A Will and a Wedding

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

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

Chapter Seventeen

Dear Reader

Copyright

“But you’re not in love with me,” she objected softly.

“Well, neither are you in love with me,” he replied. “Still, over the past few weeks I’ve noticed your relationship with these children. I think you would make a splendid mother.and wife.

Cassie marveled that his voice sounded so strong and steady. She felt like a quivering mass of jelly herself.

“I do have some scruples, you know,” she told him. “If you think that I could treat such a commitment so lightly, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“Think about it, Cassie,” he urged her. “You’d be able to do so much more for the kids here.”

It was all so confusing. And she had no one to confide in.

You always said you’d only marry for love. Her conscience pricked her once more. Yes, but if you marry him, you get to keep the house for the kids. You could continue the work God called you to.

“Help me,” she prayed silently. “You gave me the job. Now show me how to make the right decision.”

LOIS RICHER

credits her love of writing to a childhood spent in a Sunday school where the King James Version of the Bible was taught. The majesty and clarity of the language in the Old Testament stories allowed her to create her own mind pictures while growing up in a tiny Canadian prairie village where everyone strove to make ends meet. During her school years, she continued to find great solace in those words and in the church family that supported her in local speech festivals, Christmas concerts and little theater productions. Later, in college, her ability with language stood her in good stead as she majored in linguistics, studied the work of William Shakespeare and participated in a small drama group.

Today Lois lives in another tiny Canadian town with her husband, Barry, and two very vocal sons. And still, her belief in a strong, vibrant God who cares more than we know predominates her life.

“My writing,” she says, “allows me to express just a few of the words God sends bubbling around in my brain. If I can convey some of the wonder and amazement I feel when I think of God and His love, I’ve used my words to good effect.”

A Will and a Wedding

Lois Richer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated with much love to my parents,

Dorothea and wilfred Schill, who taught me the value

of faith and tenacity when striving for my goals.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

“Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees;

And make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way: but let it rather be healed.”

—Hebrews 12:12-13

Chapter One

Jefferson William Haddon III wanted a son.

Badly.

The problem, as Jefferson defined it, was that at age thirty-five, he had yet to find the type of woman with whom he would consider raising a child. And the very last thing he had expected was that someone would find such a woman for him.

“Would you say that again, please?”

Jefferson turned to stare at the woman across from him once more, unable to believe that his Aunt Judith had considered her suitable for marriage.

Not to him.

She wasn’t the type to be his wife.

If he had wanted one.

Which he did not! Not like this.

“Miss McNaughton will continue her sponsorship of you in your endeavor, Miss Newton, provided that you and her nephew, Jefferson Haddon, marry within the next two months. Until that time, you may both reside in her home, Oak Bluff, all expenses paid.” Judith’s old family lawyer cleared his throat.

“Mr. Haddon, when you marry you will receive Miss McNaughton’s fortune less Miss Newton’s yearly allowance of one hundred thousand dollars. You will both receive the deeds to the house and its entailments, free and clear. Miss Newton will, as your wife, continue to live in the house as long as she wishes.” The snowy haired gentleman paused to glance up at the couple seated before him. His light blue eyes darkened as he continued.

“If you should choose to ignore her wishes, Miss McNaughton has directed that neither of you shall benefit. Miss Newton will be forced to make other arrangements for her work and Mr. Haddon will have no further claim on her estate. The property will be sold and the money will go to an animal shelter she has so named.”

Even as he wondered what the woman’s ‘work’ was, Jefferson’s mouth fell open.

“But surely we can contest the terms of this will, Mr. Jones. You were her friend for years, surely you realize what a terrible position this places us in.” He stopped, conscious of the glowering countenance of the old lawyer.

“Your aunt was of perfectly sound mind when she made out this document.” The wrinkled old hand shook Judith’s will in front of them both. “Should the opportunity arise, and you decide to contest, young man, I will be happy to testify to her sanity. In court. Under oath.” The old man’s tone was frosty with contempt.

Jefferson was furious. He raked a hand through his perfectly groomed dark head in agitation. Yes, he wanted a child, but he had no desire to get married for money. And he certainly would not be forced into it by a busybody old aunt with nothing better to do than play matchmaker.

Blast, what a mess.

That woman, what was her name? Cassie, he remembered suddenly, Cassie.something. Anyway, she sat staring at him in horror. As if she could do worse than marry into one of the oldest families in Toronto!

“I’ll move out immediately.” He heard her words through a fog and turned to stare.

“What?”

“Are you hard of hearing, Mr. Haddon? I said, I will move out of the house immediately.” Her voice was sharp with scorn. “I have no intention of marrying you or anyone else to provide a roof over my head.”

