Billionaire Bachelors: Garrett Page 5

  He caught a glimpse of Ana while he was supervising the deliverymen who were bringing his computer equipment through the main entry into the hall and right around the corner into his office. She was staggering down the hill from her car with two huge suitcases. To his surprise, she didn’t come through the open door, but disappeared through the other entry that led directly into the kitchen. He saw her repeating the action and several times, heard her footsteps moving up and down the stairs. Shortly after that, she came out and got into her compact car and chugged off out the lane. To the store, he presumed.

  After the delivery guys left, he got everything set up the way he liked it, and then sat down to deal with e-mail. His assistant had gotten him set up with the local service provider and so he was able to connect immediately. By then, it was well past lunchtime, so he went downstairs and made himself a couple of sandwiches and some instant lemonade, then carried them back up to his office. The refrigerator was still bare except for the few things he’d bought. He’d have to drive into town later for a full load of groceries. While he ate, he roughed out a tentative schedule for using the kitchen, the laundry and the bathroom. He figured Ana could schedule herself around him, or if she had some real problem with one of the times he’d appropriated, they could discuss it. He was a reasonable guy.

  Ana still hadn’t come back by the time he left to drive into town. He was only aware of it because she shared his home. Maybe she’d gotten lost. She’d never been up here before. A lot of the little winding roads looked alike. If she’d lost her way or had an accident, he would be the logical one for her to call.

  Then he remembered the way her lower lip had quivered before she’d bitten fiercely on it in the kitchen earlier. No, she wouldn’t call him. Once again the guilt rose and this time he couldn’t ignore the little voice that asked: How would Robin feel about the way you’ve been treating Ana? He raised you to be a gentleman.

  All right. He could admit that he’d been a real bastard. He’d try harder to be more tolerant, if not outright kind, to her. After all, Robin had cared for her. And as he thought of the spring in the old man’s step and his good spirits in the last year of his life, he had to admit that she’d made Robin happier than he’d been since Garrett’s mother had died over two years ago.

  Whoever, whatever, she was, Ana must have been good to Robin. He supposed that was something to be grateful for.

  Ana was delighted all out of proportion over the simple discovery of an exceptionally well-stocked fabric and craft store in town. She hadn’t needed much, but how wonderful to know it was close enough that if she ran out of something, she wouldn’t have to drive halfway through New England to find a store that stocked it. And she’d made her first new friends in Maine.

  The proprietor of the store was delighted to meet her and quickly introduced himself. Teddy Wilkens was a young man who didn’t look much older than she was. When he found out she was going to be living in the area for a while, he quickly pressed a little buzzer that she could hear faintly, echoing in some other part of the two-story shop.

  “We live upstairs. We just bought this place at the beginning of the season from a couple who wanted to retire to Florida. It’s a thriving business and we’re excited about the possibilities,” Teddy told her as he carefully wrapped and tied her purchases into a large bundle. “Unfortunately my wife is having a difficult pregnancy and doesn’t see many people. She’ll love it if you can stay and visit for a few minutes.”

  “That would be lovely.” And she meant it. Just then, a hugely pregnant young woman came into the shop through a door in the back. “Nola, this is Ana Birch, who’s living out on Snowflake Lake.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Nola Wilkens smiled warmly.

  “You, also,” Ana said, “but please, don’t stand on my account.” She pointed to a pair of rocking chairs set in a corner of the store. “Why don’t we go over there and visit?”

  Nola waddled ahead of her and carefully lowered herself into a chair. Ana learned that they were from Virginia originally, and that this was Nola’s first child but that they’d just learned she was expecting twins, though they had chosen not to learn the sex of the babies. She was due in the early part of September.

  “And that’s if I go to term,” Nola said. “The doctor thinks I’ll probably deliver early. So I could have three weeks of this left, or seven, depending on what happens.”

  “Please let me know when they arrive,” Ana told her. “If I’m still here, I’ll bring you some meals in exchange for a chance to cuddle a baby.”

