THE NEXT FEW days after the funeral, Isabel sorted through a few more items from her childhood home—crafts she’d made as a little girl, a framed photo of her from her beauty queen days that her father had kept on his dresser… Funny that a man’s life—and her own relationship with him—could be encapsulated in such innocuous items. She’d spent a good deal of time in tears, and then she’d looked at the calendar and realized that she had only a couple of days before her official store opening. She could have taken a week off, even more, but she didn’t want to. Sitting alone with her grief only made it worse. Besides, she was doing this in memory of her father.
George Baxter had been hungry for success, but more than that, he’d thrived on the challenge of starting up a new business. That his last venture had failed just before his death was even more heartbreaking because Isabel knew how much his ability to make something self-sustaining meant to him. She shared that drive. He might not have thought that this store could be a success, but she disagreed. And just like the rest of their relationship, she’d prove him wrong.
The morning her store was set to open, Isabel crouched in front of the chalk sandwich board and put her attention back into her grand opening announcement. Her boxed chocolates would all be two-for-one, today only. There would be free samples, the first tray of which were already arranged and waiting inside the kitchen. The sign was almost done—just a few more strokes and it would be about as good as she could make it.
There was a tap on the glass, and Isabel looked up to see Jenny smiling through the window. Isabel got up to let her in.
“Hi, Jenny,” she said with a smile. “Come on in. Am I glad to see you.”
She shut the door behind her and crouched in front of the sign once more.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” Jenny said, twisting her hands in front of her. “He was nice to me. He let me stay in my house. Do I have to move now?”
She was worried—Jenny didn’t hide her feelings well. It was written all over her face, and she licked her lips, waiting for Isabel to answer.
“What?” Isabel pushed herself to her feet. “No, Jenny. You don’t have to go anywhere.”
“But it’s your house now, right?” Jenny pressed. “James says—”
“Never mind that.” Isabel tried to smile reassuringly. “I do own the house now, but that doesn’t change anything for you. I have a home of my own, remember? It’s okay.”
Jenny relaxed slightly and dropped her hands to her sides. “Okay. So I can tell James I don’t have to move in with him?”
Isabel laughed softly. “You get to keep your privacy, Jenny.”
“When do we open?” Jenny asked.
Isabel looked at her watch. “In forty minutes. I’m just going to get this sign outside, and then I’ll help you in the kitchen. We need to have all the samples on trays and ready to go. I have one tray finished. Do you think you could start on another one? I’m making each tray a selection of different truffles and cream chocolates.”
Jenny nodded. “You bet.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Are you going to let her in?”
“Who?”
Isabel looked over to the window to see Britney standing by the glass, her hand shaded over her eyes to look inside. She wore a black pantsuit, her hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head and a pair of oversize sunglasses perched on top of her head. Isabel met her gaze through the window, and they stared at each other somberly. It had been an emotional week, and she had no idea what Britney wanted now.
Isabel opened the door a few inches and looked out. “Hi, Britney. What can I do for you?”
“I—” Britney let out a long breath. “I came to see if you needed a hand.”
Isabel blinked. “You what?”
“I came to help,” Britney repeated. “This being opening day and all.”
Isabel regarded Britney in frank surprise. What was the catch? More important, did she even want Britney here today? This was a day about her own dreams, not about Britney Baxter.
“I thought you didn’t approve,” Isabel countered.
“No, I said your dad didn’t approve.” Britney smiled wanly. “There’s a difference. And even though he didn’t like your business plan, I think he would have wanted us to be…friends.”
Isabel stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way. “Come in.” She angled her head.
“Unless you have enough help already,” Britney said. “And you don’t have to pay me.”
Isabel had Jenny, but Jenny was most comfortable in the back of the store away from customers, and one more person handing out samples while she rang up purchases would actually be a big help. She thought for a moment, then nodded in acquiescence.
“I’m good at that.” Britney pointed at the sandwich board. “I took a few art classes. Do you want me to spruce it up a little?”
Isabel looked from the chalk in her hand to Britney in surprise. “Sure.” She passed the chalk over. “Thanks.”
Britney flashed her a smile that lit up her young face. “I just need a stool or something to sit on.” She rubbed her belly. “Or else I won’t be able to get up again.”
Isabel pulled a low stool out from behind the counter. “Will this do?”
Britney settled herself in front of the sandwich board, and her slender hands began to move swiftly, switching colors of chalk as deftly as any artist.
