Her Unexpected Hero--A Clean Romance Page 3

  Caleb wanted to argue. He had his own business, built one project at a time, and was sitting on the edge of real success. The Yarborough luxury subdivision, Rivercrest, would keep him in business for years and allow him to build as he wanted. Was his company the size of Callaway Construction? Not yet, but taking this project would delay the growth a high-profile project in Nashville might bring.

  Building the lodge would be trouble from top to bottom and beginning to end. Small-town Sweetwater would bore him to death. And then there was the proximity to Winter Kingfisher.

  But he’d been on the outside with no way to even look in, and Caleb could acknowledge both Senior and Junior had good reason to demand payback.

  “Fine. I’m the lucky guy, not a midlevel manager from Callaway Construction, who’ll take over.” Caleb propped his hands on his hips and frantically evaluated different objections. None of them would hold water. “What about my crew? Who is paying them while I’m doing this?”

  “Bring them. Put your crew to work on the lodge. Callaway Construction will pick up the tab. Run both crews. Get this done. It’s your mama’s dream, too. For once, instead of wasting money on frivolity and fun little projects, help us. The timing is crucial. So is doing this the right way.” Senior’s lips disappeared in a tight line. “We need you.”

  They needed him? Had he ever heard that before? Not that he could remember.

  “Dinner’s ready. Tell me where we’re going to end up with this negotiation.” Caleb’s vaguely guilty conscience was only going to push him so far.

  “You got a promotion, son.” His stepfather stood and hitched up his pants before settling his belt around his waist. “It’s time you joined Callaway Construction as more than a name on the financial report. This lodge? It’s your first project. You’ll come in on time and under budget. And you’re going to make sure those Kingfishers disappear. I don’t want to hear one more word out of Sweetwater. Winter Kingfisher...” He grimaced. “She knows how to keep the news stirred up, and thanks to her job at the reserve, she has connections with all the news stations around the state capitol. If she’s talking about the reserve lodge or Whit, you distract her.”

  Caleb waited for more direction. There had to be more, didn’t there?

  Senior waited for him to agree.

  “I’m not sure how any mortal man is going to distract Winter Kingfisher if she doesn’t want to be distracted.” Caleb turned back to stare at Whit. “I mean, not even the golden boy here could hold on to her long enough to get her to say ‘I do.’” And didn’t it say a whole lot that no one in the room was plotting to win his ex-fiancée back to their side. Stupid mistake.

  If Caleb had convinced Winter to marry him, she’d be priority number one in this recovery plan. He might be annoyed with her, but no one would doubt she’d been the brains in this political organization.

  Standing his ground when Whit marched up to aggressively invade his space was easy. He had six inches and at least fifty pounds on Whit, not to mention right on his side. Caleb had his long-gone father’s build: big, solid, ready to work.

  His brother, who’d always given off the polo athlete vibe—rich, lanky and well-dressed enough to hide narrow shoulders—should be bearing more of the responsibility here. Caleb couldn’t imagine Winter sitting silently by while the Callaways planned this lodge, but even if she had, Whit had still gone after her brother in a public way, with them both ending up on the front pages. Firing Ash Kingfisher, a man who’d never been anything but a solid champion of the reserve? Yeah, even Caleb knew there was no way Winter could have let their engagement stand after that.

  And instead of plotting to win her back, the Callaways were trying to keep her quiet.

  “She was always too much for you, wasn’t she, Whit?” Caleb asked softly, mad all over again at being the odd one out in this family. He took a childish pleasure in the way his brother stepped back. Whit wanted to fight. He’d never been able to best Caleb physically. Being his father’s favorite had always been enough to get by.

  “All my boys in one room.” His mother was posing in the doorway again. “Dinner is ready. Come to the table.” She tried a beautiful smile, but steel laced her words when she added, “Now. No fighting.”

  “Coming, Marjorie.” His stepfather pointed with his chin. “One more minute. That’s all we need.”

  She surveyed all three of them before turning and slowly walking away, the clipped steps of her heels echoing on the expensive tile of the hallway.

  “Follow your mother, Junior.” Caleb watched his stepfather and his brother argue without saying a word. Whit tucked his chin and marched after their mother. Every disagreement they had ended the same way—Whit followed orders.

  Before he could tell his stepfather what he thought of the command performance, Senior held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. Your mother...” His stepfather stared down at the desk. “She needs us to get along right now.”

  The grim determination on Senior’s face was nothing new, but his tone had changed. “What does that mean? Is something wrong?” Caleb crossed his arms tightly. What had he missed?

  Watching Senior consider his words carefully was the scariest reaction Caleb might have expected. Whit Callaway, Sr. never hesitated. Worry punched a tiny hole in his resentment of the man.

  “She’s been having some forgetfulness.” Senior rubbed his hand on his forehead, the fatigue on his face growing. “We’ve been to a couple of specialists, the best, but...” When their eyes met, Caleb understood. He’d heard so many stories of his grandmother and great-grandfather losing their fight with dementia.

  “What’s the diagnosis?” Caleb asked.

