It was almost five p.m. when Stevie parked in front of McKellar Auto Service on the following Wednesday afternoon. She’d made the drive on one of her rash impulses and she was absolutely certain her husband would not approve had he known about it. But he was out of town, and she’d fought the urge as long as she could before heading north when she’d left a kitchen remodel job an hour earlier.
She might finally see her husband angry after this, she thought wryly as she climbed out of her car. But she’d been trying to think of something important to do for Cole ever since they’d gotten married. She hoped the result of this reckless mission would be worth incurring his initial anger.
There was more activity around the place than during her last brief visit, though she could tell it was nearing closing time. Several of the bay doors were open and she could see both mechanics and customers milling inside. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best time to come by. Would Jim find her visit more intrusive than welcome?
She let herself into the door marked Office, finding only one person inside the cramped room. The broad-hipped, plain-faced woman at the paper-cluttered desk appeared to be about the same age as Jim. She wore a flowered T-shirt, faded jeans and sneakers, and her gray-streaked dishwater blond hair was tied back in a low ponytail. Was this Jim’s wife?
“What can I do for you?” the woman asked in a broad country drawl. “Are you picking up a car?”
“Actually, I’d like to see Mr. McKellar, if he can spare just a few minutes.”
The woman eyed her through red plastic-framed glasses. “Can I say who’s calling?”
“I’m his daughter-in-law. My name is Stevie.”
The older woman walked slowly around the end of the counter-styled desk. “You’re Cole’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Peggy. Cole’s stepmama.” She directed a look at Stevie’s middle, then glanced back up at her face. “Nice to meet you. I was sorry I missed you when you stopped by before.”
So at least Jim had mentioned their visit. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Mrs. McKellar,” she said warmly.
“Call me Peggy. Nothing’s wrong with Cole, is there? He’s okay?”
“Cole’s fine. He’s out of state on a business trip but he’ll be back in a couple of days.”
Peggy’s eyebrows rose. “Does he know you’re here?”
Making a little face, Stevie shook her head. “No.”
“I’ll get Jim. Move that parts catalog and sit in that chair if you need to take a load off your feet.”
“I’m fine, thank you. I can’t stay long.”
Perhaps five minutes passed before Jim stepped in, closing the door behind him. He was wiping his hands on a shop towel, something Stevie now suspected was a habit to keep him from having to shake hands. She didn’t bother to offer hers this time, though she gave him her most winning smile. “Hi, Mr. McKellar. It’s good to see you again.”
He nodded curtly. “What can I do for you?”
She felt her smile dim a little. To be honest, she was so accustomed to rather easily disarming people that she was a little startled Jim was not particularly receptive to her. “I just wanted a few words with you, if you have a couple of minutes.”
“Did Cole send you?”
“No. He’s away on a business trip. He doesn’t know I’m here. It was sort of an impulsive visit.”
“Hmph.” Jim swept her with a look. “When are you due?”
“Early August. It’s a boy. I thought you’d like to know.”
The math was simple enough. He grunted, his face showing no particular emotional reaction to the news that he would have a grandson. Was he really so cold, or was he even better than his son at masking his thoughts?
“So that explains the quickie marriage. One of them ‘have to’ situations, huh?”
“No one ‘has to’ get married these days, Mr. McKellar. Cole and I chose to marry.” For purposes that were none of his business, she added silently.
He shrugged. “I understand he makes good money doing whatever it is he does with computers.”
For a moment she didn’t follow him. The comment seemed to be a non sequitur. When it suddenly occurred to her what he was suggesting, she drew back with a frown. “I certainly didn’t ‘trap’ Cole into marriage, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Jim shook his head. Apparently her words had left him unconvinced. “That boy has always been a sucker for a woman in trouble. He married that last girl knowing she was likely going to die, but she didn’t have anyone else to care for her at the time, coming from the worthless family she had. I didn’t see any reason for him to put himself through that, but he never would listen to my advice. I know he went into debt paying her medical bills. Not that he ever asked for a penny from me, I’ll give him that. So if you think he’s got a bunch of money stashed away somewhere, I’d imagine you’re wrong.”
