| |
December 6th
THE MOMENT THE BELL rang, Colson looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. Almost six o’clock. If that was Blair, she was right on time. The caretaker must have let her in through the gate.
He stepped away from the ancient trunk full of photos he’d been riffling through all afternoon. The morning had been spent lugging furniture up and down stairs to the attic or basement for safekeeping, and he’d exerted himself so much that his back had all but given out. Hence going through family photographs. But Blair was here now, so he was going to have to put on one hell of a brave face so he wouldn’t look like a wimp in front of her.
Colson set a pile of black and white photos down on the coffee table and strode up to the front door, ignoring the twinge in his back. Ordinarily, household staff would have answered the door, but with his great-grandmother gone, most of the servants had moved on to other places. Colson had helped to find most of them work over the past few months, so it was just him and the caretaker left in the old house. Which, to his surprise, had suited him well so far as he made his way to the front door. He’d spent most of his life relying on servants and assistants, but this Christmas, he was essentially on his own for the first time in his life. That felt oddly satisfying. He had to handle everything, and he probably needed it, even if his back ached.
He opened the front door, granting her a smile when he realized that it was her. “Thanks for coming.”
“You live here?” She hadn’t returned his smile and was currently glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide as she clutched a silver gift bag to her chest.
“Well, my great-grandmother did. And her parents before her,” he replied, following her gaze to the foyer behind him. He tried to see the place through her eyes. From the foyer they were standing in, to the hallway leading to the rest of the mansion, there was an intimidating grandeur to the old manor. The stately home boasted stone floors, vaulted ceilings, and a winding staircase. Not to mention, the chandelier overhead and the damask curtains that undoubtedly still cost a fortune.
In the distance, the grandfather clock chimed the hour and he looked back at her. The shock hadn’t left her face. Blair seemed to be shaking her head in denial.
In that moment, he couldn’t tell if her shock was good or bad. His chest tightened. If she was having a negative reaction to all the unexpected opulence, Colson was sunk. She already considered him to be an arrogant jerk, but a mansion would pretty much seal his fate. Or maybe he’d get lucky and she’d let him get away with concealing the truth this whole time. That hardly seemed likely. Either way, it was time to bite the bullet. Time to have the discussion he’d been putting off since they’d met.
“Come in out of the cold,” he said, motioning for her to enter. “Didn’t have too much trouble finding the place?”
“No, I had no trouble. It’s easy to find since you can see this place from town. When you gave me the address, I thought you must have meant one of the houses on the way here. But you really did mean the old mansion...” Blair walked in, the awe still evident on her face.
He shut the double doors, locking out the chill. When he turned to her, he found Blair spinning slowly, taking in the room as she moved.
His heart sped up as he watched her. She was so beautiful, that look of wonder brightened her brown eyes and made her seem to glow from within. Her cheeks were turning a faint pink and he saw curiosity was starting to take hold.
“Your coat?” he asked.
Blair glanced his way, pausing to grant him a nod.
Quickly, Colson helped her out of her coat, taking the silver gift bag she handed to him.
“It’s the book you wanted,” she explained. “A nineteenth century copy of A Christmas Carol.”
“Thanks. I’ve got the payment for you in the living room,” he said.
“Colson. This house...” Again, she surveyed their surroundings, her eyes darting from one end of the foyer to the other.
She probably hadn’t gotten over her awe. And he wasn’t going to get over his because underneath the coat, Blair wore a tight, red sheath dress that fell right below her knees, sheer stockings that drove him to distraction, and heels that accentuated her shapely legs. Her body was incredible. He had to clear his throat to keep from saying something that gave his desire away.
“It was built in late nineteenth century.” Colson would have to explain this slowly. Maybe she’d give him a chance if he gave her time to absorb everything.
“I can see that. Definitely around the turn of the century,” she said, chewing her lower lip. Her eyes landed on the table in front of the foyer mirror. Whatever she had planned to say next vanished as her mouth fell open. “That watch on the table.”
“Blair, I need to explain something—”
She brushed past him, heading for the table to glance at the pocket watch his great-grandmother had gifted him a few years ago. “This is Opal Stephens’ watch. Why do you have it?”
Now it was his turn to be shocked. “You knew Opal?”
He caught her reflection in the mirror, noting the serious look of concentration as she inspected the watch. Damn, she was beautiful when she got interested in something. Her passion was infectious and her curiosity stirred him. There was a danger that both of those qualities would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t careful.
This was a business transaction. Nothing more. Colson had to remember that.
