Winter Reunion

He gave a single terse nod.

“Do you remember Vivian saying she wanted to give you one of the buildings when you retired from active service? She always hoped you’d come back home and start some sort of business here.”

“That was years and years ago, right after I enlisted,” Dev said, his voice touched with regret. “I guess emotions were running pretty high at the time. I told her that I would never move back under any circumstances.”

“Mothers can have amazing memories where their children are concerned.” Nora canted her head as she looked between the two of them. “That block is part of the estate, as you know. But if the terms of the will aren’t met, all of the commercial property will go to Dev’s uncle, Stan Murdock, and their home will be given to a women’s shelter. Dev would only inherit his parents’ personal possessions.”

Dev drew in a sharp breath. “Stan is aware of this?”

“Definitely. He…ah…has voiced considerable interest in razing the entire block for condo development.” Nora arched an eyebrow. “He’s actually starting to make plans, as he’s quite sure you’ll decide to walk away.”

Which meant that all the beautiful old stone buildings—including her beloved bookstore and her pretty little apartment above—would fall to a wrecking ball. Her heart sinking, Beth stared at Nora, then she twisted in her chair to face Dev. “Are you going to let him do that?” she whispered.

“He can’t.” A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “That block was designated for preservation as a historic site. My parents worked on the application years ago.”

“True. But apparently there were errors in the paperwork filed by the county attorney, and Stan found some loopholes.” Nora’s mouth curled with disgust. “And with his political connections, he must figure he’ll have no trouble doing what he wants. He had an architect come with him from St. Paul earlier this week. The two of them walked the area so preliminary drawings could be made. They stopped in here to discuss how soon Stan could take possession, as if it were a done deal.”

Beth sat back in her chair, appalled. “So your uncle would destroy part of the historic section of this town just to make money.”

“He’s not a blood relative of mine.” Dev’s expression darkened. “He was my late aunt’s second husband. He’s a successful businessman in the Twin Cities area and a big donor at charity events. But even as a kid I heard him talk about wheeling and dealing to get exactly what he wanted. I still can’t believe Mom would even consider letting him get his hands on her property. Is there any way around it?”

“You mean, if Beth alone complied with the will, or the two of you hired a manager to take over the boardinghouse? No. Vivian made sure of it.”

“I could retain another lawyer to challenge the will.”

“You’re welcome to do so. In fact, I’d encourage it, just so you’ll feel you’ve had your best shot at this.” Nora shrugged. “But I’ve represented your family’s interests for over twenty years, so please do understand that my concern is for Vivian’s wishes along with the well-being of every family member—you included. If I thought there was a way around the stipulations in your mother’s will, I’d let you know. But,” she added with a faint smile, “I was the one who wrote it up, and I made sure it was ironclad, at her express instructions. Unless, of course, you’d returned from the military too disabled to function as an independent adult.”

Beth clutched the arms of her chair. “So if Dev and I manage the boardinghouse, he can receive his full inheritance and protect the property. What does this entail, exactly?”

“It certainly isn’t a full-time job for those six months. Vivian figured twenty hours a week, more or less, shared between the two of you. You’ll manage the house and grounds—maintenance and so on.”

“‘And so on’ could cover a lot of things.”

“You’d be expected to provide assistance and encouragement for the remaining residents, if they need or request it. That might entail helping with searches for jobs, or locating opportunities for school or training. Help with transportation, if need be. Vivian wanted her last boarders to be assisted in every way toward independence, so they can move on to careers or a happy life elsewhere. It’s what she would’ve done for them if she hadn’t passed away.”

“And if they don’t…succeed?”

“Then the estate is tied up for a final six-month period to give you more time. If it’s deemed that you made little effort to assist the boarders, then the property goes to Stan. And, of course, the boardinghouse would be closed and any remaining boarders would have to leave.”

Dev frowned. “What about day-to-day management of the house itself?”

