Chapter 20
20
The Zoom meetings had gone as well as could be expected, and despite her still-fresh sorrow over losing Coralee, Madison was encouraged.
Her actual participation had been minimal, since Audra had done most of the talking, bless her, but Madison had been present and very much in the loop.
The deal was done.
Technically, the company was sold, though documents had to be signed, funds transferred, all the usual things involved in a major financial deal.
For the time being, Madison was glad she didn’t have to think about business.
She did have to think about Audra’s imminent arrival, however, and about the upcoming meeting with Ezra Clark, her grandmother’s attorney. Although he’d given her a comprehensive overview of the issues at hand earlier, over the phone, Mr. Clark was a lawyer and therefore a detail man. He wanted to go over the terms of Coralee’s estate one by one, in person.
Since it was only noon, and Mr. Clark wasn’t due until three o’clock, Madison decided to run a few errands in the interim.
She loaded Charlie into the Bentley and headed for town, stopping first at the print and copy place, where she’d left Katherine Bettencourt’s journals to be scanned and transcribed. The young woman who brought the dusty volumes—the actual transcription would be sent to Madison by email—was very quiet, almost frightened, it seemed.
She met Madison’s gaze only long enough to say, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ms. Bettencourt.”
Madison thought her reticence was odd, but soon dismissed it on the grounds that most people find it awkward when they encounter someone recently bereaved.
Taking the journals and the receipt for services rendered, she returned to the car, where she was welcomed by Charlie as joyously as if she’d been gone for a month instead of ten minutes.
The next stop was the pet store, and Charlie was delighted anew when he realized that this time, he got to accompany Madison and actually go inside. She fastened the leash the vet’s assistant had given her to his collar, also meant for temporary use, and headed inside.
Charlie pranced like a proud little horse as they entered, sniffer working overtime, head turning constantly to take in all the wonders surrounding him.
Madison couldn’t help smiling, and for a few minutes, her grief subsided.
Together, she and Charlie chose a harness, a strong leash, food and water bowls, half a dozen squeaky toys, a fluffy dog bed, and a big bag of kibble.
The experience raised Madison’s spirits all over again.
Charlie still needed a license tag, but she could register for that online.
Their final destination was the grocery store; there, Charlie had to wait in the Bentley again, with one window rolled partway down. Madison’s grocery list was short, so woman and dog weren’t separated for long, though, as before, the little guy greeted her with eager face licks, squirms and a low, happy whine.
Back home, Madison carried in all the loot, Charlie keeping pace as she went back and forth between the car and the kitchen, and when that task was finished, she fitted him out in the new harness, clipped on the matching leash, and took him for a walk.
Last time, they’d followed Sparrow Bend Drive toward town, but on that day, they went in the opposite direction, going as far as the rusted mailbox in front of the neighboring farmhouse, which was technically next door to Bettencourt Hall.
Since both properties encompassed many acres of land, it was a good trek.
In adulthood, now and on previous visits home, Madison had tended to avoid the derelict, long-abandoned place, but when she chanced to see it, all run-down and forgotten, she felt sad.
There had been a For Sale sign out front since forever.
Back when she was very young, before Coralee sent her away to boarding school, a family had been living there, a thriving, rambunctious bunch including two parents, three young sons, and one daughter.
The Hallidays, Madison recalled. That was their name.
They’d been such happy people, obviously poor, but maintaining the property, diligently keeping the grass mowed, the house and picket fence painted, and the barn shored up, which couldn’t have been an easy task, given that the structure dated back to the nineteenth century.
The Hallidays had grown most of their own food, cultivating and tending a huge garden, keeping chickens and pigs and a milk cow they called Ida. Mr. Halliday had earned a hardscrabble living raising corn, alfalfa and hay, and Mrs. Halliday sold eggs, cream and milk year-round and vegetables in season. The boys were rowdy, and their clothes were shabby, but they were good kids. The youngest, named Martha, was painfully shy and breathtakingly beautiful, even as a little girl.
Where were they all now?
Madison had no idea. All she knew for sure was that hard times had struck that family at some point, and evidently, they’d lost everything.
She recalled Coralee remarking dismissively that the Hallidays were land-poor.
They owned nearly a hundred acres, and barely made enough money to keep the proverbial wolf from the door.
