Chapter 7
SEVEN
CALDER
I pull up in front of the dated funeral home.
For a town as small as Scandal, the funeral home is a sprawling building made to hold a couple hundred people, and thanks to that, it’s on the edge of city limits.
I park behind a familiar blue hybrid SUV.
It was at the brewery yesterday. What the hell is Meredith doing here?
Other than planning her sister’s funeral at the only funeral home in Scandal, dumbass.
Guilt lingers from last night’s feud, and my curiosity about Meredith Winslow grows.
What did she mean when she said a guy like me used her?
What happened? Dad never mentioned anything.
Carlos said she started at the brewery when she was twenty-one, and then she was gone for a few years, only to return to Jules Creek five years ago.
Her claims about being the scandal in Scandal gnaw at my stomach lining. It hasn’t been easy for her. Dad’s words scrawl through my head, but I push them away. That’s not my fault.
Doesn’t help the acid churning in my gut. How hard was it—
No. I’m not interested. I don’t want to know more about the fiery woman who chugs a beer while making a satisfied sound straight from the bedroom.
I don’t want to be fascinated by the way she faces me down, instead of catering to me.
There’s no fluttering of her eyelashes or sashaying of her hips that will influence me.
Doesn’t mean I took my gaze off her ass when she stomped out of the kitchen last night, though.
Now I have to face her while planning my dad’s funeral—the same funeral he would’ve wanted with Holly, side by side in front of the community.
Bowen and Landry support the decision, but they’re not here to see Dad’s dirty laundry still mixed with Holly’s in the main-level bathroom.
Their shoes lined up together by the entry.
Their coats hanging together on the hooks by the door.
The burn in my gut works its way to behind my sternum.
I get out of my ride and slam the door. In the funeral home, Meredith is speaking with James Foreman, a lanky older man dressed in a peach dress shirt and gray slacks.
His tightly trimmed black curls are peppered with gray.
He’s the same director who handled Mama’s funeral.
Meredith’s expression is as hard as steel. Her brunette hair is pulled back, with red strands glinting under the fluorescent lights.
“Ah, Calder. Hello.” James crosses to me to shake hands.
“Nice to see you again.” It truly is. He was a calming presence during an awful time, and now, with the added drama, I’m relieved it’s him handling the situation.
“I’m just wrapping up with Meredith.” He presses his hands together, glancing back and forth. “Unless you’d like to go over anything while you’re both here.”
The yellow in Meredith’s eyes blazes. “Calder would like them to remain separate.”
“I can talk with Meredith separately about anything we need to coordinate,” I say, more to keep things moving. Hopefully her, moving out of my sight. She’s in another Jules Creek polo—yellow this time. The lighter color makes her tits even more apparent, unfortunately. Who picked that damn color?
“Yes. Right.” His smile is easy, even though this situation is not.
A better man might give in, but I cannot sit through a service listening to good things about the woman my mom trusted at her most vulnerable.
“Well, we’ve got the times scheduled. I can do one service after the other. Neither of you wishes for a long one, so anyone who’d like to stay for both can. The same goes for the graveside service—one after the other. Easy enough to do with the plots next to each other.”
“What?” My anger is instant. “Dad’s getting buried next to Mama. He bought both plots at the same time.”
Strain lines James’s eyes. “Yes, um, well, he purchased a third not long after.”
“So he’s going to be flanked by Mama and that woman?”
“That woman is my sister,” Meredith says tightly.
“How would you feel?” I ask hotly, regretting my outlash.
I never lose my cool. I’m as cold as ice in my job, keeping my emotions out of major financial decisions for my clients, but this moment feels like getting dipped into a ring of hell.
My skin blisters as hot as my temper. “How would you feel if my dad cheated on Holly while he was caring for her during those last two months of her life?” I tilt my head.
Dad never admitted to cheating on my mom, but the timeline doesn’t make sense otherwise.
“Then married his affair partner and laid himself to rest beside her? I bet your sister didn’t invite any friends over to care for her when she was recovering from her broken leg, just in case. ”
Meredith’s jaw drops open with a gasp, and I want to groan. I pushed it too far. I’m an adult, not some volatile kid.
“I’m sorry, Calder.” James is the eye of the storm raging between me and Meredith. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be. I also know it can be hard to honor our loved ones’ wishes when they cause so much pain.”
