It's a Wonderful Wife (10 page)

Cadi took a calming breath, even as she hugged herself. “Are you sure you're not overreacting? Why do you think Stapleton is a threat to me?”

“You said it yourself, the man's a thug. According to Aaron, only idiots with a death wish get between him and what he wants. And from the look of things, the bastard has decided he wants an award-winning house designed by Glace and Kerr Architecture.”

“He's not going to kill anyone over a stupid house.”

“You willing to hang around and find out? Because I don't know about you, but I don't particularly care to be feeding fish at the bottom of the Hudson.”

“So does that mean you're also going to leave? Because why are we bothering to work up a design if you're going to get in your car and drive away, too?”

“I can't. If I disappear, Stapleton will go after my brother.”

“Then take Aaron with you,” she half-growled, half-cried.

“And spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders?” He shook his head. “I can fix this, Cadi. If you'll just work your magic and come up with a concept that speaks to Stapleton's ego, I can draft the bastard a house even the devil would be proud to live in.”

“And if he doesn't like what you show him in two days?”

“Then I buy us time by telling him that just as soon as you get back from your trip to Europe, the three of us will put our heads together and come up with something he does like. Meanwhile, you can email me alternative designs from the road.”

“You're serious,” she whispered, hugging herself again. “You expect me to just drive away and leave you to face Stapleton alone?”

“You expect me to let you get drawn into the mess?” Stanley whispered back, his eyes softening. “You're more than like a sister to me, Cads; for the last five years you've been my best friend. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

“But anything
what
? I still don't understand why you're so sure I'm in danger.”

“Well, for starters,” he said, his softness vanishing, “Stapleton started drooling the moment you came running into the office ten minutes late the day of our meeting, and then he spent the next two hours watching you scribble in your sketchbook out of the corner of his eye. Why do you think he insisted on flying up here again when I pointed out it would be easier to just send him what I've got, if not to see you? So the
danger
,” he rushed on when she tried to speak, “is that if he doesn't like the concept, I wouldn't put it past the bastard to send a couple of men here to personally escort you to New York, where he'll then force you to design his house.
While
,” he added, gesturing toward her, “he also helps himself to your lovely body.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she snapped. “The man's not going to kidnap me.”

“Don't be naive,” he snapped back. “Women disappear every day.”

“God, you sound just like Bea. Does everyone think I have the brains of a chipmunk?”

Stanley took a calming breath and stepped forward, then wrapped her up in his arms and pressed her head to his shoulder. “You're not dumb, Cads,” he whispered. “But you haven't exactly been living in the real world, either.” He hesitated, taking an even longer, deeper breath. “And I know exactly what Ryan Stapleton is capable of, because up until nine years ago I was on my way to being just like him.”

“They have thugs in North Dakota?” Cadi ended up mumbling against his shoulder when he refused to let her lean away.

“No, in Atlanta, which is where I grew up until I
wised
up and ran off to Boston. And once I got my degree, I kept running all the way to safe, boring, Whistler's Landing.”

“You . . . you were a thug?”

“I was until I saw my best friend get gunned down at his family's pizza shop when one of his drug deals went bad and I had to skip town when the men came gunning for me.”

Cadi went perfectly still. “Did . . . did Daddy know any of this?”

“I told Owen about a year and a half after I started working for him.”

Cadi shoved against him and broke free. “You're lying! Daddy never would have approved of our getting married if he knew your background.”

“He would have if he felt that background would help me keep you safe.”

“Safe from what—gang fights at potluck suppers?”

“From the world,” he said gently. “Do you honestly believe your father didn't know how badly you've always wanted to travel? Hell, it was Owen's idea that I take you to Tahiti for our honeymoon.” His eyes softened with his grin. “He also asked me to take you hiking up mountains and swimming in the ocean, only someplace where the water was warm. And he hoped we'd take our kids tenting, and get a sailboat so we could show them the houses he'd designed from the ocean instead of the road.”

Cadi lifted her hands to cover her face, utterly speechless. All these years her dad had known about her dream to travel? He'd even known that as a kid she'd wanted to hike up Cadillac and swim in the ocean and go camping and . . . and . . .

“He died of guilt,” she rasped, still hiding her face, “so I could start
living
.”

“Aw, hell, Cads, don't cry,” Stanley murmured, folding her into his embrace again and slowly rubbing her back. “When we were working late a few months before he died,” he went on tenderly, “Owen told me he would have followed Sandra to the grave if not for you. It was then that I realized instead of easing his stress, our getting engaged actually freed him.” The chest she was tucked up against expanded slightly. “I don't think I've ever felt more accepted as when Owen told me he could die in peace knowing I'd be here for you.” He ducked his head to let her see his smile. “He said I would be better than him at not smothering you, and made me promise not to smother our kids.” He gave her a squeeze then stepped back with a chuckle. “He also suggested I not wait until I'm in my fifties to have them.”