Today, though, there was a newish car parked in the driveway, and a woman Madison didn’t recognize had just hung a Sold sign over the forlorn original.
Seeing Madison and Charlie standing by the mailbox, the woman waved and smiled. “Hello,” she called cheerfully. “Isn’t it wonderful? The old Halliday house is going to be a home again!”
Madison smiled. “Yes,” she answered, while Charlie sniffed around the pole supporting the mailbox and then lifted his leg to pee on it. Back in the day, Coralee had considered buying the place herself, just to keep another downtrodden family from moving in. She’d planned to have the house, barn and other outbuildings bulldozed to the ground and burned, but for whatever reason, she’d never sealed the deal.
The real estate agent approached, put out a hand to her. “I’m Alice Redding,” she said. “And, unless I miss my guess, you’re Madison Bettencourt. I was very sorry to hear about Coralee’s passing.”
“Thank you,” Madison said. She searched her memory for any recollection of meeting Alice before, and came up dry. “You know me?”
Alice was still smiling. She was about Madison’s age, slender to the point of being skinny, with short, spiky dark hair and wide brown eyes. “You’re sort of famous around here. Because of the wedding.”
Madison blushed. Was that what she would be known for from now on? Running away from Jeffrey at the last moment?
“Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s a little embarrassing.”
Alice patted her arm. “Never mind all that,” she said warmly. “Stuff happens. As for your initial question, the Halliday farm will soon belong to one of the movie people—his name is Landon Reece, and he seems to be a very nice man.”
“A movie star is buying this house?” Madison asked, surprised.
Alice chuckled. “Not exactly. Mr. Reece is a stuntman. He’s working as a double for Bram Finley.” She paused, patted her chest with one hand, fingers splayed. “Be still my beating heart.”
Madison had heard of Finley, and even seen a few of his movies, but she’d met enough celebrities in the course of her career to know how ordinary most of them were. The best ones were invariably modest, and somewhat amazed by their own success, but a few were insufferable egotists.
She had no idea which category Bram Finley fell into, and she didn’t care.
“Well,” she said, at a loss for anything relevant to add besides a platitude, “it’s nice to think of the old place being cleaned up and lived in again.”
Alice nodded, looking back at the house and the landscape in general, her expression wistful. “I think the Hallidays would be glad,” she said very quietly.
“Do you know what happened to them?” Madison asked, picking up on the other woman’s sadness and matching it with her own. “The family, I mean?”
Alice turned back to her. Sighed. “Mrs. Halliday—Geneva—got sick. Pancreatic cancer, I think. After she died, Mr. Halliday just gave up on the place, let it go back to the bank. He took the kids and moved away, but I don’t know where they went. None of them ever came back, as far as I know. Another man bought it when it had sat empty for a few years, but he put it up for sale after six months or so. It’s been on the market ever since.”
Madison nodded, her question answered. She’d run out of small talk.
“I’d better get back home,” she said. “Lots to do.”
“If you ever want to sell Bettencourt Hall,” Alice said, producing a business card, “give me a call.”
Madison accepted the card, tucked it into her jeans pocket, shook her head. “I won’t be selling it,” she said, undoubtedly dashing Alice’s hopes for another commission. “But if I ever need the services of a real estate agent, I’ll be sure to contact you.”
Alice didn’t seem disappointed. She probably didn’t expect the house to be offered for sale, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Like Madison, she was a businesswoman.
“It was great to meet you,” Alice said, looking and sounding sincere. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“Maybe,” Madison agreed, liking Alice.
They parted ways then.
Alice went toward her car, and Madison and Charlie headed for home.
When Alice passed them on the road, she gave the horn a merry toot in farewell.
Back at Bettencourt Hall, Madison unhooked Charlie’s leash, removed his harness, and ruffled his ears, telling him he was a good, good boy.
Apparently exhausted, Charlie lapped up some water and curled up on his new bed in a corner of the kitchen.
Madison hurried upstairs, feeling a little rushed now, where she showered and put on black slacks and a white blouse. She added a touch of mascara and some lip gloss, then went back downstairs.
Since it was almost time for Mr. Clark to arrive, she put the matter out of her mind, to be dealt with later.
She was tidying up the library when the doorbell rang.
Evidently, the roadwork hadn’t slowed Mr. Clark down; he was a little early.
