about, not the past. “Gus, unless we’re prepared to have the two of them getting together—again—we have to come up with something.”
He scrubbed one hand across his jaw in a gesture Rose remembered. Deliberately, she shut down a surge of memories and waited impatiently for the man to speak. Gus always had taken his time choosing just the right words. And even back when she had loved him, that particular trait had driven Rose crazy.
“Fine,” he said at long last, keeping his voice low as he glanced around to make sure no one could listen in. “But not here. Don’t need a damn audience of gossips trying to figure out why we’re suddenly being friendly.”
Rose winced. She hadn’t really considered that. Her one thought had been to enlist Gus’s help in breaking up any attachment between her grandson and his granddaughter. “You’re right.”
He flashed a grin. “Well, this is a banner day. Rose Clayton admitting Gus Slade is right about something.”
She was unamused. “Write it on your calendar in big red letters. Meanwhile—”
“Fine, then. We’ll meet tomorrow. Two o’clock at the oak.”
Rose inhaled sharply at the jab. The oak could have been anywhere in the state of Texas. But Rose knew exactly what meeting spot Gus was talking about. She was almost surprised that he remembered. Then, as his gaze focused on her, she realized that he was testing her. Seeing if she remembered.
How could she not?
“Agreed. Two o’clock.” She turned to walk away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he’d gotten to her. Then she stopped, looked back and said, “Try not to be late this time.”
Smiling to herself at the accuracy of her own little barb, Rose walked back to her table.
* * *
Shelby stared up at the main house and gave a sigh.
She’d been impressed when Caleb drove through the gates with the scrolled ironwork M. Then the oak-lined drive had taken her breath away. But the house itself was amazing.
It was big, sprawling across the ground, like a lazy dog claiming its territory. The house jutted out at different angles that told Shelby people had been adding on to the house for generations. There was a long, wide front porch running the length of the house, with stone pillars holding up the overhang roof.
There were chairs and swings along the length of the porch, crowded with pillows and huge pots filled with flowers spilling down in rivers of bright colors. The effect was a silent welcome to sit and enjoy the view for a while. And the view was pretty spectacular. It was exactly the kind of ranch you would find in a House Beautiful article called “The Lifestyles of Rich Ranchers.”
She turned in a slow circle, still holding her wedding dress up around her knees. There was a barn, a stable, a corral where three horses were gathered in a knot as if whispering to each other. There was another house, a two-story cottage style just across the yard and in the distance, there were other long, low buildings.
“Wow.” She half turned to look up at Caleb. “This is all yours?”
“Mine and my brother’s, yeah.” He frowned. “Part of your dress is in the dirt.”
She looked over her shoulder and muttered a curse. Then she huffed out a breath. “I don’t care. Not like I’m going to wear it again. Ever.”
He shrugged. “Your call.” He pointed to the two-story house. “My brother and his family live there. I’ll go get you some of Meg’s things.”
“I don’t know...” It felt weird. She was already so much in his debt, how much deeper could she go? He’d rescued her, offered her a place to stay and now he was going to give her clothes.
“Hey, okay with me if you want to stay in that dress.”
Biting her lip, she looked down at the white nightmare she was wearing. “Okay, yes. I’d like to borrow some clothes.” Please don’t let him be crazy.
“Be right back. Oh,” he added, “when you go inside, just...watch yourself.”
What kind of warning was that? She turned to glance at the wide oak front door and wondered what she was going to find behind it. A torture chamber? Rat-infested rooms? A collection of wedding dresses from the brides he’d rescued before her?
Shelby groaned at that last ridiculous thought. How many brides could one man run across, anyway? After what she’d already been through that day, what in that house could possibly affect her?
So, bracing herself for everything from explosives to bears, Shelby walked across the porch and opened the door.
A blast of icy, air-conditioned air greeted her and she nearly whimpered. She’d thought Chicago summers were killer. But Texas was a brand-new ball game. The humidity here was high enough to fill a swimming pool. Eager to get into the cool, she pushed the door wider but it hit something and stopped.
Curious, Shelby peeked inside and gasped.
Stuff.
Wall-to-wall stuff.
The door wouldn’t open all the way because there was an antique dresser right in front of it. She didn’t need to ask why, either. One step into the main room told Shelby everything she needed to know about Caleb’s late mother.
The furniture was lovely, but jammed into what should have been a large, generous room. And on every table, every dresser, every curio cabinet, was stuff. Not old newspapers or magazines, but statues and crystals and rings and bracelets and candlesticks and crystal bowls and baskets and trays.
If Caleb had thought this room would send her screaming, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Shelby’s organized soul was instantly energized. Her business, Simple Solutions, depended on people like Caleb’s mother. Back in Chicago, she’d built her reputation on being able to go into a mess, straighten it out and teach the homeowner how to keep it tidy. Her client list had been built on word of mouth and she was thinking of expanding, hiring more employees, when she’d met Jared Goodman.
Frowning a little, Shelby realized it was hard to believe that she’d given up everything she knew for a man who had ended up being nothing but a facade. She’d trusted him. Believed him. Thought she was in love.
But as it turned out, she’d been in love with the idea of being in love and the reality of actually marrying Jared had been enough to jolt her out of the illusion.
Shelby walked farther into the room, lifting one of the crystal bud vases for a closer look, then carefully setting it down again. In her business, she’d learned early about maker’s marks on crystal and glass. She knew antiques when she saw them and had a pretty good idea of the value of different pieces.
She did a slow turn, admiring the bones of the room and she wondered why Caleb’s mother had felt that emotional need to surround herself with things. The ranch itself was elegant and even in its current state, Shelby could see that the home would be, once cleared out, amazing.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Caleb said from behind her.
She
