Right Where He Belongs

She would not let him rattle her. “Call me Cassie, and don’t worry. I’ll be done in plenty of time. Ten to fourteen days, depending on what you want done. I’m sure you have other business to take care of first, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll come by tomorrow and strip the wallpaper.”

“On Saturday?”

She shrugged. “It’s one of my busiest days. Just keep in mind, if you want any painting done in here, that’s done first. Then the walls will have to be prepped, so it could be a couple of days to a week before we put up the new wallpaper. During that time you can go over paint and paper samples. We can meet at my office downtown or I can bring them here.”

He stared at her in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with it?”

“You can make any changes to the house you want to. Your grandfather gave you authorization so you wouldn’t have to wait the thirty days.”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this house for a month before I can unload it. I don’t care what you do about any wallpaper or paint.”

She produced a broom from a closet, a task she’d performed many times before. Grateful to have something in her hands, she restored order to the room. While she worked, she stole glances at the tall, handsome man with the lean, yet muscular build.

Mr. Frank had shown her several grainy photos of his grandson along with a written report provided by the private investigator hired to keep tabs on Tanner over the years. But a picture didn’t reveal intensity or Tanner’s true essence.

“Hold on. How did you know about the live-in clause?”

Cassie heard the cold, quiet strength behind his casual question. She shivered. He might look like his father, but he had his grandfather’s suspicious nature.

“Your grandfather told me. But even if he hadn’t, New Haven has an incredible grapevine. Rule number one in a small town—no secrets allowed. You’ll get used to it after a while, Mr. Fairfax.”

“Call me Tanner. Mr. Fairfax was my dad. And I won’t be here long enough to get used to anything.”

We’ll see about that. Tanner might have outsider written all over him—the way he carried himself, the way he had flinched when she’d touched his arm, the guarded look in his eyes—but he belonged in New Haven; he belonged at Fairfax House. He just didn’t know it yet.

Cassie knew firsthand how a sense of roots provided emotional comfort, because she’d been given such a gift. The town, its people, were home. If Mr. Frank hadn’t disowned his son, Tanner would have been born and raised in New Haven and received the blessing of roots as well.

Mr. Frank had insisted that Cassie was the only person who could help him right such a wrong, since she couldn’t imagine being happy anywhere else.

A person made of stone might have refused to help. She, on the other hand, was made up entirely of mush. Mush, with a grain of selfishness. Deep down, she knew that she had agreed to help for another reason. Years ago, she had failed to keep a promise she’d made to her father just before he died. Finally, she had a chance to prove her word meant something.

She watched Tanner as he noted every detail of the room, including her. Especially her. She shivered again and recalled her explosive reaction earlier to the innocent touch of her fingers against Tanner’s skin. Not a problem. She’d keep her hands away from him and on her work, and keep her mind on her promise to Mr. Frank.

A detail in the investigator’s report popped into her head: while Tanner had no shortage of women in his life, he either couldn’t keep them, or didn’t want to, since no relationship ever lasted more than a couple of months.

Why had that little morsel surfaced? He wasn’t even her type. She preferred easygoing and quick to smile.

“This place will need updating in order to sell,” Tanner said, a welcome interruption to her disturbing train of thought. “I want to get moving on this. Since you’re coming tomorrow anyway, go ahead and bring samples of what’s hot right now.”

She frowned as she brushed her fingertips over the faded, water-stained wallpaper. Such a grand house deserved more than the latest color or decorating fad. But the new owner’s determination to take the money and run concerned her more.

She could easily picture Tanner at home in Fairfax House. New Haven would embrace him, give him the sense of belonging and roots he had lost since his parents died. The fact she could see it wasn’t enough, though—he had to, also.

“Unless you have more important jobs,” Tanner added dryly.

She knew what she’d like to do with the sample books. Maybe a bonk on the head would make him realize what a gift he’d been given. Too bad she couldn’t afford to alienate him. “Of course not. I’ll see if I can get the books back from a customer. And for your information, Mr. Samuels asked me to make this house a priority, but I would’ve made it one anyway. This house is special to me. I practically grew up here.”

Tanner’s dark eyes narrowed. “Are you a relative?”

“Heavens, no. Just a pesky kid who hung around.” She sighed and inhaled the familiar, heartwarming scent she would forever associate with Fairfax House.

