an interrogation. Or lamentation. Either label equated to something long and somewhat depressing.
“Hey, girls. I’m just saying goodbye to Grandma.”
“Hi, Grandma.”
“Hi, Gram!”
Evelyn laid an exaggerated hand against her forehead. “Girls, girls. So loud.”
“I’ll take them home. Get them fed. That will quiet them down. Kind of like feeding time at the zoo.” Cam sent a teasing grin to the girls and they lit up in return.
“They’ve had no supper?”
Accusation laced Evelyn’s words and Cam counted to ten—no wait, five. He wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to make it to ten. “Girls. Let’s go.”
“Dad, did you tell Grandma about the pretty lady’s house?”
“No.”
“What lady?” His mother’s voice scaled up.
Great.
“Meredith.” Rachel announced the name like they were new best friends.
“Rachel.” Cam crossed his arms and met her gaze, unblinking.
“She said I could call her that,” the little blonde insisted.
Innocence painted her features, but Cam recognized the belligerent heart behind the facade. “And what did I tell you?”
Rachel sighed, overdone. “To call her Miss Brennan.”
“You were with Meredith Brennan?”
“Doing an estimate. Yes.”
“Instead of bringing my pills?”
He fully intended to wring Rachel’s neck for plunging him into the heart of a discussion he’d be okay with having…never. “She needed an estimate and I was on that side of town.”
“Why did she call you?” Evelyn emphasized the pronoun in a way that suggested any old woodworker would do.
Because I’m the best around, was what he longed to say, but his mother wouldn’t get that. Evelyn Calhoun went beyond frugal and bordered on neurotic when it came to spending money. That someone would pay higher costs for Cam’s expertise didn’t sit right with her. But she sat more upright hearing Meredith’s name, and the self-righteous jut of her chin didn’t bode well for anyone.
“Are you seeing her?”
“What? No. It’s a job, Mom.”
“Why you? Why now? She’s been back for months.”
Cam grasped each little girl’s hand in one of his own, determined to bring the conversation to an end. “Gotta get these guys home. Call if you need anything.”
She rose, following them out, looking considerably stronger than she’d implied moments before. “We’ve been down this road before, Cameron. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
She’d used that quote all his life. Among others, most of them as negative and ominous as the one she’d just spewed. And while Cam read the common sense in the message, he refused to be a doom-and-gloom person, and that set them at odds more often than not.
“You’d take a chance like that again, Cameron? After what she did to you?”
He wouldn’t spar where the girls could hear. It was difficult enough to minimize his mother’s negative effect on them and still be a helpful son, a tightrope he walked daily.
You hate it, his inner self scoffed. Stand your ground, have your say and be done with it. Mark and Julia have no problem doing just that.
That was part of the problem. His siblings had distance on their side. Cam lived a few miles away on a twelve-acre parcel he’d bought a couple of years back. Room for the girls to run. Climb. Ride. Practice their sports.
Still, he wouldn’t argue with his mother in front of impressionable children. Reaching the door, they raced to the car. Sophie edged Rachel by using a well-placed shoulder, a great move in soccer. Not so much on little sisters at the end of a long day.
Rachel’s cries split the night. Cam followed them, wondering which fire to douse first. His mother’s intrinsic negativity, his daughter’s screams of indignation, Sophie’s heavy-handedness or…
His mind flashed back to the vision of Sophie in Meredith’s turret room. Bowing. Curtsying. Sashaying around as if wearing a fancy ball gown.
His girls cared nothing for that sort of thing. Never had, never would. A pair of little jocks, just like their mother.
He grabbed up Rachel, hugged her, tucked her into her booster seat and secured her seat belt. He’d throw a frozen pizza into the oven and “nuke” green beans, the only vegetable both girls liked.
Then baths. Story. Bed.
Only then could he ponder the price tag for Sophie’s dental work. Work that would be essentially complete in two-and-a-half years, just about the time Rachel would need to start.
He refused to sigh. Or whine. Or beat his head against a wall. For the moment, anyway.
As he backed onto the two-lane country road, visions of the gracious Victorian swam into focus. Corner brackets. Framed ceiling lights. Muraled upper walls. Built-ins everywhere, a sign of a well-done Queen Anne. Shelves, closets, cabinets, pantry cupboards. This grand old lady had them all and he’d always longed for a chance to work on her, but not with Meredith Brennan.
Never with Meredith Brennan.
Chapter Three
“Tell me again why you can’t do this, Matt.” Meredith gazed up at her newly married half brother late Friday. She encompassed the entire mansion in a wave of her hand. “You said yourself the building’s in decent shape, that it just needs a little sprucing up to be spa-ready.”
Matt slanted her a no-nonsense look. “My exact words were ‘it needs a doll-up and major revisions on utilities to bear the load of spa equipment.’”
“So…”
He stood his ground, solid. Determined. “Cam’s your man. He’s an expert at classic home refurbishing, he’s approved by the Landmark Society, he’s experienced and he’s the best around. You saw what he did with the Kinsler estate.”
She had, but… “I—”
“Mere.” Matt grasped her shoulders with two firm hands. Sympathy met her gaze, but behind the kindness lay straight-up honesty. “I’d do it if I could. But Phase One of Cobbled Creek is almost completely sold and I’ve got Phase Two ready to go. It’s March and we’re moving into prime building season. And since my father-in-law is my partner—” his eyes twinkled into hers “—you don’t mess with time frames that cost the business money.”
“Money’s
