Her Unexpected Hero

CHAPTER TWO

CALEB CALLAWAY WAS certain no man his age should still be summoned to the dinner table like a rebellious teenager. Living in Nashville meant he could come and go as he pleased most of the time. Until a few months ago, he’d dropped in at the family manse whenever the mood hit. His mother celebrated every visit. His stepfather disapproved of his choices, and his brother turned everything into a competition. Going home was work. Holidays were a requirement. Every other day of the year, he lived well and visited the Knoxville Callaways when it was convenient.

Then Winter Kingfisher had barged into his office, tilted his world sideways with her passion for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and her own family, and convinced him to be some kind of hero. At that point, the Callaway family welcome mat had been rolled up and locked away.

Not even Christmas had brought about a thaw in the standoff. He’d spent it in Hawaii. Alone. The less-crowded beaches had been nice. Realizing that he was traditional enough to want cold and snow and fireplaces and Christmas ham served at his mother’s table had been surprising.

The discovery that all the acquaintances who liked to eat out on his reputation and credit dried up like snow in Waikiki the minute Callaway money disappeared had surprised him more than it should have.

Getting caught in the mess between the Kingfishers and the Callaways hadn’t been his idea, and being drafted to run the lodge project had seemed a long shot.

His stepfather, Whitney Callaway, Sr. ran Callaway Construction. Always had, always would, and the two of them got along better with miles separating them.

The longer his family’s silence had dragged, the more Caleb had been convinced Senior had realized the error of his decision to make building the lodge his stepson’s penance for interference. Senior liked control. He wouldn’t give that away.

But something had changed and his stepfather had made a personal call to tell him to come for dinner. Tell, not ask. Senior never had been much for asking. That was most of their problem: communication.

The fact that he was parked next to a fountain complete with a spitting fish, the centerpiece of his parents’ ornate oval driveway, uncertain of his welcome for the first time in his life, was Winter’s fault.

Well, hers and his own uncharacteristic generous streak that had made it impossible to tell her no when she’d asked for the favor that had gotten him in this mess.

Irritation that he’d been shoved into the middle of Callaway drama threatened to boil over until Caleb had thrown on the brakes. He’d made his own choices. Were they heavily influenced by a beautiful woman? Sure. And if he ever met Winter again, he’d make sure she understood how she’d upended his life.

For now, dinner.

“Come on, man. The sooner this begins, the quicker it’s all over, and life goes on, right back on the road to Nashville,” he muttered to himself. Caleb ran a hand down the silk tie he’d added at the last minute, then grabbed his suit coat off the hanger in the back seat. Showing up to his mother’s house for dinner without a jacket would lead to Extreme Displeasure, Caleb’s nickname for the tight-lipped frown Senior often gave him. His stepfather was committed to upholding the family’s stature, and that required dressing for dinner like Victorian royalty.

Dinner was going to be rough, but the only way back to normal was through the fire. Senior would say he’d changed his mind and could trust no one else with the completion of The Aerie lodge. Caleb would nod in serious understanding while sighing inwardly in relief, and life would go on.

Before he slid out of the SUV, Caleb judged the distance between his parking spot and the gates at the street. “One minute or less. I could be free.”

Caleb pulled the keys out of the ignition, stretched out the kinks and slipped on the jacket. Then he noticed the mud on his boots.

He’d stopped on the way out of Nashville to tour a land parcel with Mitch Yarborough, luxury home developer and father to Caleb’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Melissa. Caleb could still feel the hard thump of his heart when Mitch had offered him the chance to be the builder of every lot in the gated community. The key words were state of the art, high end and best of the best.

“Four months.” He had that long to add to his crews in order to be launched into Nashville’s big-time home-construction firms. Was it too soon to tell his stepfather?

This was the challenge he’d been dreaming of for years. His right hand, Carlos Lopez, was ready to lead his own crew, but meeting payroll after doubling his team would be tough in the beginning. Summit Builders would struggle under the bills. A loan of Callaway cash would make it all easier.

Tonight wasn’t the right time to ask for money, but it was tempting to spread his good news.

After a hurried dig through the back seat, Caleb found a brush and did his best to knock the mud off his boots. Would it escape their notice? No way, but at least he wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.

“Good enough.” Caleb tossed the brush back onto the floorboard and slammed the door. As he rounded the bumper, the front door to the Georgian-style family mansion swung open. Instead of a maid, his mother was framed beautifully by the glowing fanlight and transom windows.