  “Early stages of Alzheimer’s.” Senior met his stare. “She’s taking everything she can to slow this down and give it everything she has, but I don’t want her upset. So you and I are going to get along.” Or else.

  Caleb understood the unspoken words and supported them.

  He also wondered what would have happened if he’d skipped dinner. Would anyone have told him what was going on with the most important person in his world? Anger burned bright and hot before he squashed it.

  “Go to Sweetwater. Take over the project. Show us what you can do. Get the lodge built. Distract Winter Kingfisher until everyone that matters has forgotten her.” His stepfather clasped his hands together. “Easy enough.”

  Put your life on hold until it’s done. His core crew would be working because he was definitely bringing them to Sweetwater, but finding new business for his own company would be next to impossible while he was stuck there.

  Unless he pulled off a miracle, Mitch Yarborough and Rivercrest would move on without him.

  “How long?” Caleb asked. He had four months to start the Yarborough project. This could still work. If he got the lodge off to a solid start, someone else could come in and finish.

  “As long as it takes.” Senior met his stare directly. He would accept nothing other than a yes.

  “And that gets me what?” Caleb drawled. That had always been his concern—whether what his family offered matched what they demanded. He could live without their money. Missing his mother was almost impossible to comprehend.

  “An open door.” His stepfather’s lips were a tight line again. “Whit and I will be busy, running his campaign. Your mother needs you, needs all of us right now. Knoxville is an easy drive from Sweetwater. She’ll like that you’re closer to home. To us.”

  The most effective leverage his stepfather had would always be Marjorie Callaway and it still worked.

  “Check out the plans. I don’t understand how you could say no. This place is going to amaze us all. It’ll be the premier luxury mountain-resort destination in the south.” His stepfather grabbed a long tube from the credenza behind him. “Take a look. Then come to dinner.”

  Instead of twisting harder, Senior off
ered him his hand to shake. Caleb stared hard at it before taking it. They’d never be warm and fuzzy, Callaway family dinners. They would almost always be businesslike. Until tonight.

  “One more thing.” His stepfather ran a hand over his nape. “Your mother...” He shook his head. “It’s best not to mention the Kingfishers. All this circus about the canceled wedding gets her agitated. I haven’t been able to keep all the news from her but...” He sagged against the desk before forcing himself to stand tall. “Try not to upset her.”

  When his stepfather left, Caleb tugged on his collar, ready for a shot of fresh, cool air. He’d had his doubts that Senior ever saw him as a son, but he understood the man loved his wife.

  “I’ve been gone too long,” Caleb muttered. The ticking clock reminded him he had to get a move on. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Caleb unrolled the architectural plans. He’d seen the early drawing for the lodge at a board meeting six months ago. As he recalled, it had been glass. So much glass. So modern, perched high on the top of the mountain. When board meetings came up, he usually found some other obligation that could not be avoided. Job sites were fun. Board meetings were not, so he avoided them.

  As he studied the revised drawings, flipping slowly through the sheets of paper as he absorbed the large-scale plans, Caleb could imagine the final structure, the way it would blend perfectly in the broad clearing surrounding the old weather station, nestled in the shadow of the peak of The Aerie.

  For this setting, the facade was wood timbers. Airy central spaces backed by a solid wall of windows that would frame a view of The Aerie, one of the highest and rarest points in the reserve. Instead of perching on top of the rocky mountain, a placement that would require high infrastructure work, the architect had situated the lodge in the shadow of the mountain. Small arms shot off the central building, where luxury rooms and small cabins spread out, up and down the sides of the valley. “They should fade into the background.” And each one would have spectacular views. The Aerie. Down the valley. Old forest. And the shining water of Otter Lake, along with the morning mist, would attract visitors year after year.

  If the Callaways had been hunting for a way to salt the family coffers, they’d found it.

  Their first plan, to build on The Aerie to capitalize on the view, would have devastated so much of what made the place worth protecting. Ash Kingfisher’s insistence that destroying The Aerie was the wrong decision had handed them perfection. The Kingfishers had done them a favor, not that Whit or his stepfather would ever acknowledge that.

  He’d take the plans and turn them slightly, insist on Tennessee stone and timber. Summit Builders had always focused on that Tennessee connection. This could be a true art piece built from Tennessee materials and history.

  “So much money.” Caleb shook his head slowly. “How do they do it? Always land in the money.”

  And he was going to enjoy building the thing, so there was no reason to say no.

  Except for the Yarboroughs and their beautiful site overlooking the river. With hard work, luck and no interference, the timing could still work.

  But then there was Winter Kingfisher.

  Keeping her interested in anything except the lodge would be impossible, no matter what his stepfather ordered.

  When she’d marched into his office, Caleb had been knocked sideways. She’d been as beautiful and put-together as she had been every time he’d appeared for a family photo opportunity, but she’d also been fiery and determined to save her brother’s job and the reserve.

  The comparison between her impassioned defense and his stepfather’s reception was a stark contrast. In that instant, he’d been nearly certain that if Whit had managed to marry Winter Kingfisher, he’d have married up.

