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Authors: Johnnie Alexander

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BOOK: Where She Belongs
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“I was.” Ignoring the curiosity written all over AJ's face, she focused on Nate. “Will that give you enough time?”

“Not sure about that,” Nate said. “First thing we need to figure is how to get rid of the critters in the attic.”

“What critters?” Shelby's voice raised an octave.

“Pigeons, for sure. Probably bats.”

“Mice have been in the kitchen,” AJ said.

Shelby involuntarily shivered. She should have known spiders wouldn't be her only unwanted guests. “Any suggestions?”

“Let me do some thinkin' on it. Right now, I want to go over a few other things with you.” Using the pickup's hood as a makeshift desk, Nate reviewed his notes with Shelby. “I'll need to take this back to the office to make some estimates. Usually, that would take a week or so, but given your time frame, I'll work on it this evening.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“If you'd like, I can come back in the morning and check out the attic. Nine o'clock too early?”

“I'll be here.”

“All right then.” Nate stuck his pen in his pocket and faced AJ. “Coach, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard you were selling this place. Bet your grandfather's just a-churnin' in his grave.”

“No doubt.” AJ paused, his eyes darkening to an even deeper shade. “But it's what Gran wanted me to do.”

“Miss Joyanna's a fine lady. How's she doing?”

“She's been better.”

“Tell her we're praying for her.” Nate dug keys from his pocket and opened his truck door. “I'll be going now. See you in the morning, Miz Kincaid.” He waved as he backed up, then drove down the lane, dust flying up from behind his tires.

“Your grandmother is ill?” Shelby studied AJ's profile as he avoided her gaze.

He nodded, his jaw as rigid as stone.

“I'm sorry.”

He nodded again, then faced her and seemed to force a smile. “How about going into town for lunch? My treat.”

“With you? No.”

“This may surprise you,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice, “but I'm not my grandfather.”

Shelby gazed at the broken swing. “Uncle Richard told me you've owned this house about five or six years.”

“Six.”

“What exactly did you do different than your grandfather?”

A wounded frown replaced AJ's amiable smile, and his eyes brimmed with pain. Regret gripped Shelby's heart. She'd meant the words to sting a little, but not to cut.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he turned on his heel and headed toward his Jeep before she could say a word. Opening the driver's door, he glared at her over the roof.

“See you at the signing.”

“I didn't mean—”

“I think you did.” He disappeared into the Jeep and started the ignition.

As the vehicle bounced down the lane, Shelby's heart jolted. It was as if she were fourteen again, as lonely and abandoned as the house behind her.

– 2 –

H
esitating outside the open door of the bank's conference room, Richard Grayson took a moment to compose himself. Never had he anticipated this turn of events. His sister Aubrey's granddaughter and his best friend Sully's grandson entering a business arrangement together.

No good could come of this.

Not that he hadn't tried to stop it. Despite his admonition that the house was beyond repair, Shelby would not be dissuaded. He'd almost had a heart attack when she called and told him about that ridiculous letter she'd written AJ.

But even worse had been Joyanna Sullivan's interference. Instead of leaving matters alone, she'd encouraged her grandson to find a loophole that would free him of the house. Given her blessing, AJ had quickly found one.

Feeling momentarily light-headed, Richard placed his palm on the wall to steady himself and pasted on a smile. Shelby would expect him to be delighted to see her after all these years. He started to enter the room, then paused again as he heard her voice.

“I truly am sorry.” Her voice shook just a little. “About what I said.”

“Forget about it.” AJ sounded dismissive.

A spat? Richard's spirits lifted slightly. Perhaps it wasn't too late to end this transaction before it ever took place. Then maybe Shelby would stay in Chicago. Or find some other place to raise her girls. Anywhere but here, where the past lingered too close to the present.

With a confident stride, he entered the room and smiled broadly at his great-niece as she rose from her seat.

“Shelby,” he said, enfolding her in an embrace. “How much you've grown.”

“Hello, Uncle Richard.” She kissed his cheek. “It's so good to see you.”

He grasped her hands as she stepped away. “I'm only sorry it couldn't have been under happier circumstances.”

