The Man Must Marry Read online

  The only thing that saved her from getting kissed again was the fact that Ronald had stopped the car and was opening the door.

  Holy smokes! She couldn’t take much more of this roller coaster. Since she’d arrived in New York, she’d laughed and cried and given Sam an obscene gesture. Her mother in heaven must be hiding in shame. Locking herself out of her hotel room had been the final indignity. She’d still been pounding on her door when one of the hotel staff had arrived with another key.

  Now here she was at Sam’s home, about to attend the funeral of a man she’d loved briefly but dearly. Abram had touched her heart by laughing at her nunlike existence. He’d claimed she was hiding behind her elderly crew of workers and her dysfunctional cat and that wearing her guilt like a hair shirt wasn’t contrition but blasphemy.

  So, in what she was discovering was typical fashion, the old goat had thrown her right into the fire by sending her down to his grandsons. And she was afraid Abram wasn’t through with her yet; she wouldn’t be surprised if he left her one of his “boys” in his will. Well, she could handle that, as long as it wasn’t arrogant, sexy-as-hell Samuel Sinclair.

  Willa ran from the car, right into another Sinclair.

  “Whoa, little partridge,” Ben said with a laugh, steadying her by the shoulders. “What sent you bolting?” He looked behind her. “Has Sam been threatening your life and limb?”

  “I was just…” She looked up at Ben. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

  “Me, too,” he said, knowing she meant Abram. “But it’s going to be okay. He couldn’t live forever. And we had him when we needed him most. So, what do you think of Rosebriar?” he asked, leading her up the stairs to the mansion.

  “It’s beautiful. And big,” she said, craning her neck to follow the lines of the monstrous stone building.

  “Bram liked big things,” he said, and Willa looked over to see if he was taking a pot shot at her weight. But he was looking up at the mansion himself. “Our grandfather grew up in a one-room shanty in Texas. Since he made it big, he’s been trying to make everything big.”

  “Just how big is big?”

  “Eighteen bedrooms, twenty-four bathrooms, sixty rooms total—all sitting in the middle of twelve hundred acres.”

  “Wow.”

  “Forty of those acres are gardens,” Sam interjected, coming to stand beside them. “Bram had them built for Rose before the house was even finished.”

  “It’s overwhelming.”

  “It’s home,” Jesse added, coming out the door to stand with them. They all turned on the steps and looked down the drive, at the grounds that seemed to stretch into the next state.

  Willa eyed the brothers. “He’s been living in a two-room cottage on my property.”

  Abram had come to her like a beggar. She’d taken him in, not even suspecting how wealthy he was until he’d started talking about a board meeting she had to go to.

  “It’s okay, Willamina,” Jesse said. “Bram was happy in your cottage, wasn’t he?”

  “He seemed to be.”

  “He went home to die,” Sam murmured.

  “You said home was Texas.”

  “Not in his heart. Bram loved the smell of salt air.”

  “Both my house and the cottage sit on a bluff, right on the Gulf of Maine.”

  “Then he was happy,” Sam said. “So be happy for him, Willa. We are.”

  “Come on,” Ben said, tugging her toward the door. “You should get settled.”

  “I can stay in a nearby hotel. I don’t want to intrude.”

  Ben stopped and stared down at her, his eyes haggard and his face drawn. “You’ll stay here.”

  “Until you get my vote?” she asked, smiling impishly, hoping to change his expression.

  “It’s a moot point. Your proxy died with Bram. We won’t know who will be CEO until his will is read.”

  “Oh.” Willa felt as bad as Ben looked. If she’d voted yesterday as she was supposed to, things would be settled now.

  “It’s better this way,” Jesse said.

  “What will happen to Tidewater International?”

  All three men shrugged in unison. “Who knows?” Sam said. “Bram’s biggest joy in life was keeping his will a secret, but he likely divided his shares equally among us. Spencer’s not been very forthcoming.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “No,” Sam said. “Bram will have taken care of the company.”

