A Family to Cherish

Chapter Two

Fifty-two hundred dollars.

Cam added the hard knot of financial anxiety alongside five years of guilt and figured he deserved both. If he’d been more careful, more devoted, a better husband, he might still have a wife and the girls would have a mother.

Somewhere along the way of being father and provider, he’d forgotten to treat life’s blessings with the care they deserved. That carelessness cost his wife her life, made him a single parent, and left his girls with no mother to guide them or explain things to them.

The thought of more than five thousand dollars he didn’t have raised hairs along the back of his neck, but he signed the contract for Sophie’s braces and wished he could pray help into reality.

God helps those who help themselves.

His mother’s tart voice rankled. He ignored it and counted his blessings. He loved his teaching job, the chance to show high school kids usable trades. Woodworking. Plastering. Plumbing. Basic electricity. He taught valuable, lasting skills to kids who might never make it into a four-year college but could do well in a trade-school environment. And to kids who simply wanted to learn how to take care of themselves with skilled hands.

He had a home. It needed work, but it was clean and bright, a safe and open environment for the girls.

And he had his girls, precious gifts from God, the two lights in an otherwise shadowed life.

Cam slipped the dental estimate into his jacket pocket, waited while the girls adjusted their seat belts in the backseat, and racked his brain.

The dental office offered a payment plan.

Cam hated payment plans.

He pulled into his mother’s driveway as the girls started squabbling. His right brain knew they were tired and hungry and needed to run off built-up energy. Sitting in a dental office for nearly ninety minutes hadn’t added to Rachel’s humor or Sophie’s patience.

His left brain didn’t give a hoot and wanted peace and quiet.

“Stop. Now.” He got out of the car and hoisted a small white bag. “I’m dropping off Grandma’s medicine, then we’re going home. Stay in the car. Got it?”

Sophie gave him a “whatever” look.

Rachel smiled sweetly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Cam refused to sigh as he took his mother’s back steps two at a time. Sophie might make her feelings known, but she’d most likely be sitting there with her belt on, reading a book or daydreaming when he got back.

Rachel?

She pretended cooperation, a winning smile under her mop-of-innocence curls, but she acquiesced in name only. Most likely she’d be chasing his mother’s cat into the barn when he returned.

Fifty-two hundred dollars.

He shook his head as if clearing his brain, knocked, then walked in. “Mom? I’ve got your medicine.”

“I’m in here.”

Cam moved toward the querulous voice, fighting useless annoyance. His mother’s perpetual drama had become a way of life a long time ago. “Hey, Mom.” He swept the dark room a look. “Don’t you want a light on?”

“Light hurts my eyes.”

“Another headache?”

“Always.”

He swallowed words that matched the irritation, not an easy task. “Did you take something for it?”

“I don’t remember.”

Oh, she remembered all right. They’d gone through a battery of tests last year as her memory seemed to fade. The diagnosis: old and ornery.

The prognosis: she had the Murray-family strong heart from her mother’s side and might live to be a hundred.

Cam wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she was his mother and with his sister and brother both out of state, Cam needed to be available. Although not nearly as much as she’d like, which was why he was getting the “poor me” act now.

He’d promised to swing by earlier. Meredith’s estimate had messed up his time frame, but stopping by the old Senator’s Mansion then meant he didn’t have to travel to the other side of town now, at the end of a long day with two tired, hungry girls. Would Evelyn Calhoun understand that?

No.

“Can I get you something? Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.” She patted his arm with a weak hand and sighed. “Just tired. And I worried so when you didn’t come like you said, imagining all kinds of things.”

“I left you a message.”

“Did you?” She thinned her gaze, looking up. “I must not have heard the phone.”

Another trick he wasn’t buying. She had caller ID on the phone and through her TV. If she didn’t want to talk to the caller, she didn’t pick up the phone. Which was fine until she used it on him to make him feel guilty for not being there long enough. Often enough.

“How did Sophia’s dentist appointment go? Everything fine?”

“Braces. Pricey. About what you’d expect.”

“I expect people are spending way too much money trying to look prettier, younger and thinner these days.” Her words pitched stronger in argument. Surprise, surprise. “The way young girls slather on makeup and wear high heels. It’s not right. None of it.” Her voice accelerated as she climbed on an old but favorite soapbox. “Sophie’s teeth are fine. They do the job, don’t they?”

The girls raced in at that moment, and Cam couldn’t be angry that they’d disobeyed his directive to stay in the car. It was getting dark and cold and his simple drop-off had turned into 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 not a problem,” Meredith told him. Her bequest from her late grandfather had secured the sprawling Victorian. The just-upgraded loan from her grandmother would cover the remodeling. And hopefully a partnership with her old friend Heather Madigan would provide the necessary customer base, crucial to developing a new business.