Isabel looked at her watch once more. She was ten minutes closer to opening, and her stomach fluttered in anticipation.
This was hers. She’d dreamed about a chocolate shop for years, and she’d never really thought that it would be a possibility—at least not with her father’s blessing. He’d always been the financer of her dreams, and he’d financed this one, too. He just wouldn’t be around to see her actually succeed. Yet today with the summer sunshine streaming into her shop, her boxed chocolates arranged on the shelves, the smell of sweet chocolate mingling with the scent of fresh paint, she felt more confident in her own abilities than she ever had before.
Baxter’s Chocolates wasn’t opening because of her beautiful smile or her stunning looks. Baxter’s Chocolates wasn’t opening because her father’s friends were humoring her or because her father was bankrolling it like a hobby. This shop was opening because of her own vision and hard work, and that was a feeling she’d never experienced before.
“Britney,” Isabel said quietly, and the younger woman looked up.
“Why are you here…really.”
Britney was silent for a moment, and she turned back to the board, chalk scraping softly as she worked. Then she paused and looked up once more.
“You asked me if I ever wanted to do anything else in my life,” she said, eyes fixed on the work in front of her. “And I did. I wanted babies and to raise my kids, but I also wanted to help your dad out…in the business.”
Isabel eyed her stepmother in surprise. She’d wanted to be involved in the family business, too? If Isabel had learned this earlier, she might have been angry, even seen her as competition. But now, she recognized something familiar in Britney—a Baxter ambition.
“Did you tell him?” Isabel asked.
“No.” Britney glanced up, pink tingeing her cheeks. “I was working up to it. He kept kicking me out of the room whenever he talked business, so I didn’t think the time was right.”
No, it probably hadn’t been.
“He wouldn’t let me in, either,” Isabel said. “If it makes you feel any better.”
“He would have,” Britney said. “If he’d had a business left to run, I think he would have.”
Britney’s guess was as good as hers right now, but the facts remained that there wasn’t a Baxter Land Holdings left to build, but there was a Baxter’s Chocolates.
“Well, one day at a time,” Isabel said, and sucked in a breath. “Let’s get that sign out. We have thirty minutes until we open.”
She had Jenny in the back, her stepmother pitching in, and it looked like today might actually work out… The only thing missing to make it perfect was her father’s approval.
She’d be grateful that she had the support of the women in her life—perhaps the most surprising support possible. Maybe Britney wasn’t the enemy she’d imagined.
* * *
IT TOOK A FEW phone calls and several favors called in, but when James got the information from the state records office, he stared at the email in a state of shock.
…I’m sending some faxes of the originals, as well. If there is anything else I can do for you…
“This isn’t good,” he muttered. It seemed like his job was to deliver bad news lately. He double-checked the dates, the names, all the pertinent information. He’d searched through baptismal records first and come up with nothing. Then he took a shot at hospitals in the towns where Isabel’s parents had lived, looking for births to a mother named Stella Baxter. And bingo—it had almost been too easy.
“Yeah, it’s right…” He sighed and pushed himself up from his chair. This was the sort of thing he couldn’t fire off in a text message. Isabel deserved to hear this in person.
Grabbing his suit jacket, James angled his steps out of his office and down the air-conditioned hall. The receptionist sat at her desk, squinting at her computer screen.
“Maggie, I’ll be out for a little while. If there’s anything pressing, text me.”
“Will do, Mr. Hunter.” She smiled up from her desk. “Oh, these faxes just came for you—”
She spun around and grabbed some papers, then passed them over. James glanced at them. They were the scans from Montana’s state records. He nodded his thanks and headed out of the office.
As he walked down Main Street toward Nicholson Avenue, his mind was spinning. Of course, he wanted to see Isabel—he wanted the excuse to drop by. He would have found a reason, even if this hadn’t come up, but she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. She’d said that she thought the baby might be a cousin or a godchild. She wasn’t expecting a brother.
She’s opening her store today. The timing was miserable, and twice, he almost turned back, determined to leave this for a better time, but when would that be? Her father had passed away, her hopes of running the family business had been crushed, the family money evaporated, and what was left she had to share with her late father’s wife…but this was something he could give her—a small piece of information, a meager explanation. And then he was going to have to take an emotional step back.
