Chapter 5
Caleb woke in an empty bed, not sure where he was. Nothing looked familiar, but when he leaned up on his elbows, the scent of wildflowers danced around him.
“Snow,” he said, looking around. Fear sent his heart racing.
Had she left again? Where would she go this time? Caleb jumped out of bed and was grabbing his jeans when he heard a noise from the kitchen. Like a toaster popping. He peeked through the open bedroom door to find his wife making breakfast a few feet away.
“Morning,” she said, pulling a mug off a shelf above the counter. “I was going to give you five more minutes if you didn’t get up on your own.” Reaching for a half-filled coffee pot, she said, “Do you want milk or vanilla creamer? Afraid that’s all I have. I wasn’t expecting company.”
Caleb shoved one leg into his jeans. “Milk is fine,” he answered. “How long have you been up? ”
“About an hour.” He heard plates hit the counter. “I need to leave soon.”
The clock on her nightstand said 7:10 a.m. “To open the store?” he asked, stepping into the living room as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.
Snow gave him a shy smile as she handed him the coffee. “No, I don’t open the store until noon on Sundays. There’s an auction today out at the old Brambleton place.”
“That’s where you get all the stuff you sell?” he asked, sipping his coffee, which was perfectly sweetened. She must have remembered how much sugar he liked.
Shaking her head, she dished eggs onto a plate. “Not always. I started as a consignment store. Locals brought in things they didn’t need or want anymore, I’d sell it, and we’d split the profit.” Sliding the loaded plate onto the counter, she gestured toward the fridge. “Butter for the toast is on the door.”
There was barely enough room to open the fridge with Snow standing at the stove, since the two appliances were directly across from each other, but Caleb managed to retrieve the butter as well as a knife from the proper drawer. “I’m surprised a town this small could cough up all that old stuff.”
“The town isn’t as small as you think,” she said, a tremor of irritation in her tone. “And some of that old stuff , as you call it, is valuable. I get customers from outside the county on a regular basis, and I earn enough to make a living.”
He’d wondered how she supported herself while they were apart. When he’d met her in Nashville, she was selling Western wear during the day, singing for tips four nights a week in local bars, and booking demo gigs whenever she could. The three jobs combined hadn’t been enough for her to live on her own without a roommate.
“Do you sing anywhere?” he asked. Though he hadn’t known she was a singer the night they met, the first time he heard her belting out “Delta Dawn” in a dive on Broadway, Caleb had been more than impressed.
The spatula hovered over the pan as Snow hesitated to answer. “No,” she finally said. One word that said a lot.
“Why not?” he asked. “You’re close enough to Nashville to record a demo now and then.”
“I don’t sing anymore, that’s all.” Snow loaded the remaining eggs onto her own plate. “Once we were married and you moved us to Baton Rouge, I thought I’d miss it, but I didn’t. Getting away made me realize that, though I enjoyed the act of singing, I didn’t like all the hoopla that went into trying to do it for a living.” Caleb didn’t like the way she said he’d moved her to Baton Rouge, as if she’d had no choice in the matter. “Besides,” Snow added, “running the store takes all my time.”
Slicing the buttered toast from corner to corner, Caleb set a piece on her plate and another on his own. “That’s a shame,” he said, reading in her body language that she didn’t want to talk about it.
They took their seats on the couch, as the apartment didn’t allow room for a table, and ate in silence for several minutes. Caleb hadn’t planned anything beyond finding his wife, and he definitely hadn’t considered playing house with her the morning after. She’d been right the night before, when she said they needed to really get to know each other. Maybe if he’d paid more attention when they’d first married, he would have recognized something had been bothering her before she left.
And if she loved this store so much, then he needed to become a part of it. Time for Operation: Getting to Know Each Other to begin.
“Tell me about the auction. Are we looking for specific items?”
Snow nearly choked on her eggs, taking several seconds to cough them out of her windpipe. “Did you say we ?” she asked once she could speak .
“Yeah, we ,” he said. “Did you plan to leave me here while you went to the auction?”
“If you’re worried that I’ll disappear again—”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s clear I wasn’t enough to keep you in Baton Rouge, but I can see what this store means to you.” Lifting his coffee for a drink, he added, “I know you won’t leave it, even to get away from me.”
“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
Caleb had hoped she’d refute the idea that he wasn’t enough, but he should have known better. “No need,” he said. “We have a month to get to know each other. We’ll start with me watching you work.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“You make it sound like I’m applying for a job.”
“I’m the one who’s having to fight to stay on here.”
“A marriage isn’t a business exchange,” she snapped.
“It isn’t something that you quit without notice either.” This was not how he’d wanted the morning to go. Caleb set his plate on the coffee table and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know what you want from me, Snow, but I’m doing my best. Tell me how this is supposed to go and I’ll make it happen.”
Dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, Snow kept her eyes on her plate. “I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the problem.”
Taking a deep breath, he leaned back on the couch and took a different approach. “Then let’s decide what we’re going to tell people.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, meeting his eye.
Caleb scratched the stubble on his chin. “How long have you been in this town?”
“Since June of last year.”
So she’d been here almost the entire time. Amazing.
“And in all that time, did you tell anyone that you were married? ”
Snow dropped her gaze. “Lorelei figured it out yesterday, and you confirmed it when you referred to me as your wife. But no one else knows.”
“Today, you’re going to walk into an auction with your husband. We both know people will have questions.”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Snow gathered their plates and carried them to the sink. “Do we have to tell anyone anything?”
How had he not noticed how anti-conflict she was? “That’s up to you, but I don’t think we can avoid telling them something. And before you suggest it, I’m not going to lie.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to lie,” she said, her tone defensive. “I’m suggesting we don’t need to share all the facts ... exactly.”
Telling total strangers that his wife had run from their marriage wasn’t an appealing choice to Caleb, but short of saying he’d dropped out of the sky, he couldn’t think of any other answer.
“Why don’t we tell them we were dating before I moved here,” she said, “and that we’ve recently gotten back in touch.”
“And now I’m living with you?”
“We dated for a long time. We can even say we were engaged. Oh,” she said, growing excited about the story she was concocting. “We reconnected online and have been carrying on a long-distance relationship. And now you’re here.” Looking proud of herself, she added, “That should work.”
Caleb didn’t like having to pretend he wasn’t yet married to his wife, but this could play into his favor. The town would see them as lovebirds planning a wedding. And maybe that’s what they needed. Once Snow admitted they were good together, he could give her the real wedding she deserved.
“I’ll go with that,” he agreed, stepping into the bedroom for his boots.
When he returned with his keys, Snow was waiting by the door. “I’ll drive. ”
“But I always drive,” he said. Caleb couldn’t remember the last time he’d occupied a passenger seat.
“I like driving,” she said. “You don’t always have to be the one behind the wheel. And besides, I know where we’re going.”
His sense of chivalry prickled. “You can give me directions.”
Snow stared at him with her hand on the doorknob. “Caleb McGraw, you can ride in my car with me driving, or you can stay here. Or,” she added, “you can go home. Those are your choices.”
He didn’t like any of those choices. “I can let you drive,” he grudgingly agreed. “It’s not a big deal.”
As she opened the door and waved him through, she said, “You’re not letting me do anything. Let’s be clear about that.”
Arguing was getting him nowhere, so he held his tongue and stepped past Snow onto her tiny porch. Once outside, a wave of pure satisfaction washed over him. Caleb waited at the bottom of the steps for Snow to lock the door. When she turned, reality struck. The look on her face was priceless.
They’d left her car in town the night before.
Caleb pulled his keys from his pocket, saying, “Good thing I brought these with me.” He held the passenger door for his wife, who climbed inside without a word. Not that he needed her to tell him what she was thinking. The tic of her jaw said it all.
Finally. He’d won a point.
Snow had never considered herself a competitive person, but the hint of even a minor defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth. She should have insisted on driving herself home the night before. Did he really think she’d lead him on a high-speed chase?
He probably never thought she’d disappear into thin air two months after their wedding, so maybe his suspicious nature was justified .
As the Brambleton house came into view, Snow realized they’d made the entire trip in comfortable silence. She’d been irritated when they’d left her place, but there was something calming about sitting next to Caleb. A sense of security, as if she could relax because she wasn’t on her own. That sense of feeling protected had been a big draw for her. Few men she’d come across in her life had carried the kind of confidence and strength that emanated from the man in the driver’s seat.
Maybe that was the problem. He made her feel too comfortable. If she let her guard down completely, and then everything fell apart, where would she be? And deep down, she knew things were bound to fall apart. Caleb was the very definition of too good to be true.
Except for his annoying little quirks. Like insisting on being the big man behind the wheel.
A crowd had already gathered on the front yard of the estate. The items would likely be auctioned from the front porch, but not until potential buyers had the chance to examine the merchandise. Snow almost hated to think of the items that way. These were likely family heirlooms. Pieces that had sentimental value to someone, and that had each absorbed the history of its owners. Sometimes she could look at a piece and a scene would unfold in her head.
Ladies drinking tea and sharing the latest gossip across a Seymour card table. A lonely little boy hugging his Steiff teddy bear as he watches his parents drive off to some society gathering. Or a teenage boy in the seventies huddled over his grandfather’s old Fender guitar with dreams of being the next Jimmy Page.
