Chapter 48
forty-eight
Willow
“She said yes,” Lane calls out to us when we’re close enough.
“You look worried,” Noah states.
“Somebody has to be! This woman is pure evil. I hate her.” Sensing her distress, Maple stands on his hind legs and gives her a lick.
I take Lane in a side hug as we walk toward the house, the dogs tripping over each other as they clamber home.
“Not anymore. Remember that for the next few days, you’re her ally.
She needs to trust you, believe she can use you.
” The walk and Noah’s beautiful words settled my worries.
Now I need to make sure Lane doesn’t carry the emotions I let go of.
“You’ve got this, Lane. You’re not alone. ”
“Thanks. I know,” she says on a deep sigh. “I made a fire in the parlor. Thought you guys might be getting cold,” she adds right as fat raindrops plop-plop on the crisp leaves.
“I’ll make sandwiches,” Noah offers.
Once we’re settled in front of the fireplace with our ham-cheddar-apple sandwiches on sourdough, I take my phone out. “I’m gonna text Beck and Griff. Give me Griff’s phone number?”
Noah hands me his phone. “Your birthday,” he mutters as I stare at the digits locking his screen.
I’m hit with a deep and fuzzy feeling right below my ribcage as he seems to think nothing of the trust and intimacy he just demonstrated. My fingers tingling slightly, I unlock his phone with a smile and send myself their contact cards. Then I create a group text.
Me to: Family
Hey guys, Willow here. Emergency family dinner tonight, 7pm sharp.
Lane:
You forgot to mention Cruella will be there
I glance up to smile at her, and get back to the chat.
Me:
Thank you for this. We will be welcoming your lovely stepmother. Should I call her Mother? I’m not sure about the etiquette.
Griff:
Sorry, hard pass. I’d have to leave in 3 hours to make it.
Noah grunts.
Noah:
Perfect, this gives you time to pack your sunny personality and bring it along.
Beck:
Since when do we want to have dinner with her? And why the fuck at Lilyvale?
Noah:
Because my wife said so.
I glance up at Noah, and he takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently while Lane smiles at us.
Lane:
Willow is getting the hang of the Callaway household. I think you’re gonna like it.
Beck:
Are you saying what you think I’m saying?
Lane:
I’m just saying.
Lane sighs. “Where’s Beck anyway?” she asks as she types.
Lane:
I wouldn’t want to miss it
“He’s doing some landscaping for the resort,” Noah answers.
Griff:
WHAT THE HELL
“Really?” I ask. I thought we hated the resort.
Lane:
@Griff at least you weren’t asked to convince Cruella she should come and claim what’s “rightfully” hers.
“It’s a tactic,” Noah answers me, his gaze on his phone, talking about Beck and the resort.
Noah:
Get your ass here. Time to stop hiding.
Griff:
WTF?
Beck:
You kinda walked into that one
Lane liked a message
Noah lifts his gaze from his phone. “Well, I think it worked. Let’s order from Chloe.”
“On it,” I say as I text my friend.
“Ugh,” Lane says, slapping her phone onto the table. “Gail wants me to go have a chat with her.” Frowning, she squints at the phone. “She said ‘Cocktails at the resort on them’ with a bunch of spiders and glass emojis. Uuuuugggggh.”
“Cocktails for lunch?” Noah grunts. “She must be in a state.”
I succeed only moderately in stifling my laughter. “That sucks, given you can’t even have a cocktail.”
She rolls her eyes. “My point exactly.” Then she looks down to her belly. “Come on, little pea, let’s go take down the evil stepmother.”
“That’s the spirit,” Noah says, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You can do this.”
“I know,” she answers, tears in her eyes. “I take after you.”
Noah pauses for a beat, nods quickly, and says, “Take my car.”
My throat a little tight from the subtle family bonding that just happened through our texting, I answer the call coming in from Chloe.
“Do you want family style service?” she asks. “We could do a stuffed turkey breast with a side of morels and fingerling potatoes.”
“I just had lunch, but you’re making me hungry. Make that two. Or three. The boys will be here.”
“Even Griff?” she asks on an inhale.
“Looks like it.”
“I’ll tell Justin. He was hoping to see him at the wedding, but…”
Yeah, not sure what’s going on with Griff. Any other time, I’d definitely bring it up to the Bitch Brigade, see what we know and if there’s anything we can do, but one thing at a time.
“I’ll bring the food around five. You’re on your own for dessert though. Hope that’s okay,” Chloe says before hanging up.
“We’re all set for tonight,” I tell Noah. “Just need to know how long Gail will be here for.”
“Colton just notified me the meeting is set for tomorrow,” Noah says, pocketing his phone.
That’s a relief. “No advance notice needed?”
“It’s just an informational meeting, so no.” He fidgets with his phone. “I should get back to the store for a bit. Dean’s knee is acting up with the rain.”
I nod. “Before you go,” I say, suddenly remembering. “Lane said Gail might be snooping around. Did you put the prenup and the… other contract somewhere she won’t find them?”
Noah narrows his eyes on me. “Completely forgot about that.”
“It would put us in an awkward position if she found them. Especially the other contract.” The one Noah insisted on drafting, explaining his financial support in exchange for us getting married.
He pushes his glasses on his nose and goes to the desk. Opening the top drawer, he pulls out a sealed manila envelope. “Prenup,” he says, waving it in front of me. “Never sent it back to the lawyer.” He walks to the fireplace and drops it in.
“Noah!” My heart clenches as the paper hits the embers. “No!” I say. But the paper curls, hesitating, then bursts in flames, throwing a bright light into the room. “Why?”
Noah pulls another envelope and hands it to me. “The contract looking over your interests. I’ll put it in the safe. Where’s your copy?”