She tilted her head, a bemused expression in her green eyes. “This is a very happy circumstance. A dream come true.”

“I know how much the house means to you. But I can't help being sorry about”—he deliberately paused and willed concern to show in his eyes—“the loss of your husband. Are you sure he would have wanted you to uproot the children this way? After all Elizabeth and Tabby have gone through, is it wise to make this move?”

Her stunned expression told him he'd hit his mark, but he controlled his satisfaction. She looked away briefly then faced him again, her smile grim and cheerless. Before she could speak, he turned and shook hands with AJ.

“Good to see you, as always. How's your grandmother?”

“The doctor isn't holding out much hope.”

Richard shook his head, genuinely sorry for Joyanna's decline. It seemed like only yesterday that they'd been young and energetic, full of life and dreams of their own. He and Joyanna often double-dated with Aubrey and Sully, the four of them big fish in Glade County's little pond. Then the Korean War had come along, throwing their lives into turmoil.

Ancient history now.

With the strange consequence that Aubrey's granddaughter and Sully's grandson faced each other across a table, oblivious to the heartaches, the betrayals, resonating from the past.

“Richard?” AJ's voice brought him back to the present. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, yes.” He took his seat at the head of the table. “Considering your grandmother's health, I do wonder if this is the best time for you to be involved in legal matters.”

“But, Uncle Richard—”

He placed his hand on Shelby's arm. “We must be sensitive to AJ's concern for his grandmother. She's very ill.”

“Of course.” Her eyes darted from him to AJ and back again, as if her confusion searched for guidance. “But if we don't do this today . . . my house in Chicago is already under contract. Where will we live?” She turned to AJ. “Please don't postpone this.”

AJ seemed unable to take his eyes from hers. “I'm not postponing anything.”

A sense of déjà vu reeled around Richard. Sully, before the war, gazing at Aubrey with that same steadfast intensity.

Perhaps it'd be best to get these proceedings over with. As quickly as possible.

He cleared his throat and opened the folders he'd carried in with him. “I know you both have reviewed the details of this contract with your respective attorneys. But before signing, let's cover the high points to ensure there are no misunderstandings.”

“I think we both know—” AJ broke off at Richard's disapproving look. He leaned back in his chair, palms up in surrender.

“As we are all aware, the terms of Anderson John Sullivan II's estate plan forbade the sale of the Lassiter farm, legally named Misty Willow, for ten years after the date his grandson, Anderson John Sullivan IV, took possession of the property.” Richard pointed the end of his pen at AJ. “That would be you.”

“I know that.” AJ's eyes flickered to Shelby, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

Ignoring their amusement at his expense, Richard continued. “It will be four more years before the property can be sold outright. However, this contract leases thirty-two acres, including the homestead, to Ms. Shelby Lassiter Kincaid while the remaining acreage remains in the possession of Mr. Sullivan. As long as Ms. Kincaid makes the required payments, the leased property will become hers at the end of the four-year period. The negotiated payments are listed on page two.”

As if on cue, Shelby and AJ flipped to the second page of their contract copies and skimmed the details.

“It's really mine?” Shelby's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

Richard smiled indulgently. “For all practical purposes, yes.”

“But AJ . . .” Shelby hesitated and corrected herself. “Mr. Sullivan technically owns the land?”

“It's not much different than a bank holding a mortgage.”

Shelby's face drained of color. “Things haven't changed much, have they?”

Richard's pulse quickened at his poor choice of words, but long years of hiding his thoughts behind an impassive expression served him well. “It's your home now, Shelby. As soon as the papers are signed and filed.”

“You'll take care of all that?”

“Of course.” He directed the signing of the multiple copies, smoothly rotating the pages and pointing out signature lines.

When they finished the process, Shelby handed AJ an envelope. “Your first check.”

“Thank you.” He restlessly tapped the envelope on the table. “I hope you and your daughters will be happy there.”

“We will be.”

Richard stood and gathered the signed copies into a neat pile. “Our business is concluded then. Congratulations to you both.”

Shelby squeezed his arm. “Thank you for everything, Uncle Richard. You've been so helpful.”