“Mr. McKellar—”
Either he didn’t notice the signs of her mounting temper or he waved them off as insignificant. “And don’t think you’re going to get anything here, either. Everything I got is sunk into this place. The boy could have had this business given to him outright someday, but he always thought he was too good for dirty mechanic work,” he added bitterly. “Instead, he holes up with his computer and spends all his money helping the women who marry him because they need someone to take care of them.”
Furious now, Stevie drew herself up to her full five feet two inches, clenching her hands at her sides. “You might be my father-in-law, Mr. McKellar, but I’ve got to tell you... You’re a—a...” A word Cole wryly used after frustrating business transactions popped into her head, and she applied it with no trace of humor. “A moron.”
His brows lowered into a deep V of disbelief. “What did you—”
“I did not come here to ask you for money,” she said, cutting him off. “And how dare you make that assumption?”
“Then why would you come here behind Cole’s back?”
“Because I’m a moron, too,” she replied with a bitter shake of her head. “I didn’t come to ask for anything. I came to offer something. I stupidly thought I could charm you into making a new start with your son. It never even occurred to me that a kind, honorable, courteous man like Cole would come from a father who is so rude and...and just mean.”
“Look, I—”
She swept on, her hands fluttering in agitation. “You’re intentionally blind if you can’t see what a fine man your son has turned out to be. He works very hard and he has gained a great deal of respect from people who recognize his intelligence and competence. You should be proud of what he’s accomplished rather than trying to make him feel guilty because he didn’t want to take over this business. He never thought he was too good for mechanic work. That’s not the kind of man he is. He simply pursued the work that best suited him and that made him happy, which is what any parent should want for his child. And by the way, he obviously respects you more than you do him. He told me that you’re a damned good mechanic, that there’s not an engine in existence you can’t tear down and rebuild, and that you’ve invested very wisely in your business and have been very successful with it.”
“He said that?”
She was on a roll and in no mood to listen now. “He didn’t tell you about the baby because he didn’t think you’d care. I thought maybe he was wrong. I thought maybe you’d like the chance to be a granddad to this little boy. Despite the appalling example you’ve set, Cole will make a wonderful father. This child and I are very lucky to have him in our lives. You’re the one who’s losing out. So, here’s the deal, Mr. McKellar. If you have even a lick of sense inside that stubborn head of yours, you’ll apologize to your son and try to repair some of the damage your stubborn pride has done to your relationship.”
She could tell by the stunned look in his dark eyes that gruff, stern Jim McKellar was not accustomed to being talked to in that manner. Did no one ever stand up to him when he acted like a total jackass? If not, it was past time someone did.
“I’m leaving,” she said, moving to the door with as much dignity as she could manage in her condition. “I assume you have your son’s telephone number if you come to your senses.”
She didn’t give him a chance to reply before she let herself out and stalked to her car.
Her seething resentment on Cole’s behalf lasted until she’d arrived home. She stamped into the house that still smelled of fresh paint and sawdust. The staircase to the second floor was now completed, leading to a small landing that branched into a nearly completed office on either side. She thought she could work quite comfortably in hers and Cole had assured her he felt the same way about the one he’d helped design for himself. It wasn’t like having an entire house to himself, of course, but it would be very nice, she assured herself in an attempt to assuage a sudden, inexplicable ripple of guilt.
That boy has always been a sucker for a woman in trouble.
He spends all his money helping the women who marry him because they need someone to take care of them.
Jim’s acrimonious comments echoed in her mind as she walked through the empty house.
As often as she tried to convince herself that Cole had gained as much from their marriage as she, there was always a niggling suspicion that he was giving the most. She’d wanted to believe his wants were simple—a compatible wife, a family, a nice home to return to from his business trips. But she was tormented by the feeling that there was something more he needed, even if he wasn’t aware of it himself. She’d thought reconciling him with his father would be a gift she could give to him, but now she wondered if maybe she’d just made everything worse.
She groaned and pushed her hands through her hair. She only hoped Cole wouldn’t someday regret the day he’d ever moved next door to her.
* * *
As Stevie had predicted, Cole was not thrilled when he found out what she’d done. Still, he seemed as annoyed with her for making the drive by herself as he was for interfering with his family.
“That was reckless,” he said, his tone as critical as it had ever been with her. “What were you thinking?”