“The residents each make their own breakfast and lunch, but take turns cooking supper for the group. Vivian worked with them as needed on the planning, budgeting and shopping lists.”

“And she left a list of reliable repair people, right?”

“Viv was actually quite handy, though she had to hire repairmen now and then.”

“My mother?”

A grin briefly touched Nora’s lips. “She certainly evolved, over time. She told me that a service manual or a quick search on Google usually provided all she needed to know.”

“And the lawn?”

“A lawn-care service could take care of the grass and snow removal, but the monthly budget is limited to the amount of rent paid plus a small stipend. So if you choose to take care of things yourself, it would save money for the bigger problems.”

Beth thought for a moment, trying to remember the old folks she’d seen toddling around town. “What if a resident is simply unable to reach independence? And who judges whether everything has been accomplished—or can’t be?”

“This isn’t an assisted-living situation. All of the residents are capable of independence and are of reasonable working age, as that was a stipulation before they could move in.” Nora folded her hands over the file on her desk. “As far as monitoring the success of the operation goes, a lawyer from Madison and I have been left with that responsibility. Our assignment is to put the welfare of the residents above everything else, and that’s what we will do.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Nora smiled. “You and Devlin will be running the show completely. Harold Billingsly and I will be reviewing the financial summary you two submit each month, along with an update on each resident.”

“Update?”

“A written report. Obviously, these people can’t be just booted out and set adrift—there needs to be a concrete plan and a move to successful independence.”

Beth felt the noose tightening.

It all sounded simple. Straightforward. But could she handle working with Dev on a daily basis? Even now, she felt the ragged edges of her emotions unraveling.

Yet if she didn’t cooperate, Dev would lose the property, and when Stan took over, she’d lose her home and her store. And those poor folks might end up out on the street. Lord, tell me what to do here.

Realizing the room had gone silent, Beth shook off her thoughts. “I’ll try. But I have a bookstore to run, with just one part-time employee who’ll soon be going on maternity leave, and I easily put in fifty hours there myself. I’m just not sure I can take on a lot more.”

“You’re debating about this?” Dev’s voice turned bitter.

At his tone, she stared back at him in disbelief. He really had no idea. “I said I’ll try. It isn’t going to be easy.”

“But we both have to cooperate, because my dear mother set quite a trap.” He made an impatient sound deep in his throat. “If either of us walks away from this, everyone loses. But if we can put up with each other for six months, then everyone wins. Including you.”

“Put up with each other?” His sharp words stung, reawakening the pain and devastating disillusionment she’d experienced over their divorce, and reminding her of all the reasons she’d hoped to never run into him again.

“Look, I know that working together is the last thing either of us wants. But didn’t you hear what Nora said? Cooperate and you’ll own your building, free and clear. Even if you despise me, isn’t that reward enough?”

Chapter Two

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Beth stared at Dev in shock, wishing she hadn’t let her thoughts wander earlier. “We’re divorced. I shouldn’t inherit anything.”

“Apparently my mother thought otherwise.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s like Nora said—she didn’t trust me to handle this on my own. So giving you a chance to own your building was a way to ensure your cooperation.”

“It wasn’t a trust issue,” Nora interjected. “I can promise you that. She probably just felt that your current…job skills weren’t attuned to this kind of role.”

“But the building,” Beth insisted. “That’s just…” She fumbled for the right word. “Too much.”

Unless Vivian had somehow learned Beth’s secret. Was that even possible?

Dev leveled a look at her. “Maybe she figured you deserved battle pay after being married to me. Or maybe she just thought you deserved a break.”

Why hadn’t Vivian said something about this?

Dev’s abrupt decision to file for divorce had hurt his mother deeply—Beth had seen it in her eyes. Her former mother-in-law had remained distant but cordial whenever she stopped at the bookstore or joined the crowd lingering outside church on Sunday mornings. She’d even sent Beth a Christmas card, and included her in the dozens of townsfolk she invited for a Christmas brunch last year, though the divorce had long since been finalized.