“I apologize again for not being available for dinner tonight.” He patted her hand. “I promise to make it up to you another time. You will forgive me?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling up at him. “I'll be fine.”

“When do you leave for Chicago?”

“My flight's at two-something tomorrow afternoon.”

“Next time you're in town, I'll take you somewhere special. To celebrate.”

“It's a date.” She kissed his cheek. “Thanks again.”

She practically floated from the room. After all she'd been through, she deserved some happiness. But Richard couldn't help wishing she'd found it in Chicago instead of here. At least he'd been able to avoid spending any more time with her. Now to get rid of AJ.

“I can take care of depositing your check for you. If you'd like.”

“Sure.” AJ removed it from the envelope and endorsed the back. “It looked like you hadn't seen Shelby in a while. Seems kind of strange since you're her uncle.”

“Great-uncle, actually. But you're right. It has been a long time.”

“How come?”

“Her parents are missionaries in Mozambique. She lived overseas for several years. When she returned to the States, she went to college in Chicago, married, and stayed there.”

“Did you know her husband?”

“I never met him.” Richard took the endorsed check and put it in his pocket. “They eloped.”

“How did he die?”

“He was a police officer. Killed in the line of duty a year or so ago.” Richard gestured toward the door. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment in a few minutes.”

“I'm going to see Gran. She seemed anxious about the legalities.” AJ glanced at his watch. “Thanks for taking care of all this.”

“It's what I do.” What Richard had always done for the Sullivans. Cleaning up messes. Straightening out entanglements. He
had wearied of them long ago, but old habits died hard. “Tell Joyanna I asked about her.”

“I will.”

“And AJ?”

“Yes?”

“Don't concern yourself with Shelby.”

– 3 –

A
fter changing out of her suit into jeans and a sweater, Shelby grabbed her shoulder bag and headed out the front door of the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying. In an earlier era, the three-story B and B had been home to one of the town's founding families. According to information she'd found online when she made her reservation, the landmark had been transformed into a six-suite historic destination.

She stepped outside into a pleasant spring evening. Shade trees lined the sidewalk, their freshly sprouted leaves lightly dancing in the setting rays of the sun. The Dixie Diner's sign flashed on the corner, but earlier today she'd spotted an Italian café a couple of streets over. The perfect place to celebrate her perfect day.

Perfect except for running into AJ Sullivan at the house. To think she mistook the fiend for Nate Jeffers. And called him her hero.

As if.

The restaurant wasn't busy this early, and the hostess seated Shelby right away. Deciding on lasagna and a small salad, she handed the menu to the waitress, sipped her water, and looked around at the typical red-checked tablecloths and colorful murals painted on the walls.

A cute little place. She'd have to bring the girls here after they moved. If only there wasn't so much to do before then.

Pulling a notepad and pen from her bag, she jotted down a few notes. Priority one—rid the house of its four-legged and eight-legged inhabitants. Hopefully, Nate Jeffers had a plan for that project.

Suddenly realizing someone was standing near her, Shelby looked up with a polite smile.

AJ Sullivan.

The smile froze in place as she stared at him, too stunned to speak. He carried a royal blue gift bag and a different OSU ball cap than the one he'd worn that morning. No doubt he spent every spare moment glued to some sporting event. That seemed the American male obsession, one she'd marveled at when she returned to the States for college.

At least Gary hadn't been caught up in that craze. At least not too much.

He'd preferred video games.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” AJ's question jerked her back to the present.

“Of course not.” Biting her lip, she fervently wished her mother hadn't drilled good manners into her quite so deep. Then she could just tell him to get lost.

“I was driving by and saw your car.” He sat across from her and gestured at the notepad. “Making plans?”

“There's a lot to do.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“I think you've done enough.” She closed the notepad. “Or, more accurately,
not
done enough.”

“It's just a house.”

“Not to me.”

“Hey, AJ.” The waitress appeared by his side. “What brings you to town on a Thursday night?” As her eyes flickered to Shelby, the generous smile she'd given AJ faded. What did the woman think, they were on a date?

It would never happen.

