Keeping My Wife (Murdock Brothers #5)

Prologue

Maxine

It was a blustery day in October when my grandmother was buried. Halloween, of all days to be exact.

I stared at the mausoleum on the edge of Indigo Valley’s St. Christopher’s cemetery. The structure was hidden in the trees and yet could be seen from every gravesite on the sprawling piece of land. Typical of the Delacroix family.

Always on display and yet apart.

She had a good turnout. At least eighty people had showed up to pay their respects to my mother and me.

I glanced over at my mother with her big black sunglasses and far too tight black dress.

At least she’d had the good sense to wear a black coat to cover most of it.

Didn’t help that the front of the coat was open to show her abundant breasts.

Not to mention the insolent mobster want-to-be with his arm around her waist propping her up.

As usual, my mother was either drunk or high. Probably both.

Her current man of the hour—Brian? Benny? Whatever—stood beside her.

She always found a rich guy to take care of her.

At least for a little while. Until they passed her over for a newer, shinier model.

Marcella Delacroix was still a beautiful woman and she played the elegant, helpless heiress for all its worth.

She attracted men who wanted to take care of her and liked the prestige of our name to elevate their own status.

I wasn’t sure what she was going to do now.

My grandmother, Lucinda Delacroix, was the last of a legacy. My mother certainly hadn’t added to the lore of our family. She’d just used the generational wealth to keep her in the lavish lifestyle she’d grown up in.

I didn’t realize the ceremony was over until my mother’s priest, Father Gentry, stood in front of me with his hands outstretched. I blinked out of my thoughts and took his hands. “Thank you, Father.”

“Of course. Lucinda will be missed. If you need anything, simply ask.” He had a kind, lived in face. I vaguely remembered going to Christmas mass with my grandmother and enjoying his sermon.

Then came the barrage of townspeople. The mayor with her fake smile and shrill voice.

The people from the congregation who always showed up to a funeral.

I recognized faces over names and took the condolences like tiny punches.

I couldn’t tell the difference between people showing up for optics versus those who actually cared about my family.

Oh, there were a few who were simply kind, like Mr. and Mrs. Murdock, my best friends since high school Gus and Eloise, and my grandmother’s caregiver. However, I was intensely glad I’d opted out of a gathering after the funeral.

I didn’t know any of these people anymore.

I’d escaped Indigo Valley the minute I was able to.

And now I was back and nothing felt real or right.

Finally, when everyone was gone—including my mother—I stared at the massive stone structure.

The Delacroix name etched into the marble slab over the opening like an echo to a long-ago time.

Much like my grandmother.

“Are you okay?” My best friend’s voice was soft and uncertain.

My eyes were dry as I patted, Eloise Cross’s hand on my arm, but didn’t look away from the massive stone structure. “I just need a minute.”

“I’ll be at the car.”

I wasn’t sure if I nodded or not. The last three days had been a blur. I tucked my hands into my black coat, needing a moment as the wind and decaying leaves whirled around me.

Lucinda was now resting with her beloved Henry. She’d lived a good long life. For all her faults, she’d been a cornerstone of support when I’d left this small town to pursue my dreams. My mother never understood my need to work, nor the need to prove I was more than just a Delacroix.

In Georgia, no one cared who I was which had been both good and bad.

Back here, I was one of the founding families. My grandfather had made his money in textiles and then the stock market. He’d made several lifetime’s worth of money and helped to build up this town into what it was.

Now, somehow, the legacy was just this stone mausoleum and the grand house on the hill.

I stepped up to the door and placed my palm on the marble. “Bye, Gram.”

The tears were trapped inside my chest. I still had so much to do.

And now, I had to deal with the will.

I walked across the headstone dotted landscape to the black limo waiting for me.

When I opened the door, I found my mother slumped against the man who was idly scrolling on his phone.

Eloise sat on the bench across from them, her hands folded in her lap, her usual riot of strawberry blond curls tamped down in a simple French braid.

I scooted in beside her, my eyes burning.

She reached over and took my hand, bringing it to her lap. One tear finally escaped and trailed down my cheek as we made the winding trip up to the mansion.

A Cadillac was waiting near the front of the house. Robert Templeman stepped out of the driver side as the limo made its way up the driveway. He’d been the family lawyer for as long as I could remember. He was a tall scarecrow of a man and his white hair ruffled in the whipping wind.