Not only did he have to accept that, but it also looked like it was well past time for him to come clean and face the music. Yet now that she was here, he could see that she had hidden depths as well. Even though he hadn’t revealed much about his family, she seemed to know about his great-grandmother. How? The only way he’d get answers was if he made a confession of his own. Colson never would have guessed that they’d both have some explaining to do.
***
“HOW DID YOU KNOW OPAL?” he repeated, keeping his eyes on her reflection in the mirror. Even though her back was turned, he saw the expression on her lovely face. A combination of confusion, surprise, and keen interest flashed in her brown eyes.
“I didn’t know her well,” Blair replied, pressing her full lips together while she continued inspecting the gold watch. “Opal came into my store a few years ago. She was a delightful old lady who knew everything and laughed at her own jokes. Anyway, she’d arrived looking for a Christmas present to give her grandson.”
“Great-grandson,” he corrected.
Blair paused, their air leaving the room as she seemed to take in the confession. When the truth finally sunk in, she whirled around. “Opal was your great-grandmother? Oh, Colson, she was the loved one you lost.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, sincerity lacing her words.
Grateful as he was for it, Colson wasn’t used to sympathy. Colson came from a family of stoics. They didn’t show emotions, even if they had them. Sometimes he felt like his parents had ice water in their veins. They weren’t inclined to sympathy, mercy, or pity. Which was why his great-grandmother had meant so much to him. She didn’t hide her feelings. Didn’t think that kindness was the ultimate weakness. Opal lived life to the fullest and she never held back. If only he’d learned how to do that. But it was too late now. She was gone.
“Appreciate that,” he said in a neutral tone. “I’m fine. Getting through it.”
“You know, it’s okay to mourn her,” Blair said gently. “To miss her.”
“Don’t have time to dwell.” He was about to head out of the foyer to put her coat away and get down to work, but his eyes landed on the golden pocket watch. While the watch worked perfectly, it was totally useless in the twenty-first century when a cell phone or a smartwatch would do the job just as well. But he’d loved that gift because it was rare. Not the usual impersonal, forgettable gift that he usually gave and received. The pocket watch was masculine in an antiquated sort of way and yet, despite its impracticality for the modern era, it was timeless. Eternal. An elegant reminder that something that seemed impractical for one task, could be perfectly useful for another. In this case it was more ornamental than necessary. But it was also sentimental. That watch had never helped him tell time, but he liked to keep it close so he could keep time in his own way. Whenever he looked at the watch, memories of his great-grandmother came back to him. Memories of Opal and what she’d meant to him as a child—a reminder of the passage of time.
All that passing time was most evident during the holidays at the end of the year. End-of-year holidays were a turning of a page. Except, this year like so many years preceding it, had felt like a blur to him. Same as every year. All he did was work, so he could barely remember anything. The only things he could recall were Opal’s death and meeting Blair. Both so significant, he knew that he’d never forget either of them.
The thought forced the air out of his lungs. No. He couldn’t think about Blair in those terms. Sure, he no longer thought of her as a stranger, but she’d emphasized that they were nothing more than friends. Colson needed to slam the door on his feelings.
“A watch reminds you that there is time,” Blair said, as if she had read his earlier thoughts. She followed his gaze to the table. “I helped Opal choose it.”
His heart slammed against his chest. Then it stopped abruptly. “You helped her pick the watch?”
“She seemed to want something that would remind you to slow down,” Blair explained, nodding. “She said that her great-grandson worked too hard.”
That was true. In addition to gifting him the timepiece, Opal had written a letter to go with it saying something to that effect.
Slow down, Colson. Otherwise your whole life will pass you by.
But of course Opal would feel that way. Opal had only married a Bennett, so she was part of the family through marriage, not by birth like he was. Since she hadn’t been born a Bennett, his great-grandmother hadn’t pressured him with expectations of outsized family obligation. Mostly because even though Opal was a rich woman in her own right when she’d married into the family, her roots were working-class. Her father had been the gardener who ended up making his own fortune by the time Opal came of age. So while the Bennett’s pedigree went back hundreds of years, the Stephens side started as a working-class family. Practically a mortal sin in Colson’s world—Opal’s father being self-made had been the only thing that saved her in the eyes of society. And even then, that self-made fortune had barely saved her. Gossip was relentless and she got a chilly reception sometimes. Which was one of the reasons why she liked living in a small town rather than living as the center of gossip in Boston.
That sort of treatment made her want to protect her children from whatever harsh judgement came their way. She’d wanted her family to live happy lives, free of judgement. An idealistic fantasy. But Opal’s youth had been hard before her father struck it rich, and she hadn’t wanted hardship for anyone else. Which was why she had been kind and compassionate, despite her no-nonsense attitude.