But Vivian never made a single comment about the divorce, and there certainly had never been any hint at the contents of her will.

Beth frowned. “This must be a mistake—a forgotten clause in the will, or something.”

Nora cleared her throat. “It’s all legal and proper. She revised her will last February, actually, five months after your divorce was final. She went over every paragraph of it with me.”

“Still, the boardinghouse would be far better managed by someone experienced in the field.” Dev made an impatient motion with his hand. “Maybe a social worker. Or a nurse.”

“Like I said, these were your mother’s wishes. She didn’t want to leave her charges to flounder without her,” Nora said with a firm smile. “I’m sure she figured you would follow through.”

He studied Beth for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Maybe she had other motives.”

Horror and embarrassment washed through Beth at the obvious implication. “You think she wanted us thrown together over this?”

He didn’t respond, but she could see his answer from the hard glint in his eyes. He probably even thought Beth had been in on the “plan,” and there was no way to prove him wrong. Did he really think she was so needy and pathetic?

She could feel her cheeks burning. “Your mother might’ve had fond dreams of happily-ever-afters, but if so, she was sadly mistaken. That could never happen. You made that more than clear when you demanded a divorce. And believe me, I have absolutely no desire to turn back the clock.”

At the force behind her words, he looked taken aback. “No insult intended.”

No insult intended? He was even more obtuse than she’d thought. She took a steadying breath. “None taken. I’m just stating facts.”

Nora glanced between them. “I’m guessing this is going to be an uneasy peace between you two. Maybe even impossible.”

Silence stretched uncomfortably between them.

“I’ll request extension of my leave,” he finally said through clenched teeth. “We can make this work. Right, Beth?”

Beth swallowed hard. “If we want to save your inheritance and my bookstore, we don’t have a choice.”

She reached out and tried to ignore the sudden, familiar warmth that sped through her when his large, strong hand briefly enveloped hers. Warmth that triggered a rush of memories, both good and bad.

He dropped her hand as if he’d touched fire, and she knew he’d felt it, too.

They had six long months ahead.

Six. Long. Months.

The thought made her shudder, yet there was too much at stake to risk failure. And not just for herself.

Tourism had revitalized the town, but the tourists wouldn’t come back if Stan pursued his business interests and destroyed the historic district in the process. If that happened, too many good friends and neighbors would suffer. The owners of the gift shops, the coffeehouses, the antique stores. Even the little marina owned by old Mr. Gerber, who’d added a fresh coat of paint to the main building just this summer.

They were all starting to prosper after far too many years of struggle, and it could all be wiped out if the quaint and inviting atmosphere of the town changed.

All she and Dev needed to do was get along and work together, and in six months everyone would have a more secure future. The shopkeepers. Vivian’s last set of boarders. And Beth would even own the beloved building that housed her bookstore—something she’d never thought possible.

Dear Lord, help us succeed. Guide us in helping those people. And please, for as long as Dev is here, help me protect my heart.

Dev stepped into the Walker Building and breathed in the musty scents of mold and mice. Light filtered through the grime and cobweb-festooned mullioned windows facing the street, while the back half of the building was cast in deep shadow.

A wide, open staircase rose along the wall to the left, the wooden steps littered with crumbling cardboard boxes overflowing with yellowed newspapers and what appeared to be rags.

He’d had to come back for another look, even if his every decision would now have to be put on hold until he’d met the crazy stipulations in his mother’s will.

On the endless series of flights coming back to the States and during those long days at Walter Reed, he’d had plenty of time to think, and had planned to make this trip into his past as brief as possible.

But now, the charm and peacefulness of the village called out to him with its scents of pine. The sound of Aspen Creek rushing southward over the boulders strewn through its rocky bed. The absolute lushness of the trees and undergrowth and the damp, fertile earth, so unlike the dry and inhospitable climate where he’d spent much of his adult life.

