Maid for the Millionaire (8 page)

She sucked in a breath for courage and faced him. “Because I'll know you'll be watching me. Looking for the difference in how I am now and how I was when we were married.”

He chuckled. “I've already noticed the differences.”

“All the differences? I don't think so.”

“So tell me.”

“Maybe I don't want to be reminded of the past.”

“Maybe if you told me about your past, you wouldn't be so afraid. If what you're fearing is my reaction, if you tell me, we'll get it out of the way and you won't have anything to fear anymore.”

He wasn't exactly right, but he had made a point without realizing it. Maybe if she told him the truth about her humble beginnings and saw his disappointment, she could deal with it once and for all.

She returned to the dining room and walked around the table, gathering napkins as she spoke, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

“When I was growing up my mom just barely made enough for us to scrape by. I'd never even eaten in a restaurant other than fast food before I left home for university. I met you only one year out of school. And though by then I'd been wining and dining clients, traveling and seeing how the other half lived, actually being dumped into your lifestyle was culture shock to me.”

“I got that—a little late, unfortunately—but I got it. We were working around it, but you never seemed to adapt.”

“That's because there's something else. Something that you don't know.”

Also gathering things from the table, he stopped, peered over at her.

Glad for the distance between them, the buffer of space, she sucked in a fortifying breath. “I…um…my parents' divorce was not a happy one.”

“Very few divorces are.”

“Actually my mom, sisters and I ran away from my dad.” She sucked in another breath. “He was abusive.”

“He hit you?” Anger vibrated through his words, as if he'd demand payback if she admitted it was true.

“Yes. But he mostly hit my mom. We left in the night—without telling him we were going—because a charity like A Friend Indeed had a home for us hundreds of miles away in Philadelphia. We changed our names so my dad couldn't find us.”

He sat on one of the chairs surrounding the table. “Oh.” Processing that, he said nothing for a second then suddenly glanced up at her. “You're not Liz Harper?”

“I am now. My name was legally changed over a decade ago when we left New York.”

“Wow.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I'm sorry.”

“It's certainly not your fault that my father was what he was or that I lived most of my life in poverty, always on the outside looking in, or that I didn't have the class or the experiences to simply blend into your life.”

“That's why you're so attached to A Friend Indeed.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

A few seconds passed in silence. Liz hadn't expected him to say anything sympathetic. That simply wasn't
Cain. But saying nothing at all was worse than a flippant reply. She felt the sting of his unspoken rejection. She wasn't good enough for him. She'd always known it.

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

She snorted a laugh. “Tell my perfect, handsome, wealthy husband who seemed to know everything that I was a clueless runaway? For as much as I loved you, I never felt I deserved you.”

He smiled ruefully. “I used to think the same thing about you.”

Disbelief stole her breath. Was he kidding her? She'd been the one with the past worth hiding. He'd been nothing but perfect. Maybe too perfect. “Really?”

“I would think why does this beautiful woman stay with me, when I'm an emotional cripple.” He combed his fingers through his hair as if torn between the whole truth and just enough to satisfy her openmouthed curiosity. Finally he said, “The guilt of my brother's death paralyzed me. Even now, it sometimes sneaks up on me. Reminding me that if I'd left a minute sooner or a few seconds later, Tom would still be alive.”

“The kid who hit you ran a red light. The accident wasn't your fault.”

“Logically, I know that. But something deep inside won't let me believe it.” He shook his head and laughed miserably. “I'm a fixer, remember. Even after Tom's death, it was me Dad turned to for help running the business and eventually finding a replacement he could trust with his company when he wanted to retire. Yet, I couldn't fix that accident. I couldn't change any of it.”

“No one could.”

He snorted a laugh. “No kidding.”

A few more seconds passed in silence. Fear bubbled in her blood. She had no idea why he'd confided in her, but she could see the result of it. She longed to hug him. To comfort him. But if she did that and they fell into bed, what good would that do but take them right back to where they had been? Solving all their problems with sex.

She grabbed her handful of napkins and walked them to the laundry room, realizing that rather than hug him, rather than comfort him, what she should be doing is airing all their issues. This conversation had been a great beginning, and this was probably the best opportunity she'd ever get to slide their final heartbreak into a discussion.

She readied herself, quickly assembling the right words to tell him about their baby as she stepped out of the pantry into the kitchen again.

Cain stood by the dishwasher, arranging the final glasses on the top row. She took a deep breath, but before she could open her mouth, he said, “Do you know you're the only person I've ever talked about my brother's accident with?”

“You haven't talked with your family?”

He shrugged and closed the dishwasher door. Walking to the center island, he said, “We talk about Tom, but we don't talk about his accident. We talk about the fact that he's dead, but we never say it was my fault. My family has a wonderful way of being able to skirt things. To talk about what's palatable and avoid what's not.”