But when Madison opened the heavy front door, she found a thin young man standing under the portico, holding an enormous vase of white lilies.
A pang of fresh sorrow tore at her heart.
She took the bouquet, asked the boy to wait, and carried the flowers into the library, setting them down on the coffee table. They smelled heavenly; they also brought tears to her eyes.
She recalled once, as a child, she’d stuck her face into a bouquet of lilies, greedy for more of that marvelous scent. And after that, she’d walked around, unaware, with a yellow, powdery smudge of pollen on her nose—much to Coralee and Estelle’s amusement.
The memory was especially poignant now that her grandmother was gone.
After raiding her purse, she went back to the door, handed the boy a tip and thanked him. Given how many friends Coralee had had in Painted Pony Creek and the surrounding area, this might be the first of a number of such deliveries, though most well-wishers would probably wait for the memorial service.
Once the boy had taken the tip, thanked her and gone, Madison went back to the library and read the florist’s card.
Both Keely and Cavan had signed with their first names, and their father had added, in his strong, slightly slanted scrawl, “We’re here if you need us. Liam.”
It was fortunate that Madison was standing in front of an armchair, because her knees were suddenly weak, and she sank onto the cushion, bouncing a little.
Her eyes burned with appreciation and something else.
The feeling wasn’t hard to identify, nor did it take very long.
A singular loneliness—for one person alone.
She wanted to call or text Liam, right now , and ask him to come over, to listen, to hold her close while she cried.
But she couldn’t do it.
Her need for Liam was a wild, elemental thing, and that was the very reason she had to step back, at least for the time being.
She had just come out of a relationship.
She had lost her grandmother and sold her company, almost simultaneously, and though she didn’t regret selling, it would be a while—maybe a long while—before she’d sorted through all that.
Much as she wanted to turn to Liam, she could not allow herself to do it.
It would be unfair to him, for one thing. And to her.
Liam had been badly hurt by the breakup with Waverly, and he deserved a healthy, uncomplicated love, not one that might be nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to loneliness and loss.
Plus, he had two children to care for, and they obviously needed a lot of attention, especially Keely.
Anyway, Madison still wanted a baby, and her first fertility appointment was a month away.
How could Liam possibly fit into that plan?
He probably didn’t want any more kids, especially one that wasn’t biologically his.
Of course there was a chance he felt differently, but Madison’s baby clock was ticking, and she couldn’t afford to wait around much longer. With every passing year, the risks of pregnancy were greater.
As for the undeniable attraction between herself and Liam, well, it would take time for a relationship to develop. Suppose she and Liam decided to take a chance, see where fate would take them, with her hopes rising higher and higher as time passed, and then Liam chose not to have a baby with her?
No. Having a child of her own was too important to Madison.
She needed to move forward with her own plans.
Mr. Clark’s arrival was a welcome distraction, and Madison was composed and businesslike as the two of them sat down to go over Coralee’s rather complicated last wishes.
Charlie, curious about the visitor, moseyed in from the kitchen, sniffing the aging lawyer’s pants cuffs.
Ezra smiled and petted the eager dog’s head.
Madison decided she liked this man. He was probably close to Coralee’s age, but he soon proved himself competent and sharp.
He politely refused Madison’s offer of refreshments—cookies and coffee or tea—saying he was cutting back on sugar, and he never took caffeine after lunch, and they settled down to business.
Besides the emerald bracelet set aside for Althea James, Coralee’s librarian friend, there were other miscellaneous bequests, ranging from exquisite pieces of antique china and jewelry to cuttings from certain plants in the garden.
She’d left sizable amounts of money to Estelle and Connie, and even provided a college fund for Orlando.
Madison was impressed. She’d known Coralee was a generous woman, but she’d definitely outdone herself with the wide range of gifts she’d bequeathed to different individuals and to literally dozens of charities.
Madison was to receive the house and most of its contents, with the exception, as already stated by Mr. Clark, of the items she’d earmarked for various friends and acquaintances. In addition to Bettencourt Hall, there was a significant sum of money.
Between what Coralee had left her, what she’d earned over the course of her career, and her share of the sale of the company she and Audra had built together, she would never need to work another day in her life if she chose not to.
That, however, was a choice Madison had never intended to make.
She loved working, feeling useful, making a difference.