And with those scents, those sounds, came the memories he’d so carefully shelved away. Of jangling sleigh bells and the clopping of draft horse hooves on snow-covered asphalt, come Christmastime, when sleighs served as taxis for the tourists and locals who came into town for all of the Victorian decorations. The sweet, sweet scent of burning leaves and fragrant pumpkin pies and the local parade at the end of October, during the annual Fall Harvest celebration.

He stepped farther into the building and felt a sense of peace in its silence, its massive stone walls. As a child he’d loved this old building, imagining knights on chargers jangling through the stone arches that framed each door and window. Envisioning Merlin and King Arthur sitting before the immense mouth of a fireplace inside, and a damsel peering from one of the soaring stone turrets that rose above the roofline.

Now, the cavernous interior and multitude of windows spoke to him in a different way.

He closed his eyes, imagining the place filled with soft candlelight and the hushed murmurs of diners sitting at tables set with crystal and silver. Or maybe retail shelving, stocked with colorful toys, antiques or camping gear…or even trendy clothing, maybe. The stuff of fun and relaxation, and the bounteous civilian life that allowed people time to savor some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.

And he tried to imagine a time when war would no longer be a part of his life. No reconnaissance missions, no explosions. No rapid-fire, staccato blast of his M249 while he covered his buddies…or the comforting weight of an M16 cradled in his arms.

But that was reality.

Being here was like stepping into an old-fashioned Christmas card that he’d have to file away in a few months, because he might as well be visiting the moon for as much as he could relate to the breezy, small-town atmosphere where the greatest dangers were mosquitoes and the newest crop of inept teenage drivers. He couldn’t even begin to relate to the innocent, cheerful residents who expected to go about their business unharmed every single day, then sleep safe in their own warm beds at night.

Shaking off his thoughts, he wandered through the building, trying to quell the deep sense of longing flickering to life inside his chest.

Each of the four buildings in this block were roughly the same, with thick sandstone walls built to last for centuries, and old glass rippled with age set in the tall, narrow windows. Yet each building also bore unique, whimsical details in the fanciful figures carved into the stone lintels over their doorways, the patterns of the mullioned windows on the second floors, and the ornate details in the rooflines and eaves.

He still couldn’t believe his mother had risked letting any of this fall into the hands of her brother-in-law, unless she’d wanted to insure that Dev would come home to stay, so he could prevent it. Was she really that crafty? Had she no idea of how difficult it would be for him to deal with Beth? Didn’t she care?

Then again, Mom hadn’t really known him at all. He certainly hadn’t come home much, and when he did, he hadn’t stayed long. He was a far, far different person now than he’d been as a boy.

His palm still burned at the remembered touch of Beth’s hand back at the law office, and his conscience nagged at him over how rude he’d been.

On the trip home from D.C. he’d dredged up a few rusty prayers over how he was going to avoid running into his ex-wife. Gutless prayers, to be sure, and since few of his prayers had been answered in battle, he’d figured that the Almighty wasn’t listening anyway.

God sure had to be laughing now.

Having to face her during that meeting had left him more tense than any battle or covert operation. And now, instead of managing to avoid her and the old, raw emotions surrounding their ill-fated marriage, he was going to be seeing her all the time.

Worse, he had to do a good job of it—to insure that the stipulations of his mother’s will were met well enough to pass muster with a couple of attorneys planning to guard her interests.

The irony was almost enough to help him ignore the aching in his shoulder and the sharp, stabbing pain that radiated down his upper arm with every unguarded movement.

At the sound of a knocking behind him, he spun toward the front door, automatically reaching for his absent weapon and scanning the interior of the building for exits and cover, his heart rate escalating.

He blinked.

Forced himself to relax.

And squinted into the sunlight streaming in behind a slender figure silhouetted in the windowed upper half of the door. Though the thick, rippled glass muted her shape, his gut wrenched and his heart took an extra thud at his instant recognition, triggering emotions and memories that were long dead…and would stay that way.

