Investment in Love (Contemporary Romance) (3 page)

“What, so we’re all a bunch of uneducated hicks?” Ellie jumped up angrily, BLT forgotten. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Barnard. We may be a bunch of hicks out here in Carterville, but we
chose
to stay here. We have college degrees and job skills and intelligent thoughts—and we have a heck of a lot better manners than city people like you. I’ll give you a piece of advice. Fix up your great-aunt’s house, and then sell it to someone who will appreciate it and get out of Carterville. We don’t need your rude attitude and snobby judgment.” Feeling self-righteous, she threw down her napkin and flounced out the door.

Calvin sat frozen for a moment, totally stunned.
Well, so much for choosing Ellie Parker as his Carterville bride.
The waitress came and dropped—literally dropped—his sandwich plate with a glare.
Great. It looked like Ellie wasn’t the only Carterville resident he had alienated.
He sighed and buried his face in his hands. The plan was off to a bad start.

Ellie fumed the whole way back to the shop, jerking angrily at the steering wheel of her little SUV. Thank God she’d driven herself instead of riding down in Calvin’s shiny little rental car. It looked expensive, just like everything else he had, though she supposed it might just be a New York thing.
Her car was sensible
. It might not be glossy or especially pretty, but it had four-wheel drive and could handle a snowstorm.

She pulled into the parking lot of the shop and yanked her keys out of the ignition with a cheerful-sounding jingle that ill-befitted her mood.
God, what an infuriating man!
The small brunette itched to give him a piece of her mind.

Little did she know, only a few blocks away, Calvin was thinking the same thing. His guilt had lasted through about half his sandwich—which was delicious—and then he started to rethink things. Who was Ellie Parker to go making assumptions about what he was trying to say?

He grimaced when he remembered his words, biting at his cheek. It had come out all wrong. He hadn’t been trying to say that Ellie Parker was stupid—it was clear now that she was pretty sharp, actually. It was just surprising that someone in a tiny town like this would have a college degree.
How is that insulting, anyway? You don’t need a college degree to be smart.
Calvin’s dad hadn’t had a degree, but he was brilliant. It was pretty clear that the beautiful Miss Parker was one of those small-town residents who was absolutely determined to hate city people.

But okay, even if the way he’d said it might have sounded bad, there was no need to yell and stomp off. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain himself. Those shiny brown eyes and that curvy little body were not enough to make up for a nasty temper. Calvin crossed her off the imaginary list in his head. Problem was, she was the only girl on that list so far. There would be more options, surely—he just had to find them.

He finished the last crumbs of his roast beef sandwich, which was delicious, and stood to leave. At the last moment, he remembered to drop a large tip on the table. Maybe it would save his reputation, even if he’d managed to irritate the waitress with his earlier words to Ellie.

Calvin didn’t really want to head back up to the purple monstrosity, but it wasn’t like there was anything to do in town. He thought vaguely of trying to hang around somewhere to meet women, but he only had to drive a block to realize that this was an unlikely plan. There was simply nowhere to go. Tiny public library: possible, but unlikely. Couple of cafés and restaurants, but not too many of those and he’d just eaten. One pub, but drinking at noon wasn’t going to win anyone over. Tiny public park full of kids would look creepy.

Right. Purple monstrosity it was.

The road lurched the car around absurdly as usual.
God, was it too much to ask for pavement?
He’d have to have it paved before putting it on the market. No buyer was going to suffer through three miles of bouncing and still be cheerful at the end. He firmed up his square jaw as the car juddered along, trying to focus on selling the house and getting $10 million. When he finally arrived and tossed open the old squeaky door, he remembered what a mess his great-aunt’s house was. There was a very good chance he’d have to apologize enough that Ellie would still take on the job. He didn’t know how else to deal with the faded drapes and crumbling carpets
.
This was his guaranteed income, but right now there was no way it would even get market value.

Hmm…
Calvin just stood there, watching the sunlight filter through the dust motes and feeling helpless. This was so clearly another person’s private space. It felt incredibly invasive to him to start digging through cabinets and throwing things out. Rationally, he knew that his great-aunt was dead and gone, but it was hard to remember that standing there in a house that looked like she might walk in at any minute.