“I wondered if you were going to come inside or make a break for it.” His mother kissed his cheek as he paused in front of her. The familiar scent of her perfume would always carry him home.

“Me, too. It was touch and go.” Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets, aware all over again of how he didn’t belong here. “Thank you for the dinner invitation.”

With a heavy sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him close. In his mother’s arms, he might as well be nine years old again, brokenhearted after striking out in the last inning of the game. Whatever was wrong, his mother had always been able to make right.

“It’s been too long, son. Don’t stay away so long.” His mother’s pointed stare at his feet was accompanied by an almost inaudible sigh. “You came from work. The tie is nice, but it does not go with this jacket.” She wiggled her arm through his and pulled him inside.

“I didn’t sign up for a fashion show, Mom.” Caleb smoothed a hand down the tie again, glad to have it, even if it didn’t go with the jacket. Flannel and denim. That was his dress code. If Summit hit the big-time, maybe he’d transition to khakis and golf shirts with logos.

“Thank you for observing the bare minimum,” she said mildly before moving along. “Your brother and father are in the office, no doubt plotting world domination. Please tell them dinner will be served in ten minutes.” She gave him a gentle shove toward Senior’s stuffy office and then disappeared behind the swinging door leading to the butler’s pantry.

“I should stand right here for nine minutes and thirty seconds,” Caleb muttered. He’d expected more emotion from his mother. In a battle between him and the other Callaways, she’d always landed in the middle, a disputed territory until they negotiated a surrender. Her face had been serene, nothing but happiness showing. “Maybe Senior has forgiven me.”

At some point, he’d stop squirming like a kid at his stepfather’s displeasure. He should be immune to the unease.

Today was not that day, but he’d learned a long time ago not to show nerves.

Senior had inherited power and wealth, but what he’d built through guts, determination and solid planning was a lot to live up to.

Caleb straightened his shoulders and marched into the oppressively dark room lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes no one in the house had ever read. This was an office, a study, an important room; it should have nice, expensive things, according to Senior. He was enthroned behind a grand desk, while Caleb’s younger brother, Whit, paced in front of the fireplace. Before Caleb could say anything, Whit tossed the newspaper he’d been reading into the fire.

“Mom says dinner in T minus ten.” Caleb paused in front of the desk. He remembered his spot on stage well. When they both turned toward him, it was impossible to ignore the overwhelming vibe in the room. Anger. Neither of them had forgiven him his part in stopping the lodge at the reserve.

“Good. Time enough to cover business and keep your mother happy with a nice family dinner.” His stepfather braced his elbows on his desk. “You’ve dragged your feet long enough on the reserve’s lodge project, Caleb. The new plans have been approved. Get your crews to Sweetwater. The sooner this is finished, the sooner we can all get past this...distraction.”

Caleb stared at his brother. As usual, Whit was a member of the audience. Before Whit came along, Caleb and Senior had formed an uneasy relationship, but with the birth of his younger brother, the balance had changed. Whit was the favored son, even if Caleb reaped plenty of Callaway benefits. The urge to argue with Senior, or tell him the whole truth about Winter’s role, was strong, but taking the credit for wrinkling the lodge plans was still the right thing to do.

Confessing that she’d been the one to alert the governor might change Senior’s feelings a bit, but he’d still stepped in to save Ash’s job.

And he’d made Winter a promise to keep the secret. A little family drama was no reason to break that promise.

Meeting Senior’s stare was difficult. He’d always been a man to respect, at least until this drive to push Whit into the capital had taken over. Having his stepfather refuse to take his calls had shaken Caleb. He’d shove his way back inside this small crack.

“It’s time to focus on rehabilitating the family image. The reserve is what caused the breakdown, so this lodge matters more than ever.” His stepfather inhaled slowly. “What we need now is a way to save some face, make some money and regain the ground we’ve lost in this political race.” He pointed at Caleb. “You did all this. Stop stalling and fix it.”

He was responsible for all of it? No way. If either of them had listened to reason to begin with...

It didn’t matter. They hadn’t, but Caleb hadn’t been much better. Sitting on all the boards required by the Callaway fortune was an obligation he did his best to shirk. Thanks to Winter Kingfisher’s insistence, he now knew more about the nature reserve and his brother’s election plans than he wanted to.

“He doesn’t have anything to say to that.” Whit shook his head and crossed his arms in a tight knot over his chest. The disgruntled grimace on his face hadn’t changed much since he was twelve, but they’d outgrown the ability to wrestle away their grievances.

