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“Megan doesn’t remember her father.” About the Author Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN EPILOGUE Copyright
“Megan doesn’t remember her father.”
“What kind of man was he, Kendra?” Brodie quirked a questioning eyebrow.
She rose to her feet. “You’re out of line, Brodie.”
“What’s the big secret, Kendra? Why won’t you talk about him? What are you hiding? Tell me something about your husband...or I’ll start to believe you never had one!”
Her face turned whiter than a snowdrop petal. And her eyes filled with dismay.
“Dear God.” Shock had him reeling. It had all been a lie—she’d been living a lie! But why?
Grace Green was born in Scotland and is a former teacher. In 1967 she and her marine-engineer husband, John, emigrated to Canada, where they raised their four children. Empty-nesters now, they are happily settled in west Vancouver in a house overlooking the ocean. Grace enjoys walking the sea wall, gardening, getting together with other writers...and watching her characters come to life, because she knows that, once they do, they will take over and write her stories for her.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
FOR MY NIECE CAROLYN
CHAPTER ONE
“MOM, I want to go in by myself.” Megan Westmore’s dark eyes sparked with frustration. “I’ll be eight next month, for heaven’s sake—I’m not a baby!”
“But Lakeview Elementary’s a new school for you and you’re four days late starting the term—”
“Mom. I can handle it.” Megan pushed open the door of the white Honda and scrambled out. “We talked with my homeroom teacher Friday. I know where to go. OK?”
Kendra Westmore looked at her daughter and marvelled, as she so often did, that she could actually be the mother of this child. Oh, they looked alike—they both had wheat-blonde hair and nut-brown eyes; fine bones and a petite build—but their personalities were poles apart. Megan was self-confident and fearless, while she, Kendra, was—
“’Bye, Mom.” Megan hitched her backpack over her skinny shoulders. “See you at three-thirty.” She slammed the car door and took off into the playground.
Without once looking back.
Kendra sighed. She knew she was overprotective of her daughter but she couldn’t seem to break herself of the habit. Megan was all she had in the world. She didn’t know what she’d do if anything ever happened to her—
The clangor of the school bell made her jump.
Reluctantly, she put the car into drive.
But as she moved forward a red pickup truck screeched by, swung in front of her, and pulled in close to the curb.
She jammed on her brakes and barely missed crashing into the truck’s back bumper. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she waited for the driver to unload his passenger.
A child jumped down from the cab, a little girl around Megan’s age, but more sturdily built and with a mop of black curls. She scooted away, calling back over her shoulder, “’Bye, Dad! Thanks for the drive! See ya!”
The man tooted his horn in response and his truck moved forward, only to stop again sharply with a squeal of brakes.
Kendra had started forward as he did and now she had to brake sharply, too. She felt a twinge of irritation as the driver jumped down from the truck.
“Hey, Jodi!” he yelled. “Isn’t this Hot Dog Day?”
“Yikes!” The girl spun round and sped back to him.
He’d walked to the gates and Kendra drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as he whisked out his wallet and hastily handed over a bill. The child raced off again and in a moment had joined the lines filing into the school.
Her father started back toward the truck.
Kendra raked an impatient gaze over him.
He was tall, with wavy black hair; deeply tanned and very attractive in an earthy sort of way. Sexy, with a lean muscular build that was shown off to perfection in narrow-fitting blue jeans and a snug black T-shirt.
He chanced to glance her way and as their eyes met, he grinned, a slanting grin that revealed beautiful teeth, whiter than white.
“Kids.” Twinkling eyes fixed on her, he slid his wallet back into his hip pocket. “You’ve gotta—”
He broke off, his eyes widening, and stopped dead.
He had recognized her... and at exactly the same second as she had recognized him.
She swallowed, and stared back. The air between them seemed to shimmer, the way it always had when she’d looked at him in the past. It was odd and disturbing, and it was something she’d experienced with no other person.
No other man.
Only he hadn’t been a man then. He’d been a teenager. Bad and wild and from the wrong side of the tracks.
“Not your kind of boy, missy!”
But she hadn’t needed her grandfather to warn her of that. She’d been well aware of it. Of the differences between them.