“Not your money,” Matt explained. “Mine. Outdoor construction time is finite here.” Matt jerked his head south where the shaded foothills of the Allegheny Mountains rolled in splotched gray and white, stick trees poking up, bereft and dark, the late-winter look unappealing. “With the first section of the subdivision nearly complete, I’m already digging basements for the next group.” He pressed her shoulders with gentle affection. “Stick with Cam. Unless you’re too afraid.”

Afraid? Her? Of Cam Calhoun? As if.

Meredith shrugged Matt off. “I’m not afraid of anything. I’d just rather not open up a box that’s best left shut.”

“It’s business, kid.” Matt’s military training kept him on the upside of common sense. “And speaking from experience, we can’t afford to let old wounds adversely affect business relationships in a town this size. We make amends and move on.” He jerked a shoulder toward the rambling house. “With two kids to take care of, Cam could use the work and you need someone good enough to create what you envision here. I’m a construction guy. Not a fine carpenter.”

His words tipped the balance. Meredith knew what she wanted, she’d envisioned the finished product that would allow beautiful but affordable spa luxuries to the men and women of Allegany County. The recent upsurge in employment and business made this move timely. Grandpa’s money made it affordable.

But why Cam? Of all the craftsmen in all the world…

Reality smacked her. Wellsville and Jamison weren’t that big. And fine carpenters weren’t common in large metropolises. Here?

The local towns were blessed to have a craftsman of Cam’s caliber available. She huffed a sigh, folded her arms and dropped her chin. “Okay.”

Matt laughed, gave her a brotherly chuck on the arm and headed toward his truck. “Gotta head out. Callie’s got a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes.”

“Aha.”

He met her up-thrust brows with a wink. “It’s too early for big announcements, but prayers are appreciated.”

“Oh, Matt.” Meredith hugged him before he climbed into the truck. “I’m so happy for you. And a baby…”

“Not gettin’ any younger,” Matt told her, “so we decided not to wait.”

“When?”

“Thanksgiving if all goes well.”

“Perfect.”

Matt’s crooked grin showed his full agreement. “’Bout as close to that as you can get on Earth, sis.”

He drove off, leaving her to contemplate her current predicament. Was she stupid to have invested in this old place? Or was she savvy to have recognized the amazing potential?

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

Sage words. Sound advice she wished she’d embodied a few years ago before losing her heart to a man who led two lives, a man like her trouble-making illicit father. If she’d heeded her mother’s wisdom back then, she’d have averted a lot of unnecessary drama.

A stupid mistake, one she would never repeat and would rather forget. She hoped coming home to Allegany County allowed just that.

* * *

Some days Cam hated that the cemetery stood half a mile east of their home. Others, like today, he welcomed the proximity. Once the girls awoke, his hours would race from one task to another, a typical Saturday in the life of a single parent. And then he’d play catch-up on Sunday, taking care of menial tasks left undone during the busy week before starting all over again Monday morning. But he refused to dwell on the negatives. His beautiful girls made the time, the work and the sacrifice worthwhile.

Cam would have said the chill morning fog painted the trek from the gravel-stone path to the gray stone marker in monochromes, if he was prone to drama.

He wasn’t.

But the sigh in his heart softened his jaw as the etched words became more legible with each step.

Kristine DeRose Calhoun

Beloved wife, mother and daughter

The stark reality of the carved letters sucker-punched him every time. The all-consuming ache he’d felt those first weeks and months had dulled to an old sore, but he couldn’t come to the graveyard to pay respects without remembering Kristy there, on their old couch, gone forever.

Irreparable harm. That’s what he’d done. Not like he’d gone to bed expecting her to die, but he’d gone to bed cranky and bad-tempered, as if her time, her work with the girls, her tasks were less important than his. Sometimes that hurt more than her death, that he’d minimized her worth in sharp words that last night.

He laid the single red rose on the grave, a tribute to an old promise, when Kristy had scoffed at the idea of money wasted on twelve flowers, destined to be tossed away within days. “One flower,” she’d told him, smiling, trailing her hand along his scruffy cheek. “Just one, now and again. To show me you care.”

He had cared. Did care. As he stared at the single flush of color against dull grays of the early-spring graveyard, he wished he had a chance, one more chance to say he was sorry.

So sorry.

But he’d blown that, too, so he leaned down, laid his hand against the cold, smooth stone, and prayed the prayer that remained unanswered, a prayer for forgiveness.

The hard, flat surface yielded nothing, but he was used to that. He straightened and tipped the visor of his faded baseball cap, but didn’t wink like he used to when she was alive.

Because she wasn’t.

* * *

“Meredith!”

Meredith turned from the display of nineteenth-century-styled tinware and laughed as Rachel Calhoun raced around two tables of carved wooden bowls to tackle into her on Saturday morning. “Hey, Rach. How’s it going?”