  Nola laughed. “I have a feeling we’ll be so glad for an extra pair of hands that we’ll want to feed you.”

  The young woman was cheerful but obviously tired and uncomfortable. As she took her leave, Ana decided she wouldn’t wait for the babies to arrive. She’d take Teddy and Nola a meal the next time she came into town.

  The cottage was dark and Garrett’s truck was gone when she pulled to a halt at the top of the hillside above the cottage. Good. She already was sick to death of his hostility. Before she’d come into the kitchen earlier, she’d been so stupidly optimistic that they could live together amicably for the next four weeks. He’d wasted no time in bursting that little fantasy bubble. She’d bet he didn’t even know the word amicable existed. Fuming, as angry as she’d been when she left, she slammed canned goods down on the counter as she unloaded grocery bags. Then she saw the schedule he’d left on the kitchen table. It was a neat grid of the days of the week with each hour in a separate space. He’d written in the times he wanted the kitchen and bathroom. Across the bottom was a note in a strong, masculine hand: If any of these are a problem, we’ll negotiate.

  Negotiate? Negotiate, her fanny. He wanted war, he’d get war. She hunted a pencil out of a drawer and began to scribble on the schedule, muttering to herself.

  She was a reasonable person. Generally kind, in-offensive, thoughtful. Teddy and Nola Wilkens certainly hadn’t found anything objectionable about her. But Garrett had gone out of his way to be as hateful as anything she could have imagined. Why? Why was he so sure she’d been Robin’s lover? That made her madder than anything. It was insulting to her, but even worse, it was insulting to Robin. Garrett had known the man for years; how could he imagine Robin would engage in an affair with a woman decades younger than himself, much less include her in his will?

  She finished bringing in her groceries and put everything away in her designated spaces. Just like a parking lot at an office. Park here, stay out of that space. Yes, she surely was going to make the man sorry he’d started this, she thought as she went to her room for the recipe box she’d brought. Crab dip would be the first salvo. Tomorrow, she’d make that fabulous chicken-broccoli casserole that filled an entire house with aroma. She could make an extra one for Teddy and Nola. It was a good thing she’d gotten that big package of chicken on sale. And she’d make pies with the Michigan cherries she’d found at that produce stand. Ha! Take that.

  She really, really hoped that Garrett’s cooking skills were limited to grilling and fixing things out of a box.

  Then the guilt struck and her angry thoughts drained away. She was mourning Robin. How must Garrett feel? He’d lived with him, had loved him since he was a young teenager. He was grieving, too, and it wasn’t unbelievable to think that his boorish behavior was born of his grief. Everyone dealt with losing a loved one differently. Garrett had been the one to find him, the one to deal with all the funeral arrangements, the one left holding all the responsibilities. He’d moved through denial, the stage she figured she still was clinging to, and perhaps now he was angry.

  And who better to take it out on than her? She might not like the conclusion he’d jumped to about her character, but she could forgive it. And she would. Tomorrow she would tell him that she was Robin’s daughter and set this whole mess straight.

  Feeling a lot better, she went back out to her car and brought in the things she’d bought from Teddy. She took them upstairs and into
the room that had been Robin’s den, where she’d stored her other supplies earlier in the day. It was an ideal workspace, with enormous windows on three sides to offer plenty of light as well as to give adequate ventilation when she was working with toxic-smelling substances like glue. In addition, there was an extraordinarily good overhead lighting system. She knew Robin hadn’t had an artistic bone in his body or she’d have thought this space was designed to be a craft or hobby room of some kind.

  The room contained a large television, a top-notch stereo and a few pieces of comfortable furniture, but there also was a lot of unused open space. At the far end, beneath the wide window, a large table stood—perfect for her to cut fabric and lay out design ideas. And there was room enough beside it for the sewing machine in its portable cabinet that she’d brought along. A sizable wet bar was built into a countertop beneath which there was a plethora of cabinets that stretched across the whole wall beneath the window. It was perfect for her supplies and for cleaning up. And an oversize closet with louvered doors along one wall was completely empty.

