Chapter 25
I hate to leave Claire, but I’m eager to get to Dalton’s house and speak with him. Besides, Claire doesn’t need me. That’s a lie. She does. And I want more than anything to be the shoulder she can cry on, but that phase is over.
It is just a dress, not a finished garment, but the start of a beautiful gown if Claire’s sketches are accurate. It’s not just anything like a sewn-together mixture of fabrics. I realize it. This is a loss she needs to grieve. It doesn’t matter if it’s an inanimate object or not, Lauren’s design symbolizes a lot to Claire. It’s the start of her career, and Adelaide has stomped all over it.
As I hurry out to my truck, my heart feels so heavy and chipped. I hurt because Claire is hurting, but still, I know I’m not making a mistake in leaving her right now. I will be back. And I hope that I can further help her if I step aside for a few minutes to speak with Dalton.
Besides, tears are only one step of the grieving process. When I lost my father, I cried myself out. Afterward, I needed the space and time to think it all out, too. I recognized that shift in Claire. She cried on my shoulder, but as she calmed down, I saw that she likely would appreciate a chance to think and accept what has happened.
“It will be all right,” I whisper to myself as I get into my truck. I glance back up at the cabin, worrying about her even though I understand she needs to grasp this loss herself. I can’t force her to feel better. I won’t lie and trick her into thinking it’s not so bad. She deserves a chance to fully recognize and come to terms with her emotions about this.
But I refuse to lose faith. I’ve stumbled and erred my entire way to get here, but now the truth is a brutal force that opens my eyes wide. It will be all right. Claire will not go with her mother, and she won’t be bartered or manipulated for the sake of marriage or prestige. I will fight for her because she matters that much. I’ve known it since I met her. From the second I first saw her, I just knew she would turn my world and my life upside down if I let her.
I didn’t only let her, I welcomed her into my existence. I chased her. I encouraged her to pursue me, too. Claire matters to me and always will in an undeniable way. My feelings were so strong for her after we slept together in Denver because I could tell that she was the part of my heart that was missing. That she was the light I needed to be a better man. I began to accept how much I cared for Claire last night, but after seeing her mother try to abuse her like this, it was strikingly clear that I would never look for a stupid excuse and try to guard myself against her ever again.
She needs me.
And I think I need her even more. The thought of her leaving is too horrible to consider. I wouldn’t be the same man if she were to surrender and let herself be pushed around in such a fatalistic way.
I speed over to Dalton’s house, which isn’t a long trip anyway since I’m on his property. The cabin Claire is staying in isn’t within sight, but I’m grateful I don’t need to be any further apart from Claire.
Dalton must have seen me pulling in because he’s there at the door when I reach it. He opens it wider, and I don’t have to ask him how he’s taking this blown-up mess of an afternoon.
His lips are pressed in a furious tight line, and he stands so stiffly, I wonder if he’s bottling in a shout like I was.
I know this man well enough to be aware of how livid he is right now, but I also understand he’s a man of few words. Words I need from him about what the hell went down.
“She just left.” He scowls over my shoulder as though darkening the whole drive with his glare. “I just kicked my aunt out. She thought she could argue with me, but I refuse to put up with that.”
I nod, glad he removed the pest before I came.
Aubrey waits behind him, wide-eyed and worried. “I can’t believe she would speak to you like that!” She shakes her head, clearly stunned by this bullshit. “I’m going to call Lauren. We’ll…My gosh. The dress. We’ll go sit with Claire together.”
She leaves the room after a quick kiss from Dalton, and I follow him into the kitchen. He paces, unable to sit, but I drop into a chair and track him.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand. Straight to the point.
He mentioned a little bit before, but I’m impatient to hear all the damn details now.
“Why does Claire not have access to the money that is rightfully hers?”
He hangs his head and grips the back of a chair, ceasing the pacing. “I’ve been looking into it. Caleb, too. It took a while to get her to open up about it, but once she did, we were on it.”
I don’t doubt it. Both of them are good men who look after their own. I’ve come to see Claire as mine, though, and I’ll be damned if I can’t help her, too.
“Claire was left an inheritance by her father, and she’s been living on that since she is his heir. I didn’t realize she was only seeing the money in terms of allowances that Adelaide permitted, but that money was left to her by my uncle.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Adelaide.” He deadpans. “She’s remarried and divorced several times, but she’s smart about it all. She has excellent lawyers, and with their help, she was able to change the terms of the estate to show that Claire wouldn’t have access to it unless she married.”
“Married to anyone?” I ask. The vapid woman’s declaration rings in my ears. She said it as I entered Claire’s cabin, and I can’t get the words out of my mind. Who said anything about love? You will marry the man I arrange for you, and that is final.
She can’t be right. Arranged marriages are illegal, aren’t they?
“No.” Dalton shakes his head. “I don’t think so, no.”
I exhale a huge breath of relief.
“I think Adelaide realizes that Claire will always push back. That she’ll argue about marrying everyone she thrusts in her face, and so long as Claire remains unmarried, Adelaide will have total control of the estate.”
And here I thought I couldn’t hate that woman any more.
“She’s using it as a way to further the rift between them just so she can maintain her hold on the money she married into.”
The front door opens, and I turn to see Caleb rushing in. He looks from Dalton to me. His expression is grim. “Lauren just told me what happened. She and Aubrey are going to take Claire to Vail for the weekend to try to calm her down.”
I sigh and nod. “That’s a good move. She’s very upset.”
“That woman…” He glowers and looks between us again. “Can I do anything? Can I help?” He runs his hand through his hair and exhales a long, hard breath. “I’ve had my legal team assisting yours,” he tells Dalton. “But is there anything else I can do?”
I understand his eagerness to help. It’s all I can focus on, fixing this. Claire won’t be alone, not with me in her corner, nor with these two couples and even Marian.
I’ll be damned if Claire goes to New York, and I’ll be double damned if Adelaide ruins another fraction of her life.
Dalton shakes his head. “My hands are tied. I can’t do much other than stand up for Claire and tell my aunt to get the hell out of here.”
I drag my thumb over my lip, mulling it over. I appreciate both men sticking up for her. With their lawyers looking into it, giving her a place to stay—or hide, and giving Claire a job to work on.
My mind keeps rolling over the memories of the afternoon, stuck in a loop seasoned with anger, shock, and despair. My thoughts keep cycling back to one thing, and I consider it with an open mind. I challenge myself not to view it as a far-fetched what-if, but a viable option.
It’s a risk. A daring thought to suggest, but I can’t stop revolving back to how it could play out.
Dalton might not be able to help Claire, but I could.
Caleb leaves, asking to be updated about this. He heads out to return to the bed-and-breakfast to help Marian figure out how they’ll hold down the fort while Lauren goes to comfort Claire.
Alone with Dalton again in this quiet kitchen, where I have the freedom to think and truly analyze my idea, I try to think of the best way to word my thoughts on this. He could be angry, thinking I’m taking advantage. He might be elated, expecting too much hope. I don’t know what he’ll think, and I’m less sure of how to speak up.
He grabs a bottle of whiskey and brings it to the table. After he sets two glasses down and sits, he pours me one.
I bite my lip, debating if I’m being ridiculous or smarter than ever. It seems he’s on to me, eyeing me suspiciously but not angrily or with any trace of accusation.
“I think…” He clears his throat. “I think we might have the same idea right now.”
I hesitate, waiting to reply as he slides the drink to me.