Though he tried to speak lightly, she heard the pain in his voice, the pain in his words, the need to release his feelings just by getting some of this out in the open.

This was not the time to tell him about their baby. Not when he was so torn up about the accident. He
couldn't handle it right now. Her brain told her to move on. She couldn't stand here and listen, couldn't let him confide, not even as a friend.

But her heart remembered the three sad, awful years after the accident and desperately wanted to see him set free.

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

He tossed a dishtowel to the center island. “What would I say?”

She caught his gaze. “I don't know. What would you say?”

“Maybe that I'm sorry?”

“Do you really think you need to say you're sorry for an accident?”

He smiled ruefully. “I guess that's the rub. I feel guilty about something that wasn't my fault. Something I can't change. Something I couldn't have fixed no matter how old, or smart or experienced I was.”

“That's probably what's driving the fixer in you crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“It's not your fault. You can't be sorry.” She shook her head. “No. You
can
be sorry your brother is gone. You can be sorry for the loss. But you can't take the blame for an accident.”

“I know.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “That was weird.”

“Talking about it?”

“No, admitting out loud for the first time that it wasn't my fault. That I can't take the blame.” He shook his head. “Wow. It's like it's the first time that's really sunk in.”

He smiled at her, a relieved smile so genuine that she
knew she'd done the right thing in encouraging him to talk.

The silence in the room nudged her again, hinting that she could now tell him about their baby, but something about the relieved expression on his face stopped her. He'd just absolved himself from a burden of guilt he never should have taken up. What if she told him about her miscarriage and instead of being sad, he got angry with himself all over again?

She swallowed, as repressed memories of the days before she left him popped up in her brain. All these years, she'd thought she'd kept her secret to protect herself. Now, she remembered that she'd also kept it to protect him. He had a talent for absorbing blame that wasn't really his.

If she told him now, with the conversation about his brother still lingering in the air, he could tumble right back to the place he'd just escaped. Surely he deserved a few days of peace? And surely in those days she could think of a way to tell him that would help him to accept, as she had, that there was no one to blame.

“We're just about finished here.” She ambled to the dining room table again and brought back salt-and-pepper shakers. “I'll wash the tablecloth and wait for the dishwasher, but you don't have to hang around. I brought a book to read while I wait. Why don't you go do whatever you'd normally do?”

“I should pack the contracts we signed tonight in my briefcase.”

“Okay. You go do that.” She smiled at him. “I'll see you Friday morning.”

He turned in the doorway. “I'm not supposed to be here when you come to the house, remember?”

She held his gaze. “I could come early enough to get a cup of coffee.”

Surprise flitted across his face. “Really?” Then he grimaced. “I'm leaving town tomorrow morning. I won't be back until Friday night. But I'll see you on Saturday.”

Another weekend of working with him without being able to tell him might be for the best. A little distance between tonight's acceptance that he couldn't take blame for his brother's accident and the revelation of a tragedy he didn't even know had happened wouldn't be a bad thing.

“Okay.”

He turned to leave again then paused, as if he didn't want to leave her, and she realized she'd given him the wrong impression when she'd suggested they have coffee Friday morning. She'd suggested it to give herself a chance to tell him her secret, not because she wanted to spend time with him. But he didn't know that.

She turned away, a silent encouragement for him to move on. When she turned around again, he was gone.

T
HE FOLLOWING
S
ATURDAY
,
Cain was on the roof of Amanda's house with a small crew of his best, most discreet workers. Even before Cain arrived, Liz had taken Amanda and her children to breakfast, then shopping, then to the beach. If he didn't know how well-timed this roof event had to be, he might have thought she was avoiding him.

Regret surged through him as he climbed down the ladder. He'd been so caught up in the fact that their talk had allowed him to pierce through the layer of guilt that had held him captive, that he'd nearly forgotten what she'd told him about her dad.

She'd been abused. She'd been raised in poverty. She'd run away, gotten herself educated in spite of her humble beginnings, and then she'd met him.

Their relationship could have gone one of two ways. He could have brought her into his world, shown her his lifestyle and gradually helped her acclimate. Instead, he'd fallen victim to the grief of his brother's death and missed the obvious.

He wanted to be angry with himself, but he couldn't. Just as he couldn't bear the burden of guilt over his
brother's death, he couldn't blame himself for having missed the obvious. Blaming himself for things he couldn't change was over. But so was the chance to “fix” their marriage.

Somehow or another, that conversation over his dirty dishes had shown him that he and Liz weren't destined for a second chance. He could say that without the typical sadness over the loss of what might have been because he'd decided they hadn't known each other well enough the first time around to have anything to fix. What they really needed to do was start over.

He went through the back door into Amanda's kitchen, got a drink of water and then headed upstairs to assess what was left to be done, still thinking about him and Liz. The question was…what did start over mean? Start over to become friends? Or start over to become lovers? A couple? A
married
couple?