Using the cuff of her shirt to wipe her eyes, Cadi pounced on the chance to change the subject. “Are you going to have children?”

“I wouldn't mind having one or two, assuming I can find a woman who would love me enough to live in a safe, boring town.”

Cadi felt heat creeping into her cheeks, but simply couldn't stop herself from asking. “Was there a candidate for Mrs. Kerr at your birthday party? Because I imagine any of those women would know how to keep things from being boring.”

Stanley's jaw momentarily slackened, then snapped shut as he spun away—though not quickly enough to hide his own blush—and strode over to her desk. “Where's Stapleton's sketchbook? The sooner we start on that concept, the more time you'll have to pack.”

“What's it like?” she asked, following him.

“What's what like?” he muttered, riffling through her organized clutter.

“Having sex with a bunch of people,” she said, reaching past him and pulling a book from the bottom of one of the piles. “I couldn't decide who was having more fun—the men watching the women sprawled all over you or the women themselves.”

He headed to the worktable set up in front of the bank of windows facing the ocean. “How the hell long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to realize that one of those girls probably wasn't even old enough to vote,” she said, following him again.

“Lilly is
twenty
.” Stanley pulled out a chair and sat down, then propped his head in his hands with a groan. “I'm sorry, Cads.”

“Sorry for what?” she asked, sitting down beside him. “That I walked in on you or that I'm jealous as hell?”

He jerked his head up. “Jealous of
what
?”

“Of those women. Of their . . . freedom.”

“You think they're free?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Cadi, one of them is a self-admitted sex addict, and one is trying to prove to her ex-boyfriend that she's sexier than the girl he dumped her for. That's not freedom; it's compulsion.”

“And the third woman?”

“She goes to Machias,” he snapped, “and is trying to avoid racking up huge student loans by being a part-time prostitute. Mark brought her along to make things even.”

“And the men? What are their reasons for having kinky sex?”

“They're
men
. We don't need a reason, only willing women. Now focus,” he muttered, reaching for the sketchbook, “so I won't be forced to dust off my thug badge and feed
Stapleton
to the fishes before you find yourself in New York experiencing kinky sex firsthand.”

NINE

Cadi pushed the covered litter box to the side and slid the last suitcase into the rear of her shiny red SUV, taking a deep whiff of the wonderful new vehicle smell before it vanished the first time Wiggles went to the bathroom. She mentally reminded herself to grab some tiny plastic bags so she could immediately scoop up the mess and dump it in the first public trashcan she found. Surely a cat couldn't be any harder to travel with than a baby, could it, since both ate and pooped and slept more hours than they were awake? And she could even leave Wiggles in the car alone for short periods of time, provided it wasn't hot out.

“Is there a reason you had to do this today?” Stanley asked, making her straighten to see him staring at Beatrice speeding in Cadi's tree-lined driveway ahead of a Salvation Army truck.

“I stopped at their Ellsworth store and made the appointment Friday, when I borrowed your truck to go back to the dealership. Then the moment I got home, I started going through the house like a madwoman, deciding what I wanted to donate before I talked myself
out
of finally getting on with my life once and for all.”

Stanley closed the rear hatch, then snagged her hand and led her along the side of the house. “Just as soon as they're done loading the truck, you're out of here right behind them.” He stopped beside the front porch and looked back at the SUV, which had been delivered at nine that morning, parked near the rear deck. “The windows are tinted enough that Beatrice can't see you're packed. So don't tell her you're leaving, because I don't want her asking a bunch of questions you can't answer.”

“Are you serious? It's
Bea
. She'll call the sheriff the moment she decides I'm missing.”

He winced. “You're right.” He hesitated, obviously thinking. “Tell her you're going shopping for a motorhome and expect to be gone at least a couple of weeks. Say you intend to look at dealerships in Bangor and Portland and even in Massachusetts.” More thinking. “When the two weeks are up, call and say you're still searching, but always give her the name of a city far from where you really are.” He went back to watching Bea approach. “Go ahead and take pictures of any motorhomes you come across, then send them to her and ask what she thinks, to back up your story. Just make sure there aren't any recognizable landmarks in the background. And whatever you do, don't actually buy a camper or give a salesman any personal information that might leave a paper trail.”

