Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Annie
I shove the folder into my bag and make a beeline for the car. Jackson wanted my verdict on the upstairs hall plaster before the crew calls it a day. If the road up the ridge hasn’t decided to reinvent itself as a creek again, I might even get there before quitting time.
The first unfamiliar car is parked by the old chain, a black SUV so shiny I can see the sky in its hood.
There’s another one farther up the drive.
I ease off the gas. Two men in dark coats are posted by the first SUV, one with an earpiece like he’s auditioning for a spy movie.
My grip on the wheel goes tight, because I know what this means.
Stanhope has found its way here.
I pull onto the grass and leave the car at an angle.
Catherine is by the porch in a camel coat and heels, her blond hair somehow untouched by the wind.
Lexi’s next to her, cream trousers tailored perfectly over trim hips.
Behind them, Crane House looks down on them, as disapproving of them as they likely are of it.
Men haul lumber through the side doors, barely sparing a glance for the two women who look as out of place here as they would in work boots at Stanhope.
Reed’s halfway up the scaffold, wedging a panel over a gap under the eaves. His shirt is stuck to his back, and dust has given his dark hair a gray halo. One knee of his work pants is streaked with plaster.
I get out of the car just in time to hear Catherine ask, “What are you doing?”
Reed glances down. He hands his drill to the carpenter beside him and climbs down. “Working.”
Her gaze moves over him, and genuine horror breaks through her control. “You have responsibilities. Attorneys are calling every hour. The foundation dinner is next week, and Martin says you’ve delegated decisions that have typically required family approval.”
“They require competent approval. They have it.”
“You can’t just shirk your responsibilities, Reed, no matter how angry you are with me over something so silly,” she says. “This isn’t your world. You look ridiculous.”
I don’t move. Despite the wind cutting through my coat, I might as well be beneath the chandeliers at Stanhope. I’ve spent the last weeks making this place mine, and suddenly I’m trying to disappear into the background of a place I’ve increasingly begun to think of as my own.
Reed looks over the site. It’s not dramatic, but it is deliberate. His eyes take in the chaos around him before landing on me beyond Catherine and Lexi, who have somehow not realized that I’m in their midst.
“This is my world,” he says, keeping his eyes on me one beat longer before turning back to Catherine.
Catherine seems to be rendered speechless for a moment. Whatever she thought he was going to say, that wasn’t it.
“Annie is my world,” he continues. “I thought I made that perfectly clear when I threw you two out of Stanhope.”
Annie is my world.
The words go straight to my heart. I grip the strap of my messenger bag, frozen in place.
“You’re humiliating yourself, Reed,” Catherine says, her voice gaining pitch. She’s not quite shrill yet, but give it a minute. “You’re letting Annie do this to you. She’s manipulated you into abandoning your obligations.”
I can see Reed’s shoulders bunch as he sighs. I’ve spent years cataloging his expressions, his tells. And right now, he’s over these two women. He steps closer to Catherine and Lexi. His hands shift to his hips.
“Annie asked for none of this. She didn’t ask me to come to Tennessee. In fact, she requested that I didn’t. She didn’t ask for me to throw you two out of Stanhope, either. There’s only one person you can blame for any of that, and you’re looking at him.”
Lexi steps toward Reed. Her words are lower than Catherine’s, but I still hear each of them as if she were standing right beside me.
“Everyone is worried about you, Reed.” Her voice is intimate in that way that always made my chest tighten, but Reed’s arms are now crossed as he looks down at her.
There’s nothing intimate in the way he watches her.
“Catherine’s right. You’re letting Annie’s inferiority drive your decisions.
When everything settles, you’ll remember who you are and you’ll regret all of this. ”
An uncomfortable beat passes as Reed looks down at Lexi. His face is nearly expressionless.
“You have no business trying to explain me, my marriage, or my wife to me. I thought I made that clear already.”
A carpenter comes through the side door carrying two lengths of trim. Catherine doesn’t move from the path.
“Ma’am,” he says, waiting.
She glances at him as though he has interrupted. “Can’t you go around?”
“Not without snapping these.”
Jackson crosses the yard. “Let’s give him room.” He is perfectly civil, but he also makes no effort to pretend Catherine’s question was reasonable.
Lexi is the first one to break eye contact with Reed, looking over at the trim the carpenter is carrying.
“You’re preserving this? Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to tear it all down?”
“Yes,” Jackson says.
She waits for more.
He walks away.
The urge is right there beneath my skin to step up and try to fix this, to smooth it all over. Years at Stanhope have taught me that the only way to survive among sharks is to hide behind the rocks and hope no one notices you.
Those days are over. I know it the minute Catherine looks over and finally realizes I’ve been standing behind her.