He'd been considering them coworkers, learning to get along as friends for the sake of their project. But after the way she'd led him out of his guilt on Wednesday night, his feelings for her had shifted in an unexpected way. He supposed this was the emotion a man experienced when he found a woman who understood him, one he'd consider making his wife. The first time around his idea of a wife had been shallow. He'd wanted a beautiful hostess and someone to warm his bed. He'd never thought he'd need a confidante and friend more.

Now he knew just how wrong he'd been.

And now he saw just how right Liz would have been for him, if they'd only opened up to each other the first time around.

So should he expand his idea from experimenting
with getting to know each other in order to become friends, to experimenting with getting to know each other to see if they actually were compatible? Not in the shallow ways, but in the real ways that counted.

Just the thought sent his head reeling. He didn't want to go back to what they'd had before…but a whole new relationship? The very idea filled him with a funny, fuzzy feeling. Though he didn't have a lot of experience with this particular emotion…he thought it just might be hope.

They couldn't fix their past. But what if they could have a future?

Shaking his head at the wonder of it all, Cain ducked into the first bedroom, the room with the most ceiling damage. He pulled a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket and began making notes of things he would do the next day, Sunday. His crew would have the new roof far enough along that he could fix this ceiling and then the room could be painted. Because Amanda couldn't be there when any work crew was on site—to keep her identity safe—Liz would paint this room herself. The following weekend he and Billy could get to work on the baseboards and trim.

Proud of himself, Cain left the first room and walked into the second. This room still needed the works: ceiling, paint job, trim. He ducked out and into the bathroom, which was old-fashioned, but in good repair because he had fixed both the commode and shower the first week he'd been here. He dipped out and headed for the biggest bedroom, the one Amanda was using.

He stepped inside, only to find Liz stuffing a pillow into a bright red pillowcase.

“What are you doing here?”

Hand to her heart, she whipped around. “What are you doing down here! You're supposed to be on the roof.”

“I'm making a list of things that need to be done tomorrow and next weekend.”

“I'm surprising Amanda. I dropped her and her kids off at the beach, telling them I'd be back around six.”

He leaned against the doorjamb. This room hadn't sustained any damage because of the bad roof. At some point during the week, Liz and Amanda had already painted the ceiling and walls. At the bottom of the bed were packages of new sheets and a red print comforter. Strewn across a mirror vanity were new curtains—red-and-gold striped that matched the colors in the comforter—waiting to be installed.

“By giving her a whole new bedroom?”

“Having a bedroom that's a comfortable retreat is a simple pleasure.” Shaking a second pillow into a pillowcase, she smiled. “Women like simple pleasures. Bubble baths. A fresh cup of coffee. A good book.”

“And a pretty bedroom.”

She nodded. “And before you ask, Amanda's favorite color is red. I'm not going overboard.”

“I'm glad because another person might consider this whole system a bit bright.”

“This from a man with a black satin bedspread.”

He laughed. “Point taken.”

“How's the roof going?”

“It'll be done tomorrow night. That's the good thing about these houses. Small, uncomplicated roofs.”

“Good.”

With the pillows now on the bed and the fitted sheet in place, Liz grabbed the flat sheet, unfurling it over the bed.

Cain strode over and caught the side opposite her. “Here. Let me help.”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” He paused then added, “You know I'm really proud of you, right?”

“You don't have to say that.”

“I think I do. Wednesday night, we sort of skipped from your childhood to my brother's death and never got back to it.”

“There's no need.”

“I think there is.” He hesitated. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I'd like to know more.” He shook his head. “No. That's not right. You said it's not something you want to talk about.” In three years of living together, he'd bet she'd shown him signs of her troubles, but he'd never seen. He regretted now that he'd never seen her pain. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. If he'd noticed, he could have asked her about it at any time in their marriage. Now he knew she wanted it to be put behind her. If he really wanted a clean slate, he had to accept what she wanted, too.

“What I'm trying to say is that I want you to know that I get it. I understand. And maybe I'm sorry.”

He still wasn't sure what he intended to do. If he should trust that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him he should pursue this. Mostly because she was so different now that he had to treat her differently. She had goals and dreams. The first time they'd met he'd pulled her away from everything she had and everything she wanted. He wouldn't do that to her this time.

And maybe that was the real test of whether or not they belonged together. If he could coexist without
taking over, and if she could keep her independence without letting him overpower her, then maybe they did belong together.

He nearly snorted with derision. That was a tall order for a man accustomed to being the boss and a woman so obviously eager to please.

“You don't have to be sorry.”

“Well, I am. I'm sorry I didn't put two and two together. I'm sorry I made things worse.”

 

They didn't speak while finishing the bed. Liz couldn't have spoken if she'd tried. There was a lump in her throat so thick she couldn't have gotten words past it.

