A Family Affair: Summer: Truth in Lies, Book 3 (15 page)

“I’m so glad to meet you.” Elissa
Cerdi beamed. “Mrs. Blacksworth told me all about you. And she said you married the most handsome man and you were very much in love with him and even had a baby.”

Christine stared. “My mother said that?”

The girl’s smile faltered, but she worked it back into place. “Well, not exactly. I was the one who said your husband must be terribly handsome because you are so beautiful, and that you must be very much in love.”

“Ah. And what did my mother say to that?”

“It was toward the end and it was hard for her to speak.” She blinked back tears and said in a soft voice, “But she smiled. It was just a faint tilt of her lips, but I saw it.”

Or maybe the girl saw something that wasn’t really there because she wanted to see it. “Was there anything else you interpreted for my mother that she didn’t actually say?”

There was a split-second hesitation and then a quick nod. “There is one more thing. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Christine remained calm
and asked in a casual voice, “What was that?”

“The part in the letter that sa
id Lily should come here.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I kind of wrote that.”

So, Gloria had not invited Lily to Chicago. No surprise there. “Kind of?”

She shrugged. “I copied Mrs. Blacksworth’s writing and wrote real light so it looked old.”

“You had me fooled. You’re a very good copycat.”

“I’m sorry. I meant no harm. It just seemed like Lily should see where her sister grew up.”

Christine nodded. “Thank you.” And then, because she really was grateful and because there
might be more snippets she should know that could help her determine if Gloria’s professed “epiphany” were real or just another guilt trip, she said, “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

***

“Mrs. Blacksworth was a very kind woman.” The girl’s big eyes teared up. “So gentle and caring.”

Harry almost spit out his drink. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stared at Elissa
Cerdi. “Are we talking about Gloria Blacksworth? Blond hair, small, spent her life making herself look young?”

“Harry.” Greta shook her head and cast him a look that said, “Respect the dead, even your sister-in-law
.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. “It’s just that we never really saw that side of Gloria. We were always treated to a bit harsher and unforgiving part of her.”

The young woman dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “She donated much of her clothing to a center for displaced women who are forced to start over due to a divorce, or a spouse’s death, and find themselves in need of a job. They don’t have money to buy clothing for interviews or even to go to work. Mrs. Blacksworth was very generous.”

“I’ll bet all that satin and silk will come in handy at the copy machine.”

“Harry. Please.” This from Greta.

He shrugged but went on. “Seriously, these women are wearing thousand
-dollar outfits to interview for a minimum-wage job? Am I the only one who thinks this picture is whacked?”

“It’s the intention that counts, Harry.” Greta sipped her wine and said in a soft voice, “That counts for a lot, even if the outcome isn’t what we expect.”

There was a message for him, buried somewhere within that German accent, and from the way Harry’s expression softened, he understood it. “Okay, Gloria Blacksworth was a saint, how about that?”

Nate wanted to add a thought or two, but he’d keep his mouth shut. Maybe Christine needed to believe her mother had changed, but Nate wasn’t buying it, not the sad letters, the “I’m dying but I don’t want to bother you” routine, not even the clothing giveaway that probably had more to do with dumping last year’s styles than donating to the needy.

Gloria Blacksworth’s former cook-turned-companion glanced around the table, taking all of them in before saying, “She loved all of you. Every last one.”

Harry sputtered. Nate coughed. Christine held her breath. But it was Lily who spoke. “And we loved her, too.”

That comment carried them through the remainder of dinner and dessert and still hovered over Harry and Nate as they shared a drink later that night.

“
What do you make of all this?” Harry waved a hand and arced the air.

“This? As in the crystal and chandeliers? Or this
.” Nate held up his glass and saluted Harry, “As in some of the finest whiskey I’ve ever tasted?”

They
were sitting in the living room, drinking whiskey and enjoying the quietness of a house that an hour ago had been bursting with activity and noise, lots of noise. Laughter, chatter, foot stomping, running, baby fussing, and the occasional delighted shriek. It was hard to discern if the shriek had come from Lizzie or Lily. Most likely both. They’d certainly become quick buddies, which put AJ on the outs, but Harry had pulled him in with talk of golfing and a half-promise to take him to Magdalena for a visit. Did Greta know about that or had Harry just pulled it out of his parental “bag of tricks” to make the kid feel better? Nate hoped it was the first, because telling a kid something you didn’t mean to carry out was a quick road to distrust and if Harry hadn’t learned that yet, he would soon.

Harry pointed to Nate’s glass. “That’s good stuff. I’ll send you a case.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need it, and if I told you what I paid for it, you’d choke. So, when it arrives at your doorstep in a few weeks, accept it graciously.” He paused. “Besides, it’s Chrissie
’s favorite.”

“Right.”

Harry grinned. “I thought it would make it easier to accept if I said my niece loved it.”