She shook her head impatiently. She’d understand if he was angry. She’d even been prepared for a flash of previously unseen temper, but not for this reason. “Obviously, I’m perfectly capable of making an hour’s drive. I’m trying to apologize for butting into your affairs without checking with you first.”
“It was a two-hour drive round trip,” he reminded her. “And anything could have gone wrong. You don’t need to be taking chances at this stage in your pregnancy.”
Was he redirecting his irritation at her for speaking with his father into a less complicated and slightly more justifiable, in his mind at least, annoyance with her for risking her health?
“I drove carefully and, of course, I had my phone with me. It’s not as if your father lives on a different continent, though you wouldn’t know it from the way you two behave.”
He drew a deep breath and she wondered if he was mentally counting to ten.
“Say what you need to say, Cole.”
Another ten-count and he finally spoke, though he kept both the words and the tone coolly controlled. “I appreciate what you were trying to do, Stevie. You just wanted to help.”
Taken by surprise, she frowned. “It’s okay if you’re mad. You can tell me. I know I stepped over the line.”
He shrugged, his dark eyes revealing nothing. “Like I said, you were trying to help. You just didn’t realize what you’d married into when it comes to your father-in-law.”
She hadn’t told him everything because she didn’t want Cole to become too outraged on her behalf in case the two men mended their bridges in the future. She’d said only that his father hadn’t seemed pleased by her visit, nor had he shown particular enthusiasm for a grandchild.
Cole didn’t bother with further chastisements. He merely drew a long, deep breath and then said, “In the future, maybe it would be best if we discuss things like this first, though you hardly need my permission to do anything. Just be careful, okay?”
She blinked rapidly. Seriously? That was it? “I’m just saying, it’s okay if you’re angry. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me.”
Squeezing the back of his neck, he looked at her with an expression that bewildered her. Was he actually amused now? “Honestly, Stevie, do you want me to be mad? I mean, if it’s important to you, I’ll try to work up some righteous indignation, but I’d rather have dinner, if it’s all the same to you. That chili smells really good.”
Of course she didn’t want him to be mad, she fumed as she turned to finish preparing the meal. He was absolutely correct that she’d meant well, that she’d tried to reach out to his father for Cole’s sake. She’d been fully prepared to make those arguments if he’d scolded her. So why did it perturb her that he’d made her case for her, instead?
She just wanted him to feel free to be himself with her, she thought with a sigh. She didn’t want to be seen as a damsel in distress. She wanted him to know she was here for him, too, if ever he happened to be the one in distress.
Would calm, controlled, utterly self-sufficient Cole ever need anything from her? And if he did, would he ever have enough faith in her to show it?
* * *
A week later the home offices were ready for occupation. It had taken only five weeks from clearing the attic to the last touches of paint. Stevie was delighted to have the construction out of the way so they could move Cole’s things over, finish the nursery and set up the guest room. Meanwhile they’d decided to sell his house, agreeing that what had been Stevie’s home would now serve their needs well for many years to come.
They took a weekend off work to move boxes into the new offices and unpack. Cole had taken advantage of her design experience to help him with his space. He’d told her what he liked and approved the plan she’d then created for him. She’d made use of artwork and other items from his house mixed with a few new pieces she’d bought, keeping the color palette warm and earthy. Her office, of course, was a mix of the grays and greens she loved with corkboard on the walls for the notes and photos and inspiration pages that she always seemed to collect.
Dusty insisted on “helping” with the office setup, winding around their ankles, rubbing her cheek against everything she could reach to make sure it was marked with her scent. Stevie petted the cat fondly, thinking this was as much her home now as it was theirs.
“Here?” Cole asked, holding a framed print of an antique map up against the wall opposite the dormer window.
Stevie tilted her head and studied it with narrowed eyes. “Just a little lower. There. Hang it right there.”
He marked the spot with a pencil, then reached for a hammer and nail. Stevie arranged two small bronze figurines of samurai warriors on a shelf above his computer monitor, smiling at the whimsy of them. Cole had only a few personal treasures he cared to display, but he’d shown a fondness for this set, which he said had been a gift. He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t ask for details, but she took care in finding just the right spot to display them.
Satisfied, she opened another box while he hung the print. A framed photograph smiled up at her when she looked into the box. It rested on several other frames and what might have been a couple of photo albums and scrapbooks. “Oh, I’m sorry. This looks like personal rather than business stuff.”