  They walked inside and stopped at the foot of a grand staircase straight out of Gone with the Wind. The stairs seemed to go on forever, opening at the top onto a gallery that ran right and left to unseen wings of the house. The foyer reached all the way to the roof, which was crowned with a dome of inlaid colored glass. The floor and stairs were marble; the walls were paneled in dark oak. In any direction Willa turned, she encountered lavish, built-to-outlive-a-man money.

  “Willamina, you should understand something,” Ben said. “It doesn’t matter to any of us which one becomes CEO. We’re not in competition. Any one of us can lead, and the others will follow. No hard feelings, no jealousy.”

  “And each of us can walk away anytime,” Sam added. “We’re not married to the company. Tidewater International was Bram’s passion, and it will continue to exist if none of us is there. All we have to do is sell out.”

  “And you would?” she asked. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” Jesse confirmed.

  “Then why all the hoopla yesterday?”

  “Because yesterday Bram was still alive.”

  “You’re going to just walk away, then?” she repeated, not believing them.

  “No. One of us will run Tidewater. But that’s not the point, Willa,” Sam explained. “The point is, it’s not door-die for any of us.”

  Ronald chose that moment to come inside, bearing the tattered remains of her luggage with all the dignity of a man carrying a priceless vase. Willa turned a dull pink and quietly walked up the stairs.

  “What in hell is that?” Jesse barked, looking at the suitcase as if it were going to explode.

  “Willa’s luggage,” Sam told him dryly.

  “What happened to it?”

  “Tidewater’s elevator ate it.”

  “Which room would you like this in, Mr. Sinclair?” Ronald asked.

  “Whichever room the lady ends up in,” Sam told him, watching Willa climb the stairs. She turned right at the top, her stride stiff as Ronald followed with her luggage.

  “She certainly looks different today,” Ben said as the three men walked into the parlor, all heading for the bar.

  “Yes, she does,” Sam agreed.

  “What did you say to her in the car?” Ben asked. “She was bolting like a rabbit before the hounds.”

  “I think it was more the look I gave her.”

  “And what look would that be?” Jesse asked.

  “She knew I was going to kiss her again.”

  “Again.” It wasn’t a question from Ben.

  “When was the first time you kissed her?” Jesse asked.

  “Last night, when I walked her to her room.”

  “Now, that’s low, even for you. She’d just been in an accident. She was vulnerable,” Ben said.

  “I was defending our honor,” Sam explained, taking his drink and sitting in one of the chairs by the hearth. He looked around the room. “We should put Bram up in here. What do you think?”

  “I think we were talking about Willamina,” Jesse growled. “What in hell do you mean, defending our honor?”

  “She said she wouldn’t marry any of us if we crawled to Maine on our knees. I was getting her back for that.”

  “And today, when you were going to kiss her again? Was that also for us?” Jesse asked, taking a seat across from him.

  “No, that was for myself. And just so you know, Willa’s off limits.” Sam gave them a feral grin. “Go hunt your own partridge.”

  “Are you nuts?” Ben said, standing by the heart
h. “You want her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Jesse asked, looking utterly bewildered.

  “I like Willa. It’s that simple.”

  “That woman is not simple.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s quite intelligent, and she’s got a smart mouth. She also has the heart of an angel. And she’s cute.”

  “She’s a disaster waiting to happen,” Ben muttered, daring Sam to dispute him.

  “I can handle Willa’s disasters,” Sam said absently. “So, how about this room? Bram liked it enough to have Grammy’s wake in here. I think we should do the same for him.”

  “We’d better get started, then. The obituary will be in tomorrow’s papers all over the world. People, flowers, and condolences are going to descend like vultures.”

  “We’ll have the staff move out most of the furniture.” Sam smiled at his brothers. “Spencer said Bram wrote his own eulogy. I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “Christ, I miss the old bastard.” Jesse sighed. “I thought he’d live to be a hundred.”

  “Despite the three of us living here, this house has felt empty these last six weeks,” Ben lamented.