Cadi cocked her head while she listened, wondering what had happened to the carefree architect she knew and loved. Did all men have a dark side? Because Stanley the thug was even more disconcerting than Jesse the high-powered executive. Where Jesse appeared to reserve that side of himself for crushing business rivals, she'd just spent all night and this morning a little scared and a whole lot in awe of Stanley. Apparently determined to live up to her father's trust in him to protect her, it was as if the guy had suddenly morphed into Batman. Lacking only a mask and cape, he'd spent the last twenty-four hours giving her a crash course on disappearing so he could stay behind and save his brother from the evil villain.

Heck, she should have drawn Stapleton as the Joker instead of the Mad Hatter.

Stay at small, no-questions-asked motels so you won't have to show your driver's license because you're paying in cash, Stanley had instructed as they'd worked into the night. Even better, buy a tent and stay at campgrounds, but move on every couple of days. Run your temporary license plate right up until it expires, then change the date on it. Purchase a prepaid cell phone and text me every so often to let me know you're okay. And if you call Beatrice or anyone, explain the different number by saying your phone got wet and you grabbed a new one at Walmart. And I also want you to buy three canisters of Mace, then find a gravel pit and use one of the canisters to practice spraying a rock without spraying yourself in the process, he'd added just before crashing on her couch around two in the morning only to wake up issuing instructions again as she'd cooked him breakfast.

No, she didn't know this Stanley at all.

“Cadi,” Bea said as she got out of her car and rushed over. “These men stopped at my store asking where you lived, and I decided it was easier to have them follow me out here. They said you're donating nearly an entire house of furniture to the Salvation Army.”

“I told you on our ride to Ellsworth last week that I was redecorating.”

“But this soon?” Bea darted a frantic look at Stanley, then back at her. “Cadi, what if you give something away only to find yourself regretting it later? A lot of that furniture is heirloom quality and should be passed down to your children.”

“I'm keeping a few sentimental pieces. But both bedroom sets and all the linens are going, along with the sofa, the chairs and lamps, and the dining room table,” she explained as she started toward the truck pulling to a stop beside Bea's car.

“Stanley, do something,” Cadi heard Bea hiss. “Because I hope you know this is your fault. The girl's been acting crazy ever since she walked in on you having sex with all those people. She's so embarrassed she couldn't even come to church service yesterday, and I don't remember her ever missing Sunday night Bible study.”

“I can't speak to her skipping service,” Stanley drawled, making Cadi halt in mid-step and cover her mouth when he added, “but I do know she missed Bible study in favor of entertaining some of
those people
when I brought them out to meet her yesterday. That's probably why she's yawning, since they didn't leave until after midnight.”

Cadi immediately dropped her hand and started off again, even as she wondered what her life would have been like if she really had married Stanley the architect/thug.

She probably wouldn't have had to worry about dying of boredom.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she said to the three men standing beside the truck. “You'll find several boxes of small appliances and dishes on the dining room table, along with a couple bags of linens. I hope you don't mind that some of the furniture is on the second floor.”

All three chests puffed out and their apparent leader's eyes crinkled with his grin. “You don't worry your cute little blonde curls about that, honey. These muscles have hauled a lot heavier stuff than beds and bureaus down three, sometimes four flights of stairs,” he said, actually lifting his arm and flexing his biceps. He looked at his two buddies. “Virgil, you get the handtruck, and Gus, you bring the padded mats. If the furniture's half as pretty as its owner, we don't want it getting scratched.” He looked over and gave her a wink. “I'll see to it personal, Miss Glace, that your stuff goes to people who'll take right good care of it.”

Cadi barely caught herself from rolling her eyes at the outrageous old flirt, instead giving him a smile and a nod. “Thank you.” She gestured toward the porch. “Go ahead in the front door and straight upstairs, and I'll be up shortly. The two bedroom sets and mattresses are yours to take, and anything I'm keeping is clearly marked with large Post-it notes.”

“Please rethink this before it's too late,” Beatrice whispered as she came up beside her. “Once it's gone, it's gone forever.”

“I've been thinking this to death for fourteen months,” Cadi said gently. “And I'm looking forward to refurnishing with items from my travels.” She glanced back to see Stanley had gone inside. “Speaking of traveling, I intended to stop in and let you know I'm leaving this morning to go look at motorhomes. I expect to be gone a couple of weeks, but I'll text you every day so you won't worry I'm holed up in some seedy motel with a man. I'll even send pictures of ones I like so you can tell me what you think. Of
motorhomes
,” she added dryly at her friend's gasp.

“This isn't a joking matter,” Bea hissed. “You're moving too fast.” She glanced down the side of the house, then back at Cadi through narrowed eyes. “Or maybe you're not joking. I see you didn't waste any time taking Mr. Sinclair's advice about buying an SUV, which makes me wonder if you're not meeting his corporate jet in Trenton and shopping for that motorhome in New York while getting a
personal
tour of his twenty-four bedrooms.”