My gaze fixed on Noah, I snatch the contract from him and step to the fireplace.
“Willow!” Noah starts, but one look from me and he quiets as I drop the two-pager in the fire, where flames engulf it.
“I burned mine a long time ago.”
Noah pulls me into him for a kiss. His body is vibrating with tension but as I melt into him, he calms down. Then his heartbeat increases as I deepen our kiss, his stubble chafing my lips in a way I can’t get enough of.
“I love you more than life itself,” I confess when we break the kiss, my lips still skimming his mouth. “You giving me your heart is more than I could ever dream of.”
“My little Cinderella,” he teases.
His words ignite light laughter mixed with an extra burst of love. I used to take exception to this reference. But I don’t anymore. This is my story, and I’m proud of it now.
Ironically, once Noah goes back to the store on account of Dean’s arthritis, I ditch the pretty sweater and Henley for an old sweatshirt and arm myself with a rag, wood cleaner, and a cobweb duster. “Come on, Calla. We got stuff to do.”
After taking the puppies out for their business, we lock them in the kitchen for the time being, ignoring their cries as we go do grown-up stuff like airing out bedrooms and dusting furniture.
“We can’t risk having dog poop everywhere.
Not right now with Cruella on her way,” I say to Calla, needing to justify myself.
I set up Rosalie (the upstairs vacuum robot) and open up the room Gail will be using, per Lane’s instructions.
Calla raises her hackles and refuses to come in.
“Seriously, baby, they can’t hurt you,” I coo to the dog.
But she stays stubbornly rooted at the entrance, sitting on her haunches, whining.
“Lot of help you are,” I pretend to complain.
The room smells stale, dusty, and downright old. I’ll start with the cobwebs and make my way down. “Seems like no one’s been in here in years,” I say, opening the windows wide, letting fresh air in.
Located at the back of the main house, the large bedroom is equipped with its own fireplace.
It has a four-poster bed, period furniture, bronze sconces, and oriental area rugs.
I ditch my shoes and climb on an upholstered side chair to dust the crystal chandelier.
Luckily the room has no chachkas, which adds to its austerity but also makes dusting a quick task.
Wiping the antique mirror, I’m pleased to notice that we’ll be getting the support we need from the other residents in the house. Because my face is not the only one looking back.
“Anybody home?” Kiara’s voice sounds from outside, right as the door to the bedroom slams shut.
I should have used a doorstop to prevent the draft of air from shutting the door.
I grab a chair to prop the door open, and turn around—only to see Elsbeth in all her gore hanging from the ceiling, in the corner between the bed and the bathroom.
“Oh man, you scared me. Dude, yes, that’s perfect. ”
Elsbeth graces me with a smile, curtsies, and vanishes right as the door opens. “You talking to a chair?” Kiara asks.
“Hey you! What’s up?”
“Chloe said you’ll need dessert, so I brought some things and figured we could bake together like the good old days?
Ooh… nasty,” she adds, looking up at the ceiling.
“Let me get that.” She grabs the cobweb duster from my hands and gets to work right where Elsbeth was.
I look at Kiara attentively. She’s not seeing her, right?
Was I hallucinating? Yet she must be seeing something, because I just got rid of all the cobwebs.
“There, that should do it,” Kiara says, moving onto the next angle. “What the fuck?” she cries.
I look at where she’s staring—on the floor, next to the bed, expecting to see Elsbeth wriggling on the carpet. “Oh, that’s Rosalie,” I say as I shake the bedspread out the window.
“I almost tripped over that mother fucker. You gave it a name?” She says as she tackles another cobweb-free angle. Elsbeth better not scare her away. This is a Callaway secret, dammit!
“We have to, for the apps. We have one per floor. This one’s the silent model. You should try it for your store.”
Calla starts barking and runs downstairs, seeming content to have a reason to leave the dreaded bedroom. We barely have time to hear Beck’s voice in the hallway, when the bedroom door slams again. “Let’s make the bed, then we can move onto the next room.”
“You guys need cute little aprons and short skirts,” Beck jokes as he barges in, holding Muffin in his arms. The pup’s legs dangle as he sets his head on Beck’s forearm. “Why are these little guys locked up?”
The little guys are now as tall as a Border Collie and close to the weight of a Lab, but I get where he’s coming from. They’ll always be babies to us.
“They still have accidents,” I say as Kiara and I adjust the fitted sheet. “Here,” I tell Beck, handing him the pillow covers. “Make yourself useful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sets Muffin down, then punches the pillows inside the pillow covers. “I’ll get Griff’s room,” he tells us once we’re done in Gail’s. “You guys go do your thing.”
“You look happy,” Kiara says as she carefully folds the ingredients for a genoise. “Like, really happy.” We decided on a pear and almond cake—simple enough to make yet impressive to look at and always delicious.
I look at my friend. “I am. Truly am. Sorry to say, but you were wrong,” I tease.
“And so fucking glad about it.” She pours the batter into a baking dish. “Though I will say, I deserve some credit.”
I open the oven for her. “Pff…” She all but made me swear I wouldn’t fall in love with Noah. Might have called me an idiot when I confessed it was too late. “Excuse me?”
“Remember that argument we had, when we moved you out?”
Ah. So they were arguing. “What about it?” I never clarified that with Noah.
“I may have told him to tell you how he felt about you.”
Wait. Backtrack. This was before we slept together. My palms moist, I ask, “And how did he feel about me?”
“Oh, he flat out told me he loved you and to fuck off.”
“That’s a lie. Noah wouldn’t have told you to fuck off.”
“True. But he did say, and I quote, ‘I’m in love with her.’ Also admitted he didn’t see it coming. That’s how I knew it was true. The kind of love he has for you, it’s bigger than anything.”