Where She Belongs (3 page)

S
helby opened the attic door, the hinges eerily squeaking, then stood aside so Nate Jeffers could climb the steep wooden stairs. As they neared the top, the overwhelming stench caused her to gag. She adjusted her nose mask. “This is awful.”

“I take it you don't think much of your current tenants.” Nate laughed as he entered the attic. The scurry of movement sounded along the far walls. Shelby stayed on the stairs and watched the beam of Nate's flashlight play across decaying pigeon carcasses. She gagged, swallowed her rising bile, gagged again, and barely kept herself from vomiting.

“You okay?” Nate turned the light to her. Lifting the mask, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

“I'll just leave this to you.” She backed down the attic stairs and hurried into the second floor bathroom. Somehow the claw-footed bathtub and porcelain vanity had survived the years of neglect.

She tore off the mask and turned the ivory-handled faucets. Pipes groaned, but no water appeared. Plopping on the closed toilet, she buried her head in her arms to scrub away the mental image of the dead birds. But the grimy feathers, the mottled bones, wouldn't go away.

If only Gary were here. To teasingly make fun of her grandi
ose plans. He'd always laughed when she dreamed of buying the house, restoring it. “Someday,” he'd say, his hazel eyes glinting with humor. But he hadn't meant it.

He could have attended the police academy in Columbus, but he wouldn't even apply. Chicago, not Misty Willow, was his dream place.

Shelby pulled her knees to her chest, guarding her heart as best she could. God knew, she wanted Gary back. The Gary she fell in love with when they were college students at the University of Illinois. Except if Gary were still alive, she wouldn't be here, in this house. Where she belonged. Where all was right with the world.

Her head ached with the impossibility of wanting two opposing things so much.

“Anybody home?” The voice echoed up the stairs, and Shelby's stomach lurched. Not again. Last night in the restaurant, she had let herself be lulled into a truce. But the return of her nightmares had reminded her of all the grief and heartache the Sullivans had caused. It might not be rational, but the less time she spent with AJ the better.

Reluctantly, she walked to the hallway and peered over the banister. AJ waved at her. “You coming down, or should I come up?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was curious about the attic.”

“Nate's up there now.” She gestured for him to come up. It'd serve him right if he got sick at the sight of all those . . . Her stomach heaved, and she wrapped her arms around her belly.

“Are you all right?” AJ rounded the banister and rested his hand on her shoulder. She recoiled from his touch.

“I'm fine. It's just, all those dead things.”

“You mind if I go up?” His brown eyes danced, a mischievous schoolboy bent on adventure.

Shelby exaggerated a heavy sigh. “Go.”

“How do I get there?”

“You don't know?”

“How would I?”

She pressed her lips together, preparing herself for the anger she expected to feel at this blatant reminder of his misdeeds. But it didn't come. “Through there,” she said, gesturing to the open room that housed the attic stairs.

“You sure you're okay? You look queasy.”

“It's so awful up there.”

“Sure you don't want to go back up?”

“I need to change before driving to the airport.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Guess I'll do that now.”

She stepped around him, rushing down the stairs and through the open double doors to get a change of clothes from her car. As she stepped onto the porch, a faded blue pickup pulled up and parked behind her rental. The driver wore jeans and a work shirt, sleeves rolled above the elbows. A cap bearing a feed store logo shielded his eyes and sun-darkened face. He headed for the porch, a younger version of himself following closely behind.

“Hello, miss.” The farmer removed his cap, and the teen did the same.

“Hello.” Shelby stepped forward and extended her hand.

“You may not remember me, but I'm Paul Norris. This is my boy Seth. We're your nearest neighbors.”

“Paul Norris.” She broadened her smile. About fifteen years older than she, he'd sometimes worked for her grandfather. “Of course I remember you. How are your parents?”

“Doing well. They moved to town a few years ago, a nice little house. My family's at the farm now.”

“No better place to raise a family.”

“Heard tell you're buying this place from AJ.”

“That's right. I hope to move in as soon as the house is ready.”

“I bet AJ's granddaddy is spitting nails.” Paul gazed upward, seeming to appraise the house. “But I'm sure glad to have Lassiter kin back in the old place.”

“Thank you, Mr. Norris. That means a great deal to me.”

“AJ may have told you, I rent the pastures on both sides of the house.”

“Of course.” She remembered now, seeing his name on the contract. “I'm glad you do.”

She turned at the sudden commotion behind her, loud footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, AJ and Nate spilled through the door, laughing uncontrollably.