“Hi, Tiff,” AJ said, then faced Shelby. “Let me treat you to dinner. Seeing as how I've just come into some money.”

Before Shelby could reply, Tiff gushed. “What happened, AJ? Did you win the lottery?” Her laugh grated like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“I gave it to him,” Shelby heard herself saying as AJ's brown eyes held her gaze. Her cheeks warmed as an unexpected charge tingled her spine. Unexpected and unwelcome.

“I've got other tables, you know.” Tiff squeezed AJ's shoulder. “What are you going to have, handsome?”

Shelby glanced around the barely occupied room and ducked her head to hide her amusement. But AJ must have seen the gleam in her eyes. He bent his head to catch her gaze. “I can stay?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” She tried but failed to sound exasperated.

AJ grinned as he looked up at Tiff. “Just bring me the usual.”

“One ‘usual' coming right up.” Her hips swayed as she flounced away.

“Your girlfriend?” Shelby asked coyly, then sipped her water.

“Tiff?” AJ shook his head. “Um, no.”

“Does she know that?”

“Tiff is”—he paused as if choosing his words carefully—“friendly.”

“I see.”

Surprisingly, color crept up his neck, and he plopped the gift bag in front of her. “This is for you. From my grandmother.”

“Why would your grandmother give me a gift?”

“Open it and you'll see.” Folding his arms on the table, he leaned forward.

Shelby pushed aside the blue and white tissue paper and lifted a large key from the bag. A weeping willow was engraved into the top of the key. Curved above the tree's crown was written “Est. 1842.”

She gasped, covering her mouth with one hand as she cradled the key in the other.

“You recognize it?”

“It's the original key. The year is when the house was built.”

“Gran thought you'd like to have it. Now that the place is yours.”

“This is amazing.” Shelby blinked away tears. The original doors had been replaced long ago, but the key had been a family heirloom, hanging decade after decade in the hallway near the double doors. She thought it had been lost, as so many other heirlooms had been lost when her grandparents died.

“Please tell your grandmother thank you for me.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Let me take a picture. You holding the key.”

“Why?”

“For Gran. It'd mean a lot to her.”

“I guess that would be okay.” Shelby held up the key and smiled. She didn't like the idea of AJ having a photo of her, but neither did she want to appear ungrateful for his grandmother's gift. He snapped the photo, looked at the phone display, then held it out to her. In the photo, her eyes appeared too bright, her smile uncertain.

“Do another one. Please.”

“Sure.”

She took a deep breath then smiled, a genuine smile for the elderly woman who'd given her a precious keepsake from the past.

They examined the photo together. The lighting wasn't the greatest, but at least her expression was more relaxed.

“Much better,” she said. “You will tell her how much this means to me?”

“I will.” AJ pocketed his phone. “Does this mean you aren't mad at me anymore?”

“I was never mad at you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“It's not that I'm mad.” She hesitated, wanting to corral her emotions into the right words. But how could she explain the unrelenting anger she carried for the family who had caused her such grief? Until today, when she met AJ, a faceless family who had
appeared in her nightmares as ogres with red eyes and grasping fingers that clawed at her heart.

Nothing at all like the man who sat across from her with his Cary Grant cleft, warm eyes, and easygoing demeanor.

“It's that . . . you're a Sullivan.”

“You don't like me because I'm a Sullivan?”

“It's reason enough.” She lifted her chin, trying to impose solidity where there was nothing but foolishness. She wasn't being fair. But life hadn't been fair to her.

Tiff arrived at the table with two steaming plates of lasagna. “Bon appétit,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything.” She leaned closer to AJ. “Anything at all.”

“Thanks, Tiff.” He barely smiled. “I think we're good.”

Thankful for the distraction, Shelby placed her napkin on her lap and picked up her fork. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” AJ took a breadstick from the basket and tore it in half.

“What did you mean earlier about the house being a punishment?”

He bent his head, but not enough to hide the set of his jaw. She cut into the lasagna with the side of her fork and jabbed at it.

“You don't need to answer. It's just hard for me to understand. It's a beautiful house. At least it was. Once.”