When the bed was all set up, he said, “I better get back to the roof.”

Liz nodded, smiling as much as she could, and he left the room. She watched him go then forced her attention on the bed she'd just made. She'd missed another really good opportunity to tell him. But his apology about her situation with her dad had left her reeling. She hadn't wanted to be overly emotional when she told him about their lost child. She wanted to be strong. So he could be sad. She wanted to keep the focus of the discussion on the loss being a loss…not someone's fault.

Still, she'd better pick a time…and soon. With two honest discussions under their belts, he'd wonder why she'd kept her most important secret to herself when she'd had opportunities to tell him.

 

The following weekend and the weekend after, Liz found herself working primarily with Amanda. With the roof done, Amanda and Billy didn't need to be off
premises, and both were eager to get back on the job. Cain and Billy did the “man's work” as Billy called it, and Amanda and Liz painted and then made lunches. There was never a time when she and Cain were alone.

Their final Sunday of work, with the roof replaced, the rooms painted, the plumbing working at peak efficiency, and shiny new baseboard and crown molding accenting each room, Amanda had wanted to make a big celebration dinner, but Cain had a conference call and Liz had begged off in favor of a cold shower. She kissed Amanda, Joy and Billy's cheeks as Cain shook hands and gave hugs, then both headed for their vehicles.

“That was amazing,” Cain said when they were far enough from Amanda's house that she couldn't hear.

Liz blew out a breath of relief. “Dear God, yes. Finishing is amazing!”

He shook his head. “No. I'm talking about actually doing something for someone.” He sighed, stopping at the door to his truck. “You know that I give hundreds of thousands of dollars away a year, so you know I'm not a slouch. But giving is one thing. Working to help make a real person's life better is entirely different.”

“No kidding!”

“I don't think you're hearing what I'm telling you. I feel terrific.”

She laughed. “You've got charity worker's high.”

He shook his head again. “No. It's more than that. I feel like I've found my new calling.”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she peeked up at him, finally getting what he was telling her. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“You know A Friend Indeed has other houses.”

“Yes.”

“You can call Ayleen and I'm sure she'll let you fix any one of them you want.”

He caught her gaze. “Will you help?”

Her heart stopped. Spend another several weeks with him? “I don't know.” She pulled in a breath. When he looked at her with those serious eyes of his, she couldn't think of saying no. Especially since he'd been so happy lately. And especially since she still had something to tell him and needed to be around him.

But she didn't really want to connect their lives, and working together on another project more or less made them a team.

“Okay, while you think about that, answer this. I'm considering hiring Billy to be my assistant on these jobs. I know I'll have to clear it with Ayleen, but before I talk to her I'd like a little background. Just enough that I don't push any wrong buttons.”

“As long as you don't hit his mother, I think you'll be fine.”

“That bad, huh?”

Liz sighed. “I think the real problem might be getting him to accept a job.”

“Really? Why?”

“He might think it's charity.”

“I never thought of that.”

“He's got a lot of pride.”

Cain snorted a laugh. “No kidding. But we made headway working together.” He grinned at her. “I think he likes me.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “He admires you.”

“So I'll use that. I'll tell him he's getting a chance to work with the big dog. Learn the secrets of my success.”

She laughed and an odd warmth enveloped her. Talking with him now was like talking with Ellie. Casual. Easy. Maybe they really had become friends?

“Hey, you never know. It might work.”

She grimaced. “I'm sure it will work.” She finished the walk to her car. She didn't mind being friends with him, but she also didn't want to risk the feeling going any further.

As she opened the door, Cain called after her, “So, are you going to help me?”

That was the rub. If she agreed to work with him, they really would become friends. And she'd probably have plenty of time not only to tell him her secret, but also to help him adjust to it. On the flip side, if things didn't go well, she'd have plenty of time to see him angry, to watch him mourn, if he didn't handle the news well.

“I'm going to think about it.”

 

Liz slid into her car and drove away. Cain opened his truck door. He'd expected her to be happier that he wanted to work on more houses. But he supposed in a way he understood why she wasn't. The very reason he wanted her to work with him—to be together, to spend time together so they could get to know each other and see if they shouldn't start over again—might be the reason she didn't want to work with him. Their marriage had been an abysmal failure. She didn't want to be reminded and she didn't want to go back.

If he was considering “fixing” their marriage, he'd be as negative as she was. But he didn't want to fix their marriage. He wanted them to start over again.

Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely sure how.

Tuesday, Cain spoke with Ayleen and got approval to hire Billy. Actually, he got gushing glowing praise on the job he had done and his generosity in taking Billy under his wing. Then he got the address of the next house he was to repair and the suggestion that he might want to start that Saturday.

So he drove to Amanda's and offered Billy a job, which Billy happily accepted, especially after Cain mentioned his salary.