Although the idea was still in the early stages of its development, she planned on starting a charitable foundation, and running it would be a full-time job in and of itself.
She would hire employees and run the operation out of Bettencourt Hall.
God knew there was more than enough room.
Once Mr. Clark had outlined the contents of the will, plus Coralee’s comprehensive plans for her own memorial service, he pulled a sealed envelope from a pocket in his briefcase and held it out to Madison.
She took it slowly, thoughtfully, recognizing her grandmother’s custom stationery with its distinctive embossed seal.
Ezra Clark smiled gently at her apparent reluctance to open the missive.
She wondered if the lawyer knew the contents, then decided he probably didn’t. It was sealed, and chances were, that had been Coralee’s doing. She’d always had a flare for the dramatic.
“I’d best be going,” Mr. Clark said, rising carefully, because Charlie had been sleeping at his feet with his muzzle resting on the man’s shoe, and he clearly didn’t want to startle the dog. “If you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to get in touch,” he added. “I’ll let you know when the will has been properly registered and executed, and my wife and I do plan to attend the memorial service.”
Madison, subdued now, walked Ezra Clark to the front door, Charlie trotting after them as if to provide an escort.
When the lawyer was gone, she returned to the library, sat down in the same chair she’d occupied throughout the visit, and, her hands trembling slightly, inspected the envelope.
Again, she thought of Liam, wished he were there with her to provide moral support—even though she wasn’t entirely sure why she needed moral support.
As sad as she was over Coralee’s passing, she understood her duties as her granddaughter perfectly well.
She was to plan the memorial service, invite the whole town, and make sure the event lived up to her grandmother’s high expectations. After the service, she was to distribute the china, jewelry and other gifts.
Mr. Clark, thankfully, would disperse the allotted funds.
It was all cut and dried. So why did she feel such a grinding need to be in Liam’s presence?
She wouldn’t call him, wouldn’t text him.
She’d already decided to steer clear of Liam McKettrick from now on, or at least until she had her own life under control.
Besides, Audra would be arriving soon.
She could confide in her friend, her business partner, the person she trusted completely. She’d feel better then, surely. Forget all about Liam and the powerful attraction between them.
Madison sighed, admired the lilies, allowing the envelope to rest unopened in her lap until she heard the grandfather clock chime ponderously.
Five o’clock.
She checked her phone for messages.
Audra had left a voice mail. She’d been held up in Boca Raton and would be arriving tomorrow instead of tonight.
Madison was disappointed, but she rallied quickly enough. As the real estate agent had said earlier, stuff happens.
The text from Liam was not so easily dismissed.
Thinking about you. Say the word, and I’m there.
Answer him! The voice in Madison’s head, surprisingly, was not her own, but Audra’s. Sometimes the empathy between them bordered on spooky.
Madison fumbled, nearly dropping the phone.
She bit her lower lip. Debated with herself.
And her sensible side lost. Resoundingly.
She texted back.
Tell me what “the word” is, and I’ll say it.
She waited.
Less than thirty seconds passed before his response bounced down from the satellite and landed hard, not only in her phone, but in her heart.
On my way.
Liam must have been in town instead of on his ranch, because he was at the front door in less than fifteen minutes.
He was alone, freshly showered and dressed in jeans, a neatly pressed cotton shirt, and polished boots.
Madison didn’t say anything.
She just threw her arms around his neck and held on.
Liam pushed the door shut with one foot, holding her.
“Hey,” he said. It was a low, raspy rumble of a word.
“I’m sorry!” she all but wailed.
He kissed the top of her head, rocked her gently in his arms.
Charlie danced eagerly around them, excited to welcome another visitor.
Liam held her away from him, but not very far, because she was still within the warm radius of him. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked, still sounding hoarse.
“Disturbing you,” Madison said, calm enough to be mildly embarrassed by her neediness. She did not want to come off as needy, even though, at that moment, she was. “Where are Keely and Cavan?”
He touched her nose. “With Miranda, over at Bailey’s. She volunteered to babysit for the evening.”
“So you had plans, and now I’ve messed them up.”
“Shhh,” Liam said. “No matter what else is going on, Madison, I always have time for you. Always.”
She took his hand, led him through the house, to the kitchen.