“Rachel. Walk,” Cam said.

“Sorry, Dad. Meredith’s here!”

“I see that.”

Cam’s tone said she ranked pretty much last on the list of people he hoped to run into this cold, rainy Saturday, but she’d figured that out the other day. Meredith looked around, searching, then raised a brow of question to the little girl wrapped around her legs. “Where’s Sophie?”

“Indoor soccer practice,” Rachel explained. “I already had mine.”

“Which explains the cool athletic look you’re sporting,” Meredith noted. Rachel’s face brightened and she turned this way and that, peering over her shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt to see the number on her jersey. “I’m number seven, see?”

“It’s a great number.”

“Sophie’s number seven, too.”

“A little odd, but still wonderful,” Meredith said.

“It was my Mommy’s number in high school,” Rachel continued. “We asked the coaches if we could both use it ’cause we’re on different teams.”

“A marvelous family tradition.” Meredith stooped low and met the little girl’s frank gaze. “Your mommy must be very proud to have two beautiful athletic daughters following in her footsteps.”

“She’s dead.”

Silence yawned. Meredith swallowed hard, saw the stark honesty in the little girl’s expression, and looked up to Cam for confirmation. The look of loss in his light eyes offered affirmation. Meredith gave Rachel a quick hug. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know that.”

Rachel mused, then nodded. “You’re new. And she died when I was really small. Daddy remembers. So does Sophie. And I kind of do. A little.”

Meredith looked into this miniature version of Cam’s blue eyes and read the wistfulness there, a pensiveness that suggested she didn’t really remember but longed to.

Meredith’s heart opened wide, along with her arms. She hugged Rachel, then rocked back on her heels. “So. Are you good?” she asked, nodding at the light blue soccer uniform.

Rachel beamed. “Yes. Very.”

“I’m not a bit surprised.” Meredith laughed and stood, then grimaced as her knees unlocked.

“Are you all right?”

Cam’s voice actually sounded concerned, but that was because Cam Calhoun was one of the world’s nicest guys. “Fine. My knees do not like that position, though, and they remind me that I’m not twenty anymore. Or seven.” She smiled down at the little girl, then redirected her attention to Cam. “I assume since I haven’t heard from you that you’re going to pass on my project?”

“No.” He frowned slightly, as though her assumption surprised him, but then why hadn’t he called? Gotten back to her? It had been…

“It’s only been two days,” he reminded her. “And I need to get a better look at the upstairs measurements to do a full write-up, but as long as you’re not in a huge hurry for the work to be complete—”

Meredith didn’t clamp her guilty look in time.

Cam sighed and maintained eye contact using that assessing expression he seemed to have perfected. Patient with a hint of long-suffering that said more than words ever could. “What time frame were you expecting, Meredith?”

She flinched and admitted, “Six weeks.”

“Twelve,” he countered in a flat voice. “And that’s pushing it. It’s March. We’d be looking at a July finishing date.”

“You’re serious?”

“Always.”

She smiled, his one-word answer reminding her that he was generally serious. And sincere. And heart-wrenching handsome, with or without his glasses on. And a widower.

She hadn’t counted on that last fact. And while it shouldn’t make a difference, she’d taken stoic comfort in his married state these past two days when old memories ran like creek water on a summer’s day. But now twelve weeks of working together to get Stillwaters into shape?

“What will take so long?” His look of impatience made her rephrase the sentence. “I’m sorry, that sounded rude. I meant what aspects of the job push it to twelve weeks? The new plumbing? Electric upgrades?”

“My job.”

She frowned, not understanding.

Cam tipped his head. A tiny wrinkle between his brows begged to be smoothed away.

Meredith ignored the plea.

“I’m a teacher.”

Well, that explained those practiced classroom looks. The steady gaze, the heightened expectations. “A teacher? Really?”

“Is it that surprising, Mere? It’s been fourteen years.”

Oh, she knew that. She’d spent those fourteen years working, training, finessing and climbing her way up the ladder of spa success only to crash when the spa owner’s daughter decided her four-year business degree from a third-tier school bested fourteen years of hard-earned experience. Jude Anne Geisler played the trump card well, offering to let the world know that Meredith had been running around with Sylvia Sinclair Bellwater’s husband.

By that point it didn’t matter that Meredith had been duped by the successful businessman and his clever alias. Her fault, she knew. She squelched an urge to get even because the man she knew as Chas Bell had a wife and three kids who would be hurt if those allegations became public. Sylvia Bellwater didn’t need to go through what Meredith’s mother had endured. Not at her hands, anyway.

And she knew Chas would eventually be found out. Scum had a way of rising to the surface.

But it wouldn’t be because of her, so she sidestepped the drama while the resort owner’s daughter stepped into the management position Meredith had primed herself for the past five years.