Nate shook his head and sipped his drink. Smooth, full, w
ith just the right amount of burn. Maybe he would accept that case after all.

“You think this is all some kind of bullshit to get us to feel sorry for her?” H
arry shook his head and sipped his whiskey. “This ‘welcome to my house and remember the good times’ reeks of it. I knew Gloria a hell of a long time and she never once did anything that didn’t benefit her or her causes.”

Nate had only seen his dead mother
-in-law twice, but she’d left a trail of lies and destruction behind that almost killed his marriage. That he wasn’t about to forget or forgive anytime soon. Maybe in twenty or thirty years, then again, maybe not. And he had a feeling the notebook she’d sent Christine that currently rested on the top shelf of their closet would create more havoc if and when his wife decided to read it. “She never struck me as the Mother Teresa type.”

“Nope.” Harry downed the rest of his drink. “Just talking about her makes me need another drink.” He leaned forward, lowered his voice. “I cut way back on the drinking.” He
shrugged. “Keeping up with three kids is a shitload of work and this mellows me out too much. Besides, laying off the booze makes Greta happy.”

Nate sighed and downed the rest of his whiskey. “The things we do for our women.”

“Damn straight.” Harry snatched the bottle from the coffee table and refilled Nate’s glass, then his own. “If drying a dish every now and then makes them smile, why not?”

“Or making sure the toilet seat is down.”

Harry nodded. “Just being polite. They think you’re a friggin’ prince.”

“Control the belching.”

“Eat the damn Brussels sprouts.”

Nate laughed. “And the overcooked rolls.”

“Pleasure them until—”

“Hold it.” Nate pointed at Harry and said, “We are not going to discuss sex with my wife.”

Harry sat up straight. “Good God, no. That’s my niece we’re talking about.”

“Or maybe you were talking about your wife.”

Harry sighed and set his drink on the table. “Greta would clobber me with that marble rolling pin of hers if she heard me talking like that. Okay, let’s rewind that last part and say we’re willing to do just about anything to keep our women happy.”

Nate nodded and
sipped his drink. “Damn straight.”

“
You’re all right.” Harry grinned and eased back in his chair. “I had my doubts about you at first, but you’re good for her. I see it. And you’re a hell of a lot better than that asshole Connor Pendleton. He was more interested in getting into bed with her portfolio than with her.”

Nate set his glass on the table and scratched his jaw.
“Harry, what’s Greta going to say when she sees you with a black eye in the morning?”

“Huh?”

He kept his voice low and calm. “Say one more thing about my wife in bed with another man and that’s where this is heading.” He scowled. “Fast.”

“
Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I love Christine like she’s my—” he stopped, paled.

“What?” When Harry didn’t respond, Nate repeated, “Like she’s your what?”

The pale bleached out the tan on Harry’s face. “Daughter,” he said. “Like she’s my own daughter.”

Cash pulled two beers from the fridge and made his way into the living room.
Nate was in the barn checking on inventory but he’d be in for a quick beer before he headed home. He’d returned from Chicago last week and wasn’t in town an hour before Cash was at his door, telling him they had a few things to settle. Cash hadn’t missed the smile on Christine’s face or the frown on Nate’s when he led him onto the deck—to the very same spot where Nate had told him to straighten up and stop acting like a jerk. Hard to admit you’re being one when you’re pure miserable and bent on making everybody around you miserable, too. Even the ones you loved. Hell, especially the ones you loved. But Cash had owed him an apology and he delivered one, which, of course, wasn’t good enough for Nate Desantro. He wanted to know the why, the when, and the damnable how that changed Cash’s mind, even though he already knew it started and ended with Tess.

So, what the hell, Cash confessed, and when he darted around the O
’Reilly’s issue, just in case Christine hadn’t divulged that bit of information, Nate scowled and said he’d heard all about it and it better damn well never happen again. Then he’d slapped Cash on the back, shook his hand, and asked him what he thought of helping him out with his furniture business. That had come as a surprise, but the logic was there if you looked close enough. Nate loved to build but hated the sanding, varnishing, resanding part. As in H-A-T-E-D it. He didn’t have the eye or the interest needed to complete the task, though he’d been forging through piece after piece, cursing the whole way through it. Cash had the eye and the talent. Hadn’t he done refinishing work on cars back in the day? He’d sanded, painted, resanded, pinstriped, and basically created a shiny newer version of an old clunker. Nate told him if he could do that with paint and an air gun, then he could do it with stain and varnish.

Nate
must have seen the interest on his face, because he skipped past the “Do you want to do this?” to “Will you be around to do this?” That was a roundabout inquiry into Cash’s plans to stay in Magdalena. A month ago, he wouldn’t have even considered it, but these past days and nights with Tess had made him believe they had a future together. A second chance, right here in Magdalena. He’d help Nate out, but he had bigger plans and that included Tess, both on a personal and business level.