  In terms of intelligence and strength of character, for sure. Now she owed Caleb and that was the only card he had that she might care about. Their maneuver meant a vindicated Ash Kingfisher was running the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve, all the while keeping an eye on the Callaways. Otter Lake was safe; Ash was Sweetwater’s hero. Would gratitude or guilt be enough for Winter to agree to lay low until the election?

  He’d try both angles. He needed her cooperation, a smooth build and an accelerated timeline. Everyone could have what they wanted.

  Except Winter.

  Her engagement was over, and she no longer had the job she loved.

  Could he convince her that she was actually better off that way? Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. It was easy to imagine her negative reaction if he tried that.

  Caleb slowly rolled the plans back up and slipped them in the tube before he walked into the dining room.

  “I was beginning to worry you’d decided to make a run for it, after all.” His mother’s warm smile was sweet as she pointed at his usual spot. “Cook made prime rib. I know it’s your favorite.” It wasn’t, but now wasn’t the time to correct her, so Caleb nodded. When he sat at her right hand, she gripped his hand hard. She knew his stepfather had broken the news. As always, she was determined not to discuss something so unpleasant as an unfavorable diagnosis.

  “Whit, remind Winter I need a phone call or a text or something to let me know when she’s skipping dinner.” She tsked. “The lady works too hard. I hope once the wedding goes off like a dream that she’ll be able to slow down.”

  Caleb met his stepfather’s hard stare and nodded. This was what Senior meant. His mother was mostly there with them, but she’d forgotten that the wedding was canceled. Reminding her would upset them all.

  “Yes, Mama,” Whit mumbled and shook out his linen napkin before taking a sip of the wine next to his plate.

  Something, maybe the tension in the air, was enough to clear away her confusion. His mother straightened in her seat and cleared her throat. “Right. I forgot for a second. Winter is no longer part of the family.” She forced a laugh. “That is due to having too much on my mind, gentlemen. There’s no need for such solemn faces. Everyone smile, I command it.” Her smile, Caleb noted, was genuine.

  His mother motioned at them to continue their eating. “So, did you boys come to an agreement?”

  “We did. I’m going to start the lodge, now that the plans are approved. Should be a fun build, with a few modifications.” Caleb met his stepfather’s stare. “Guess I better find a place to stay in Sweetwater.”

  His mother’s frown seemed to be one of confusion, but eventually her smile returned. “Well, now, that lodge has been a long time in the making, hasn’t it? Once you get it open way up there on the top of the mountain, that is going to be a nice place to stay.”

  Ever the optimist... For her, it was hard to imagine living outside of the comforts of home. Whit Callaway, Sr. respected Caleb’s mom, loved her and worked hard to make sure she had every creature comfort.

  For those reasons alone, Caleb would smooth things over with his family.

  Building the lodge would be an interesting project.

  Staying one step ahead of Winter would be a real challenge.

  For his mother, he’d absolutely give it his best.

  Winter had dragged him into this mess. The least she could do is keep a low profile until Whit was elected. Selling her that would be the biggest challenge of his life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “WELL, NOW, A birdie told me you might make a visit today,” Janet Abernathy said from her spot on the ladder’s third rung. “Bright and early for a Monday, too.” Winter eased closer as the ladder rattled, concerned her interview might be interrupted by her having to call for an ambulance. Janet was holding a framed painting with both hands, but Winter couldn’t see either a hammer or a nail, so her purpose was unclear. The subject of the painting was enough to freeze Winter in her tracks.

  Someone had captured the mist rising off of one of the valleys in the reserve at daybreak. The pink of sunrise tinged one side of the wispy smoke, while
the other glistened. Somehow, an artist had managed to convey the beauty and the delicate details in vivid color. This special instant could never last, except in paint and brushstrokes.

  Winter had no words to describe the techniques or the principles that made this painting art, but the emotions it provoked could be named: awe at nature’s fragile, powerful beauty and love for the mountains that meant home. Neither Knoxville nor Nashville made her feel the same.

  One painting had exactly what made these mountains like no other place for her.

  “Pretty, right?” Janet said. At some point, she’d braced the painting against the wall and joined Winter in admiring it. Enthralled, Winter had missed the whole thing.

  “Amazing. What’s it called?” Winter inched closer, realizing there was no need to whisper. They were alone in the wide-open space of the gallery, but it felt right.

  “Painting number seven. The girl has no poetry, even if she’s brimming with natural talent.” Janet sighed. “Or this is her poetry.”

  Drawn to the painting, Winter studied the darker corners, old growth forests making a frame for the airy center. “Enchanted. The title should have something to do with enchanted.” Winter shook her head. She’d memorized her grandmother’s stories before studying Cherokee folklore and history on her own, but not everyone else had the same interests. “Sorry. The Cherokee have a story about a secret lake that has restorative properties. A wounded animal could enter the lake and come out on the other side, healed. One day a hunter discovered it and was warned to never tell another soul. Humans being as they are, the hunter broke his promise and suffered the consequences. Now, the lake is hidden, but on cool mornings, the mist rises.” Winter rubbed her forehead, aware all over again how a lot of people didn’t care to hear her stories. Kids did. Adults, not as much.