Cadi just barely stifled a gasp of her own. Was there a reason she'd never noticed how controlling Bea was?

Oh, that's right; she'd been too busy pleasing everyone. God, maybe she did have the brains of a chipmunk. “It's eighteen bedrooms and twenty-four
bathrooms
,” she said as she headed up the walkway. “And I intend to tinkle in every one of them.”

“Don't you understand the reason I'm worried is because I love you?” Bea called out as Cadi climbed the stairs. “You're like a daughter to me.”

Cadi stopped on the porch and turned to face her. “Then don't you think that just like your real daughter, it's time for me to grow up, too?”

“Why?” Bea said thickly. “So you can move two thousand miles away and only bring your babies to visit
maybe
once a year?”

And therein lay Beatrice's biggest fear and greatest sorrow, and why she—as well as the entire population of Whistler's Landing—was clinging to the last town daughter with the tenacity of a bulldog. Cadi gave her a sad smile. “I'm not flying to New York, Bea; I really am driving around looking at campers. And no matter how far my travels do eventually take me, I'll always come back, because this,” she said, gesturing toward the house, “will always be home.”

“That's what Anne thought, too, until she went off to college and fell in love with a man from Colorado. Nobody comes back once they see all that's out there.”

Cadi said nothing, since she couldn't very well argue with a time-proven truth.

Bea just as silently walked to her car and opened the door, but didn't get in. “You . . . you promise to call and text me?”

“I promise. And I'll send pictures of— Oh, sorry,” Cadi said, scrambling out of the way when a man stepped onto the porch guiding the handtruck carrying her padded bureau. She turned back at the sound of an engine starting, only to sigh at the sight of her friend backing around and then speeding out the driveway.

Cadi spent the next two hours overseeing the men methodically emptying her house, gave them each a crisp hundred-dollar bill from the money Stanley had given her until she could get to a bank, then stood on the porch hugging herself as she watched a good part of her sheltered, sensible life leaving in the back of a Salvation Army truck.

“Do you think I'm going to regret it?” she asked when she sensed Stanley standing in the doorway behind her.

“It's been my experience we more often regret
not
doing something,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “In fact, I sometimes regret not falling in love with you.”

That made her smile. “I've never taken your lack of romantic interest personally.” She shrugged inside his embrace. “Probably because I've always felt you made a better big brother than you would a husband. Or so I thought when you were nothing but a boring architect.”

“And now that you know the real me?”

“Sorry,” she said, patting his arm, then dropping hers. “Now you're just a
bossy
big brother who apparently likes group sex.”

He dropped his own arms and stepped away with a snort. “I suppose that beats godless heathen,” he mumbled, walking in the house.

Cadi followed him into the kitchen. “Who called you that?”

“Who do you think?” he said, continuing into the sunroom.

She didn't have to think long. “Beatrice. When did she— Oh, I bet it was the night of your party. Bea actually called you a godless heathen?”

He went to the desk and picked up something, then turned with a grin. “Just before she threw my birthday cake at me. Which you would know if you hadn't run off like a scandalized virgin and left your
big brother
to deal with the mess you made.”

“I wasn't the one having an orgy.”

“No, you just invited the entire town to
mine
.” He held up what she realized were four of her sketchbooks, his grin broadening. “And for payback, I'm taking these with me.”

“I thought you were in here working on Stapleton's house, not snooping.”

He shook his head. “I'll work on it tonight. But just as soon as the bastard leaves tomorrow, I have to start deciphering your drawings in order to have something to show the Covingtons when I meet them at their building site on Friday. At which time,” he added, his eyes lighting with a familiar gleam, “I plan to bring along my first, and, with any luck, my
last
candidate for a partner.” He went back to grinning when Cadi gasped in surprise. “I thought watching her interact with clients should be part of the interview.”

“
Her?
You're thinking of taking on a woman partner? Who is she?” Cadi asked when he nodded. “How did you find her?”

“Sarah Pinsky. And I found her résumé posted on one of the online career sites I started searching the moment I got back from picking you up in Castle Cove. Sarah's been working in Denver for the last ten years, and her cover letter said she's looking to join a more intimate firm that specializes in residential design.”

“And you've already spoken to her, and she's agreed to come for an interview?”

His grin turned derisive. “It's more like we're interviewing each other. I might have Owen Glace's reputation backing me up, but Sarah has more actual experience. And judging from the portfolio she sent me, the woman appears to possess an inordinate amount of boldness.” He shook his head. “One of the houses she designed had a huge icosahedron-shaped cupola with windows that actually fold open like petals on a flower.”