She surged to her feet with all the pomp and ceremony of a miniature warship, sailing off to battle. She stood in front of him, hands on her shapely hips. Grim determination turned down the edges of her mouth. Jefferson laughed at the absurdity of it, and then watched fascinated as her body went rigid with fury.

“Your aunt was a gracious woman who treated everyone with dignity and respect. It’s too bad you didn’t turn out the same.”

He studied the wide green eyes, huge and full of turmoil in a face white with strain. Her black hair curved around her oval face in a riot of curls that bounced merrily with each move she made.

She was not like any woman he had seen before, Jefferson decided. This Cassie person’s appearance fell somewhere between comfortable unconcern and brilliant chic. She wore a bulky red sweater that hung well below her hips. A flaring skirt in a wild pattern of reds and oranges dropped to her ankles. She had on some type of granny boot that should have looked ridiculous and instead suited her crazy outfit. The gypsy look was further embellished by gold hoops that hung from her small earlobes.

Jefferson found those turbulent eyes fixed on himself.

Coldly.

“Look, Mr. Haddon. I’m not a charity case. I lived with your aunt because she asked me to. She was lonely, I think, and gradually she developed a fondness for some of my charges. I think they provided some amusement for her when she couldn’t get out anymore.” Her glittering eyes reminded him of a cat’s when it was hissing with fury, ready to strike. “But I am not, I repeat not, going to live with you in that house, let alone marry you, just so I can get my hands on a hundred grand.”

She stared down her pert little nose at him, which would have been effective if she hadn’t had to tip her head back so far to meet his eyes. He wondered where she had learned the slang terms for money even as he appreciated the fact that she also had no intention of going along with Judith’s machinations.

Grinning, he held up one hand.

“No offense, Miss, er, uh-” Jefferson looked toward the lawyer to fill in the gap.

“Newton, Cassandra Newton,” she repeated, her voice seething with unspoken emotions.

Jefferson watched as she rolled her eyes upward and then closed them. She was whispering. Some kind of a prayer. He recognized the same habit his aunt had employed during his own rebellious youth. He listened unashamedly to her softly spoken words, a half smile on his mouth.

“God, I need some help here. I know you’re leading me and I’m trying to remember that this is Judith’s nephew, so for her sake I’ll try to be polite.” She sighed deeply, her shoulders rising. “But, Lord. You know I don’t tolerate egotistical, arrogant, spoiled brats very well.”

That said, she wheeled away toward the door, ignoring Jefferson as she spoke directly to Mr. Jones.

“Thank you for inviting me to hear the will, Mr. Jones. I appreciated Miss McNaughton’s help when she was alive, but I just can’t marry someone because she wanted me to.” She cast a disparaging look over Jefferson.

Especially not him, her turbulent sea green gaze seemed to say.

Mr. Jones thoughtfully stroked the snowy white beard that made him look like a jovial Santa Claus. He held on to the tiny hand she had offered, while silently contemplating her determined stance. Finally he spoke.

“You have two more months to live in the house before the will dictates that you must move out, Miss Newton. May I suggest that you stay there and use that time to sort out your plans for the future? In the meantime, Miss McNaughton has provided some funds for your living expenses.”

Jefferson watched as the woman accepted an envelope, which he assumed contained a cheque, from Jones. They spoke quietly together for a few moments before she left. Jefferson smiled as she deliberately ignored his presence.

Good! He had no desire to deal with some money grubbing female just now.

The next few hours were fraught with tension as he and the older man went over the legal documents several times. Finally Jefferson was forced to give up in defeat. There was little hope of breaking this will. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to, not really.

Aunt Judith had been the one person to whom he’d been able to run when life got rough during those difficult childhood years. She had always been ready to offer a shoulder, a handkerchief and a cookie when he desperately needed all three. She had been the calm mothering influence he had never found at home. She had also been tough and uncompromising when her mind settled on something. If Judith McNaughton wanted it, she invariably got it. Apparently she wanted to see him married.

“Mr. Jones, I have to tell you that this doesn’t fit in with my plans at all. Not at all.”

He fingered his mustache and considered the older man. There was nothing but courtesy and consideration in that lined face and Jefferson decided to explain his blueprint for the future.

“I have invested a substantial amount of money and a large of amount of time researching the possibilities of obtaining a surrogate mother and defining exactly what her rights in such an arrangement would be.”

“You want a child badly, Mr. Haddon.”

Jefferson nodded.

“I want a son. I’ve interviewed couples who have gone through the process and inspected the children produced from such a union. I’m satisfied that they seem normal healthy children with a parent who truly wants them.”

Mr. Jones coughed discreetly behind his hand, hiding his thoughts behind a large white handkerchief.

“And after this research you feel you have an idea of what you want?”