He found himself wandering room to room, trying to find a suitable place to start. It was a big house. Downstairs, there was the outdated kitchen, in colors straight from the 1970s; a beautiful wood-paneled dusty dining room;
two
living rooms, one with a fireplace done up in dark wood and pink furniture, and one covered in a nasty puke-green color, and a bathroom—also pink.

And
everything
was flower-print. Calvin would have hated it on principle, but a tiny part of him was just happy to glean any understanding of his Great-Aunt Loretta. He was suddenly hungry to know her, now that it was too late. Why had she even had millions of dollars? Their family wasn’t rich. He shuffled lightly through the papers on the tabletop, hoping for clues. Under a light layer of fluffy dust, there were a few bills, bank statements, stock investment reports, that sort of thing. Calvin skimmed them briefly and whistled in appreciation at the stocks she’d held. All of them were very good investments.

Feeling resolute about cleaning, he headed upstairs and tugged open one of the doors to reveal something similar to a library. A few shelves were entirely full of books, but many were also decorated with various curios. Most were shiny, and yes, many were pink or purple. A bouquet of old, dried-up flowers stood in a vase on the central table. It was dusty, and Calvin found himself wondering if someone had sent his Great-Aunt Loretta flowers. Had she had a beau at some point? The answer was likely to be yes, based on sheer probability.

Grandma Maude would have known. Loretta was her sister, after all. For a moment, Calvin was lost in memories of his plump, sweet old grandma. She’d been gone for twelve years now, since even before his mom had died, but he still got a little wistful at the memory of one of her big, tight hugs. For the first time, staring around at this dust-filled house, he was struck with the realization of all the things he’d never asked his grandmother—or his mother, for that matter.

For the first time in too long, Calvin pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed his dad’s number.

He got the voicemail and left a quick message. “Hey Dad, it’s me. I was just wondering if you had my Aunt Sheila’s phone number—my mom’s sister? You can just text it to me if you’re busy. Thanks.”

***

Back at Parker Home Design, Ellie wasn’t feeling productive at all. There were very few customers, but she had plenty to do in the back office. She kept trying to sit down and work at the computer, too—but her mind wasn’t on budget-balancing.
 

Instead, she kept thinking of a curly-headed New Yorker and his stuck-up attitude. Why did Calvin Barnard have to be so handsome? If he was ugly or old it would have been so much easier to dismiss him. And the man didn’t have that overly polished look that businessmen often got. He looked rugged enough to climb a mountain, with that strong jaw and Roman nose, softened just barely by the blue eyes and curly brown hair. But the personality… that was another matter. Why were charming, attractive men always such cads?

Oh well. It didn’t matter. Except apparently it
did
, since she kept picturing that one honest smile she’d gotten out of the guy before he started being an ass.

She kicked a gray filing cabinet drawer shut and glared at the paperwork. The worst part was that now—after she’d stomped off like a princess—she was remembering why she’d agreed to do the remodel in the first place. The shop wasn’t exactly operating at a profit this year. Maybe Dad had possessed a
knack for selling home renovation items that she lacked—or maybe it was just the economy.
There were only so many families in Carterville, after all, and it wasn’t like they all needed the kitchen remodeled every year.

And, of course, the Internet reached even her tiny hometown. They couldn’t stock too many options here in the small storefront, and more often than not, when Ellie said, “I can order it in for you in that color,” the customers got impatient and just ordered it online themselves.

Ellie sighed wistfully, shoving her wavy hair up into a messy bun, and let herself dream of the store she’d planned when she was still in college, before her dad had died. She’d had big dreams back then—an expanded storefront with a warehouse out back, room-style displays that showed off her interior design abilities, the whole shebang. But then Dad had gotten sick and the medical bills for his chemotherapy treatment had taken everything they had, and once he was gone, Mom had been too broken up to even think about this store.

Pushing the chair back from the desk, Ellie got up and walked out into the fluorescent-lit storefront. She loved this place, really—it was in her blood. But an upgrade sure would be nice.

