Where She Belongs (11 page)

For now, Elizabeth and Tabby shared the room across the hall from the family room while she'd claimed the small room that had been Grandpa's study as her temporary bedroom. Arched double doors separated it from the family room, and its windows looked out onto the curved concrete patio.

She opened the front doors, and sunlight spilled into the hallway followed by a welcome breeze scented with the freshness of outdoors. She'd often thought that if scents had a color, this one would be green.

“I hope you still love it this winter when you get your heating bill.”

“I'll manage.”

Brett glanced at his watch. “I need to get going.”

“You could stay for supper if you want. I'm baking a chicken.”

“Sounds delicious, but I already have plans.”

Of course he did. Probably with some statuesque bimbo . . . She reined in her thoughts before they could go any further. What Brett did was none of her business, and she had no right to be jealous.

“A few guys and I get together on Monday evenings. A networking kind of thing.”

She smiled with relief while inwardly admonishing herself for being glad he wasn't seeing another woman.
We're only friends. That's all. Only
friends
.

“Did you have a good time today?” she asked as they walked outside to his car.

“I did.”

“Honestly?”

He chuckled. “Honestly. How about you?”

“Absolutely. I love it when my daughter spills her drink on someone's clothes.”

“They'll wash. Besides, it was really my fault.”

“You keep saying that, but I don't believe you.” Shelby hadn't seen the mishap, but Tabby could be stubborn about doing things by herself. When she had trouble getting her straw into the drink's lid, Brett tried to help. Somehow the lid popped off, and his pants leg got soaked.

“Accidents happen.”

“Thanks for being so nice about it.” She gazed into his clear blue eyes. It still seemed incredible that he had taken a day from work to spend time with her and the girls. But she was glad he did. The movie was laugh-out-loud funny, and he'd spoiled them with popcorn and treats. Much more than she should have allowed. “Thanks for everything. I had a really good time.”

“I'm glad. When we talked the other night, you sounded a little upset.”

She glanced away and frowned, remembering how close she'd come to kissing AJ. How much she had wanted him to kiss her. He'd been her hero that day, that's all it was. Naturally she'd been grateful. But it wouldn't happen again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The concern in Brett's voice washed over her, reminding her how much she missed having someone to confide in. But her close call with AJ wasn't something Brett needed to know.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever that was I just saw in your eyes.”

“It was nothing.”

“It must have been something,” Brett persisted. “I'm a good listener.”

“We got caught in the rain,” she said, fumbling for an explanation. “The guy who owned this place had to bring us home.”

“The same guy who gave you the gravel?”

“The very same.” A slight breeze blew a strand of hair across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. “The girls really like him, but they're still grieving for their dad. Especially Elizabeth. I hated to hurt his feelings when he'd been so kind to us, but I asked him to stay away.”

“He has to understand you're only looking out for your children. That's what good moms do.” Brett reached for her hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “Besides, I hope I'm the only guy in your life.”

She smiled slightly, then sighed. What was true of AJ was also true of Brett. She needed to have a similar conversation with him. Now.

“The girls and I had a great time today, Brett.” She withdrew her hand from his and rubbed her arms. “But I can't let them get too fond of you, either. Not yet.”

He stared at her, as if gauging whether she meant it, then exhaled. “I see.”

“Do you?”

“No more surprise trips to the movies, right?”

“You must think me so ungrateful. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Taking her by the shoulders, he drew her into a gentle embrace. “Can I still call?”

“If you want to.”

“I want to.” He brushed his lips against her hair, so lightly she wondered if she'd imagined it, then drew back and looked into her eyes. He hesitated, as if making up his mind about something. “There's a charity event I need to go to Friday night. For wounded military. Come with me.”

Her pulse quickened, whether from excitement or nerves she wasn't sure. “I don't know.”

“I'd really like you to.” His hopeful smile tugged at her heart.

But her mind swirled with indecision. The thought of going out on an actual date made her stomach queasy. And yet, she liked Brett. He obviously liked her. Take away all the silly excuses, and only one thing might prevent her from going out with him. “I'll have to find a babysitter.”

