Where She Belongs (4 page)

S
helby savored a bite of the decadent chocolate mousse. “Delicious.” After a month away, she'd flown into the Columbus airport only a few hours earlier, hoping for a restful evening. But Uncle Richard had insisted on driving back to the city for dinner.

“I'm glad you like it.” His fond gaze blanketed her, piercing her with longing for Grandpa. If only he were sitting across from her instead. Except he wouldn't have brought her to this pretentious place. They'd have celebrated her return with grilled steaks and potatoes slowly baked amongst the hot ashes in the stone fire ring outside the house.

Another memory she needed to re-create for Elizabeth and Tabby.

“Richard, is that you?” A blond man with crystal blue eyes, wearing a tailored navy suit and crisp white shirt, approached the table. “What brings you to the ‘big city'?”

“A rare evening out.” Rising from his chair, Richard shook hands with the newcomer. “Allow me to introduce you. Shelby Kincaid, this is Brett Somers.”

“She's a little young for you, isn't she, Richard?”

Unaccustomed butterflies flitted in Shelby's stomach as the gor
geous stranger held her gaze. “I'm pleased to meet you,” she said, her voice betraying her sudden embarrassment. He took her hand, and his light touch electrified her fingers.

“Shelby is my great-niece. Her grandmother was my sister.” Richard gestured toward a chair. “Join us, won't you?”

“I don't want to intrude.”

“I imagine I've bored Shelby with enough of my stories for one evening,” Richard said. “Have you eaten?”

“A business dinner.” Brett took a seat and gazed at Shelby. “My guests left a few minutes ago.”

“What type of business are you in?” Shelby asked.

“Investments. Property development.” Deep dimples appeared on either side of Brett's engaging smile. “What about you?”

Shelby pressed her lips together and slightly shrugged. She'd graduated with a bachelor's degree in anthropology but was pregnant with Elizabeth before starting any kind of career. This handsome stranger wouldn't be interested in that. “I just bought my . . . a farm. The house was neglected for several years, so I'm restoring it.”

Brett's eyebrows arched. “You're planning to farm?”

“The pastures are rented to a neighbor. I just want to live there. With my children.”

“Children?”

The question he didn't ask hovered in the air. Before Shelby could explain, Richard covered her hand with his.

“Shelby's husband died about a year ago. She's moving here with her two daughters.” Richard squeezed her fingers and smiled. “Would you both excuse me? I need to make a call. It'll only take a few moments.”

Richard pulled out his cell phone as he walked toward the restaurant's lobby, his shoulders barely stooped with age. Funny that he hadn't mentioned a call before. If Shelby didn't know better, she'd think he had deliberately left her alone with Brett. Embar
rassed by her sudden awkwardness, she focused her attention on the table's floral centerpiece.

“So moving here is a starting over for you?” Brett's blue eyes glistened with sympathy.

“More like coming home.”

“You're doing a brave thing. But is it the best thing?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“My parents divorced when I was a kid. I know it's not quite the same thing, but if I'd had to change schools, leave my friends . . .” He shrugged, then folded his hands on the table in front of him. Nicely shaped hands.

She frowned, his words opening the Pandora's box of doubts she'd been carrying around with her since morning. They had whispered in her ear as she said good-bye to the girls, leaving them in the care of Gary's parents. Then the doubts accompanied her onto the plane, setting up camp in her heart. But this move had to be the right thing. Where else could she find peace?

“I'm sorry about your parents,” she said. “And I know it'll be hard, especially for Elizabeth. But it's what I have to do.” She forced a smile. “I just flew in this afternoon, and then Richard insisted on bringing me here. It was very nice of him, but—”

“But you're tired.”

“Yes.”

“Not of me, I hope.” Brett flashed his dimples, startling Shelby with his handsome smile. Her cheeks warmed, and she played with the crystal stem of her water glass.

“I've embarrassed you.”

“No, you didn't.”

He laughed softly and stood. “I'll find Richard and tell him you're ready to leave.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope to see you again, Shelby Kincaid.”

He strode from the room, his gait confident and sure. Flustered by his attention, she took one last bite of the mousse. No man
of his caliber could possibly be interested in her. She'd probably never see him again.

Shelby skipped church the following morning, though guilt gnawed her stomach. But the thought of seeing people who remembered her, who had known her grandparents and parents, was too overwhelming. They'd be asking the same questions, and she'd be repeating the same answers.

Yes, my parents are still
missionaries. I live in Chicago now. Two children, both girls.
I'm widowed; yes, it is sad. Yes, we'll
be moving to the old homestead as soon as it'
s ready
.

Besides, her flight had arrived too late yesterday to go to the house. She was eager to see what progress had been made during her absence.

As soon as she turned into the drive, she braked, staring through the windshield at the long straight line of pristine gravel leading beyond the house and also encircling the broad grassy oval at its side. She stepped from the rental, then picked up a handful of pebbles and let them fall between her fingers.

How dare he! After she specifically told him not to.

She'd give AJ Sullivan a piece of her mind . . . if she only knew how to get hold of him.

As she brushed the pebble dust from her hands, she imagined the argument with AJ. While she raged at him, his brown eyes would dance with amusement. After all, what could she do? Insist he take it back? She'd just have to pay him for it.

She drove the rest of the way to the house, pleased despite herself that she didn't have to avoid any more ruts.