Years of being dragged through endless flea markets with her grandmother had given Snow both an extensive knowledge of anything old, and a love of the stories the antique pieces could tell. Granny Cameron had worked in a fine old house when she was young, and she’d been responsible for polishing the furniture that had been built before the Civil War. Sometimes it seemed as if Granny were a walking history book, and she’d passed the knowledge, along with a desire to learn more, down to her granddaughter.
“Is there something in particular we’re looking for?” Caleb asked as they approached the crowd in the yard.
Snow kept her voice down so no one around them could hear the items she had her eye on. “Three things,” she said. “An old dresser I can make into a bathroom vanity. The old mantelpiece, if they put that up. I’m not sure they will.” She already had a buyer for the mantel, so hope sprang eternal. “And lace doilies.”
Caleb stopped walking. “Doilies?” he asked loud enough for all around to hear him.
She couldn’t stop the eye roll. Tugging Caleb away from the others, she scolded, “Keep your voice down or I’ll have a bidding war on my hands.”
Her husband looked clueless. “Bidding war? Over doilies?”
Nitzi Merchant, the high school secretary, smiled from across the lawn. Snow knew that Nitzi would be her biggest competitor for textiles. “Word has it a Brambleton ancestor was known for her handmade lace doilies. There might be kerchiefs, too. A textile like that, made over a hundred years ago, could bring in a nice profit.”
“There’s a market for doilies?” he asked, still incredulous.
“I knew it was a mistake to let you come.” The doors had been opened while Snow attempted to educate Caleb, and the crowd was already filing into the house. Snow hurried to catch up. “Just be quiet and stay out of my way,” she said.
Guilt set in the moment the words were out. Caleb had done nothing to deserve her temper, but she was already getting curious stares from the locals. Knowing the questions would come, and she would soon be the subject of town gossip, put Snow on edge. She’d worked so hard to blend into this town, which wasn’t easy for a woman with olive skin and a mass of dark, curly hair .
Auctions were always an adrenaline rush, but today felt heavier. As if there were more at stake than winning an item or two. The reason was obvious. Thanks to Caleb, the perfect little life she’d created in Ardent Springs was about to go out the window.
The need to deal with their impromptu marriage had loomed somewhere in her future, and Snow was realistic enough to know this day would come. But that didn’t make her any less resentful of his sudden return to her life.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb whispered in her ear as they reached the front door. “I didn’t mean to mess anything up.”
Hesitating on the threshold, she gave her husband a weak smile. “I know. I’m sorry, too. But this is really important to me.” She offered the thin lie to cover how she really felt. Not that the auction wasn’t important, but her business wouldn’t fold if she left the Brambleton house empty-handed.
Her status in Ardent Springs was the real issue.
Something Snow hadn’t realized she cared so much about. What she had here she’d created on her own. Now, with Caleb’s arrival, her life could unravel like a sweater with a loose thread. One wrong move and ...
Snow reined in that thought. This was a temporary blip in her plan. In a few weeks, Caleb would see they were a bad match.
“Where do you want to start?” Caleb asked, drawing Snow back to the moment. He was glancing at the flier in his hand, then up at the array of rooms jutting off the foyer. “The stairs are blocked, so if they’re bringing out a dresser, it must be down here somewhere.”
Caleb looked like a man on a mission, and Snow’s guilt increased. He was so determined to make this work. She almost wished it could.
Almost. But then she remembered their two months of awkward, uncomfortable marriage and regained her sanity. Not that every minute of their marriage had been bad. When they were alone, Snow could ignore the reality of her surroundings, and Caleb’s upper-crust status. She’d let her heart rule her head and all but convinced herself that he really was the one.
And then they would leave the sanctity of their room and the censure and snobbishness of his parents would all but suffocate her. The fancy dinners, always endured in private dining rooms, given the McGraws couldn’t possibly be expected to mix with the regular folk, made her food taste like cardboard as she struggled to choke it down and pretend she didn’t hate every passing moment.
Caleb had been blind to his parents’ true nature. Or he’d been ignoring it for so long that he didn’t see it anymore. Though he was miraculously down-to-earth and open-minded, there were moments she feared he would eventually grow to be more like them. Once he took over the family business, who was to say he wouldn’t become another version of Jackson, the ruthless company leader with little concern for anything other than his own pleasure and the bottom line.
Fears she would never speak aloud. Whether he ever turned ruthless or not, Caleb would someday be in charge of the vast family fortunes, and Snow would be expected to continue the tradition of influential yet obedient matriarch. A role she never could or would want to play. Especially not after seeing what the position had done to the mean-spirited woman who was Vivien McGraw.
Shaking herself back to the present, Snow examined her surroundings and picked a direction. “The ladies’ parlor is to our left,” she said, examining the layout on the bottom corner of the flier. “We’ll start there.”