Always in Her Heart

Link touched Annie’s cheek lightly, wanting to find a way to erase her doubts. “Anyone who looks at your heart sees how much you love that little girl. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Her cheek moved against his fingers as she smiled. He felt the tension begin to drain out of her.

“Then I guess we’d better pray that the social worker looks with God’s eyes. And that God doesn’t care that I burned a quiche.”

The attempt at humor relieved him, and he realized he’d been holding his breath. One part of his mind looked at himself, amazed. When had he ever worked so hard just to ease someone else’s hurt?

This wasn’t just someone else, he thought. This was Annie.

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculums to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book. She loves hearing from readers and will be glad to send a signed bookplate on request. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

Always in Her Heart

Marta Perry

Man looks on the outward appearance,

but the Lord looks at the heart.

—1 Samuel 16:7

This story is dedicated with great affection to

Carol and Bill. Old friends are the best.

And, as always, to Brian.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

“Marry you?” Annie Gideon stared, incredulous, at Link Morgan’s determined face. “Why would I marry you? I don’t even like you.”

The annoyed expression Link so often wore when he looked at her intensified. “Maybe you’d better figure out a way, Annie. Because if you don’t, we’re both going to lose what we value most.”

The headache that had been throbbing since the double funeral the day before clutched at her temples. “Why on earth are you saying something so preposterous now? And why here?”

Link gave a quick glance around the living room of her sister’s house, as if reminding himself that the delicate French Provincial furniture was as charming as Becca had been. Then he zeroed in on Annie.

Her heart gave a rebellious thump. Everything about Link, from his piercing dark eyes to his square jaw to his confident stride, proclaimed that here was a man who knew what he wanted and would do whatever it took to get it. She, of all people, knew just how accurate that impression was.

He’d exchanged the dark suit he’d worn at the funeral for gray pants and a black sweater that still gave an aura of mourning. But mourning or not, he was clearly back to business.

“Sorry. I know this is a bad time.” His deep voice softened slightly. “But time is just what we don’t have. The fact that Davis and Becca died without making a will has put both of us between a rock and a hard place.”

The pastel room swam before her eyes, and the scent of the lilies she’d brought from the funeral cloyed. She forced back a wave of sorrow. If she didn’t control it, grief for her sister would submerge every other instinct. She’d be no good to anyone, especially Marcy.

The thought of her twenty-month-old niece, napping unaware in the upstairs nursery, strengthened her. She frowned at the man who’d been Davis’s partner and best friend.

“I don’t see what’s so complicated about it. Doesn’t Marcy automatically inherit everything?”

“Exactly.” Link’s straight, even features might have been chiseled from stone. “That’s the problem. The baby inherits this house, whatever property Davis owned and Davis’s thirty percent of the firm.”

Light dawned. He was worried about the construction company he and Davis had shared.

“I can’t imagine that will make any difference to the way you run the company. Marcy’s certainly not going to interfere.”

Contempt probably sounded in her voice. Link’s best friend and her sister were dead, victims of a wet road and a missing guardrail, and apparently all Link could think about was his business.

“You don’t get it, do you.” A strand of dark hair fell on his forehead, accentuating his lowered brows. “What do you imagine is going to happen now to all this?” His gesture seemed to take in the gracious house that had been in the Conrad family for generations, the construction company, even the sleeping child upstairs.

She turned away from that intimidating stare, trying to get her bearings in a world that was suddenly alien. The wide front windows of Becca’s home overlooked the town square with its flower beds and gazebo, surrounded by early-twentieth-century shops. She caught a glimpse of blue lake through the trees. Lakeview was a delightful Finger Lakes village, but it had been her sister’s place. She didn’t belong here.

“I don’t know about the property,” she said finally. “I guess Davis’s lawyer will have to figure that out. If I have to stay until things are settled, I will. Then I’ll take Marcy back to Boston with me.”

“They won’t let you.”

For an instant her mind refused to process the words. Then she spun to face him, the room seeming to spin with her. “What are you talking about? Who won’t let me?”

“Little Marcy inherits everything.” He spaced the words out as if he spoke to someone who didn’t have a grasp of the English language. “Whoever controls her controls her inheritance. If you think Davis’s cousins will let you walk away with Conrad property, you’d better think again. Frank and Julia are the only Conrad relatives left, except for an elderly uncle.”

She told herself he was crazy, because she couldn’t face the possibility that he was right. “Frank and Julia Lester don’t want to be bothered with a baby. Even though they lived nearby, the Lesters have never shown any interest in Marcy.” In fact, Becca had said the Lesters bluntly proclaimed they wouldn’t have a family because children might interfere with their social life.

“Maybe not.” A bitter smile touched Link’s mouth and then vanished. “But now that Marcy’s inherited, I suspect the Lesters are going to discover that they’ve always adored her and want her to live with them.”