His smile broadened, and he jumped into his car as if rushing to get away before she could change her mind. “I'll call you with the details.”

She waved good-bye, and the Lexus kicked up gravel as it headed down the lane. After it disappeared around the curve, she wandered across the yard to the mailbox on the other side of the road. A date with Brett. To a charity event. What should she wear? Nothing in her wardrobe was suitable. That meant a shopping trip. Tomorrow.

She reached the mailbox and pulled out the day's delivery. Typical junk stuff and one official-looking envelope from Trainum and Trainum, Attorneys at Law. She opened it as she walked back toward the house.

The letter asked her to come to the law office Thursday afternoon to discuss a small bequest left to her by the recently deceased Joyanna Sullivan.

She read the letter again, her heart pounding. Why would AJ's grandmother leave her anything?

A
s irrational as it was, AJ felt like a vulture. He'd left his buddies fishing near the Appalachian Trail in Virginia to come home for this meeting. Leaving fresh mountain air to be in the same suffocating room as his cousins was especially galling.

Now here he was, a little before noon on a Thursday morning, preparing to discuss Gran's will as if her personal assets could ease the aching hole in his heart caused by her absence.

Yep, he felt like a vulture.

Six years ago, after Sully died, Gran had sold their Columbus mansion, bought a few acres less than a mile from AJ's cottage, and built her bungalow. Wanting a new attorney, someone who had never been involved with Sully's personal or business enterprises, someone whom Sully hadn't bullied into making unethical compromises, she'd found Trainum and Trainum.

A massive desk commanded attention in the center of the office. From a gilded frame, Patricia's father, the firm's original Trainum, glared at the room's occupants. The wall's dark paneling absorbed the rare bit of sunlight that managed to penetrate through the heavy drapes.

AJ resisted the urge to pull down the curtains only by imagining he was trapped in a Dickensian novel. Perhaps
Bleak House
.
That story was all about the law and inheritances and never-ending court cases.

His only consolation was that Amy and Brett, sitting in chairs next to him, appeared just as uncomfortable.

Patricia cleared her throat and straightened the papers stacked on her desk. “Your grandmother requested I bring the three of you together after her passing. When she updated her estate plan, she talked to me for quite some time about how much she wanted you to get along with each other. To mend—”

“She updated her plan? When?” Brett glared at AJ.

“Don't look at me,” AJ said. “I don't know anything about it.”

“How could you not know? She tells you everything.”

Patricia removed her bifocals and stared at Brett. “Your grandmother asked me to come over about a month before she died. But only to add an extra proviso. As I was saying, she wanted the three of you, her only grandchildren and the heirs of the bulk of her estate, to be together when her final wishes were made known. May I continue?”

Brett flipped his hand, as if giving royal permission.

“As all of you probably know, Joyanna's estate consists of two trusts. The first is the estate she inherited from her husband. Your grandfather. This trust is to be divided equally among the three of you.”

“The three of us?” Brett shifted in his chair and glanced at Amy. “Are you sure that's right? Sully practically disinherited AJ.”

AJ turned his head toward the window, wishing he could see beyond the burgundy and blue drapes to the sky. He slightly loosened the tie that he'd worn out of respect for the solemnity of the occasion. Leave it to Brett to turn it into a farce by bringing up ancient history.

“Be that as it may, after Mr. Sullivan's death, your grandmother controlled the trust and could do with it whatever she wanted.”

Brett started to speak, but Amy placed her hand on his arm.
“Forgive our interruptions, Patricia,” she said with practiced diplomacy. “What about the second trust?”

“The second trust is made up of a small legacy left to your grandmother by her parents and then additional investments added over the years. Except for a few charitable donations and other small bequests, this part of the trust will also be divided equally.”

AJ pulled again at his tie. Most people might be thrilled to be handed this kind of monetary legacy. But it almost made him sick. He'd grown up in a life of privilege—private schools, expensive vacations, a fire engine red Camaro when he turned sixteen.