“It's an animal graveyard up there,” AJ said, gripping his side.

“There's a raccoon. Big one.” Nate held his hands a couple of feet apart, like a fisherman measuring the one that got away.

“I thought it was dead,” AJ sputtered.

“Now you know better.” Nate took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Never saw anyone move so fast in my life.”

“It scared me. I'm not ashamed to admit it.”

“What is all this?” asked Paul.

“My attic,” Shelby said, almost wishing she had seen AJ's encounter with the raccoon. “It's a nightmare.”

“I want to go up.” Seth Norris spoke for the first time, and Shelby marveled at the appeal. She hoped never to step foot in that dark, infested place again.

While the men inspected the attic, she washed up the best she could with bottled water and changed into fresh clothes in the downstairs bathroom. Gazing at her reflection in the mottled mirror, she refreshed her makeup and brushed her hair into a neat ponytail. Now that the papers were signed, she was anxious to get home. To have supper with her girls and tell them all about the house and the farm. But not about the attic.

Shelby carried her overnight bag to the front doors and met the men coming down the stairs.

“I think Seth and I can help you out,” said Paul.

“With the critters?”

“Yes'm. We can get started on it next week, if that'd suit you.”

“That would be great.” Shelby glanced at Nate, wondering if
he knew the going rate for removing animal carcasses. Though Gary's life insurance policy had been substantial, she had to keep a close eye on her budget. “What would you charge for the job?”

“I owe your dad a favor, and I've been waiting a long time to pay him back.” Paul glanced around the hallway before looking straight at Shelby. “I figure this will do it.”

“It must have been a very big favor.” AJ lounged on one of the lower steps, his long legs casually stretched before him.

“Sure was,” Paul said, then clapped Seth on the shoulder and moved to the door. “We best be getting along. Your mom will be wondering what happened to us.”

“Mr. Norris, I can't let you clean up that mess without paying you something.”

“Please, it's Paul. And it's already settled.”

“Shelby,” AJ said softly. She turned to him, and he barely shook his head as he stood.

He picked up her bag as they followed the Norrises and Nate out of the house.

“I'll be putting locks on all the doors this afternoon,” Nate said to Paul. “Okay if I give you a key at church in the morning?”

“That'd be fine, if Shelby has no objection.”

“None at all. Thank you.” She smiled nervously, unsure how to accept such generosity. “Thank you so much.”

“Once you get settled, we'll have you over for supper. If you'd like.”

“Yes, I would. Thanks.”

Standing on the porch, she waved at the Norrises and Nate as their trucks kicked up dirt down the long lane.

“That driveway needs new gravel,” AJ said.

“I know.” Shelby let out a deep sigh. “One more thing to add to the list.”

“Let me take care of it.”

“You? Why?”

“If I'd paid more attention to the place, your list wouldn't be so long.”

“True. But I don't need your help now.”

“Consider it a housewarming gift.”

“Gravel for my drive?” Shelby tried but couldn't stop from smiling. “That has to be the strangest housewarming gift ever.”

“You'll accept it, then?”

A flash of blue caught Shelby's attention, and her gaze followed the aerobatic jay as it swooped into the midst of a silver maple near the fence line. Her mind drifted to her younger self, sheltered by those outstretched branches, her back against its broad trunk.

Reading, thinking, dozing. Dreaming of the future. Imagining her Prince Charming.

But nothing had turned out as she expected.

“Is that a yes?”

Lost in the past, Shelby startled. “Thanks for offering, but it's too much.”

“It's a lot less than what Paul and Seth volunteered to do.”

“I would have paid them. Why did you tell me not to?”

“Pay him if you think you can. But I know Paul Norris. He'll just figure out a way to give it back to you.”

“You know, anything to do with this house is no longer any of your business.” Shelby punched the key remote to unlock the car. “It's mine.”

“True.” Frowning, he placed her bag into the trunk. “When will you be back?”

“Right after Mother's Day.” She opened the car door and tossed her purse inside.

“I live over on the next road. I could drive by here. Keep an eye on the place if you want.”

“Now you care about it?”

“Just tryin' to be neighborly. That's what we do around here.”

“And one of the reasons I want to live here.” She glanced at the widow's walk above the porch, a simple balcony outside the twin windows of the upstairs hall and what had been her grandparents'
bedroom. The room she'd make her own. Living in the house would give her a chance to recapture the spirit of the girl she'd been.