He couldn’t be Isabel’s rescuer. She’d be fine—she was a Baxter, after all. Business sense was in their blood. And for all his client’s lack of faith in his daughter’s moneymaking abilities, James disagreed. Isabel was smarter than she looked, and hungrier for this than anyone else imagined. She’d succeed, if only to prove her point. She might be a wounded shark, but as she said, she was still a shark.
James stopped at the front of the store and looked through the window. Isabel stood with her back to him, sorting through some papers on the counter beside the cash register. He tapped on the glass, and she turned.
My God, she was beautiful. The scars didn’t take that away from her—if anything they made her more relatable. She was stunning, but she was on a mortal level now. Somehow, he didn’t think she’d stay there for long. Isabel wasn’t the “normal life” type. She’d build something more for herself.
“Hi, James.” She smiled, pulling open the door. “Ten minutes until I open.”
“Maybe this could wait—” He nodded to his sister and Britney, who were arranging some platters of chocolates.
“What is it?” Isabel asked. “Is it about the picture?”
“I found out who the baby is, but it’s probably better to let you focus on your opening day first. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“James, I’m perfectly capable of dealing with more than one thing at once.” She shot him an annoyed look. “What did you find?”
“Your parents lived in Billings before moving to Haggerston, right?” he asked.
“Yes. They came here just before I was born.”
“Well, I checked out the public birth records,” he said, then paused. “Did your mother ever mention a pregnancy before she had you?”
Isabel shook her head, but the color drained from her cheeks, and she put a hand back onto the counter. “Do I have a sibling?”
James nodded. “Well, you would have. There was a baby boy born two years before you—” He looked down at the certificate in his hand. “—to George and Stella Baxter at the Saint Vincent Hospital in Billings, Montana. He was born on September 6 at one fifteen in the morning.”
When he felt uncomfortable with feelings, James dug down into facts and figures. He knew his own tendency to hide in the minutiae, and he shot Isabel an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry,” he concluded.
“I have a brother out there somewhere?” she breathed. “Why? How? I don’t understand—”
“He passed away,” James explained. “He was only three days old when he died. The death certificate says that he was born with severe birth defects, and I suppose he just couldn’t make it.”
Isabel took the papers from his hands and looked down at them, her lips moving silently as her eyes scanned the words. She shook her head slowly.
“Tyler Baxter,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his. “His name was Tyler. I don’t understand… Why did they hide him? Why wouldn’t Dad say anything—” She swallowed hard, the papers falling to the counter beside her.
“I don’t know,” James said quietly. “But the information was available in public records for anyone who cared to look.”
“I was their only child.” Her voice grew strong again. “I was their one and only child. That’s what they told me. They said they longed for a baby, and when my mother discovered she was pregnant with me, I was an answer to her prayers. She was never able to have any more children, and I was it.”
“Maybe they thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
“Why not?” she retorted. “How would it have changed anything to tell me?”
“Maybe they couldn’t cope with it,” he suggested quietly. Grief did strange things to people.
Isabel nodded, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Do you have the picture?”
James pulled the photo from his pocket and passed it over. She looked down at the picture and smoothed a finger gently over its surface.
“Thank you, James.” Her voice was low and choked. “This is—” She sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”
“Look, Izzy, I—” James wasn’t sure how to say what he was feeling. “If you need anything—”
What was he hoping she’d say? He knew he needed to back off, but here he was, putting himself forward again. She just looked so vulnerable standing there, shocked by this news and rocked by the loss of her father. He didn’t know what he was hoping she’d ask for, but he knew he’d give it—whatever it was she wanted. That was the power she’d always held over men, but for him it wasn’t because she was beautiful, it was because she was her. He’d fallen for her—against all his better judgment—and he’d have to deal with his emotional fallout alone.
“I’m fine.” She nodded curtly. “I’m fine.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him. “I have a store to open. Thank you for this, James. Just give me an invoice, and I’ll pay you.”
What she was feeling with all of this, he could only guess. But she wasn’t looking to him for comfort.
“This one was on the house,” he said.
“That’s sweet.” She wiped a tear from her cheek that had slipped past her defenses. “But I’ll pay you, James. You don’t owe me anything.”
And maybe he didn’t. Was he just another fool reading more into Isabel Baxter’s smiles and touches than he should?
“Take care, Izzy.”
As he turned away, he made the choice to keep walking. It was time for him to back off. She might be a Baxter without a fortune, but she was still a Baxter, and he knew what that meant. She was his sister’s boss and landlord. That balance of power was always tipped ever so slightly in her favor.
She’d be just fine. Baxters landed on their feet.