In places like Painted Pony Creek, she reflected, the kitchen was always the heart of the house, the place where people tended to gather, in good times and in bad. Even in a house like Bettencourt Hall.
“Sit down,” Liam said, putting his hands on Madison’s shoulders and pressing her lightly into a chair at the table. “I’ll make coffee, or tea, or whatever you want.”
“I just want to be in the same room with you,” Madison confessed. “I don’t need anything else.”
Liam pulled back a chair of his own, sat down. “I’m here, and I’ll stay as long as you want,” he told her very quietly.
“You were going out?” Madison framed the words as a question, but she wasn’t really asking one.
“It’s poker night at Sully’s,” he said. “But that’s later.”
“I don’t want to keep you.”
“I’m pretty adaptable, actually,” Liam responded with a slight grin. “And there will be other poker games. But you can only lose Coralee once.”
Madison felt foolish, tearful, and very grateful that Liam was there.
“I wasn’t going to text you. Or anything. I thought— think— we might be rushing things a little.”
He looked sad. He also looked as though he understood completely. “Why do you think that?” he asked reasonably.
“Well—it was only a few weeks ago that I broke things off with Jeffrey, and—”
“And?”
“I might be on the rebound. I am on the rebound.”
“If you say so, I won’t argue. Which doesn’t mean I agree.”
Madison laughed, actually laughed , then clapped both hands over her mouth, embarrassed again.
Still.
“Go ahead,” she ventured, after long moments of drinking Liam McKettrick in with her eyes. It seemed then that her very soul was thirsty for him. “Argue.”
He chuckled, took her hands in his and squeezed. “Okay,” he said, drawing a breath and then releasing it slowly, as though summoning up his courage. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, Madison Bettencourt. From the moment you came barreling into the Hard Luck Saloon looking as though you could pull up railroad spikes with your teeth, I haven’t been able to think straight.”
She stared at him. Hopeful. Confounded. And unable to utter a single word in response.
Liam’s strong rancher’s hands released hers, then rose to cup her face so tenderly that her breath caught and her heart skipped a beat.
“Madison,” he began, “I understand that you’re not ready for a full-on relationship. I get that you need time to sort things out in your head, and that’s okay.”
“What about sex?” Madison blurted, and then blushed so hard that her cheeks burned.
He leaned forward in his chair, nibbled briefly, lightly at her lips, causing her mouth to tingle and things to open and expand inside her.
“Sex,” he repeated with a sigh. “I think about it a lot. I’d love to take you to bed. I don’t deny that, not for a moment. But I care about all of you, Madison, and what I feel runs a lot deeper than sex. With you, it’s going to be lovemaking , being part of each other, something sacred. And when it happens, I want everything about it to be right.” He paused. “No groping. No fumbling. The time has to be—well— the time— because I’m not going to bungle this. It’s too important.”
Madison was so stunned that she swayed a little in her chair.
“You’re honestly willing to wait?” she asked, amazed. Liam McKettrick was the first man she’d ever gotten close to who didn’t want to jump her bones, the sooner, the better.
“Didn’t I just say that in so many words?” he asked, with a teasing note in his voice and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m as horny as the next guy. But this is different. You are different.”
Madison felt a lump rise in her throat, aching there, and her eyes burned. “There’s one thing I have to tell you.”
Liam made a show of bracing himself. “Let’s hear it.”
“I have an appointment next month. I’m starting fertility treatments.”
He dropped his hands from her face, sat back in his chair.
She tried to read his expression and couldn’t.
“Why?” he asked, after a brief silence that pulsed between them, so intense that it was nearly palpable.
“I’m thirty-two years old, Liam,” Madison heard herself say. “I want a child. Before it’s too late.”
“I see,” he said, after another long lapse.
“You don’t want more children?” she dared to ask, almost in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” he replied. He was so purposefully honest.
“So we have a problem. I can’t wait around to see if things work out between us, Liam. Because if they don’t, I might never get what I want most in the world.”
Liam nodded. Clearly he understood her point.
And just as clearly, he wasn’t ready to make any promises.
“Go,” she said, after what seemed like an eternity. “Go to your poker game. I’ll be fine.”
He leaned forward, kissed her, and it was a real kiss, not a mere brush of his lips against hers.
Then he stood. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” Madison replied readily enough.
But, of course, she wasn’t sure at all.