She knocked again, then tried the door handle and pushed the door open to stand in the entry, looking a little hesitant. “I…I was outside the bookstore and saw you unlocking the door down here. Mind if I come in?”

He gave a single, sharp nod.

Beth stepped a few feet inside. Avoiding his gaze, she surveyed the interior, her eyes sparkling. “Wow—just look at the natural light coming through all the high windows, and look at all the space. This place has tremendous potential. It ought to be perfect for whatever kind of business moves in here.” She gave him a speculative look. “Maybe you should just lease it instead of selling. You might want to come home for good someday.”

“No. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can, and I won’t be back. There’s nothing to keep me here anymore.”

Her expression hardened. “Of course not.”

Guilt lanced through him at his inadvertent, callous words. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She raised a delicate eyebrow, making him feel like an even bigger jerk. “We’ve both moved on. All for the best, and all of that. Right?”

A shaft of sunlight lit her wildly curly chestnut hair, highlighting its varying shades of amber and gold. It had always felt so soft and silky, he remembered; baby fine and fragrant with the scent of wildflowers. Gentle, just like her.

She’d so deserved better than someone like him.

He belatedly realized that he hadn’t answered her when her smile wobbled and her gaze slid away from his.

“I…didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything,” she murmured. “We can talk another time.”

She wore gleaming gold hoops in her ears and a long denim skirt, topped with an oversize ruby sweater that looked soft as rabbit’s fur. Despite the casual clothes, she had an air of sophistication and reserve far different from the girl she’d been years ago.

It was something he needed to remember.

They’d both changed so much. There was no going back. All they needed was to be businesslike. Polite. Focused.

“But I do think we need to talk, Dev,” she added. “When you have some time.”

He winced. “Uh…yeah. Some time.”

She ignored his dismissal. “Maybe now rather than later, come to think of it.” Her mouth flattened. “Because I think we need to make something perfectly clear.”

Chapter Three

Maybe Beth hadn’t much personal experience, given her absentee husband, but she’d certainly read enough of the pop-psychology books in her store to know that most guys cringed at the thought of discussing feelings. If she’d ever doubted that bit of wisdom, she only had to look at Dev’s guarded expression to know it was true.

But standing here alone with him, with no other distractions, was probably the perfect place to set things straight.

“We need to talk,” she said briskly, “because we need to put the past to rest, once and for all. Otherwise, this situation will be unbelievably awkward.”

He studied her, his eyes wary, as if he expected her to dissolve into a tearful, wretched mess.

But she’d die before she allowed him to catch even a glimpse of the damage he’d caused…or the pain she felt, every single day, since her life had been shattered. No matter what her mother claimed, he had relinquished that right.

“I admit…” She hesitated, searching for an innocuous word that would betray nothing of how she truly felt. “That it was a shock when you insisted on a divorce. But you have your life in the service and other relationships to pursue, I’m sure. The last thing you needed were bothersome ties to a wife back home. Right?”

His eyebrows drew together.

“It didn’t take long for me to get over it, really.” She managed a smile, even though her heart was pounding against her ribs and the half-truth now lodged in her throat like a chunk of granite. “So don’t worry about having to deal with any big scenes from me. I have no regrets.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s…good.”

“So with that cleared up, it shouldn’t be hard to maintain a business relationship with each other, right?” She fluttered a dismissive hand. “The other thing I need to clarify is that your mother’s will was a complete surprise. I had no idea she’d included me, and I certainly didn’t try to finagle my way into her good graces.”

“I never said—”

“But you might have thought it. Just so you know, your mother was polite but distant to me after the divorce. Even before that, we were never chummy during all the times you were away in the service. There were no little chats, no invitations for coffee. So if you’re imagining any sort of collusion regarding you, her will or my bookstore building, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “I didn’t suggest anything of the sort.”

“She stayed in your corner,” Beth added for emphasis. “And I didn’t expect or seek anything more. Now it’s your turn.”