She wondered now what he was thinking. Were his thoughts paralleling hers? Probably. She’d never made any secret of her disdain for him.
His smile was no longer lazy or friendly, but mocking.
Yes, he remembered...
“Well, now!” With the careless swagger that had been his trademark as a teenager, he moved over to her car. Her nerves seemed to jump as he planted a hand on the Honda’s roof and leaned down to her open window. “If it isn’t the snooty Westmore brat. Come home to claim her inheritance.”
“Well, now, if it isn’t that no-good Spencer kid!” She tilted her chin up and looked straight into eyes that were blue-green and fringed with thick black lashes. “Would you mind moving your old beater, Brodie? I have things to do.”
It was only nine o’clock but the September morning was already hot. Kendra became aware that perspiration was rolling down between her breasts, under her yellow tube top.
“Guess you’ll be selling the family homestead and taking off again,” he drawled. “I heard you got hitched, a while back. Your hubby here in Lakeview with you?”
His gaze dropped to her hands. Her fingers were gripped around the steering wheel. On the left hand, her gold ring glinted. It looked bare. She felt a twinge of unease. Perhaps she should have invested in an engagement ring before coming home; it would have been more...convincing.
Not that she had to convince this man of anything!
“Would you mind moving?” she said coolly. “As I said, I have things to—”
“What’s your hurry? How about having a coffee with me, for old t—”
She flicked the gear lever into reverse and after a hasty check in the rearview mirror, yanked the Honda back. She heard his startled “Whoa!” as he had to jump aside, and she felt a stab of satisfaction.
Turn signal blinking, she swung out into the street. And then she drove off as fast as she could without actually breaking the speed limit... and without even peeking back once to see if he might be watching.
But as she made her way home, following the Main Street that ran parallel to the lake, the chance meeting lingered in her mind like an unpleasant aftertaste.
It was more than eight years since she’d left the small town of Lakeview in B.C.’s Interior, and in all that time she’d never once given Brodie Spencer a thought. Why should she? He’d never meant anything to her. His father, Danny, had been the Westmore gardener and because Brodie had helped Danny in the summer she’d seen him around the place.
Other than that, because he’d been two years ahead of her in high school, their paths had rarely crossed.
That had suited her just fine!
And it would suit her just as fine, she decided grimly, if that state of affairs was to continue!
The booming Lakeview Construction Company—consisting of offices, lumberyard, warehouses, and store—sprawled over several acres at the east end of Lakeview.
Brodie drove directly there from the school.
After parking his truck in the yard, he jumped down onto the sunbaked dirt and bounded up the wooden steps to the rear entrance.
As he strode along the corridor, he heard voices coming from the office ahead. He recognized Mitzi’s breathy tones. When he neared the open door, he heard Pete talking.
“...and she signed the contract Friday. It’s a big job, Mitzi.”
“I’ll put Sam Fleet on it.”
“Yeah, Sam can handle it—oh, hi, boss.” Pete, the company estimator, nodded to Brodie when he noticed him in the doorway.
Mitzi’s bouffant bleached-blond hair swayed as she got to her feet. Stroking down the miniskirt of her white knit dress with its splashy pattern of crimson hearts, she said, “I’ll get your coffee, boss.”
“Make it an iced tea, Mitzi. Thanks.”
As his office manager teetered in her high-heeled sandals to the small lunchroom across the hall, Brodie ambled over to her desk. He picked up a sheaf of papers.
“You were saying, Pete...about a big job?”
“That’s it you’ve got there. For the Westmore place. Rosemount. It’s an enormous glitzy property at the west end of the lake, up on the hill. Fantastic view.”
“I know it.” Brodie was aware that Pete had only been in town six months and didn’t know much of its history. “The old guy who owned it passed away recently. Edward Westmore. Made his money way back when, in the stock market. His son Kenneth and his daughter-in-law Sandra both died about twenty years ago. Their daughter—old Westmore’s granddaughter—is the one who has inherited the place. So...she’s signed up with us, has she?”
“On the dotted line. She wants the kitchen gutted, modernized.”
“Is she going to move in...or sell?”