  “Willa will probably take care of that problem,” Jesse drawled, standing up and going to call the staff. “Rosebriar’s liable to need extensive repairs by the time she leaves.”

  “I’m eager to see Bram’s casket, if you want to know the truth,” Ben told Sam. “I know it sounds morbid, but I’m curious as hell. Bram wasn’t exactly known for his patience. How could he have done something as painstaking as woodwork?”

  “Good God, I hope it doesn’t fall apart.”

  “Maybe Willa can add a few nails or something, just to be certain,” Ben suggested.

  “Surely, she wouldn’t let a casket leave her factory without an inspection?”

  “Hell of a business to be in,” Ben muttered. “Why do you suppose she’s in it?”

  “Who knows?”

  “I’ll have to ask her.”

  “Are there any clothing stores nearby? I need something to wear for the wake,” Willa asked at lunch.

  “There’s a shopping center not far from here. Ronald can take you,” Jesse told her.

  “I don’t want to put anyone out.”

  “Maybe someone had better go with you,” Ben said. “Just to make sure you…um, find what you need.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “But Ben loves shopping,” Jesse drawled. “Take him, Willa. Please?”

  Willa looked down at her salad. So far, she’d only managed to push it around on her plate. “I suppose. If you’re sure you want to,” she said, looking at Ben.

  “Like my brother said, I enjoy shopping,” he said, his smile tight.

  Willa saw him dart a killer glare at Jesse, though. Which meant that neither of them thought she was capable of buying a dress by herself. Sam didn’t even look up from his lunch to offer an opinion.

  “Unless, of course, you’d like to go, Sam,” Ben said.

  “I’ve got phone calls to make,” Sam said, finally looking up. “No, you go with Willa. Have a good time.”

  All three men were putting up a valiant front, but Willa guessed none of them would relax until their grandfather was home, until they actually saw him again, even though he’d be lying in a casket.

  “It’s really weird, not having to cook for myself,” she said conversationally, taking a bite of her salad.

  “You get used to it,” Jesse offered with a smile.

  Willa smiled back. “You’ve all grown up rather spoiled, haven’t you?” she said, hoping to get a reaction.

  She got three dangerous glowers.

  “Spoiled! Because we have a cook?” Ben asked.

  Willa waved her fork in the air. “A cook, a mansion, money coming out of your ears. Women hanging on your arms, a chauffeur to drive you places, a helicopter, probably a jet, a Sengatti sloop, a grandfather who loved you to distraction. Shall I go on?”

  “Please do, Ms. Kent,” Sam said. “And while you’re at it, tell us how deprived your life has been.”

  “My life has been just great, Mr. Sinclair,” she shot back. “I’m not complaining. I’m just making an observation.”

  “We have no say in how we enter this world,” Sam countered. “Your words, if I remember correctly. Bram certainly didn’t have any say about the poverty he was born into. His choice was how he lived each day.” Sam pointed his fork at her, his eyes narrowed. “And our grandparents made sure we weren’t spoiled. We work just as hard as the next man. And we take nothing for granted.”

  “Whew! I can see you got the sense of humor in the family.” Willa put some salad in her mouth, chewing it quietly while she watched Sam Sinclair redden with either anger or chagrin, she didn’t know which.

  “Tell us why you own a casket-manufacturing business,” Ben interjected. “How did you get started?”

  “I used to work at Grand Point Bluff, a retirement community in Keelstone Cove, where I live. I was the director of entertainment. It was my job to plan all the social activities.”

  “And you started making coffins during craft hour?” Jesse asked dryly.

  “No. This wasn’t a nursing home; most of the tenants were still quite active. I set up a woodworking shop in one of the outbuildings.” Willa smiled in memory. “Tools began appearing. The men dug them out of the boxes they’d brought from their old homes. They hadn’t been able to part with them.”

  “And…” Ben put his fork down to lean his elbows on the table.