Parking in front of the newly built porch, she admired the renovation. The broken trellis and porch swing were gone, the brush cleared away. She climbed solid steps and pulled the key Nate had sent her from her pocket.

Once inside, she explored the downstairs rooms. Stripped of
paint and wallpaper, the walls appeared fresh and smooth. The floors hadn't been sanded yet, but debris no longer cluttered the corners and filled the hearths.

The last of the electrical and plumbing work still needed to be finished, but Richard had told her at dinner last night that the attic was “critter free.” She trusted his word for it, not being courageous enough to check out the attic alone.

Things were going almost too perfectly. She waved away the superstitious thought. Things were going well because restoring this house was the right thing to do. And with Nate's recommendations, she had the right people helping her do it.

Wandering into the kitchen, she discovered the old cabinetry and appliances had been removed. Redesigning the layout and choosing new cabinets was a top priority this week. She opened her three-ring binder and flipped to the “kitchen” tab. Her favorite magazine photos and internet printouts filled several sheet protectors. Sitting on the floor, she imagined cream walls with yellow and blue accents. Gleaming appliances. Herb pots in the windowsill over the sink.

A delightfully sunny room where she and the girls would enjoy pancake breakfasts on lazy Saturday mornings and bake chocolate chip cookies in their new oven.

A knock sounded on the doorframe, and she jumped.

“Anyone home?”

Handsome as any teenage heartthrob, Brett leaned against the doorframe almost as if posing for a photo shoot.

Shelby quickly stood, brushing the dirt from her jeans. “What are you doing here?”

“You look beautiful.”

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she pushed her hair from her forehead. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Amazing what you can find on the internet. And I just took a chance you'd be here.” He gestured at her open notebook. “Planning your new kitchen?”

“Trying to.”

“Have you had lunch?”

“Not yet.”

“I was hoping you'd say that. Why don't we take a drive into town?”

“I'm sorry, I can't.”

“Aren't you hungry?”

She hadn't been until he mentioned food, but that was beside the point. She nervously twisted her wedding ring.

Brett entered the kitchen and stood within arm's reach. Near enough for Shelby to catch a whiff of his sophisticated aftershave, far enough not to crowd her.

“It's only lunch.” He grinned, showing off his cute dimples. “Nothing fancy.”

She wavered, unsure how to respond. Her dating days ended long ago, and her experience even then hadn't been extensive. Besides, her dusty jeans and worn sneakers made her feel unkempt next to his pressed and polished appearance.

“Would it help if I got a little dirt on my pants?”

As if he'd read her mind.

“It might.”

“Then why don't you show me around the place, and I'll see what I can do.”

Eager to shed the momentary awkwardness, she quickly agreed. “I'd love that.”

Leading him through the rooms, she shared her plans. He appeared genuinely interested as he admired the craftsmanship of the woodwork. When she told him about the attic, he insisted on climbing the steep stairs. She followed him, gazing in awe at what had to be the cleanest floor in the house. Even the odor was gone.

After returning to the kitchen, they went out a side door to a concrete patio that curved in the L formed by the house. At one end of the patio, a two-story brick structure with a wide door and window openings was attached to the side of the house.

“This used to be the smokehouse,” Shelby said. “They hung the meat up there and built the fire down here. My grandparents turned it into a playhouse for me. I had a table and chairs, an old chest of drawers. But everything's gone now.”

“I can see why you love this place.” Brett surveyed the property, then focused on Shelby. His clear blue eyes were like magnets, drawing her into his world. “I just hope you're not making a mistake.”

“Why would I be?”

“For what you're putting into this place, you could build something new. Think of it, Shelby. A brand-new place for your brand-new start. For you and your girls.”

“This is where we belong.” Shelby shrugged. “I don't know how else to explain it.”

“No explanation necessary.” He looked down at his pants. They weren't nearly as pristine as when he'd arrived. “Am I dirty enough for you now?”

His easy flirtation sent butterflies flitting through her stomach.

“Come on, Shelby,” he said, adding a bit of a country drawl to his voice. “We both gotta eat.”

How could she refuse?

“Nowhere fancy.”

He smiled triumphantly. “I promise.”

She locked the kitchen door, and they walked around the house to Brett's jet-black Lexus. He opened the passenger door for her, and the butterflies flitted again, in nerve-racking formation this time.

“I'll drive separately,” she said. “I've got a few errands to do, and that way you won't have to bring me all the way back here.”

“Whatever you say.”

She locked the front door of the house, then climbed in her rental. He surprised her by turning left at the end of the drive instead of heading toward town. She didn't have much choice but to follow behind. After a few minutes, she got her bearings and realized they were headed for a little crossroads with a gas sta
tion and a cluster of houses. Too small to even be called a village. When they arrived, Brett turned into a dirt parking lot in front of a squat building. The sign out front screamed “Boyd's Bodacious BBQ” in big red letters.

Shelby parked beside the Lexus and closed her eyes. Suddenly she was a little girl again, riding beside Grandpa in his blue “pick-me-up” truck. Coming here for the best pulled pork this side of the Ohio River.

Brett knocked on her window, and she opened her door. “If you're disappointed, we can go somewhere else.”

“This is perfect.” She hugged the memory to her heart. “Absolutely perfect.”

“I used to come here with my grandfather sometimes,” Brett said, an almost wistful tone in his voice. “A long time ago.”

“Me too.” She laughed self-consciously. “I mean with mine.”

Brett flashed his dimples and grabbed her hand. “Let's see if it's as good as we remember.”