“She’s moving in. She wants commercial appliances in the kitchen, she’s planning on running Rosemount as a B and B.”
As Brodie assimilated that, Pete went on. “She also wants the staircase torn down, and some airy open circular staircase put up in its place—”
“She’s going to tear down that mahogany staircase?” Brodie rolled his eyes in disbelief. “The woman’s crazy! It’s a work of art! Good God, those spindles, that intricate carving—”
“Yeah, I know. I tried to talk her out of it, but she sure put me in my place! She’d been sweet as pie till then, but sheesh! when I put my two cents in—” He slashed his index finger across his throat.
Brodie shook his head. Unbelievable. “I heard Mitzi say she was going to put Sam on the job—”
Mitzi came back into the office and handed him a glass of iced tea. “That’s right Oh, before I forget, boss—Hayley called. She wants you to bring home a half gallon of milk after work. You’re clean out and she won’t have time to stop in at the supermarket.”
“Milk. OK.”
“She said to be sure you got fat-free.”
Brodie’s grin was self-deprecating. “Henpecked, that’s what I am! But hey, we all know who’s boss in my household!” He gulped down a few mouthfuls of his iced drink and set the glass on Pete’s desk. “So...Mitzi, about the Westmore job—have you mentioned it to Sam yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then don’t.” Brodie walked to the window and looked out. Even this early the yard was a hive of activity—customers walking among the rows of lumber, men hauling out supplies; trucks coming and going; women browsing in the garden furniture section, taking advantage of the end-of-season sale. He swatted the contract against his thigh. “I’m going to take this one on myself.”
“Good luck!” Pete said. “You’ll have your hands full dealing with Mrs. Westmore.”
“It’s not Mrs. Westmore.” Brodie’s response came absently. “She was a Westmore—I don’t know what her married name would be though.”
“It’ll be on the contract.” Mitzi took the papers from Brodie and riffled through them till she found the signature she was looking for.
“Kendra Westmore!” She made a face. “Well, I guess she never did change her name. Some women don’t. Me, I can’t think why. If you love a man, surely you’d want to bear his name...and have your kids bear his name. ’Course, the reason she and Edward Westmore fell out was because her grandfather disapproved of her intended—at least, that’s what folks around here said—and maybe she kept the family name thinking to appease the old man.” Mitzi turned to Pete. “Did you meet the husband?”
“Nah, he wasn’t around.”
“What about kids?” Mitzi asked. “Does she have kids? Did you see any when you were out there?”
“She’s got a daughter,” Pete said. “Spit of herself.”
“Well,” Mitzi said, “the kid must be pretty as they come. That Westmore girl might have been snooty as all get-out, but she surely was a beauty.”
She still is, Brodie thought. She still is!
And he couldn’t wait to see the look on her beautiful snooty face when he turned up at her front door tomorrow!
“Megan, you didn’t eat your lunch!” Frowning, Kendra took the bulging brown paper bag from her daughter’s backpack.
“I’ll eat it now, Mom.” Megan leaned forward in her chair and stuck out her hand as Kendra made to put the bag in the fridge. “I’m starving!”
“Well no wonder, if you didn’t eat at noon!” Kendra slid the lunch bag across the kitchen table.
“It was Hot Dog Day—the homeroom teacher forgot to tell you on Friday that I should bring money.” Megan opened the bag and took out a cheese-filled English muffin. “But my new friend had extra money—she was late this morning and was in a hurry and her dad gave her too much—so she paid for my hot dog and chocolate milk. She said I could pay for hers next time around.”
At the words “new friend” Kendra had felt a swift kick of relief. She’d worried about Megan starting over again in a school where most eight-year olds would already have their own special buddies; it seemed she’d had no need to fret. But then at the words “she was late...and her Dad gave her too much,” her nerves prickled a warning.
“So,” she said casually, “what’s your friend’s name?”
“Jodi. She’s my age and she’s got black curly hair...”
But Kendra was no longer listening. She didn’t have to. She knew the rest.
Of all the luck, Megan had to link up with Brodie Spencer’s daughter! If she was anything like her father, she’d be bad news, and likely to lead Megan into all sorts of trouble—
Oh, she was being ridiculous! This was only Megan’s first day at school. She would meet other girls, become friendly with other girls. More suitable girls. Water always found its own level.