“You got along with her,” he said, as a strange feeling washed over him. A feeling he could barely describe, because how the hell could he explain the uncanny sensation of discovering that Blair had known Opal well enough to help her choose a Christmas gift for him?
“Like I said, I only spent a few hours in her company, but I did feel like I’d known her all my life. Maybe that’s a family trait.” Blair smiled. “Speaking of family...if Opal lived here that made her a Bennett. Gosh, I remember being heartbroken to read her obituary, but it listed her last name as Stephens-Bennett. Or was it Bennett-Stephens? Anyway, I didn’t realize that she was one of the Bennetts. I didn’t realize that the sweet old lady who dropped by my little store lived in this house.”
“Yes, she lived here. Even as a child, she lived in the servant’s quarters,” he explained. “Opal’s father was the gardener in those days, but when her father made his fortune, that was enough for Opal to catch the eye of the man who owned the place. That’s how she became a Bennett. Through marriage.”
The smile on her face was gone again. “That means you’re a Bennett too, correct?”
He swallowed hard. Here it was. The moment he’d been dreading for days. The moment of truth. “Yes, I’m a Bennett.”
Her eyes widened. “Colson, your ancestors founded the town,” she said in disbelief.
Colson shrugged, trying to downplay what he knew was only going to end up being an exaggeration. People sometimes responded to his family history with a little too much awe. A reaction that pleased his parents, but left Colson uncomfortable. “Well, they did a lot of things.”
“Right. The Bennetts founded Mislin Bush. And they basically constructed every building in town for the past two centuries,” she said.
“Construction, real estate, and architecture happen to be the Bennett family business,” he said, stretching his arm out to emphasize his point. “As you can see.”
“The Bennetts designed this house.”
He cleared his throat. “Among other things.”
“It’s not like you to be modest or humble,” she observed with a raised eyebrow.
“You know me that well already?”
Blair came closer, her heels clicking against the floor, hips swaying in a way that distracted him. “You’re confident to the point of arrogance,” she said, not mincing her words. One thing about Blair, she wasn’t the type to spare his feelings with phony niceness. She wasn’t tactless, but she certainly had no qualms about saying what she thought. Another trait he liked. “Why hide the truth? Especially when that kind of information makes you look good?”
“I look good on my own,” he returned smoothly. “I don’t need the Bennett family name to achieve that.”
She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lush mouth curved upwards ever so slightly. “Looks like I was wrong. Your arrogance hasn’t diminished one bit.”
He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of taking the bait.
“Excuse me for a second,” he said before exiting the foyer to put her coat away.
Colson returned a couple of minutes later, holding the leatherbound book. He found her exploring the foyer, inspecting the furniture with an undeniable interest. Heat surged through him when he saw her bending over to assess a chair, the curve of her backside rendering him speechless for several long moments. When he managed to get his jaw off the floor he coughed politely to let her know he was back. As much as he wanted to admire her, it was kind of a dick move to stare at her.
“I was just admiring this side chair,” she said, turning to him. As she looked in his direction, his heart started to pound the moment their eyes met. He saw the excitement written on her face. She seemed to glow with it. This was her in her element and he’d never seen her look more beautiful. Blair took his breath away. “Cherrywood. Late nineteenth century, I think.”
“That piece isn’t for sale unfortunately,” he told her, barely recovering from the way his heart slammed in his chest. “A cousin reminded me that it was a wedding gift. I believe the governor at the time gave it to Opal and my great-grandfather. It holds a lot of sentimental value so it will stay in the family. Everything that’s going up for sale has been moved into either the attic or the basement.”
“Must have made quite a gift at the time,” she said.
“Sure did. Though, I think the governor was more interested in winning their support.” He paused, then extended his arm. “Guess I should reintroduce myself. I’m Colson Bennett. Pleasure to meet you.”
Blair accepted his hand with an amused look on her face. Clearly, she appreciated his attempt at smoothing things over with humor. When their hands connected, he felt the softness of her palm against his. The warmth of her skin made him wish he could touch the rest of her. A highly inappropriate thought that he knew he’d never shake. He craved her so much that a simple handshake ended up feeling like an electrical charge going through him. Desire rushed through his bloodstream and he didn’t cool down when she slowly—and seemingly reluctantly—pulled her hand away.
“Pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Bennett,” she said, her voice low and husky.
“Colson,” he corrected. “I hope we’re still on a first-name basis, Blair.”
Her eyes lowered, lashes sweeping against her cheeks as they turned pink. A telltale sign that his words were having some sort of effect on her. As if she could hear the meaning in his tone. Every so often, she reacted to him in ways that made him wonder if she truly meant it when she said that they were just friends. Not that it would matter. Friends was all they could be. Flirting with her couldn’t turn into anything more.