The tension between them was always there. Being an adopted Callaway meant Caleb had a later start than his younger brother on getting everything he wanted. Before his mother’s marriage to Senior, they’d lived in an apartment and spent Sunday afternoons clipping coupons. At five, he’d loved scissors, and she’d always been smart enough to capitalize on the blessings that came her way.

“I’m waiting to hear the plan. I know you have one.” Caleb pivoted to face his father. “Dad has a plan, I mean. Junior follows it. As always.” He couldn’t go for a headlock, so he’d use his words.

Whit scoffed. “Unlike Caleb, who doesn’t need any help from anyone, ever. Right? Forget about the loans that started your business, the family connections that keep it afloat and the fact that you’re never here.” Whatever else he meant to say was swallowed whole, as his lips clamped tightly shut.

Why had he stopped? He was absolutely right.

Being unable to argue knocked Caleb off balance.

“I’d first like to hear some kind of explanation about why you’d foul up the plan we had in place,” his brother snapped.

Caleb shook his head. “It was the right thing to do. That lodge, if we’d built it at The Aerie, would have destroyed so much of what makes the reserve important. Habitat, old growth forest, the history of the land there.” He motioned widely, hoping they’d fill in the blanks. He didn’t have a firm grasp of the importance of the land protected by the reserve, but Winter had convinced him saving it mattered. “You’ve always taken such pride in donating that land to the people of Tennessee. What I don’t get is how you could have ever believed building there was worth everything you’d lose.”

“I was in a hurry.” His stepfather checked the clock, the lines around his eyes convincing Caleb he was exhausted. “Time is short. The election is many months away. We want the lodge story laid to rest. Ash Kingfisher has been working with the same firm that did the first environmental-impact study to evaluate the spot over by the old weather station. The board is pleased with the results. The architect’s drawings have been modified to meet the demands of the report and the new elevation. We need this lodge finished, Caleb. I’ll divert a Callaway Construction crew to join yours to speed things up. Whit will officially announce his run for governor there, but to do so, this project has to be fast-tracked. Now.”

Caleb wanted to argue. He had his own business, built one project at a time, and was sitting on the edge of real success. The Yarborough luxury subdivision, Rivercrest, would keep him in business for years and allow him to build as he wanted. Was his company the size of Callaway Construction? Not yet, but taking this project would delay the growth a high-profile project in Nashville might bring.

Building the lodge would be trouble from top to bottom and beginning to end. Small-town Sweetwater would bore him to death. And then there was the proximity to Winter Kingfisher.

But he’d been on the outside with no way to even look in, and Caleb could acknowledge both Senior and Junior had good reason to demand payback.

“Fine. I’m the lucky guy, not a midlevel manager from Callaway Construction, who’ll take over.” Caleb propped his hands on his hips and frantically evaluated different objections. None of them would hold water. “What about my crew? Who is paying them while I’m doing this?”

“Bring them. Put your crew to work on the lodge. Callaway Construction will pick up the tab. Run both crews. Get this done. It’s your mama’s dream, too. For once, instead of wasting money on frivolity and fun little projects, help us. The timing is crucial. So is doing this the right way.” Senior’s lips disappeared in a tight line. “We need you.”

They needed him? Had he ever heard that before? Not that he could remember.

“Dinner’s ready. Tell me where we’re going to end up with this negotiation.” Caleb’s vaguely guilty conscience was only going to push him so far.

“You got a promotion, son.” His stepfather stood and hitched up his pants before settling his belt around his waist. “It’s time you joined Callaway Construction as more than a name on the financial report. This lodge? It’s your first project. You’ll come in on time and under budget. And you’re going to make sure those Kingfishers disappear. I don’t want to hear one more word out of Sweetwater. Winter Kingfisher...” He grimaced. “She knows how to keep the news stirred up, and thanks to her job at the reserve, she has connections with all the news stations around the state capitol. If she’s talking about the reserve lodge or Whit, you distract her.”

Caleb waited for more direction. There had to be more, didn’t there?

Senior waited for him to agree.

“I’m not sure how any mortal man is going to distract Winter Kingfisher if she doesn’t want to be distracted.” Caleb turned back to stare at Whit. “I mean, not even the golden boy here could hold on to her long enough to get her to say ‘I do.’” And didn’t it say a whole lot that no one in the room was plotting to win his ex-fiancée back to their side. Stupid mistake.

If Caleb had convinced Winter to marry him, she’d be priority number one in this recovery plan. He might be annoyed with her, but no one would doubt she’d been the brains in this political organization.