“Annie,” she says. There’s no gentleness in the way she says my name. It’s spoken as if she’s finally realized there’s an interloper on the premises.
But I’m not at Stanhope any longer.
I straighten my spine.
“Why are you here, Catherine?”
I don’t acknowledge Lexi. It feels good.
“We came to bring Reed home,” she says, adding a derisive sniff. “He’s not thinking rationally, and it’s time someone does something.”
“You are aware he’s not a dog who’s run away, right?” My voice isn’t shaking. My hands are steady. “If and when he’s ready to return, he’s a fully grown man who’s capable of making those decisions.”
“He’s throwing his life away here in this”—she stops, indicating Crane House, the work, the thing that has increasingly become my purpose—“disarray.”
“Catherine.” Reed says her name without any warmth. If Catherine notices, she says nothing. “It’s time for you and Lexi to leave.”
“You’ve always let her do this,” Catherine says. I’ve never heard Catherine pout before, but this is dangerously close.
“Stop,” Reed commands.
His tone is dangerous.
“You need to think about what you’re doing, Reed,” Lexi says, her tone increasingly desperate. She steps closer to me, indicating me with a wave of her hand. “She can’t even give you children!”
Before those words, I’d swear the area around Crane House was noisier.
Suddenly, it feels as if everything has gone deathly quiet.
All I can hear is the echo of those words in my ears.
It takes me a second to realize Reed is moving. He steps between Lexi and me, blocking her view of me.
“You will never speak to my wife that way again. Am I clear?”
I peer over Reed’s shoulder, sparing half a second for a thought of how comical the situation must look.
Lexi’s face drains of color.
“Reed, be reasonable. You know you wanted children. You’ve talked about being a father since we were teenagers!”
There it is again. The conversations I’m constantly reminded occurred outside of our relationship, yet somehow were supposed to drive all the decisions about our marriage.
“I want both of you to listen very closely,” Reed says, his voice so measured that I barely recognize him. “What Annie and I do with our marriage, with our family, is between Annie and me. Neither of you gets a say in any of that. You’ve both been much too involved as it is. That ends now.”
Catherine’s chin lifts. “This family has survived for generations because people understood their obligations.”
“If Annie and I never have a baby, that is enough. More than enough. The only thing I require to be happy is Annie. If we grow old together and everything goes to charity after we die, I’ll die happy knowing that she was with me through it all.
I’d choose a lifetime with Annie over any future without her. ”
I struggle to take in a full breath. My lungs feel tight. My heart feels like it’s quaking in my chest.
When I’d been fever-stricken, I’d feared that the things he’d said to me had come from panic—from seeing me sick and being afraid of what might happen. That when push came to shove, he’d make concessions.
But there’s nothing about this that feels forced.
“The only thing I’ve wanted more than anything since the day I met her is Annie.”
Catherine looks as if he has struck her. “You would throw away generations of obligation.”
“Then I’ll throw them away.”
Lexi finds her voice. “She has turned you into someone you don’t even?—”
“This conversation is over,” he says. “You’re leaving.”
“You have no authority to dismiss me,” Catherine snaps.
“You forget who pays the salary of the men who drove you here.” Reed nods to one of the drivers. “Bring the car around.”
The man moves immediately.
Lexi gives one last pleading look to Reed, waiting for him to step in, to save her.
She gets nothing.
The black SUV rolls up, tires sinking into the mud, and they’re ushered in like any other guests who’ve stayed too long.
Lexi gives me one last look before she climbs into the SUV. There’s pure hatred but also defeat.
I give her nothing.
The SUVs take off, disappearing down the sweep of the road that leads away from Crane House. For several seconds, there’s an almost unnatural stillness to the work site.
Then, slowly, it’s like everything starts waking up again.
A nail gun cracks in the distance, sounding like a starting gun.
Reed finally turns to face me.
I try to remember how words function, but the only thing I initially get out is, “Reed.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, stepping closer to me. “I’m sorry that you had to endure that, and I’m sorry you ever had to deal with them at all. More than anything, I’m sorry it took me so damned long to understand what you were going through and do something about it.”
My feet move before my mind is fully on board. I reach up, grasping the knit of Reed’s shirt with my fingers.
He moves without further instruction.
Our lips meet as someone hammers behind him and the restoration continues without us involved. It feels like a first kiss, tender and searching.
I pull back.
“It’s Thursday,” I say.
Reed looks down at me, his brow furrowing.
“Okay, yes. I agree with that.”
I nearly laugh. “Aunt Lanie delivers meals for the church on Thursday. She won’t be back before late afternoon. I was thinking we could… maybe talk?”
“Talk,” he repeats. “Yes, we should probably talk.”
He looks down, pulling my hand to him.
“Lead the way.”