes pop with color. The mix of candles and frames along with fresh white roses dotted the mantel.

She’d found a colorful coffee table photography book to display on the low table in front of the couches. She kept the room as simple yet cozy as possible, knowing he would hate anything too cluttered and fussy.

“As my wife would say,” he turned to face her, his eyes filled with light, “wow.”

She giggled.

“It’s amazing,” he said as he walked toward her. He cupped her face in his hands, saying, “You, Priscilla King—”

“Don’t forget the James.”

He sucked in a breath. “You, Priscilla King James, are simply amazing.”

She hoped he’d still say that once she put his pictures and stories of them on the website tomorrow.

***

Weeks had gone by and Griff’s house slowly transformed; each room displayed his wife’s talents and love of design. Simple. Chic. Elegant.

Only one of the four bedrooms remained to be finished. Of course, he already declared his study off-limits. Now he wondered if he should have barred her from touching that room.

The house once, not so long ago, had been dark and empty. Now each room had its own character and appeal. Most importantly, it was filled with light again.

And the store benefited. Interest on the website increased daily. She’d limited his pictures and edited some of their stories to feed curiosity, yet shield their privacy. Priscilla’s design tips had now blossomed into an exchange between viewers and herself.

Also, she’d run a contest, asking customers to submit a video clip of a short do-it-yourself project using one of King’s products. The winner each week would receive a hundred-dollar gift card to the store. A flood of entrants filled the email box. She’d assembled a team, including Rico, to view them and select the overall winners.

“Another home run,” he muttered, coming back into the kitchen.

“You talking baseball, Mr. G.?” Dolly asked, plunking down her overflowing handwritten cookbook on the counter.

“I was talking to myself. Priscilla’s done an incredible job on the house and at King’s, hence the home run comment.”

“Oh, my, ain’t she something? I love this kitchen.”

He smiled, looking at the small, but amazing changes to the once bland room. The aqua blue and chocolate brown glass back splash complimented the dark wood cabinets and granite countertops. The same blue color with a sliver of the tangerine in places carried through to the linens, the dining ware, and the cozy banquet. He beamed with pride at her accomplishments. “Let me help you unpack all your bowls and pans. It’s the least I can do since you agreed to make her favorite chocolate ganache cake as a surprise.”

“Ah, shucks, any excuse to spoil my girls, I say. And you’re a fine one, thinking of her and knowing just what she loves.”

Within minutes, he’d had the large stand mixer, ingredients, and utensils out of the boxes and lined up for her. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should ask her. “So did you get to spoil them a lot when they were growing up? You have been with the family for years, right?” He knew she had.

She chuckled as she tugged on the apron over her head and turned to him. “Do me up, will ya?” He did, liking her friendly, down-to-earth personality. “I was hired the day Charlie was born.” She waved off that, saying, “But that’s a whole other story. Oh, the first Mrs. King, what a peach. Sweet, kind, loving. My Charlie sure did turn out a lot like her momma. Mind you, she’s got a lot of her daddy in her, too. Loves that store.”

When she pointed for the sack of flour, he fetched it and handed it over.

“But, once the first Mrs. K. got sick,” she choked up, “never the same again. Mr. K. tried, but he was trying to keep everything going while taking care of her. I did my best with Charlie. My little helper.” She brightened up, saying, “Mr. K. had his King’s family, too. They rallied around him, visiting, taking Charlie for an outing with their kids, sitting with Mrs. K. so he could work at the store. You know, everybody pitched in.”

“It sounds like quite a family,” Griff said softly, admiration for the Kings and their employees growing even more.

“Yes sirree, but the one who impressed me the most was his lawyer friend.” She stirred in some baking powder, and then a pinch of salt as she talked.

Griff’s middle clenched. “How so?”

“Day or night he’d come, sit with Mr. K. and listen. Sometimes I’d find them wiping away tears, others chuckling. But, that ain’t all. He paid for a lot of the bills. Mr. K. wasn’t there to pump up the store, bring in the sales, so things got slow. And he had to pull money from the store more than he should have for all those doctor bills.” She shrugged. “You do what you gotta do. So his friend steps in and takes over paying things at the house, sometimes at the store. I remember once he covered the whole week’s payroll when King’s was short.”

He swallowed hard; he’d never heard this before. “Good friend.”

“The best. Nearly went broke, but he didn’t care.”

“You knew him.” She must have at least seen him coming and going from the house. “Well?”

“Not so I would sit and have a chat, but, yeah, I knew him. Kinda shy and standoffish with everyone but Mr. K. What’s that word I’m looking for? Awkward, that’s it, awkward around people he didn’t know or if it was anything but business talk. Great lawyer. My, he was a big shot in this town, I’ll tell you. You were in trouble, all you had to do was call him and he’d come.”

“And then what happened?” His curiosity made him ask. If he had been so smart, so loyal, why had so many turned on him?

“First, Mrs. K. passed away. So sad. Mr. K. was devastated. Charlie clung to me, and we got through it together. Then what was it, months—not even a year? Mr. K. walks in with a new wife and two stepdaughters out of the blue. You could have knocked us over with a feather. The lawyer friend challenged him, got right up in his face. I saw it with my own eyes. Mr. K. broke down; said he brought the second Mrs. K. in to do the accounting, save the store. The only way she agreed was if he’d marry her. She’d help him dig his way out from the hole he’d gotten into. She did, too, and brought it roaring back. In exchange, he promised to adopt her girls and always take care of them. He knew he’d made a mistake right off the bat, but he couldn’t turn his back on the girls.”