She pressed her hand hard against the oval marble-topped table. “They can’t have her. They don’t love her. I’m Marcy’s closest living relative. With Davis’s parents deceased and my mother’s illness, there isn’t anyone else. Naturally I’ll take responsibility for her.”

“Naturally.” Something that might have been amusement threaded Link’s deep voice. “Annie is the responsible one. You always took care of Becca, didn’t you?”

“I always tried.” Memory pricked her. “Just as you always tried to protect Davis, even when he didn’t need protecting.”

A grimace marred Link’s features. “I wondered how long it would take you to bring that up. It’s been eight years, Annie. Can’t you forget?”

“No.” She shot the word back before she considered, but it was true. She could never forget the summer she and Becca had met Davis and Link, because that was when she’d tumbled head-over-heels into first love.

He seemed to consider that abrupt negative for a moment. “Why? Davis and Becca forgave me. Why can’t you?”

“I have forgiven you.” Forgiveness for a wrong done to her was easy. Forgiveness for a wrong done to the little sister she’d always protected wasn’t. Still, she tried to live each day as a Christian, and that mandated forgiveness.

“You can forgive.” His voice went soft. “But you can’t forget.”

When Link’s bass voice went down to that low rumble, it had a deleterious effect on her morale. She shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling.

“None of that matters now. What’s important is Marcy. Becca would expect me to take care of the baby if something happened to her.” Pain clutched her heart at the words. None of them had anticipated the accident.

“I don’t suppose you have that in writing.”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Link rubbed the back of his neck as if he had a headache, too. “That’s what makes it so chancy. You might believe Becca wanted you to take care of Marcy, and I might believe Davis would want me to run the company for his daughter, but neither of us can prove it. That makes us vulnerable.”

“To the Lesters, I suppose.” She still couldn’t believe that. “Frank has been around helping with the arrangements. He hasn’t given a hint he’s thinking any such thing.”

“You don’t know Frank as well as I do—”

Link caught her hand in a quick, impatient movement. The warmth of his fingers startled her. She hadn’t known how cold she was until he touched her.

“He smiles and smiles, but all the while he’s looking for a weakness.”

She pulled her hand away. She didn’t know about Frank, but showing any weakness to Link could only be bad for her.

“Why did you let Frank buy into the company, if you feel that way about him?”

“We needed some investors a couple of years ago in order to get a loan for the lakeside project.” He shot her a questioning look. “You know about the project, don’t you?”

“Not much. Just that you and Davis are building homes along the east side of the lake.” Becca had mentioned the project briefly, but she’d been much more engrossed in Marcy’s new tooth than in business.

“The project is a gamble for a company the size of Conrad and Morgan, so Davis thought we should form a limited corporation. Frank wanted in, and Davis wouldn’t turn down his cousin. Now Frank wants all of it.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know.” His mouth set grimly, sending a little tremor down her spine. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Annie. You’re Marcy’s closest relative, but you’re an unmarried career woman. I was Davis’s best friend and partner, but I’m not a blood relative. Separately, our claim to Marcy is weak, but if we were married—”

“We can’t get married just like that.” She rushed the words, needing to deny that this thing could possibly be real. The thought of losing Marcy sent a chill to her very soul.

Please, Father. This can’t be happening, can it?

“We’re not talking about romance here, Annie. I’m telling you, marriage is the only way.” He glanced at his watch. “We can apply for a license today and—”

“No!” She folded her arms tightly, hoping her voice projected strength and conviction. “I won’t let you rush me into something like this. First, I don’t believe you’re right about the Lesters. Julia’s always made it clear she doesn’t want a child. And second, even if you are, I won’t jump into marriage until I’ve explored every other option.”

“All the details in a row, in other words.” He clipped off the words as if he disliked them, his eyes narrowing. “You really are the perfect accountant, aren’t you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with paying attention to detail.”

“There is if it keeps you from getting what you want.”

“I suppose you think it’s better to charge right at what you want, no matter who gets hurt.” Maybe that defined the difference between them. The past blurred into the present. “I won’t do things that way, not when Marcy’s future is at stake.”

“Fine.” Link swung away from her, exasperation in every line of his tall, strong figure. “You think, and figure, and debate.” He tossed the words over his shoulder at her. “If you end up by losing Marcy, maybe you’ll remember I gave you fair warning.”

He stalked out of the room, and she heard the front door slam behind him.

Annie sank into the nearest chair, fists clenching on its brocade arms. She’d certainly come out of that encounter the worse for wear. Link’s quick mental leaps had always outrun her need to unravel any knotty problem step by careful step.

She closed her eyes, shutting out Becca’s pastel living room. Eight years ago, she and Becca had been college students, and Becca had talked her into working at the shore instead of taking the internship she’d been offered.