What she really ought to do was call Calvin Barnard and apologize.
Crap.
She hadn’t gotten his phone number. Well, she’d give it a day or two so her bruised pride could adapt to the idea, and then drive up to the purple mansion and apologize in person. Her teeth were already gritting at the thought though.
He
was the one who should have been saying sorry—but she sure needed the business.

And it wouldn’t exactly hurt to see that handsome face again. He probably wasn’t even as cute as she remembered.
Blue eyes, strong jaw, so what?
She had a date tomorrow, too—a date she’d almost forgotten, but nonetheless. She didn’t need any attention from Calvin Barnard with his khakis and his fancy oxfords.

Letting Bill Carlisle take her to the monthly community center dance tomorrow wasn’t something to get excited about, exactly, but it was an excuse to dress up pretty and forget her cares for a few hours. Sure, at the end of the night she’d have to fend off Bill and explain to him for the fifteenth time that she’d agreed to go as a friend only, but the dancing could be fun. For once, the small-town gossip around the punch bowl might be enjoyable too, since it would be directed at the “uppity-New-York-city-boy” instead of Ellie herself.

She laughed quietly to herself, thinking of how the townspeople would lance the arrogant man, and then closed up the shop and drove home to pick out an outfit. It was almost five o’clock anyway, and something in Calvin Barnard’s dismissive attitude had her wanting to look her best. He probably wouldn’t be at the dance, but still. For some reason, she wanted to really get dolled up, like she hadn’t in years.

Without bothering to be neat, Ellie tossed purse and keys on the granite kitchen counter and went straight to the bedroom closet. The dance wasn’t until the next evening, but she wanted to have time to shop if her old clothes weren’t suitable anymore.

Her hands reached first for one of the casual cotton dresses she usually wore, but no, that was too simple. Instead, she flipped through to the back of the closet—things she hadn’t worn since college.
There it is.
Silky black fabric slid under her fingers as she pulled out her old, favorite little black dress. It was an A-line cut with a flared skirt that she knew flared prettily during dancing, and a deep V-neck in the front.
This
would teach Calvin Barnard not to write off small-town girls.

After a moment, she realized her thoughts and blushed, shoving the dress back in the front of the closet.

“No more thinking about him, Ellie,” she said aloud. “He’s not going to be there, even if you’re hoping you can show off for him.”

***

Calvin had been wandering around the house for hours. He’d finally decided to take an inventory of the items to see if anything could be sold, but it was taking a lot longer than expected. Three pages of the pad were filled front and back, and he hadn’t even gone near the books or other small items. 

He was exhausted.

When he started to get hungry again and realized he still hadn’t managed to get any groceries, the thought of a simple cost-benefit analysis suddenly occurred to him. Time to get house on the market: potentially forever, if today’s time investment was any indication.
Okay, not quite forever.
But realistically, this was going to take hours of hard work nearly every day for weeks, with a payoff of say $500,000. Finding a wife (as ludicrous as it sounded): lots of time, but easy, enjoyable work. Payoff: $10 million.

The answer was obvious. Sure, the house needed to go on the market, but that could happen at any time. Worst case he sat on it for a year and came back to finalize the sale next vacation. But the inheritance was going to expire in three months if he couldn’t find a Carterville woman to marry. It made more sense to find himself a girl to start dating—one who seemed like she would be amenable to marriage. One who
wasn’t
Ellie Parker.

But just then his phone buzzed. “New Message from Dad.” For a moment, Calvin couldn’t remember why his father would be texting him, but then his earlier questions came to mind.

“I only have an old phone number,” the message said, and then listed a number.

Without pausing to think about it, Calvin tapped the screen and called the number. He was second-guessing himself by the third ring, but right then a female voice picked up and for a split second it sounded like his mother. The similarity froze him, and the woman spoke again.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Calvin found his voice. “Is this Sheila?”

“It is.”

“Hi, Aunt Sheila,” he said with a dry throat. “It’s Calvin. Ann’s son. I have some questions about Grandma and Aunt Loretta.”