“I’ll give you money for her tomorrow,” she said.
“But Mom—”
“You know I don’t like you to borrow. But it was kind of this Jodi to help you out. However, you’ll pay her back in the morning and that’ll be the end of it. All right?”
Megan shrugged. “OK.” She concentrated on eating her muffin. “But I hope I don’t hurt her feelings,” she mumbled. “She’s really nice. And she’s already asked me to come to her house on Saturday afternoon to play.”
“You know you’re not allowed to make that kind of arrangement without discussing it with me first!”
Her tone must have been unusually sharp because Megan’s head shot up, her brown eyes wide with astonishment. “I didn’t! But she’s got a brother and a sister and a dog and a swimming pool and her house seems like it’s just the funnest place to be!”
Kendra sat down at the table.
“Honey,” she said carefully, “don’t be in too much of a hurry to make a special friend. It’s a mistake lots of people make. Take your time, get to know everybody first. And then make up your mind who you like.”
“When you were my age,” Megan challenged, “did your mother pick and choose your friends?”
“I lost my parents when I was six. I’ve told you many times, sweetie, that my grandfather Westmore brought me up. And though he didn’t pick and choose my friends, he did try to make sure that my choices were...the right ones.”
“Well, why don’t we have Jodi over here on Saturday? Then you can see for yourself if she’s a right choice!”
Trapped. She felt trapped. Yet wasn’t what Megan was suggesting a sensible plan? How could she get out of it, without seeming totally unreasonable!
“It’s just Monday,” she said. “Why don’t we wait till the end of the week, see how it goes? Perhaps you’ll meet someone else you’d rather invite here on Saturday.”
“Sure.” Megan reached for the bottle of orange juice. “Let’s wait till Friday.”
Kendra heaved a sigh of relief.
But it was short-lived.
“I can tell you now, though,” Megan said as she popped off the lid and stuck a straw into the bottle, “that I won’t be meeting anybody I’ll like better than Jodi Spencer!”
The wall phone rang before Kendra could come up with a response. Pushing back her chair, she reached for the receiver. “Westmore residence.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Westmore. This is Mitzi, at Lakeview Construction. Someone will be coming out tomorrow morning to talk with you about your new kitchen. Will eight-thirty be too early?”
“No, eight-thirty will be fine. Thanks.”
She hung up.
“Finished your snack?” she asked Megan.
“Yes, I’m done.”
“Let’s get our bikes then and cycle down to the school. I want to be sure we have your route all mapped out because I won’t be able to drive you in the morning. I have to be here, to talk to the workman from Lakeview Construction.”
“Full fat!” The hem of Hayley Spencer’s shortie robe fluttered around her sun-browned thighs as she swirled around from the fridge, half-gallon milk jug held aloft. Rolling her eyes, she set the jug on the breakfast table. “I’m trying to lose weight and the man buys me full fat milk!”
She lowered herself into her chair and pouring bran flakes into a blue-rimmed bowl, called after Brodie, who was headed for the door, “I told Ditsy Mitzi fat-free! Why don’t you fire the woman and hire somebody who can take a simple message!”
Brodie paused in the doorway and looked round with an apologetic grin. “Mitzi did mention it... and you know damned well she’s not ditsy—she just looks ditsy! The fault is mine. I guess I had other things on my mind yesterday.” Like the Westmore woman! “It won’t happen again—”
He stepped aside smartly as Jodi and her brother bowled by in tandem, Jodi in pretty pink dungarees and a candy-striped blouse, Jack in a grungy gray T-shirt and baggy shorts. The boy had combed his black hair in a middle part and plastered it to his skull with foul-smelling gunk. Brodie’s nostrils quivered, but he bit back a dry comment. He knew only too well how much Jack loathed his unruly curls. He had, too, when he’d been that age—too young to know that when he became a teenager, girls would find his hair irresistible! His lips twitched at the memory...
“Morning, kids,” he said.
“Morning, Dad.” Jodi threw him a cheery smile.