Standing his ground when Whit marched up to aggressively invade his space was easy. He had six inches and at least fifty pounds on Whit, not to mention right on his side. Caleb had his long-gone father’s build: big, solid, ready to work.

His brother, who’d always given off the polo athlete vibe—rich, lanky and well-dressed enough to hide narrow shoulders—should be bearing more of the responsibility here. Caleb couldn’t imagine Winter sitting silently by while the Callaways planned this lodge, but even if she had, Whit had still gone after her brother in a public way, with them both ending up on the front pages. Firing Ash Kingfisher, a man who’d never been anything but a solid champion of the reserve? Yeah, even Caleb knew there was no way Winter could have let their engagement stand after that.

And instead of plotting to win her back, the Callaways were trying to keep her quiet.

“She was always too much for you, wasn’t she, Whit?” Caleb asked softly, mad all over again at being the odd one out in this family. He took a childish pleasure in the way his brother stepped back. Whit wanted to fight. He’d never been able to best Caleb physically. Being his father’s favorite had always been enough to get by.

“All my boys in one room.” His mother was posing in the doorway again. “Dinner is ready. Come to the table.” She tried a beautiful smile, but steel laced her words when she added, “Now. No fighting.”

“Coming, Marjorie.” His stepfather pointed with his chin. “One more minute. That’s all we need.”

She surveyed all three of them before turning and slowly walking away, the clipped steps of her heels echoing on the expensive tile of the hallway.

“Follow your mother, Junior.” Caleb watched his stepfather and his brother argue without saying a word. Whit tucked his chin and marched after their mother. Every disagreement they had ended the same way—Whit followed orders.

Before he could tell his stepfather what he thought of the command performance, Senior held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. Your mother...” His stepfather stared down at the desk. “She needs us to get along right now.”

The grim determination on Senior’s face was nothing new, but his tone had changed. “What does that mean? Is something wrong?” Caleb crossed his arms tightly. What had he missed?

Watching Senior consider his words carefully was the scariest reaction Caleb might have expected. Whit Callaway, Sr. never hesitated. Worry punched a tiny hole in his resentment of the man.

“She’s been having some forgetfulness.” Senior rubbed his hand on his forehead, the fatigue on his face growing. “We’ve been to a couple of specialists, the best, but...” When their eyes met, Caleb understood. He’d heard so many stories of his grandmother and great-grandfather losing their fight with dementia.

“What’s the diagnosis?” Caleb asked.

“Early stages of Alzheimer’s.” Senior met his stare. “She’s taking everything she can to slow this down and give it everything she has, but I don’t want her upset. So you and I are going to get along.” Or else.

Caleb understood the unspoken words and supported them.

He also wondered what would have happened if he’d skipped dinner. Would anyone have told him what was going on with the most important person in his world? Anger burned bright and hot before he squashed it.

“Go to Sweetwater. Take over the project. Show us what you can do. Get the lodge built. Distract Winter Kingfisher until everyone that matters has forgotten her.” His stepfather clasped his hands together. “Easy enough.”

Put your life on hold until it’s done. His core crew would be working because he was definitely bringing them to Sweetwater, but finding new business for his own company would be next to impossible while he was stuck there.

Unless he pulled off a miracle, Mitch Yarborough and Rivercrest would move on without him.

“How long?” Caleb asked. He had four months to start the Yarborough project. This could still work. If he got the lodge off to a solid start, someone else could come in and finish.

“As long as it takes.” Senior met his stare directly. He would accept nothing other than a yes.

“And that gets me what?” Caleb drawled. That had always been his concern—whether what his family offered matched what they demanded. He could live without their money. Missing his mother was almost impossible to comprehend.

“An open door.” His stepfather’s lips were a tight line again. “Whit and I will be busy, running his campaign. Your mother needs you, needs all of us right now. Knoxville is an easy drive from Sweetwater. She’ll like that you’re closer to home. To us.”

The most effective leverage his stepfather had would always be Marjorie Callaway and it still worked.

“Check out the plans. I don’t understand how you could say no. This place is going to amaze us all. It’ll be the premier luxury mountain-resort destination in the south.” His stepfather grabbed a long tube from the credenza behind him. “Take a look. Then come to dinner.”

Instead of twisting harder, Senior offered him his hand to shake. Caleb stared hard at it before taking it. They’d never be warm and fuzzy, Callaway family dinners. They would almost always be businesslike. Until tonight.