  She set up her workspace, unpacking her sewing machine and arranging her fabrics and decorative accessories. A surge of pleasure ran through her as she fondled a piece of satiny burgundy felt and she had a sudden image of a subtly elegant clutch purse. Pair it with a petite pillbox with that black feather wrapped around the brim… It was a welcome relief from the blank lack of creative energy she’d been experiencing since Garrett had hurled the news of Robin’s death at her four days ago.

  Four days! It felt as if it had been much longer than that. She felt the tears welling again. For most of her life, she’d thought her father was dead. Her mother had spoken of him rarely, and Ana hadn’t had the courage to ask of him often. On the few occasions when she had, Janette’s eyes invariably would fill with such a desolate sadness that Ana knew, without a doubt, that her mother still loved the man who had fathered her. Ana herself had known only that he had been an American, that they had met a little more than a year before her birth, that they had never married but that they had loved each other deeply. The beautifully tragic landscapes for which her mother had become famous were a reflection of her feelings.

  Early in her career, Janette had been a portrait artist. Ana had four pieces of her mother’s portraiture: one done in soft, lovely oils of herself as a child asleep in a pram, the other two quick sketches of subjects for whom she’d later painted formal family portraits. The fourth piece was the one she cherished most: a charcoal self-portrait her mother had done of herself with Ana peeking around the edges of Janette’s long, flowing skirt as she sat at an easel. Ana had been less than two when the sketch had been done. They had moved back to England, where Ana’s grandparents had lived, shortly afterward. Ana had other pictures, photographs, of her mother, but this one, done by Janette’s own hand, was the dearest possession she owned.

  She had nothing so personal by which to remember Robin.

  She shook her head as the tears fell, blinded by her scalding grief.

  And jumped a mile in the air when the door banged open a moment later.

  Garrett loomed in the door of her new workroom, narrowing his eyes against the bright lights. “Where were you all day?” he demanded. Then he paused, clearly unsettled when he saw her struggling for composure.

  “Out,” she said shortly, annoyed that he’d caught her in tears. She turned her back on him.

  His footsteps advanced into the room. “What is all this?” His voice didn’t sound pleased.

  “My work,” she said, still keeping her back to him as she used the hem of her T-shirt to wipe her face.

  “I thought you quit work.”

  She turned, beginning to get angry all over again at his accusatory tone. “I quit my jobs,” she corrected. He’s grieving. Remember that. “Millinery is my work.”

  “Hats.” He sounded dubious. Picking up a piece of black netting, he arched an eyebrow. “You add frills and feathers?”

  “I make one-of-a-kind hats and matching handbags.” She picked up a framed citation from the Smithsonian thanking her for her work in assisting with a Confederate headgear restoration. “I also contract to work on special projects and I’ve been asked to put together a book, an overview of hats through the ages.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.” He sounded sincere, but she’d been taken in before by his seeming civility before he’d shredded her with unkind words again, so all she did was eye him dubiously.

  “I am,” he said. “How did you get so knowledgeable about hats?”

  “I told you before that I was fascinated by hats when I was young.”

  He nodded.

  “My mother encouraged my interest and helped me acquire a sizable collection, which I donated to the Smithsonian last year. I also studied the history of fashion and millinery at college.”

  “Very impressive.” Again he sounded as if he meant it. He fingered another stack of silk in various shades of blue. “Did Robin know you did this?”

  She looked at him as if he were crazy, though the two simple words had made her pulse jump in a ridiculous way. “Of course. He was very encouraging.”

  “And you’ve never been here before? You didn’t know he had this place in Maine?” His eyes were intent.

  She shook her head, baffled by the apparent change of subject. “No. Why?”

  “I think Robin remodeled this room for you,” he said.

  Garrett watched Ana’s face. He hadn’t really planned to blurt that out, but he’d just realized it and before he’d known it, the words were hanging in the air between them.