  “And one man, Levi, began to build a coffin for his wife. She had cancer and only had a couple of months to live. It was therapy for Levi. He was a master carpenter, and he built a beautiful casket—gorgeously detailed, finer than any furniture I’ve seen. His wife, Muriel, took a quilt she’d made and fashioned it into a lining for the casket.”

  Willa stared at her plate. “I was appalled, at first—until I realized that it was comforting for both of them. Muriel knew she’d be resting eternally in a gift her husband had built with loving hands. And Levi felt more at peace because he was seeing to his wife’s final comfort, just as he’d done for her all his life.”

  Silence echoed through the large dining room as Willa looked up at the men, who were staring at her with unblinking, unreadable eyes.

  “I decided I wanted to do that for people,” she continued softly. “I took some of the money from my divorce settlement, found a silent partner for the rest, and bought an old factory. The residents of the retirement community became my employees. They’d all watched Levi, and they all wanted to do something just as nice. Older people have a wonderful attitude about death and about life in general. And they’re really great employees. They’ve taught me a lot about running a business.”

  “And you say your caskets go all over the world?” Jesse asked. “That’s rather impressive growth for what is basically a cottage industry.”

  “Yes.” Willa gave him a Cheshire cat smile. “There are several retired executives living at Grand Point Bluff as well. I hired them, too.”

  “That was damn smart of you.” Jesse leaned back in his seat and looked over at Sam. “A very intelligent business move, wouldn’t you say, Sam?”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.” Sam gazed at Willa with that look again.

  The one he’d given her in the car that had made her bolt.

  “Can we go shopping now?” she asked Ben, standing up.

  Chapter Five

  Willa munched the last bite of toast Peg had made her for breakfast as she headed for the parlor to help the staff prepare for Abram’s wake. When she reached the end of the hall leading from the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks. “Richard!” she exclaimed, taking a step back. “What are you doing here?”

  Her brother-in-law stood in the foyer, glowering at her. “Somebody had to drive the old bastard home,” he said. “And your sister volunteered me for the job.”

  “That was thoughtful o
f Shelby. And you,” she quickly tacked on, stepping to the side of the hall when he started toward her. “Um…you’ll probably want to start back right away, just as soon as you get yourself some coffee,” she said, motioning back down the hall. “Peg will fix you up in the kitchen.”

  He stopped in front of her. “You’ve been talking to Shelby again,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes cold and accusing. “Trying to persuade her to divorce me.”

  Willa pressed up against the wall. “What makes you think it’s me? Maybe Shelby reached that conclusion by herself.”

  He snorted and stepped closer. “Women don’t just suddenly start talking divorce after sixteen years of marriage unless somebody puts the idea in their heads. And you,” he growled, grabbing her by the shoulders when she tried to sidestep away, “are the only person with that kind of influence over Shelby.”

  Willa became alarmed. Richard Bates wasn’t merely being his contrary self; he was honestly, truly angry. She ducked under his arm and ran toward the parlor—directly into a hall table holding several vases of flowers.

  She managed to stop one of the vases from falling, but the two on the far end toppled over, glass shattering onto the marble floor. Richard lunged after her, grabbing her when she slipped, causing her arms to jerk upward. The vase she was holding broke on impact with Richard’s head. She screamed, Richard shouted a succinct curse and let her go, and she fell to the floor with a thud.

  With a sudden blur of motion, things went from bad to worse. A roar came from the direction of the stairs, and she was suddenly picked up and tossed against a rock-solid chest.

  “Did you get cut?” Ben asked, carrying Willa away.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, looking over his shoulder when she heard another roar.

  That one had come from Richard as Sam’s fist made contact with her brother-in-law’s gut. Willa wriggled to get free, but Ben merely continued to carry her away.

  “We have to stop them!” she cried, squirming violently enough that Ben lost his grip, allowing her to stand. But it didn’t stop him from dragging her into the parlor, out of sight of the battle she could hear raging in the foyer. “Why is Sam beating him up?”