“You don’t want to spend the summer in a stuffy old bank.” Becca’s face had lit with anticipation. “We’ll find great jobs at the beach. Think of the gorgeous guys we’ll meet.”

Becca always had managed to meet gorgeous guys everywhere, and they both knew their parents wouldn’t allow Becca to go unless Annie went to take care of her. But she’d said yes, because she couldn’t bear to see Becca’s disappointment if she hadn’t.

The jobs hadn’t been wonderful, but they had met Davis and Link, college roommates who’d had the same idea as Becca. Davis, fair and smiling, had taken one look at Becca and been a goner. His tall, dark-haired friend hadn’t had Davis’s looks and polish, but he’d made Annie’s heart do something she’d never felt it do before. She’d always been careful, never falling in and out of love the way Becca did. Then Link reached right past her guard and touched her heart.

Everything had been perfect—until Link decided his friend was getting too serious about Becca. In an instant he’d turned into someone Annie didn’t know—grim, determined, implacable. If he’d bothered to explain what he had against Becca—

Well, no. Link couldn’t have come up with any reason that would have satisfied her for trying to part Becca and Davis. She and Link had quarreled, if you could call it quarreling when one person argued and the other stood as unmoving as a…a block of granite.

Davis and Becca had married in spite of everything Link had done to stop it. The two men had eventually mended the rift, settling in Davis’s hometown to start their construction business. Becca had even asked Link to be Marcy’s godfather.

Everyone had been able to forget the quarrel but her. She’d seen Link every time she came to visit Becca, but she’d maintained a polite, smiling distance. The man had dented her heart and hurt her beloved sister. She wasn’t about to become his dearest friend.

But now he didn’t want her to be his friend. He wanted her to be his bride.

A chill went through her in spite of the warm September sunshine that poured through the windows. If Link was right about the Lesters…

Please, show me what to do, Lord. Every time I think of Link’s words, I feel paralyzed.

She badly needed some impartial advice. She reached for the white phone on the marble-topped table. But who?

Her father was probably exhausted from the drive back to Boston and the effort of soothing her mother’s distress at his absence. Alzheimer’s had robbed her mother of knowing who he was, but she did seem to realize she depended upon him.

Dad would have to know, but not yet. She dialed Sam Watson’s number.

Sam, an attorney she’d dated casually over a year ago, had remained a friend even after they’d drifted apart. That seemed to be the romantic pattern of her life. Maybe the ability to inspire passion had just been left out of her makeup. If so, she was doing very nicely without it, especially after the fiasco with Link.

Once Sam answered, she quickly described the situation, leaving out Link’s proposal. She waited for Sam to say something reassuring.

“I’m not an expert in family law.” Sam’s tone was cautious. “Your sister and her husband ought to have spelled out their wishes in a will. You need a good local attorney.”

For once she was impatient with caution. “Give me your best guess. Will I have problems getting custody of Marcy?”

“Custody wouldn’t be a sure thing, even if your sister had named you in her will. The court could still exercise its discretion.” He hesitated. “If these cousins do file for custody, the court might favor a local married couple over an out-of-state, single, working woman.”

That was what Link had said, and her heart sank. “What can I do? I might feel differently if they even cared about Marcy, but they don’t.”

“Get a good attorney,” he said. “And pray for a sympathetic judge.”

She sat staring at the phone after she’d hung up, trying to think her way through this. Had Becca ever mentioned an attorney she might call?

She was leafing through Becca’s address book when she heard a faint wail. Dropping the book, she hurried up the stairs to Marcy’s room.

Becca had decorated the nursery with pastel-colored animal figures. A line of yellow giraffes ambled across the wallpaper border, while a pink elephant formed the base of a lamp. Marcy stood in the white canopied crib, shaking the railing impatiently. Her fine blond hair curled damply around her face, and her cheeks were rosy with sleep.

“Up, up,” she demanded, holding out chubby arms to Annie. “Up, Nan.”

She’d happily be called “Nan” until Marcy mastered “Aunt Annie.” She scooped her niece from the crib, putting her cheek against the soft curls. “Did you have a good sleep, sweetpea?”

Marcy patted her face, and Annie’s heart melted. Nothing had prepared her for the wave of sheer love she’d felt when she first held her sister’s child. Blood of my blood, she’d thought, and known the infant had her heart in a tiny hand.

She dressed Marcy, listening to her mostly incomprehensible chatter, and took her downstairs. The doorbell rang as they reached the family room. Her defenses went up instantly, and she marched to the front door carrying Marcy. If Link had come back to press her for a decision again—

But it wasn’t Link. Frank and Julia Lester stood at the door, wearing identical smiles.

“Frank. Julia. I wasn’t expecting you.” She had an irrational urge to close the door in their faces. She stepped back. “Please, come in.”