  “What?” Her face was stricken, her voice incredulous.

  “This room and the storage area next door were one big unfinished area until a year ago. When we were here last summer, Robin decided to put in a wall and divide the storage in two. He turned this one into a room he was calling his den. But he never used it. We always shared the downstairs office, and by the time this was finished, it was time to go back to Baltimore.”

  He looked at Ana closely. Her eyes were shiny and her nose was pink; she’d been crying when he came in. Crying over Robin? The thought annoyed him immensely, erasing the relaxed atmosphere.

  He wasn’t sure why the thought of her grieving for Robin got to him; it wasn’t as if he had had a monopoly on his stepfather’s attentions. But…the context in which he believed the woman had known Robin was still so offensive it made him want to throw up. How could she have let an old man’s age-spotted hands run over that smooth alabaster flesh? How could Robin have let himself be blinded by her fresh, glowing face and stunning figure? God, he’d asked himself that question at least a million times in the past couple of days. Shouldn’t the very thought that she was interested in a man so much older have been a red flag to his stepfather?

  “Anyhow,” he said, “I was planning to move my office up here.”

  Ana stood up, placing her hands on well-shaped hips. The action pulled her shirt taut against her breasts, flattening them slightly, and he could clearly see the outline of her nipples. It was hard to drag his gaze back to her face.

  “This is a marvelous space for my work. I’m not switching. Especially if Robin created this with me in mind.”

  “We’re sharing this place,” he reminded her. He didn’t really want the room so much as he wanted to let her know she was only there on sufferance. It was clear she was quite talented at the unusual career she’d chosen, although it didn’t sound as if it brought in much income.

  “That’s exactly right,” Ana said. “You have a bedroom, I have a bedroom. You have a workroom, I have a workroom. You chose yours first, I just took what was still vacant. I plan to work in here and if you want it, we can fight for it.” She paused for breath and looked around the room, and when she spoke again, her voice was less strident. “Robin would be thrilled that I’m using it.”

  “Oh, and you’re the expert on what Robin would have wanted.”

  “No.” She seemed to deflate befo
re his eyes. “You had him for nearly two decades. I’m sure you know many, many things about him that I don’t.” She turned away and began to fiddle with small boxes of gems and sequins, aimlessly arranging and rearranging them.

  “So you’re pretty good at this,” he said, letting it drop. He eyed the Smithsonian citation. She must be better than good; she must be excellent.

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Are you?”

  Ana stopped. “Robin thought I was,” she said in a small voice. “I’m sure that’s why he made this provision for me. He wanted me to have the time to work without having to worry about making ends meet.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly managed that,” he said, anger rising again. “And when I buy out your share of this place, I have no doubt that I’ll be paying three times the market share.”

  “I told you before that I’m not selling.” Her eyes had narrowed and the hesitancy he’d sensed had fled.

  “We’ll see.” He sneered. “I’ve met women like you before.” As he turned and strode out the door, all he could see was a woman who had wanted a man for his money. And unlike his dear, departed fiancée Kammy, Ana had managed to get what she wanted.

  She started her campaign to take him down a few pegs the next day at lunchtime. So what if he was grieving? He’d been a perfect ogre last night and he deserved everything he got, she thought, still smarting from his last comments.

  She’d had breakfast at seven-thirty, despite the fact that waiting so long after rising at six and swimming made her feel faintly nauseous, because Garrett the Grinch had the kitchen from six-thirty until seven-thirty.

  Then she had to turn around and have her lunch hour beginning at eleven-thirty because he got the kitchen at twelve-thirty. She was quietly steaming and ready for action when she stopped for the morning.

  The first thing she did was boil the chicken while she assembled the ingredients and mixed together the rest of her casserole ingredients. Next she mixed up a generous amount of crab dip with the meat she’d bought when she ran to town a few hours ago. Living along the coast had its advantages, she decided as she popped a bite of the succulent Dungeness crab into her mouth.