On Temporary Terms

Have I given ye enough time, lass? Dinner Tuesday? Pick you up at 6?

“It’s him, Lara.” She held out the phone. “He must have been serious.”

Lara read the text and beamed. “Of course he was serious. The man has good taste. Text him back. Hurry.”

Hands shaking, Abby pecked out a reply...

Two conditions. We don’t call it a date. And you let me tell you about the offer on your grandmother’s business...

She hit Send and sighed. “I’m not finishing the rest of that dessert. Do you think I can lose ten pounds by Tuesday?”

Lara handed her a fork. “Eat the damn cheesecake. You’re perfect just the way you are. If Duncan Stewart doesn’t agree, he’s an idiot.”

* * *

Duncan had fallen into a routine of sorts. It wasn’t familiar, and it wasn’t home, but for the moment, it was workable. His grandmother liked to sleep later in her old age. Since Duncan was up early every day, he headed into town and opened up the office before anyone else arrived. He liked having a chance to look over things unobserved.

He was definitely the new kid on the block. All the staff had been cordial and helpful, but he guessed they were wondering if anyone would be getting the ax. That wasn’t his plan at all. Stewart Properties appeared to be thriving. It was up to him to make sure that success continued.

The company comprised two equally profitable arms—mountain cabin construction and mountain cabin rentals. Isobel and Geoffrey had capitalized on a tourist market in its infancy decades ago, and had built their reputation bit by bit. The main office had been located in Candlewick since the beginning, but satellite offices operated in Asheville and several other spots within a hundred-mile radius.

In a little over a week’s time, Duncan had learned the basics of daily operations. He had already spotted the invaluable employees and the ones who might be potential problems. Because his training and degrees were in finance, he wasn’t concerned about the accounting practices. Where he would have to pay attention was in the actual design and building modules.

Because his grandmother was determined to maintain her involvement in the day-to-day operations, he went back up the mountain each morning around eleven and picked her up at the palatial wood-and-stone home she and her husband had built for themselves. It was far too big for an elderly widow. It was even too big with Duncan in the house. But Isobel wanted to stay, so the status quo remained.

After a shared lunch in town, Duncan deferred to Isobel’s decisions and insights about the various company decisions. Her mind was as sharp as it ever had been. Her stamina, however, was less reliable. Some days, she made it until closing time at five. Other times, someone was drafted to take her home at three.

This particular Tuesday was a good day. Duncan and Isobel had spent several hours going over potential new architectural plans for a series of cabins to be built on land they had recently acquired. Other, somewhat dated, house plans were being culled.

At last, Isobel closed the final folder and tapped it with a gnarled finger. “These new ones are going to be very popular. You mark my words.”

Duncan scrubbed his hands across his scalp and yawned, standing up when she did. “I believe you, Granny. You’re the boss.”

Isobel reached for his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Thank you, my boy. Thank you for everything you’ve done for an old woman. It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

He hugged her, glad she couldn’t see how much he had struggled with the decision to uproot his life. “I love you, Granny. You looked after Brody and me when we were lost boys after Mom and Dad divorced. I owe you for that, even if for nothing else. Besides, I’m enjoying myself.”

And it was true. He was. He hadn’t expected to, not at all, so the rush of adrenaline in the midst of new challenges was a bonus.

When they released each other and stepped back, he grinned. “I suppose I should tell you. I have a date tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”

The old woman’s eyes sparkled, and she chortled with glee. “Do tell, boy. Anybody I know?”

“Abby Hartmann? She’s at the law firm where you sent me to sign the new will.”

“Ah, yes. Abby.” Isobel’s brows narrowed. “Abby is a nice young woman.”

“Why do I get the impression you don’t approve?”

“Abby hasn’t had an easy life. She deserves to be treated well.”

“I wasna’ planning on beating her, Granny.”

“Don’t be sassy, boy. You know what I mean. I’d not want you to trifle with her affections.”

“She strikes me as an extremely savvy young woman. I think she can handle herself.”

“Maybe so. Will you bring her by the house so I can say hello?”

“Next time perhaps. Let’s see how tonight goes.”

Isobel’s eyes gleamed. “So you’re not entirely sure of yourself. That’s a good thing.”

“Whose side are you on?” he complained.

“I’ll always be in your corner, Duncan, but we women have to stick together.”

Several hours later, Duncan parked in front of Abby’s neat, bungalow-style white frame house and studied the property. She lived on a quiet side street only two blocks off the town square. Her handkerchief-sized yard was neatly manicured, and her windows gleamed in the early evening sun.

Since the moment Abby accepted his invitation Friday night, they had texted back and forth a time or two. He found himself eager to see her again, surprisingly so. Perhaps he needed a break from work or a distraction from his complicated new life. Or maybe he simply wanted to determine if the gut-level attraction he experienced in her office was still there.

Her conditions for accepting his invitation had angered him at first. But after some consideration, he decided, what the hell? Abby could talk about this mystery buyer all she wanted. It wasn’t going to change the bottom line.

When she opened the door at his knock, he caught his breath. Her smile was tentative, but everything else about her was no-holds-barred. The glorious hair. Her long-sleeved hunter green silk dress that hugged her hourglass figure from shoulders to knees. Black stiletto heels that gave her an additional few inches of height.

“You look beautiful,” he said gruffly. “I’m very glad you decided to say yes.”

“Me, too. Let me grab my purse.”

They chatted about inconsequential topics on the drive to Claremont, both of them on their best behavior. The drive was just long enough to break the ice. Duncan had chosen an upscale special-occasion restaurant that specialized in French cuisine.

When he helped Abby out of the car, his hand beneath her elbow, the punch of desire left him breathless. He’d been celibate out of necessity during this transition from Scotland to North Carolina, but whatever he felt for the petite lawyer was more than a sexual dry spell. She fascinated him.

Over dinner, he quizzed her about her life. “So tell me about your childhood. Did you always want to be a lawyer? I thought most girls went the princess route at first.”

Abby laughed as he had wanted her to. Her long-lashed eyes reminded him of a kitten he’d had as a boy. He’d named her Smoke, and she had followed him everywhere.

The waiter interrupted momentarily. Afterward, Abby answered his question. “To be honest, I was obsessed with the idea of international studies. I wanted to go to college abroad, anything to get away from my hometown. But I was pragmatic, even as a kid. I knew we didn’t have the finances to swing that. My mom died when I was three, so my dad raised me on his own. Money was always tight.”

“Law school isn’t cheap.”

“No. I was very lucky. Mr. Chester Sr., who was your grandparents’ original lawyer, had a long-standing tradition of mentoring students at the local high school. When he died, his son continued the program. I was fortunate enough to get an internship at the law firm during my senior year in high school. I realized that I liked the work. After four years at a state university, Mr. Chester helped me with law school applications, and I was accepted at Wake Forest. When I finished, they offered me a job here in Candlewick.”

“Didn’t you have aspirations to head for the big city and make your mark?”

Abby’s smile slipped. He couldn’t quite read her expression. “I think we all imagine what it would be like to start over someplace new. For me, the pluses of staying put outweighed any negatives. I haven’t regretted my decisions. How about you, Duncan? What was your life like back in Scotland?”

He shrugged, even now feeling the bittersweet pull of all he had left behind. “Ye’ve heard of the Isle of Skye, I suppose. It’s truly as beautiful as they say. Water and sky and everything in between.”