My fury deflates. Meredith seems to wither while gathering herself. No one can deny this is a shit place for both of us to be, and having James acknowledge it means a lot.
“Fine,” I say, regaining my composure. Meredith is drawing into herself, and after being reprimanded by her—and having her serve me the best ice-cold beer I’ve had in twenty years—I feel every bit the asshole I just acted like. “Funeral and graveside service back-to-back. Reception at the ranch.”
The door swings open behind us and a woman rushes in. She stands an inch shorter than Meredith, her braided hair a couple of shades lighter, with highlights, but nothing that screams salon quality. This person must spend a lot of time in the sun. There’s something familiar about her. I know her.
My conversations with Dad click into place. Sawyer Booth. Meredith’s best friend. Someone Dad adored and employed. Another woman he doted on instead of his own kids.
The ranch records reflect how much she’s worked on Crossroads. She treats and cares for every creature on the ranch, and she likely provided some under-the-table care for Carlos when he required minor mending.
I remember the Booths. They were an elderly couple who lived in town.
He worked for the newspaper, and she was the lunch lady.
They had a daughter late in life, and I wouldn’t have pictured that proper little girl turning into a woman wearing square-toed cowboy boots, durable jeans, and a short-sleeve button-up shirt.
A rope belt cinches at her waist. I can picture Meredith and Sawyer clambering over fences and chasing barn cats as young girls.
“Sorry I’m late. An abscess took—” Her gaze lands on me, and she blanches. She seeks out Meredith, and they exchange a loaded look that only close friends can manage. “Calder Cross, in the flesh.”
“What are you doing here?”
Both women kick up a brow, and yeah, it’s a pointless question, but I’m feeling outnumbered. Like the villain who rides into town and gets confronted by a line of townsfolk on Main Street.
Her disdainful gaze shifts to my loafers, and she sneers. “You’ve got some dust on your shoes.”
I’m about to tell her she has dust every-fucking-where when James claps his hands.
“Perfect timing, Sawyer. I have copies of the readings for you to look over.”
She shoots me a glare before following James to his office.
Is she reading during one ceremony, or both? Again, I’m on the outside, lost in my own hometown.
I’m left with Meredith. She folds her arms, her face drawn. Instead of engaging in a tense conversation, she wanders to the window, squinting as the sunlight lands on her.
The silence affects me, and that makes no damn sense. I work alone in an office. I dread meetings before they even begin and will completely opt out if possible. Yet I’m waiting for her attention, and she’s not giving it.
“I’m planning to visit the brewery today. I should meet the other employees.”
That makes her turn, her eyes blazing in the sun. “Then you’ll need to go later. Molly’s only there early when we have inventory and stocking to do. The others work the taproom shifts.”
“Molly?”
“The girl who was working with me yesterday.”
There was another person there? I knew Meredith was there as soon as I opened the door. But yes, now I recall another woman bustling behind the bar.
“When is Bea usually in?”
Her expression softens, letting fondness in. “She comes in the afternoon and sometimes stays for a pint.”
A pint with Bea sounds like a better night out than I’ve had in a while.
Sawyer and James emerge from the office. He smiles, the dark skin around his eyes crinkling.
“I’m all yours, Calder.”
My gaze connects with Meredith’s shadowed one. There’s nothing for us to say to each other, and I should have an easier time accepting that. It would bother my conscience less, but the plans for everything Dad left behind aren’t just up to me.
Leaving the women, I head into James’s office. He chats with them for another minute before joining me. As he sits behind his desk, I experience a fleeting sense of longing for my brothers to be here. Why couldn’t one of them take time off? Our father died, for fuck’s sake.
I push my irritation aside. I should be accustomed to the distance between all of us.
It’s been a long time since I flew to visit either of them.
We’re all unapologetically busy with our careers.
Being home is messing with my head. So is planning my dad’s funeral alone, along with ending last night being reprimanded by Meredith.
Now I’m looking forward to a drink with a woman whose wildest night is winning bingo at the bar downtown.
I could be wrong. Bea could out-party me.
Is Meredith working all night again?
Why do I care?
So I can avoid the dining table when she returns to the house? Or to make sure I’m planted there at 2 a.m.?