He lifted his eyes, drawing her into deep brown pools of light and warmth. Her breath caught as an unexpected thought beat rhythm with her pulse.

If only she had met AJ Sullivan under different circumstances.

“I'm sure it was. Once.” AJ bit into the soft, hot bread. Shelby's green eyes mesmerized him, but her mercurial attitude confounded him. One minute, he felt like her enemy. The next, as if they could be best friends. Maybe even something more. “But the first time I saw it, the house had already been empty several years.”

“You didn't want to fix it up? Live in it?”

“It's kind of large for one person, don't you think?” He ventured a grin. Thankfully, she nodded agreement.

“You could have rented it out. Made some money.”

He searched for a noble reason why he hadn't done even that. But the simple truth was that he wanted nothing to do with the house or the memories it embodied. Shelby might be hurt by that truth, but perhaps his explanation would make up for whatever wrongs his family had done to hers.

“Granddad—everyone called him Sully—had several business interests,” he said. “And three heirs. My two cousins and me. I got Misty Willow, and they got everything else.”

“To punish you?”

“Yeah.”

She didn't ask, but he read the question in her eyes.
What had you done?

He gave a casual shrug, as if what he'd done wasn't that big of a deal. Except that it was. He didn't need to tell Shelby the whole story, though. Only the part that most people knew.

“I'm his namesake. His only son's only son. Naturally, I was supposed to be a lawyer so I could take care of his legal affairs. But I dropped out of law school and became a teacher instead.”

“So he pretty much disinherited you?”

“Except for your farm, yes.”

“Why the ‘you can't sell this for ten years' clause?”

“According to Richard, who's the trustee, Sully thought I was too headstrong. That I didn't think before I acted. Forcing me to keep the property was meant to teach me patience.” AJ leaned back in his chair and traced a pattern on the tablecloth. “For all his faults, he was a visionary. The farmland around here becomes more valuable every year. The commute to Columbus isn't that far. Seems people want to raise their kids in the country.”

“I understand that.”

“I guess you do. Anyway, what the commuters don't get, developers will.”

“Not Misty Willow.”

“Nor the rest of the acreage. I kind of like the land the way it is.”

“I wish I could have afforded to lease all of it now.”

“I wish you could have too.” Apparently, the numbers hadn't worked out for her to lease more than the thirty-two acres. At least that's what Richard had said. AJ wasn't sure what difference it made in the long run, though. He gave her an encouraging smile. “But you have first options on the rest, and it's not going anywhere.”

“I guess that means we'll be doing business again in the future.”

AJ lifted his glass of tea. “To the future.”

A slow smile brightened Shelby's features as she clinked her glass against his. “To the future.”

With her perfect timing, Tiff sidled to the table with separate checks and routine questions about to-go boxes. AJ paid both bills then escorted Shelby to her car. The moon hung low on the horizon, and only a few stars gleamed in the night sky.

Shelby clicked the remote to unlock the car. “Thank you for supper.”

“Thanks for letting me sit down.” Stepping in front of her, he opened the door.

“Thank you for the key too. Tell your grandmother it means the world to me.”

“She'll be glad.”

Shelby started to get in, then halted, standing so close her delicate fragrance beckoned him even closer. “You're very close to her, aren't you?”

AJ's throat tightened. “Very.”

“It's hard. Losing a grandmother.” She stared past him. “The pain eases, but it never goes away.”

“Would you want it to?”

She looked at him a moment, her eyes dark in the dim light of a nearby lamppost, then barely shook her head. “Good night.”

“Night.”

AJ stood on the sidewalk, staring at the taillights as she drove away. When she turned a corner, he jammed his hands in his pockets and strode to his Jeep. He envied her. That's why he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He envied her passion for a rundown house. He envied her happy childhood memories. He was even jealous that she had kids.

There had been a time when he thought he could change the dysfunctional Sullivan legacy. Become a respected husband and loving father.

But God couldn't trust him with a family of his own. Not after the way he'd messed things up.

As he slid into his Jeep, he vowed not to think of Shelby Kincaid's dazzling eyes or delicate features. Ever again.

BOOK: Where She Belongs
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