But all that luxury hadn't made anyone happy. Not his grandfather, whose greed could never be satisfied. Not his parents nor his aunt and uncle, who made their marriages into a blood sport before the four of them died in a fiery airplane crash.

Not even his grandmother, who grieved over the rifts in her family.

Even without the boon that Brett and Amy had received from Sully when he died, AJ had a comfortable nest egg from his parents. But he lived on his teacher's salary, much preferring the uncomplicated life he'd chosen after Sully disowned him.

“We might as well get her house on the market right away,” Brett said. “Can you recommend a realtor?”

“That's not your decision to make, Mr. Somers.”

“Why not?”

“Your grandmother's real estate, strange as it may sound, isn't part of the trust. The cottage property where AJ currently resides and—”

“And she left it to AJ.” Brett smirked. “No surprise there. Though why anyone would want to live in that drafty old place out in the middle of nowhere . . .”

AJ pushed himself out of his chair and strode to the window. Amy stood too, and wrapped her arm through his.

“Be quiet, Brett,” she admonished. “AJ's cottage is charming and secluded.”

“Thanks, Amy, but I don't need you to take up for me.” AJ yanked off his tie and stuffed it in his pocket. “Is there anything else?”

Patricia had half risen when AJ stood but returned to her seat and picked up a piece of paper. “Your grandmother asked me to specifically say, ‘I am leaving my real estate, both the cottage and my current home, to AJ because of the ill-treatment he received from his grandfather. Brett and Amy, I ask that you understand and respect my wishes.' There's more, but you can read it at your leisure.”

She pushed three envelopes across the desk. “She wrote each of you a separate letter.”

“Of course we respect Gran's wishes.” Amy retrieved the envelopes and passed them out. “Don't we, Brett?”

“Absolutely,” he said flatly, folding the envelope and tucking it into his inner jacket pocket.

“The contents of your grandmother's home are also yours, Mr. Sullivan, to do with whatever you'd like.” Patricia pulled out another sheet of paper and held it out to AJ. “Except for these few items. Your grandmother specifically requested that they be given to a Ms. Shelby Kincaid.”

“To Shelby?” AJ scanned the list. It showed a photo and detailed description of each item Gran meant Shelby to have.

“Your grandmother was quite anxious about making the change. She said those particular items belong to Ms. Kincaid. It was the reason for our last meeting.”

“I see.” The list included a three-drawer lowboy, an antique washstand, and a few decorative items. It didn't take a genius to guess that the pieces once belonged to Shelby's grandparents.

“As the executor, you can arrange the delivery of the items. However, if you'd like, I can make the arrangements.”

“No, that won't be necessary.” AJ folded the list and placed it in his pocket. Suddenly the room didn't seem as claustrophobic. Now he had an excuse to call on Shelby. “I'll do it.”

“Is there anything else Gran wished us to know?” Amy graced Patricia with a disarming smile.

“No.” She came around from behind her desk. “The transfer of assets will occur over the next few weeks. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to give me a call.” She handed each of them a business card, then escorted them out the door.

In the lobby, Amy grabbed both Brett and AJ by an arm. “You two could have behaved better in there. What would Gran say?”

“I didn't know she planned to leave me both properties.” AJ's mood brightened, probably because of the sunlight pouring through the lobby windows. Strangely, Brett's mood seemed to have darkened.

“I'm not surprised she did.” Amy smiled up at him. “What will you do?”

“I'm not in a hurry to sell Gran's house,” AJ said, feeling generous and suddenly wanting to smooth things over, “but how about we get it appraised? Then I'll buy out what would have been your shares.”

“There's no need.” Amy shook her head. “The house is all yours. Brett and I have no claim on it.”

“It's only money. More than I need.”

Brett made a strange sound and shook his head. “Did Sully teach you nothing?”

Before AJ could reply, Amy intervened. “Now, boys. No more of this nonsense. Let's go to lunch.”

“Lunch?” Brett stared at her.

“It's past noon, and I'm starving. Besides, it's not often I get to have lunch with my two favorite men.”