So much made sense. “She pushed her weight around, I assume.” He’d heard stories of her temper. He handed Dolly the cocoa she indicated.

She flipped the mixer on and slowly added the dry ingredients to the twirling glass bowl with the butter and milk she’d already put in it.

“And how,” she said over the noise. “But he reeled her in, threatened to fire her. She calmed down…until poor Mr. K. got sick himself.” Shutting off the mixer, she continued, “One minute he’s tired, next minute he’s got terminal cancer. Happened fast. He called his lawyer friend right away. The second Mrs. K. didn’t like that one bit. They were holed up in Mr. K.’s study for hours.”

Griffin stopped watching her smooth, even movements as she readied the pans. He jerked his gaze to her profile.

“A will, I’m sure of it. What else could it have been, right? But lo and behold once he passed, there’s this one dated the day before he died. She’d already barred—hey, get it? Lawyer barred? Anyway, she barred the lawyer friend from seeing Mr. K. in the end. The date on the will isn’t the same day as the long visit.”

“How can you be so certain? About the day, I mean?” Griff’s middle churned.

“’Cause the long visit was on my birthday. I remember I offered them some of my cake and homemade vanilla ice cream. When they accepted, I carried it in and saw the papers sitting right there on Mr. K.’s desk. I didn’t have to read but the first line before I figured it was Mr. K.’s will.”

“Maybe he didn’t sign it until later.” His heart thudded and he tried to rationalize this before he jumped to any conclusions.

She shook her head, and then poured the batter into the round cake pans, scraping the sides of the bowl. “Nope, I didn’t read the middle part, but I did see the last page, you know they call that the signature page. It was all done, signed, dated, witnessed, notarized—the whole shebang.”

“And that was how long before he passed away?” Could it be true? Could Dolly be a witness?

“Two weeks to the day.” Her voice grew sad. “I miss him still. The girls never got over it.” She lifted the spoon and pointed at him, saying, “But now you asking, I wonder what happened to that paper?” Her eyes held sadness. She shook her head. “Maybe it wasn’t a will, maybe something else. Another paper and the two got mixed up, one page of one and another page of another…”

“You doubt what you saw?”

She dropped the wooden spoon back in the bowl. It clanked against the ceramic. “I been holding it back for so long, not wanting to think it was. Not wanting to think the worst.”

“The worst?” He held his breath.

“Coulda been Mrs. K. got Mr. K. to sign another one she’d drawn up the day before he died, forged one of her own and she sold everyone down the river, or the lawyer friend was the thief she claimed he was all along and she had to bring in her own lawyer to protect the King family.”

His middle dropped. Would uncovering the original will expose the truth about all of them, including his father?

***

“What’s this? Something smells delicious in here,” Priscilla cried when she walked in the back door a few hours later with Edward trailing behind her. “Edward picked me up and wouldn’t tell me what was going on.”

She looked to Griff. He shrugged, nodding to the glass cake stand. “Surprise.”

“For me? Chocolate ganache cake.” She squealed with delight, rushing to him and throwing her arms around him. He hugged her back and she kissed him on the lips. “Thank you for thinking of me. You’re so sweet.”

“That has to be a first,” he muttered.

“Funny,” she said, wiggling out of his arms and going around the counter to hug Dolly. “Thank you so much, Dolly.” She kissed her on the cheek.

The older woman blushed. “Ah, shucks, honey. Mr. G. called and said you’ve been working so hard and doing such a great job, he thought of a reward for you and here I am. I made lasagna, too; it’s in the oven on warm.” She tugged off her apron and folded it neatly before storing it in the waiting box. “You two enjoy—”

Griff cut her off. “You’re invited to stay.”

Priscilla’s jaw nearly dropped. Her McGruff actually had allowed someone to breach his protective shield, come into his kitchen and cook, and now he wanted his guests to stay. Well, wonders never cease.

“Please, stay,” she said, looking from Dolly to Edward. “Alex is out of town and Charlie is working late, so, Edward, you don’t have to pick her up until later. And why go back to an empty house to fix dinner, Dolly, when you’ve already done so here?”

“Well, I’ll be. What you think, Eddie, you game?”

His wide smile spread across his face. “I love your lasagna.”

“That settles it,” Griff said, going to the cupboard and pulling out the new aqua blue plates.

Priscilla watched in awe as her husband moved with ease, handing her and the others the placemats, silverware, glasses, and utensils. His easy movements told her more than words could ever convey. He was comfortable in his home. Now, that was a first.

She went up to him, sliding her arms around him and leaning her head against his back.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning to her and enveloping her against his chest. His heartbeat, strong and steady, warmed her.

“I like this,” she murmured.

“The surprise?”

“Definitely. But this, too, us. Family.”

His arms tightened around her. “Family,” he repeated, but it sounded like a foreign word coming from him.

***

“Here you go,” Griffin said, handing over the box filled with Dolly’s cooking things to Edward to store in the trunk of the car. “That’s the last of them.”