But she couldn't build on the pleasant memories with AJ Sullivan hanging around, reminding her of the bad.

She faced him, praying her voice wouldn't shake. “We can be neighbors,” she said softly. “But never more than that.”

AJ pressed his lips together in a thin line, then shook his head as if in defeat. Pain hardened his eyes. “I didn't ask for more than that.”

His words slammed into Shelby's stomach, their impact more hurtful than she would have thought possible.

“Of course not.” She slid into the car, but AJ grabbed the door before she could close it.

“Shelby, wait.”

“I have to get to the airport.”

“Just . . .” As he leaned in, she breathed the woodsy notes of his aftershave. Drawn to the fragrance, she bent her head slightly toward him while avoiding his gaze. “Travel safe.”

“I will.” She turned the ignition, watching through the windshield as he climbed into his hunter green Jeep. A lump pressed against her throat, and as she drove to the airport, her thoughts were haunted by the ache she'd seen in his eyes.

She knew that ache. She saw it in her mirror every day.

A
J rode the elevator to the eleventh floor of the downtown office building, breathing a prayer of thanks this wasn't his daily routine. Some people might like the prestige of a prosperous business, the panoramic view of the Columbus skyline. But not him.

He preferred his high school students, even the uninspired ones, over contract negotiations, power lunches, and wearing a tie every day. His cousin was welcome to those so-called perks.

Pushing open the glass door to Somers, Inc., he shook his head at the irony. Sully had left the business he'd founded, Sullivan Investments, to his new favorite grandson, Brett Somers. Less than a month after the estate was settled, Brett had changed the company's name.

AJ greeted the latest receptionist, another mini-skirted blonde. “I had a summons from your boss,” he said, only half joking. Brett had refused to tell him what he wanted over the phone.

“Your name, please.” The blonde gave him the once-over beneath fluttering false lashes. Where did Brett find these girls?

“AJ Sullivan. Would you please tell Brett I'm here?”

She consulted a calendar program on her computer. “Oh, you
can go on in. Brett”—she giggled—“I mean, Mr. Somers is expecting you. Would you like me to show you the way?”

“I've been here before.” Though not that often since Brett had taken over their grandfather's corner office. Sully's original plan was for Brett to run the company's day-to-day operations, and for AJ, with a law degree backing his name, to have control. Until the argument. Then everything had changed.

AJ rapped on the door of Brett's office and entered.

Wearing a blue shirt that almost perfectly matched his eyes, Brett commanded a large oak desk, his back to a wall of certificates, plaques, and VIP photographs. He smiled at AJ. “See, Amy. I told you he'd come.”

AJ followed Brett's gaze to the brown leather sofa. His cousin Amy, impeccably dressed in a lilac linen suit, stood and pecked AJ on the cheek. “Where have you been hiding? I don't think we've seen you since Christmas.”

“You're probably right.” Christmas. Funny how they still celebrated the holiday together, though only Gran truly enjoyed the family togetherness. The traditional brunch eaten around her antique table. The exchanging of gifts. Her only grandchildren promising to get together again soon before they went their separate ways.

“Can I get you something? Coffee?” Brett asked, walking around his desk to the built-in bar.

“A soda, if you have one.”

“Ice?” Brett pulled a Coke from the mini-fridge, and AJ reached for the can.

“This is fine.” He popped the tab.

“Sis?” Brett turned to Amy.

“I'm good.” She swirled the contents of her crystal glass at him. “Here, AJ, sit beside me.”

AJ followed Amy to the couch while Brett settled in a nearby chair. Double-teaming. So that was their game. He took a long sip of the soda as his cousins exchanged furtive glances.

“Do you still enjoy teaching?” Amy asked.

“I do.” AJ gazed at her. Same ash blonde hair and clear blue eyes as her brother. As in all things, AJ was the odd one out with his darker coloring. His cousins had inherited their father's Scandinavian features, their mother's social superiority.

“But you didn't drag me here to talk about my career choice, did you?”

Amy lowered her eyes as if embarrassed, though AJ knew better. She crossed one shapely leg over the other and pulled at her skirt. Another of her ploys. “Have you heard about the Glade Valley Refuge project?”

“Who hasn't? There are signs up everywhere, editorials. What about it?” The controversial Glade Valley watershed project was a proposed federal initiative designed to control runaway development in the large geographical area southwest of Columbus.