“Naturally we came by to see how you’re doing.” Frank led the way into the living room as if this were his home. “Yesterday was so difficult for all of us.”

“So difficult,” Julia echoed, her expression blank.

“Thank you.” They all stood awkwardly on the pale beige carpeting Becca had chosen. She should ask them to sit down, but if they stayed, she might blurt out Link’s suspicions. “I appreciate everything you did to help, you know.”

“As Davis’s closest relative, I felt responsible. Who else would do it?” Frank looked at his wife as if silently prompting her.

Julia glanced down at her silk jacket, then held out her hands to Marcy. “Why don’t you let me take her.”

Annie’s arms tightened around the baby, tension traveling along her nerves. Frank smiled, and Link’s words echoed.

Frank smiles and smiles, and all the time he’s looking for a weakness.

She told herself she didn’t believe that, but Link’s suspicions affected her anyway. “She just woke up. She doesn’t feel like going to someone else just now.”

Julia stepped closer, determination in every line of her fashionably thin figure. “The baby loves Cousin Julia. She’ll come to me.”

Ridiculous, to feel menaced by the woman. Annie tried to produce a smile. “Not now. Much as I’d like to chat with you, I have a great deal to do. So if you’ll excuse me…”

“Of course, of course. I’m sure you’re busy getting packed to go back to Boston.” Frank’s smile didn’t falter. He moved closer, almost as if he and Julia were closing in on her.

Annie’s tension jacked upward. “I’m not—”

“We realize how eager a career woman like you must be to get back to your job.” Frank reached for Marcy. “So we’ve come for the baby.”

He should have known Annie wouldn’t let herself be swept along with his idea. Link swiveled his desk chair to look out the window of Conrad and Morgan, Builders. Their tiny offices were located diagonally across the town square from the house that had been “the Conrad place” for generations.

No, he should have approached Annie in a way she’d understand. She’d always had to have every detail at her fingertips.

That had come between them before, when he couldn’t explain why he was so opposed to Davis’s abrupt decision to propose to Becca, bound as he’d been by promises and obligations. Whatever had started between the two of them had come to an untimely end.

He rubbed at the tension that had taken up residence at the back of his neck since the state police call had wakened him with the news of Davis and Becca’s accident. He and Davis smiled from the silver-framed photo atop the bookcase, taken the day they’d won the tennis doubles cup. He’d never hear Davis laugh again, never enjoy the interplay of ideas as they planned a new project, never see Davis’s joy in his baby daughter.

Something steeled inside him. All he could do now for his friend was to ensure Marcy’s inheritance. All he could do to protect the life he’d built in Lakeview was to save the company. Everyone in town knew how quickly Frank had run through his inheritance from his father. He wouldn’t let that happen to the company, for Marcy’s sake and his own. If the only way to those aims was marrying Annie, so be it.

An image of Annie’s stubborn face formed in his mind. Now he had to convince the bride.

Once, he’d been intrigued by that cool exterior of hers, wanting to know what lay behind it. He’d thought he was breaking through to her until everything blew up in the face of Davis’s sudden decision to elope.

He might be able to reach Annie again, but that armor of hers was probably stronger than it had been before.

The phone rang, and he reached for it. He’d given Vera Rowland, their secretary-receptionist, the day off, assuming he’d get nothing accomplished so soon after the funeral.

“Link?”

Annie’s voice sent him bolt upright in his chair. She sounded panic-stricken, and it took a lot to panic Annie Gideon.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Frank and Julia are here—” She choked on the words. “You’d better come.”

“I’ll be right there.” He was on his feet as he said the words. “Hang on.”

He covered the small outer office in a few strides and slammed out the door. Crossing the street, he jogged diagonally across the pocket-size park that formed Lakeview’s town square. At this hour on a September afternoon the only occupants were a couple of mothers with strollers and two elderly men feeding the squirrels. The park, like the Conrad house, exuded stability, roots, belonging. All the things he hadn’t had before he’d come to Lakeview. All the things he wouldn’t give up.

The door was unlocked, and he didn’t bother to knock. Apprehension carried him into the living room.

Annie clutched Marcy, with Frank and Julia pressing in on her. Embattled, she sent him a look of appeal mingled with relief. That must be some kind of first—for Annie to feel relief at the sight of him.

He moved toward them, feeling the balance of power shifting at his presence. Frank had obviously planned some sort of preemptive strike. Well, it wasn’t going to work.

“Frank, Julia.” He’d keep a polite demeanor if it killed him. Losing his temper with Frank would only play into the man’s hands. “What are you doing here?”

Frank’s smile didn’t falter. “I told Annie there was no need to call you. This is family business.”

“And I’m an outsider, I suppose. Annie did call me, so that means she wants me here.”