He glanced over his shoulder and went still. “I’m not planning to unpack that box.”
She couldn’t resist taking out the 5”×7” frame, gripping it carefully between her hands as she studied the woman in the photograph. She wasn’t beautiful, not even pretty, exactly, but she had a sweet, pleasant face and a generous smile. Her hair and eyes were brown, her skin tone slightly olive. Though this was only a headshot, cropped just below the shoulders, Stevie got the impression she’d been very thin. The expression in her eyes spoke of warmth and kindness underlain with difficult experience, or maybe Stevie was just projecting what little she’d heard about her. “This is Natasha?”
“Yes.”
“She looks amazing,” she said sincerely.
“She was. You’d have liked her.”
“I’m sure I would have.”
Replacing the photo in the box, she closed the lid gently. Cole lifted it onto the top shelf in the big storage closet, then closed the shutter-style door.
Settling on the floor in front of his desk to start connecting wires, he glanced up at her as she stood there watching him. “You can ask,” he said, either reading her expression or knowing her so well.
“Only a couple of questions,” she promised.
He nodded.
“How did you meet her?”
“We met in high school. She was born with a heart condition and she was sick a lot. One of our teachers asked if I would tutor her in math to help her keep up. We became friends. Lord knows she needed a friend then.”
“Why?”
He reached beneath the desk, his voice muffled when he said, “Bad family life. Alcoholic parents, couple of troublemaker brothers. My dad didn’t like me hanging around her because he didn’t approve of her family—not that anyone else did, either. Even outside of that, everyone treated her differently because they thought of her as sickly. Which I guess she was, but she had a sharp, creative mind and she was trapped in a family that didn’t much value academic accomplishments.”
Like his own father? Had that lack of parental bonding drawn Natasha and him together?
“Anyway,” he continued, emerging with a surge protector cord in hand, “her health got better after high school and she was able to attend college on a full scholarship. Then one of her brothers went to jail and her dad got sick. Her mother tried to talk her into quitting college and moving home to serve as a live-in cook and maidservant, despite Tasha’s own health issues. She refused and was forbidden to come home after that, even on holidays. She didn’t mind too much since her family’s idea of celebrating a holiday was drinking too much and getting into a brawl.”
“How on earth did she turn out so well coming from that background?”
He shrugged. “We always joked about it being a recessive gene. She didn’t think she was better than her family,” he clarified, “but they led a life that didn’t interest her, and they couldn’t accept her for being different.”
That statement seemed to Stevie to even more strongly reinforce her feeling that Cole and Natasha had connected over their similar family issues, though Cole had been spared the alcoholic parents and criminal brothers.
“Anyway, Natasha and I got married not long after college graduation. It seemed like the right move at the time for both of us.”
“Your father didn’t approve.” That wasn’t a guess, of course, since Jim had made it clear enough.
“No. Our relationship, which was already strained by my choice to study computer science rather than car mechanics, has been even more distant since. I entered grad school and Tasha got a desk job processing insurance claims. We had almost six years together. Her health was stable enough for the first few years that we were encouraged to start planning a future. We talked about maybe adopting a child—but then, five years ago, she caught pneumonia. She was never able to recover fully, and it was too much for her weak heart to take.”
She searched his face. Though he wore no particular expression, his eyes looked dark and clouded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He nodded and plugged in another piece of equipment.
She leaned down to brush a light kiss against his cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me. And now I should probably start dinner.”
He pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his hands. “Why don’t we go out tonight? We’ve been working so hard today there’s no need for either of us to cook. How about Italian?”
“That sounds perfect. Just let me freshen up and I’ll be ready to go.”
Minutes later, when she smoothed her hair in front of her bathroom mirror, she saw how tired she looked. No doubt her sharp-eyed husband had noticed. He would feed her and bring her home and make sure she rested.
She had no doubt Cole was very fond of her. Why couldn’t that be enough for her?
Her hand fell slowly to her side as the answer hit with a jolt. Despite all her resolutions against fairy tales and unrealistic expectations, her foolish heart had led her into trouble again. She’d fallen head over heels in love—perhaps really in love for the first time in her life—with a man who was fully deserving of her heart. And yet, still a man who couldn’t give her what she’d always longed for.