“Yo.” Jack had already thrown himself onto a chair and was grabbing his favorite cereal packet.
“How come you’re dressed so fine?” Jodi’s gaze flicked over him even as she reached for a bowl. “Aren’t you going in to the yard this morning?”
“He’s going to the Westmore place.” Hayley’s lovely cornflower blue eyes had the same inquisitive glint as Jodi’s, but added to that was a speculative gleam as she looked at his emerald polo shirt and neatly pressed chinos.
“If you’re going out there,” Jodi said, “will you do me a favor, Dad?”
Brodie glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve gotta run—”
“There’s a new girl in my class. I forgot to tell you last night She’s Megan Westmore. She’s got no brothers or sisters so I asked her to come over on Saturday afternoon. She said she’d ask her mom. But you can ask her today!”
Hayley frowned. “Jodi, you know Saturday afternoon is a family time for us.”
“If you’ve already asked her,” Brodie said, “we’ll have to follow up on it.”
Hayley’s slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Yes, I suppose...”
But Brodie could feel her disapproval emanating from across the kitchen. He glanced at his watch. He should really be out of here!
He strode to the table and leaning over Hayley, planted a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry, Hayle, her mother probably won’t let her come.”
As he left, he caught himself glancing around the kitchen—assessingly; something he hadn’t done in a very long time. The big square room was bright and cheerful and airy...and shabby. He’d always liked it that way...but this was undoubtedly a house where things were neglected.
From the beginning, he’d wanted to hire a housekeeper, but Hayley wouldn’t hear of it. He’d given in, and had never regretted the decision.
But minutes later, as he started his truck, he found himself wondering how the place would look to the snooty Ms. Westmore. And admitted it would come up short. The kitchen badly needed redecorating, as did the rest of the modest two-story house. What was that adage about the shoemaker’s kids having no shoes? It certainly fit in his case.
But hell, his decision to keep things as they were hadn’t been grounded in laziness. It had been grounded in a desire to give the kids stability. To give them a sense that, although a lot of things had changed, their roots would never.
Were they old enough now to accept change?
They’d been through so much.
But maybe it was time to throw them a challenge.
Maybe, after he’d finished with the Westmore project, he’d tackle instituting some changes at home.
Bit by bit. So the changes wouldn’t come all at once and be too distressing for them.
Yeah, he decided as he followed the road that led out of town toward Rosemount, one step at a time.
That was the answer.
Kendra was out back, getting Megan’s bike from the shed, when she heard the roar of a truck coming up the drive at the front of the house.
At the same time, Megan shot out through the kitchen door. She looked fresh and sweet in an ice-blue jumpsuit.
“Got everything, honey?” Kendra asked.
“Yes.”
“And you know the way? Along the—”
“Mom, we did that yesterday!” Impatiently, Megan grabbed the bike handles. “Thanks.” She jumped on the mountain bike and took off across the white gravel chips, her tires crunching. “’Bye, Mom! See you after school!”
“’Bye, honey! Take care...”
Kendra watched till her daughter disappeared around the corner of the house. Then she turned, letting her gaze sweep up over the enormous white mansion that had stood here, on top of the hill, for more than sixty years.
The breeze riffled pleasantly through her hair and the sun kissed her cheeks. She smiled and tucked her hands into the pockets of her white shorts as she walked toward the open back door. She was glad to be home. More than glad: elated! When her grandfather had thrown her out eight years ago, she’d left her heart in Lakeview. Now she was back, she would never leave again. No matter what.
She crossed the kitchen, walked along the corridor, and paused for a moment when she reached the foyer.
Sunlight flooded down from the tall window in the stairwell, its mellow rays glowing on the Persian rug and parquet floor. Sunlight gleamed, too, on the polished mahogany furniture, and enriched the opulent color of the tapestries adorning the walls. The staircase itself was the hall’s focal point, its elegant lines and luxurious blue runner drawing the eye up to the landing.
As a child she’d never been tempted to slide down the smooth banister...but Megan seemed to find it irresistible. Kendra was well aware that despite being cautioned several times to keep off it, the child still sailed recklessly, joyfully down it when her mother wasn’t around.
An accident waiting to happen—