“There's a very good chance that project is going to be fast-tracked. When it gets approved, it's going to upset some people's plans.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“A private consortium has hired my consulting firm to assist them in getting the approvals for an exclusive retreat within that area,” said Amy. “Upscale cottages, golf course and clubhouse, pool, very chic. But if the refuge goes through, the land they want will be federally protected. The consortium will have to find another site in the same general area.”

AJ shrugged. “And . . . ?”

“And that's where,” Brett said, pausing dramatically, “our Midas touch turns land into gold.”

“What land?”

“Our land.” Brett chuckled. “Okay, your land. But considering that Amy can broker the deal and I can negotiate for top dollar, it'd be to our advantage to form a partnership.”

“The three of us?” AJ widened his eyes. He'd known to expect the unexpected when Brett asked him to come to the office. But
he hadn't foreseen a proposal like this. “Let me make sure I have this right. We form a partnership so someone can build a retreat on my land.”

“That's right,” Brett replied. “Earlier than the old man stipulated in his will, but we'll get around that legal stumbling block. Amy already has a friend looking into it.”

“Too bad you didn't finish law school,” Amy said. “Then you could have done it yourself.”

“If he'd finished law school,” Brett said, “Sully would have stuck either you or me with that wasteland.”

“It's not a wasteland,” AJ protested. He hated admitting that he'd ever agreed with Brett on something. But that's what he'd thought of the farm until he realized how important it was to someone else. Somehow that made it important to him too.

More than a week had passed since Shelby had flown back to Chicago. He drove by the house every day, sometimes stopping in if either Nate Jeffers or Paul Norris was there. Both men were making great progress. And the gravel he had ordered would be delivered and spread out in the next couple of days. A surprise for Shelby. Though what she'd say about it . . .

“The land may prove to be valuable,” Amy said, frowning at her brother. “But we need to have everything in place so that when the refuge goes through, we have something else to offer my client.”

AJ shifted to face Amy. “Aren't you being paid to make sure the refuge doesn't go through?”

“I can't always get my clients what they want,” she said, posing her lips into a pout. The girl never quit, not even with her own relatives. “Besides, this way I'll know their plans, and I can steer them to Brett.”

AJ leaned back, folding his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. This could be fun. “How many acres will they need?”

“All of it. And more.”

“Who's most likely to sell, do you think?” asked Brett. “Jason Owens or Paul Norris?”

The Owens family owned land to the west and across the road from Misty Willow; the Norris land lay to the east.

“Neither,” AJ said.

“But which one might?” Brett insisted.

“Jason might.”

“Great.” Amy scooched forward. “Why don't you invite him to have dinner with us one day next week? Perhaps at the Buckeye Club. I'll make the reservations.”

“I'm not sure Jason has as much acreage as your client needs.”

“I think he does.” Brett's smug tone irritated AJ. “I did a search. Owens's farm added to Misty Willow should be more than adequate.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” AJ stood and walked around Brett's chair, hands sunk in his pockets. “Even if I agreed to add my acres to this project, Shelby Kincaid will never give up hers.”

“Who is Shelby Kincaid?” asked Amy, bewilderment distorting her features.

“The new owner of the old Lassiter homestead. The house and thirty-two acres.”

“What house?” Amy's strident voice echoed in the room.

“The new what?” Brett spoke at the same time as his sister.

“Do you still want me to talk to Jason?” AJ asked with pretend innocence.

“What I want is for you to explain why you sold the house.” Brett rose from his chair and paced the room before facing AJ. “And how.”

AJ bristled at Brett's threatening tone. He'd punched his cousin once before, and he wouldn't mind an excuse to do so again.

“I don't have to explain anything to you,” AJ said. “And I'm not interested in selling my acres for a retreat. But thanks for including me in your plans.”

“How could you sell?” Amy stood and crossed her arms like a petulant child. “Sully's will specifically said—”

“Gran told me to.”

“I don't believe you,” Brett said.

“It's done.”

“Undo it.”

“No.”

“Boys!” Amy placed her manicured hand on AJ's arm. “Tell me again. Who bought the house?”

“Shelby Kincaid,” AJ said. “Her grandparents owned Misty Willow before Sully did. She loves the place and wanted it back in the family.”

“What sentimental . . .” muttered Brett. “When did this happen?”

“A little over a week ago.”

“Does Richard know?”

“He was at the signing.”

“It can't be legal.”

“And yet it is.” Fed up with his cousins, AJ strode to the office door. “Forget this development plan. Both of you. Shelby won't give up her land. And I won't sell mine.”