Tears threatened to form once again but she refused to cry. She had to remain strong in order to gain the new owner’s confidence. “I love that smell, don’t you?”

Tanner sniffed the air. “I can’t place it. What is it?”

“Vanilla. Your grandfather simmered some on the stove every day, and whenever I’m here I do the same thing. He said it reminded him of your grandmother. Did you know she was only sixty when she died? Cancer. But she didn’t suffer long.” Mr. Frank, though, had never recovered from his loss.

Love certainly didn’t come with any guarantees. Cassie’s father had died of a heart attack at thirty-four, leaving her mother without the love of her life way too soon. Cassie had no intention of wasting time when she found The One. They would live, play and work together, a concept a man like Tanner would never understand. He obviously preferred to love ’em and leave ’em, if one could believe the reports from the investigator. “I teased Mr. Frank that they made vanilla candles and air fresheners, but he said they weren’t the same. I sure miss him.”

Cassie blinked back the tears, reminded afresh of the pain of losing her dear friend. A friend she refused to let down. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tanner, around nine,” she said, and left through the back door of the kitchen.

Tanner watched Cassie disappear, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He’d never met a woman who wore her emotions so close to the surface. No doubt about it, she’d taken the old man’s death hard.

Tanner couldn’t imagine his rigid grandfather simmering vanilla for a wife long gone. The ice water in his veins wouldn’t allow such a sentimental ritual.

What had Cassie seen in such an old, manipulative person? Tanner could only think of two explanations: she was just another one of his victims, or a schemer who had gained more than a repair job from the old man.

Tanner made a mental note to check the details of his grandfather’s will. He had no living relatives. Although he wasn’t the sole beneficiary, he couldn’t remember Cassie’s name on the list.

He’d been warned that small towns had no secrets, so he shouldn’t have much trouble finding out more about Cassie. Suspicion was good. Anything was better than dwelling on why he’d felt such relief at discovering she wasn’t a relative.

He didn’t want any complications. For the next thirty days he intended to relax. A former boss, retired and bored, had jumped at the chance to fill in as manager, so for once, the lengthy time away from his company didn’t present a problem.

He’d spend his time getting a feel for what his truck-driver dad’s life must have been like growing up in New Haven, Ohio. From what little he knew, things hadn’t soured for his dad until he defied his father and left town after high school graduation.

Tanner’s mind wondered back to how familiar Cassie seemed with the house. She’d fetched a broom as if she’d done so many times before, had known of his grandfather’s habits and the conditions of the will.

For some reason the familiarity, imagined or not, bothered him. His reaction made no sense whatsoever. He was the one who had ignored every bribe and turned down all invitations to come live in Fairfax House.

Tanner refused to waste another minute on the confusion he felt over being in the huge, dark house again.

“Yoo-hoo,” yelled a high-pitched voice from the front of the house. Rapid pounding followed.

“Now what?” Tanner muttered, and left to answer the front door. He gave the rooms he passed along the way a cursory glance. Elegantly curved furniture filled the formal living room and dining room. Pictures in old-looking frames covered the top of a buffet. To his left, he noted a den that had obviously been turned into a bedroom. He’d stash his gear there, later.

He opened the door and discovered a woman with orange hair piled on top of her head, wearing enough makeup to start her own cosmetics business. Oven mitts covered her hands. Steam escaped from a glass dish of green beans. He took a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of cream of mushroom soup and dried onions and his mouth watered.

“I want to be the first to officially welcome you.” The woman smiled, ducked under his arm that held open the door and zeroed in on the kitchen.

He blinked, floored by the idea that a stranger had just bulldozed her way inside, then quickly followed.

“We’re so sorry about your grandfather,” the stranger said. She placed the dish on one of the burners on the stove and shoved the mitts into apron pockets. “But we’re just tickled to have another Fairfax in this house. It’s Tanner, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m Mrs. Boone, from across the street.” He shook her offered hand. “Mr. Boone would’ve come, too, but he’s recovering from surgery and can’t get around just yet. Your grandfather loved my green bean casserole, so I just know you’ll love it, too. And if you have any questions about New Haven, I’m the town historian. I’ve lived here all my life, so I’ve seen it all.”

“Thanks, but I won’t be here—”