“I know exactly what I want in the mother of my son, Mr. Jones.” He enumerated the qualities for the lawyer. “Calm, rational, levelheaded, to name a few traits. Unemotional. A woman who won’t expect to be involved in my life other than in matters to do with my child in the first few months of his life.”

There was a gleam in the older man’s eyes that was extremely disconcerting.

“This hypothetical woman, then. You believe she will just calmly hand over her child and disappear? That the two of you would live happily ever after?”

Jefferson nodded.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want from the contract. A calm, rational agreement between two adults.” He barely heard the mumbled aside.

“Seems to me a woman would have to be very calm to agree to such a thing. Dead, in fact.” Mr. Jones shook his head slowly.

“I would make it worth her while,” Jefferson rushed in and then stopped, appalled at how the words sounded when you said them out loud.

His face flushed a deep red at the intensity of Jones’s scrutiny. Jefferson had always known he came from a family of wealth and prestige; tact and diplomacy were the rule. Never once had he been tempted to misuse his assets. But suddenly he wished he could spend a portion of his father’s overblown bank account to buy back those words, unsay them.

Lawyer Jones evidently felt the same way for he frowned, his wise blue eyes accusing in their scrutiny.

“But what about this woman? How long will you need her? What happens to her once the first few months of the baby’s life have passed and you no longer need her? Do you expect she will have no feelings for the child.that she’ll just disappear with cash in hand?”

When stated in those terms, Jefferson’s plan sounded arrogant; even slightly odious.

The older man snorted in disbelief.

“And.what if the child is a girl?”

Jefferson hadn’t thought about that.

“And what do you tell the child about his mother in ten or fifteen years?” the old man asked in a no-nonsense voice.

It was too much information overload, especially on a day when everything seemed out of sync.

“I don’t know. But I’m confident that I can handle whatever needs to be done.” Even now, Jefferson’s mind whirled with plans.

He had chosen a name for the boy. Breaking with eons of family tradition, Jefferson had decided his son would be named Robert, Bobby for short. It was all planned out, everything was in place. His lawyers had the financial details organized into a formal agreement.

“Mr. Jones, I merely require the right woman for my purpose. It will mean that my business plans for expansion will have to be shelved for the moment, but I feel it’s worth it.” Jefferson hoped the man understood that he would not be swayed by these trivial problems.

Willard T. Jones sat polishing his round spectacles, staring at them for a long solemn moment. When he finally glanced up, Jefferson caught a sparkle of amusement in the old man’s eyes.

“Well, Mr. Haddon. I’m sure you’ve thought about this long and hard. If I may, I’d like to offer a suggestion.”

Jefferson nodded.

“My advice is this. Put everything on hold. The issue of Miss McNaughton’s estate has yet to be settled and if you recall-” he smiled dryly “-your marital status may well change.”

“Oh, I don’t.”

“In six months’ time, the entire picture will look very different. I suggest you take the time necessary to think everything through. You might start with the estate.” Jones tipped back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling while speaking. “Judith Evelyn McNaughton was a cagey, stubborn old woman who went to the grave with a last-ditch effort to manipulate you into marriage. She specially chose Cassie Newton.”

Privately, Jefferson thought Judith’s latest bid for control of his future made all her other matchmaking attempts picayune by comparison.

“She knew how hard you’ve worked to make a success of your company. Just last month she was telling me of your need to expand your business. And of your need for more cash.”

Jefferson was startled by the words.

“I didn’t realize she had kept such close track of me while I’ve been out of the country,” he murmured, staring at his hands.

“She wanted you to have the means to expand.”

Jefferson grinned. “But only if I got it on her terms. Good old Judith.”

“The way I see it,” the older man continued, “she gave you two months’ grace. Think long and hard before you decide, my boy. Make very sure you won’t regret giving up the very things Judith wanted you to have.”

As he walked down the street, Jefferson Haddon shook his head at the ridiculous situation he found himself in. Memories, sharp and clear, tumbled around in his mind. He could still visualize Judith’s thin, severe face with that prim mouth pressed into a firm line as she bawled him out.

“One must always consider the other person, Jefferson. For in one way or another, whatever you do will affect him.”

That had been the time Freddie Hancock has socked Jefferson in the nose for saying Freddie’s mother was fat. Well, Jefferson grinned fondly, it was true. All the Hancocks had been fat. But Mrs. Hancock was enormous and when her arms wrapped around him in a hug, his eightyear-old body had been suffocated against her overflowing abundance.

He’d also been embarrassed. Aunt Judith had remonstrated with him on the social niceties before patting his hand gently.

“That’s the way many people show their affection for you, dear,” she had said. Her golden eyes had been sad. “I wish you would open up more. Most people just want to be friends. If you give them a chance, you will enjoy them.”