Cash
wasn’t letting her get away again. They belonged together and tonight he’d tell her what he’d been hiding from her and himself for too long—he loved her. He’d always loved her, and that wasn’t going to change. Maybe he was rushing things, but he’d been waiting eight years for this. Why wait a second longer to start their life together? Nate and Will wouldn’t be surprised to see Tess with a diamond on her finger—not the one he’d bought her years ago, though he wanted to give that one to her as well, a symbol of a love that wouldn’t die. The new ring would be bigger, bolder, with clarity, color, and whatever the hell else a person looked for when they bought a diamond. Christine could help him with that. She seemed like she’d know that kind of thing, even if her wedding ring was a simple one.

He’d ask
Ramona if she still had the old engagement ring Tess had returned—okay, she’d thrown it at him, but he preferred to bury that memory. Maybe his aunt had pawned it. Or maybe she’d held onto it so she could look at it now and again and remember just how much she disliked Tess and Olivia Carrick. That would have to change, and soon.

Once he and Tess were engaged, he
’d talk to her about becoming his partner on the venture he planned to start, the one he’d shared with Will yesterday that had made him lift his ball cap and scratch his head. Cash wanted to build a camp for troubled boys, right here on Will’s land. The kids could come here in the summer and on vacations, learn things like basic woodworking, carpentry, plumbing, and equipment maintenance. There would be land work too: tilling, planting, and tending a garden.

There were a lot of life lessons to be gained from working together and the kids would benefit from the side-by-side respect they’d have to show each other as they performed teamwork. Knowing somebody cared about them enough to spend time teaching them
a skill would make a difference. Cash was certain of it, because it had worked for him. Tess could teach them how to manage and sell the produce they grew or maybe even how to do public speaking. Whatever, didn’t matter, she’d be great at it. Will and, hell, maybe even Nate, could give the older boys lessons on how to work the equipment. Cash knew what it was like to feel as though you didn’t fit in anywhere. That’s what had landed him in the back seat of Will’s cruiser with a stiff warning. He’d teach these kids basic car mechanics and maybe Nate would give a cooking class 101. Hah, that would be interesting, but if anybody could pull it off, Nate could.

JJ hadn’t been strong enough to
get out of the self-destruction mode and it had killed him. The boy who had shot Cash in Philly was seventeen years old, a kid with a rap sheet since he was thirteen. Cash didn’t much believe in divine intervention but if these troubled kids kept getting thrown in his path and had become the cause of life-changing events, maybe it was time to redirect as many kids as he could. Maybe that would save a life, maybe it would save a dream, too.

Cash and Tess could start over and they could help these kids start over, too.
Will wasn’t letting up on him about Philly and the “rest of the story,” as he called it. The man was too damn smart and had been in law enforcement too damn long to believe Cash’s story about taking time off and exploring other opportunities outside of being a policeman. Will Carrick wanted the
details
of what led Cash to make that decision, and apparently getting a bullet in the chest and shoulder wasn’t reason enough. He was right, of course, but the man usually was about things like character and motive. Okay, he’d tell him the whole story, not the watered-down crap he’d been throwing at him.

Before
he had time to consider how he was going to tell Will the truth, the screen door clanged open and Nate called from the kitchen, “Got that beer ready?”

“
Yup.”

Nate made his way into the living room, snatched his beer, and
eased into a chair. “I’m going to have to install a few more fans in the barn before summer kicks in.” He took a long pull on his beer and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Too damn close out there.”

Summers in Magdalena were hot and sticky and people found relief with fans, dips in the lake outside town, and lots of water—or other beverages. “I could help you.”

Nate’s gaze narrowed a fraction. “You’re serious about staying here, aren’t you?”

Cash hedged. “If the pieces all fit, then yeah, I’
m dead serious.”

“Hmm.” Nate studied his beer
a second, then slid a glance at Cash and smiled. “I’m guessing the big piece is Tess. Will she stay? Will she marry your sorry ass, give you a kid or two and a casserole every Tuesday?”

“Go to hell.” Cash grinned. “I hadn’t thought about the casserole part
. Which one would you recommend?”

Nate shrugged. “Couldn’t say. My wife’s not much of a cook.”

“I’m guessing she makes up for it in other areas.”

The smile faded. Nate Desantro did not like anyone insinuating
anything
sexual about his wife, even if the insinuation wasn’t meant to be sexual. “She does.”

“Good.” He drifted back on safe ground before his buddy flattened
him with a scowl. “Tess was a decent cook, but I have no idea if she can even boil an egg anymore.”

“Won’t matter.”

The man was knee-deep in love with his wife. Who would have thought? Cash knew that feeling even if he’d denied it for too long. “Good to know.”