“Only if AJ's buying.”

“Why not?” AJ shrugged. “Where do you want to go?”

“How about that little Italian place across the street?” Amy suggested.

“Sounds great.” AJ grinned. “They have a waitress there who'll cheer up Brett.”

Brett glared, and AJ grinned even more. “Only kidding, cuz.”

“Now that you mention it,” Brett said, his glare softening into a teasing smile, “I'm thinking of hiring a new receptionist.”

Shelby walked out of the law office, still in a daze after the brief meeting. It had only taken a few minutes for Patricia Trainum to explain Joyanna Sullivan's bequest, hand Shelby a copy of the list, and inform her that AJ Sullivan would be in touch to work out the details.

“Were we good, Mommy?” Tabby's yank on Shelby's hand brought her back to the present. “Can we have 'lato?”

“May we,” Shelby automatically corrected. While parking the car, she had noticed the Italian café and promised gelato in exchange for good manners.

“You were both wonderful.” She squeezed their hands. “Time for our special treat.”

The light changed, and they crossed the street. Inside the café, the hostess welcomed them. As she escorted them toward a table, Tabby squealed and slipped her hand from Shelby's.

“Mr. AJ, it's me.” Tabby ran to him, and he pushed his chair back to lift her onto his lap. Elizabeth hurried after her sister and leaned into him.

“Girls,” Shelby called after them, only to be ignored. She smiled lamely at the hostess and followed her children. Two other people were at the same table, an attractive woman and . . . Brett?

AJ grinned at Shelby. “I'd get up,” he said, “but I don't want to drop your children.”

Before Shelby could answer, Tabby pointed at Brett. “I spilled my drink on him. It was an askident.” She giggled. “He likes Mommy.”

Brett stood and gave her an awkward smile. “Hello, Shelby. I'd like you to meet my sister Amy.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Shelby said.

“You too.” Amy started to say something else, then seemed to think better of it. She took a sip of her tea and glanced at AJ.

Shelby followed her gaze. He held tightly to the girls, his body tense and his expression dark as he stared at her. “You know Brett?”

“Yes,” she said haltingly. “Yes, I do.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that only Brett and Amy weren't surprised at who knew whom.

“Mr. Brett gave all of us flowers,” Elizabeth stage-whispered. “And we went to the movies.”

“What's this all about, Brett?” AJ's low voice simmered with anger, and he pulled the girls a little closer.

“Nothing that's your concern.” Brett's voice was equally hard, but his eyes softened when he turned to Shelby. “I can explain this.”

“Explain what?” Shelby looked from one to the other as she tried to fit the pieces in their proper places. One man treated her like royalty, charming her with his wit and fine manners. The other, the one she couldn't quite forgive, had his arms protectively around her children. The puzzle didn't make sense. “Why didn't you tell me you knew AJ?”

“That wasn't part of the plan.”

“What plan?”

Instead of answering, he took his jacket from the back of the chair and slung it over his shoulder. “Time to go, Amy.”

“This isn't about your development scheme, is it?” AJ asked.

“You should never have signed away your land, AJ.” Amy placed her napkin beside her plate and stood.

The words slammed Shelby's stomach. “You mean Misty Willow? It's mine.”

Amy smiled, but her eyes were cold. “Not for long. Good-bye, AJ. Thanks for lunch.” She took a few steps, then turned back. “Coming, Brett?”

Brett traced Shelby's jawline with his finger. “It wasn't supposed to work out this way. But we need that land.” Stunned, she didn't
move when he brushed his lips against hers. “And we're going to get it.”

Staring at his back as he strode away, she longed for him to turn around, but he left the café without even a backward glance.

She looked helplessly at AJ. He smiled at something Elizabeth said, but his tense jaw and narrowed eyes betrayed his simmering anger. Her knees wobbled, and she sank into the seat Brett had vacated, her eyes downcast.

“How do you know him?” Her voice was a bare murmur.

“He's my cousin.”

She closed her eyes as the revelation ricocheted against her temples.