“Colson. Of course,” she said breathlessly, her body trembling ever so slightly as she lifted her gaze to meet his. There was a smile on her face that was so beautiful he momentarily lost his train of thought.
Blair was so different from the type of women he usually interacted with. They were all beautiful, smart, sophisticated, but so much of what they expressed was a careful, paradoxical balance of invitation and indifference. Upper-class women would literally slide their phone numbers over to him while forcing themselves to look as bored as possible while doing it. It was all carefully crafted artifice that ended relationships just as quickly as they had started. But in spending time with someone as passionate and fascinating as Blair, he’d realized that bored people were, well, boring. A bored woman going through the motions of life wasn’t going to exude the charm and energy that Blair did. And truth be told, he’d played that game too. For most of his life. But Blair made it impossible to go on playing games. She was far too earnest for that.
Everything felt so natural with her. He’d never been so at ease with anyone. Which terrified him. Colson wasn’t used to sincerity. Proof that high society’s requirement to be as emotionless as possible when pursing anyone or anything had probably screwed him up in ways he was only just beginning to notice.
Perhaps that meant she deserved some explanation. He’d hidden the truth from her, and when she’d asked why, he hadn’t given her an answer. Colson could give her one now. “To answer your earlier question, I kept the truth about my family to myself because I didn’t want it to get in the way.”
“So you’re saying that you didn’t want me thinking you were a rich jerk?” she asked plainly.
Colson almost laughed at her straightforward question. “Yes.”
“Too late.”
This time he really did laugh. “Enough of that. Would you like to see the items?” he asked, finally remembering the purpose of her visit.
“Yes, I’m dying to see everything up close,” she said excitedly.
He led her through the mansion, taking a detour to the living room to set the book down and hand over an envelope with the payment. Then, he took her downstairs to the well-lit basement where he’d been storing antique furniture for the past few days.
Blair immediately pulled her phone out when she stepped inside. She stopped to inspect a vintage card table, pausing to take photos.
“Should I leave you to it?” he asked.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Blair said, whirling around to face him. “You’re not going to just dump this on me and disappear.”
“I assumed you worked alone,” he said.
“I’m not working on this project without you.” She meant it platonically, of course. It was a professional courtesy. But, when she reached for his arm and pulled him to her side, Colson wasn’t so sure. Not that he was about to complain. They were standing so close that he could feel the warmth of her body. If only they didn’t have so many layers of clothes separating them.
“Anyway, I’m pretty sure this table is from the eighteenth century,” she added, jarring him out of his lustful thoughts.
“Well, what do you want me to do? Carry it?” he asked, remembering his back.
“Yes, but I really need you to answer questions. Especially about family history,” she said. “That will help me to authenticate items. However, I do need to get in touch with my appraiser if I want to price everything. Plus I’ll need to take photos for the appraisal so I can eventually catalogue the collection...”
Colson could barely keep up with what she was saying as she continued to move from one item to another, murmuring to herself as she dragged him along. She was talking about things he didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he liked hearing the sound of her voice drift through the basement, even though he had no idea what exactly she was talking about. Blair could talk his ear off for hours as far as he was concerned and he’d never get tired of hearing her.
“Colson, have you heard a word I’ve been saying?”
That snapped him out of it. “Want to repeat that?”
Sighing, she said, “My store is too small for all of this stuff. Which means we have to discuss parameters of the sale. Basically the who, what, where, when, why, and how of it all.”
“I did tell you that your store was small,” he reminded her.
Blair glared daggers at him. “Never mind that. Do you have any idea what you have here?”
“Old stuff that my great-grandmother had planned on getting rid of,” he said. “None of the stuff down here has any sentimental value. These are just things she started collecting after my great-grandfather passed away before I was even born.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if this old stuff, as you call it, is actually worth hundreds of thousands if not a few million dollars in total,” she said. “There’s a stack of paintings over there that will probably go for a hundred thousand dollars each.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I just want to get this process going so that I can return to Boston,” he said. “Hopefully by New Year’s.”
She bit her lip then, something like sadness flashing in her brown eyes. But that couldn’t be it. Blair must have been trying to bite back her annoyance. No doubt she was counting the days for his departure.
“Right. Well, I can take some more photos, but this is a big project,” she said. “I’ll have to come back sometime this week to at least hammer out the details.”
“No problem. How about tomorrow?”
“Fine. Tomorrow works,” she said. “I do hope you realize this means that we’ll also be discussing my share of the money.”
“Of course,” he said, smiling. “Hope that means you realize that you’ll be joining me for dinner.”