Nate nodded. “Glad to help.” His lips twitched. “Should I dig out a suit? Or is this going to be a jeans and T-shirt ceremony?
”

The man was awfully certain there would be a marriage. Well, good, Cash needed that bit of reassurance. He and Tess hadn’t said the words yet, but “I love you” had been smothered in every kiss, every minute of their lovemaking. Hadn’t it? All they needed to do was put sound to feeling and spit out the words. He’d say, “I love you, Tess Carrick. I’ve never stopped loving you. Will you share
your life with me? Will you be my wife?” And she’d throw her arms around his neck, tear up, and sob, “I love you, Daniel Casherdon! Yes, I will share my life with you. Yes, I will marry you.”

Simple. Easy. Sweat beaded along his forehead, trickled
down his temples. “Damn but it’s hot in here.”

Nate smiled. “That’s not the heat, old man, that’s nerves. Take my advice, do it and be done.”

“Is that what you did?”

Nate shook his head and frowned. “Hell, no. When did I ever do anything the easy way
? I’m just saying, don’t be a fool like I was. Say the words and get that ring on her finger so you can start breathing again.”

“There’s a lot to figure out.” Like would she be willing to stay in Magdalena,
or would she want a job that took her all over the world like the last one? And when the kids came, what then? And Cash would have to confess the real reason he’d resigned from the force…and…

“Just do it,” Nate said, with a knowing look.

“Okay.” Cash took a long pull on his beer. Nate was right. It was time to suck it up and tell Tess he loved her and wanted a life with her. And damn, Nate was right about doing it so he could take a full breath again. The guy really was head over heels for his wife. Who would have thought Nate Desantro would be giving him relationship advice?

He’d like to say he and Nate strategized about how and when Cash would
spill the truth and pop the question, and even where he might take Tess on their honeymoon, but that didn’t happen. Instead, his old partner from Philly, Ben Reed, took that exact moment to barrel up the driveway in his shiny new sports car, spewing gravel and a whole lot of dread. And he wasn’t alone.

Paige Reed eased out of the sports car
: long, toned, blond, sexy as hell. She was a dancer, traveled with a dance group around the country. She was also Ben’s cousin, and some called her Cash’s almost-girlfriend.

Cash didn’t see it that way. Unfortunately, Ben and Paige did, and that was probably what they were doing outside his door right now. Checking in and checking up on him because he
hadn’t answered the last eighty-nine phone calls she’d made or the texts. Did she really not get it? She might be Ben’s cousin and she might be beautiful, intelligent, with the longest legs he’d ever seen, and she might be able to bend her body in
and
out of bed like a contortionist, but there was a problem. A huge, insurmountable problem that had become a mountain these last several weeks.

She wasn’t Tess. Nobody was. And now that he’d touched Tess again, tasted her, listen
ed to her soft breathing while she slept, he didn’t want anybody else. He’d never wanted anybody else, and the women who had filled his bed had been nothing but an excuse and a miserable attempt to forget the woman he loved. Cousin or not, Ben should not have brought her here.

“
Who’s that?” Nate leaned forward and peered at the couple.

Cash set his beer on the table and eased himself from the recliner. “My old partner.” He paused and added, “And his cousin.”
How the hell had they found him? He’d only mentioned Magdalena to Paige twice, when she wouldn’t leave him alone about hometown memories and family, as if he were going to share the truth.

“Huh.”

That sound meant something, like Nate had already deduced the cousin was more than a cousin. But how? Cash hadn’t even looked at him. He had to stay calm and get rid of them as soon as possible. Certainly, before Tess returned from the grocery store.

Cash opened t
he door and forced a smile. “What a surprise. Ben.” Pause. “Paige.”

Ben grinned and held out a hand. “Good to see you, man.
I had a helluva time finding this place. You could have saved me a lot of grief if you’d just returned my cousin’s phone calls. You know how she gets all emotional when she doesn’t hear from you. Pictures that pretty face with a scratch on it.”

“Ben!
Stop tormenting him.” Paige stepped inside the door and smiled up at Cash. “And I do not get emotional,” her voice dipped. “I get concerned.” She stroked his cheek and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Hello, Daniel.”

The only other person who called him that was Tess. He’d told Paige his name was Cash, but she
’d ignored him and continued calling him Daniel, saying she loved the sound of it on her lips. Whatever. It didn’t do anything for him to hear her say it, not like when Tess called him by that name—usually when they were in bed. She’d called him that last night and the sound of her voice saying his name was still embedded in his heart.

“Paige.” His lips stretched into a tight smile. “What a surprise.”

She leaned into him, pressing her body against his, fingers stroking the hair curling along the back of his neck. “I’ve missed you.” A breathy sigh. “So much.”

He’d always thought she was an actor as well as a
dancer, but she’d denied it. Still, she could be an actor, majoring in drama. Cash eased her hands from around his neck and pulled away. “I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Nate Desantro.”