Needless to say, that had not been Jefferson’s experience. There were few opportunities for boyhood friends in the austere home his father maintained and very little free time to pursue such interests. There were even fewer people in Jefferson’s young life who had ever hugged him.

Aunt Judith had understood that. She had also been one of the few to whom he had granted that particular privilege. And as she gathered his gangly body against her thin, frail frame, he’d felt warm and cared for inside.

His mouth curved in remembrance.

Of course, Melisande Gustendorf had tried to hug him a number of times in those days. Usually when he was with the guys. Mel would sneak up behind them and wrap her arms around him. She was weird that way. And at twelve, what boy wants to be hugged in public by a girl?

Jefferson smiled fondly as he remembered the lesson about birds and bees that Aunt Judith had related when she heard about Melisande. Aunt Judith had never married; never had children. Explaining the details must have been embarrassing, but she had persevered until Jefferson’s every question had been answered. And then he had made darned good and sure Melisande never got within six feet of him!

His memories of Aunt Judith made him chuckle as he drove back to his penthouse apartment on the waterfront. Most of the time he was satisfied with the place. But today he felt hemmed in, constricted by his aloof tower.

“Dinky little rooms stuck way up in the sky,” Judith had scolded him constantly about his chosen lifestyle. “You live out of reach of people. Why, you can’t even touch God’s wonderful creation, the earth, without driving for twenty minutes.”

In a way, Judith was right. From his panoramic living room windows, he could see the city clothed in her glorious fall colors. By late October the leaves had all turned to vibrant oranges, brilliant reds and sunny yellows. Many had fallen, but there were still enough to create a picturesque view.

But it would take a while to drive to one of the reserves, park his car, and walk among the beauty.

“You should be out in the fresh air, chop a few logs when the weather gets crisp. A fire feels good in that stone fireplace when winter sets in.”

“But Aunt Judith, I have to be near my work.”

She had glared at him then and his eyes had dropped first.

“You know blessed well that your work could be conducted from anywhere. Why, these days some folks use a computer for everything. Don’t have to leave home to talk to people, shop or even go to the library.”

She had tapped her walking stick against the bricks of the patio, almost knocking over one of the pots of rusty orange chrysanthemums she always set out in the fall.

“Don’t hold with it myself. People need people. A body should have a time to work and a time to play. Too many folks taking their work wherever they go. And those danged cell phones.”

Jefferson grinned in remembrance.

“The blamed things always ring at the wrong time.” She had glared at him angrily as his own pealed out. “A body can’t have a decent conversation nowadays.”

At Judith’s estate, Jefferson knew there would be crunchy crisp leaves underfoot when you first stepped out the door. They would float down on the fall breeze, covering the vast expanse of lawns. A few pumpkins and some of the hardier vegetables would sit outside in the garden, and he could almost taste the ripe red crab apples weighing down slender trees in the orchard.

The decision was made without thinking and moments later, Jefferson found himself ensconced in his luxury sedan, hurrying toward Judith’s huge estate, aptly named Oak Bluff. Suddenly, he had a longing to see the old, sturdy brick house with its huge oak and maple trees standing guard around the circular driveway; to walk in the naturally wild terrain at the back of the grounds and feel the fresh air wash over him.

It was exactly as he remembered. Stately majestic and yet welcoming. The house stood firm against the elements, its pottery red brick and spotless white trim gleaming in the bright fall sunshine. Bennet had cleaned the debris off the walkway and the front lawns, but Jefferson knew there would be a thick carpet of crackling, wrinkled red and gold leaves just outside the back door.

He let himself into the house with the key Lawyer Jones had given him and dropped his overcoat on a hall table before glancing around. Richly polished oak paneling led the way into the library, his favorite room in the entire house.

Aunt Judith had a vast number of books, both old and new, crowded onto the shelves, carefully catalogued and indexed by subject, then author. Nestled into a nook on the far side, Jefferson knew there was a computer, printer and fax machine that Judith had frequently used. In one corner, under a window, stood the old desk her father had given as a birthday gift many years before. Its rolltop cover was closed now that the owner was gone. He brushed his hand over it fondly.

“Hello? Anyone home? Bennet?”

There was no answer. He wandered through to the patio.

The deck was littered here and there with golden yellow poplar leaves that whirled and wafted down on the delicate breeze. The redwood patio furniture was still out and since the afternoon was warm, Jefferson decided to sit outside until Mrs. Bennet returned. In his mind he could hear Judith’s voice as she fondly reminisced.

“No one can ever deny the power a home has on a family. It’s like an old friend. It wraps its arms around you and shields you from life’s problems while it draws people closer together.”