He’d been at the ceremony but escaped to the house soon after so we could get the will over with.

My mother roused enough to follow us inside and into the library, leaning heavily on her man du jour.

“I’ll get right to the point.” Robert sat beside the desk.

A sudden sense of unease hit me as I noticed how shabby the room looked. There was dust on the shelves and when I looked a little closer, I noticed the wallpaper was peeling in spots.

“Lucinda made some very specific provisions in her will.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out two folders. He set one in front of me and one in front of my mother.

“The old battle axe is controlling the purse strings even from the grave.” My mother’s smooth voice held a slurring bite.

Robert arrowed his shrewd gaze at her. “You have little to complain about. She always added money to your trust even when you went beyond your monthly allowance.”

“I’m not some child!” Her voice rose, shrill and a shade away from hysterical.

“Calm yourself, Marcella.”

She sat back, crossing her legs as she pulled out a cigarette.

“Mother.”

She pulled out a lighter. “I can smoke in here. It’s my house now.”

The sharp scent of tobacco hit my nose followed by the heavy stream of smoke she blew my way.

“Actually, that’s not the case.”

My mother narrowed her eyes and sat forward. “Explain.”

“The finances have been drained over the years as well as the cost of the upkeep of this house.”

Marcella sat back with a curse. “Burn it for all I care. The insurance is probably worth more than this ugly museum.”

I fisted my hands in my lap.

Eloise reached over and closed her hand over mine.

“There are some stocks of course. She didn’t have a lot of medical expenses since Lucinda’s death was so sudden. Essentially, the money will be split between you and Maxine. However, the house is another matter. It comes with a provision.”

My mother took a deep drag and blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. “Of course it did.”

“The only way to inherit the house is to be married.”

“Screw that. Can we just sell it?”

“Yes, but then you forfeit the five-million-dollar trust that comes with the house.”

“What?” She sat forward. “She can’t do that!”

This time, it was me who slumped back into the seat.

“As you’ll see in your copies of the will, you’ll each inherit five hundred thousand dollars. Marcella, you’ll inherit your mother’s jewelry and the Mercedes.”

“That’s it?”

I closed my eyes at my mother’s shrill voice.

Robert, well used to her, simply kept going.

“Maxine, you’re the executrix and custodian for the house until you choose to sell or fulfill the requirements of the will.

She left you the Range Rover, her first edition novels in the library, as well as the Monet in her bedroom.

The rest of the furniture and art will be split between you both. ”

I took a deep breath. “How long do we have for the...provision? Are there parameters?”

“Yes. You must be married for at least one year to inherit.”

“She’s insane. Can we fight this? She had to have dementia or something.”

“Mother!” The first vestiges of anger dented the numbness and shock.

“Who would put this in a will?!”

“She loved this house and you should know that.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat.

“She was of sound mind. The will would be difficult to fight in court.” Robert folded his hands over the papers. “If neither one of you is married within six months you forfeit the money—”

“Where does that money go?”

“She set up an endowment for the Bridger school in Connecticut in the event you didn’t fulfill the stipulations for the will.”

“What the hell is that?” My mother was flicking ash everywhere as she waved her hand.

“Grandfather’s military school,” I said quietly.

“Absolutely not!” She whirled around to look at her man. “Will you marry me for a year?”

The man’s jaw dropped. “Marcella, we can discuss this at a future time.”

“No, I need to know now.”

He all but winced. “You know I’m technically married. Susan and I have separated but…”

“You’re useless.” She seethed and grabbed the folder, leaving the room in a huff as the dark suited man followed her out.

I flinched at the slam of the door. “I’m so sorry, Robert.”

“It’s fine. I’m well aware of your mother’s...personality.”

The harsh laugh that escaped nearly came with the sob trapped in my chest.

“There’s a provision to cover the utilities while this is in probate. You may want to have an estate sale for any other expenditures.”

I nodded. “Thank you, that might be a good idea.”

“I tried to dissuade Lucinda from this part of the will, but she was worried you two wouldn’t be taken care of.”

“Instead, she wants us in a loveless marriage.”

Robert shook his head as he stood. “She was more of the mind that it would be a nudge into a safe future. And if you marry, you need to live in the house for the year.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” He walked around the desk and touched my arm. “I’m available for whatever questions you have.”

I nodded mutely then followed him to the door.

Looked like I wasn’t leaving Indigo Valley any time soon.