A Perfect Fit (3 page)

They stood like that for a long time before Cami glanced up
and saw Jonquil standing in the doorway. She shot a pointed stare at Cami and
Alex hugging, then turned away. Cami told herself she didn’t care what the woman
thought of her. Odds were the woman had been aware her father had been married,
had daughters with his wife. This couldn’t have come as a total surprise to rest
of them.

Embarrassed anyway, Cami pulled back and gratefully took the
facial tissue Alex offered her. She wiped her eyes, sure her mascara had
smeared. “I don’t suppose you left us any loopholes.”

“That would have been extremely sloppy of me, and you know
he wouldn’t have allowed it.” He wiped at a tear on her cheek. “I tried to talk
him out of these stipulations—several times. He’d humor me for a few minutes
before overriding my points, and went on with things the way he wanted them. He
could be very stubborn.”

“I know. I just can’t believe he would spring this on me, on
all of us.”

“While I disagree with his choices, I know he loved you, and
he hoped all six of you could become friends, or he wouldn’t have done this. He
wanted to give you the rest of your family.” He picked up the folder she’d set
on the table, flipped it open and removed the sealed letter from her father. “You
haven’t read it yet.”

“No. I think I might be afraid to.” It was stupid, and she
was embarrassed to admit it, even to Alex, but there it was.

“Afraid of what?”

She smiled, though it was half-hearted at best. “Partly afraid
he’ll say something that will make it hard to stay mad at him, and partly that he
won’t find a way to explain himself.”

“I haven’t read the letters, so I have no idea what they
say.” Alex took the tissue from her hand and wiped at her cheek, a brotherly
gesture. “You have a smudge.”

“I’ve probably turned into a raccoon,” Cami said.

“Yes, but a beautiful raccoon. How could you help it with your
killer genes?” He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Read your letter, and if you
need to talk about it more, you have my number.”

“Thanks, Alex.” She didn’t think she was ready to face
anyone else, but she wasn’t a coward, so she had to at least pretend she could
handle this.

~*~

That night Cami sat in her quiet condo, staring at the
unopened letter. She’d already reviewed the contract, been more than happy with
the terms—if you ignored the fact she didn’t want to move to ski-country,
middle-of-nowhere, Colorado. He’d repeatedly asked her to take the job, and she’d
refused. Why couldn’t he accept her wishes? Why did he have to bowl everyone
over and force them to do his will? What was next, a return to arranged
marriages?

She hadn’t signed the contract, hoping wherever her father
was, he watched in agony, wondering if she would do as he asked. She’d never
been able to deny him anything, unless you counted the way he wanted her to
step out of the concierge position she’d filled in the Chicago motel for the
past five years and take over a department elsewhere. She didn’t want to be the
boss, preferring to provide excellent personalized service to hotel guests
herself.

And it wasn’t like she needed the inheritance money, but
having it go to an organization like Freegan Nation burned her—if they wanted
to go digging through dumpsters for people’s scraps instead of getting real
jobs and being productive, that was their prerogative, but no way she was going
to encourage the lifestyle. Since that had been the point of her father
choosing them, she had to at least admit he’d chosen well.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the heavy cotton bond paper.

Dear Camellia, my sweet Cami,

I think of all of my girls, learning about the others is
going to be hardest on you, and I’m sorry for that. I know I’m probably not
leaving you much time to get things moving in Colorado, but your refusal to
take the job without having your arm twisted didn’t leave me a choice. I
suppose I can’t complain about your stubbornness, since several of you girls
received that quality from me. I hope whatever you’re feeling now, you didn’t
find out about the others early enough to sour our last days together. I’ve
wanted to tell you about them for years, but couldn’t figure out a way that
wouldn’t completely destroy the relationship we had.

You are my oldest, the first tiny baby I ever held and I fell
in love with you on sight. I loved being a father so much. You all light up my
life. I know you probably think I didn’t love your mother, couldn’t have loved
her considering my lifestyle, but I did. She was my good friend, a sweetheart
who was always there for me, and I tried to be there for her when she needed
it, but though I adored her, we were always better suited as friends than as
lovers.

“Really, Dad? If you didn’t really love her, why did you
marry?” Cami set down the letter and walked away, staring out the
floor-to-ceiling windows at the Chicago skyline. Anger tore through her and she
embraced it. “How could you do this, Dad? How could you do this to Mom, to the
rest of us?”

She spoke the words into the night, as if she expected
answers. She hadn’t thought much about her parents’ relationship. It had seemed
solid, and her mother had always acted happy. If that was a good marriage, Cami
wanted no part of the institution. She couldn’t accept infidelity, brush off
the betrayal—not from her father, not for herself. It was as well, she
supposed, that her relationship with Trent had ended. Would these extra
emotional burdens, have made her so weak she would have given into his
proposals if she hadn’t kicked him to the curb already? Or would this have been
the last straw?

After several minutes, she crossed the thick-piled carpeting
again and picked up the letter, resolved to finish it.

Your sisters are going to need you, and you’ll need them.
If you work together I know you can make this the greatest resort in the chain.
If you don’t, it will still succeed while you all fulfill your contracts. But
don’t settle for mediocrity, Cami. I’ve always been proud of you, of what you
do and who you’ve become. Live up to your potential, and when you find
something—someone, somewhere you belong—grab on and hold tight. Your tenacity,
your love of people and ability to work with anyone will smooth your way in
life, no matter what it throws you. Take time to stare at the stars, to enjoy
the landscape, and to live life to its fullest.

All my love, Dad.

Tears burned down her cheeks as she reread the last
paragraph. This was his last wish for her and she knew she could do it. She
sighed, grabbing a pen to sign the contract. It was only a year. What could
happen in such a short time?

The house in Colorado was enormous, two full stories and
sprawling in the pine forest. Windows glinted in the sunlight; rock and stucco
created textures, colors, and tones indigenous to the area. Cami pulled into
the ridiculously huge six-car garage and steeled herself to meet the others
again. She hadn’t spoken to any of the others at Alex’s office, but she
wouldn’t have that option here.

Alex told her everyone signed their contracts, including
Delphi and Rosemary, despite their clear opposition. The trip to Colorado
brought the situation into focus for Cami, made it far more real.

Every inch of the property was perfectly cared for from the
well-swept balconies and patios to the landscaping, which blended beautifully
into the surroundings, if you ignored the fact it was a little too perfect to
be natural.

Even the garage was spotless without a bit of dirt in the
corners. Someone was seriously OCD—not that Cami minded. Having staff around to
keep things clean would make her life easier and cut back on bickering over whose
turn it was to do the dishes. She didn’t miss those college dorm days at all.

Three cars were already here—all rentals, like hers. Lana was
making the long drive from Chicago, planning to stay to oversee the last stage
of the resort preparations. It was perhaps a bit outside the normal scope for a
hotel manager, but she was, as always, an overachiever.

Cami snatched her purse, carryon, and a medium suitcase from
the car to haul in. There would be time to go back for the largest bag. Before
she reached the door to the house, however, a man with dark hair kissing his
jaw and few days of beard scruff opened the outside door to the garage. “You
need a hand?” he asked. He pulled off work gloves and set them aside, rubbing
his palms on his blue jeans.

Cami couldn’t help but take a second to run her eyes over
his tall figure—and it was easy to see all the muscles through his sleeveless
white shirt. He had a smear of dirt on his face, and his brown eyes flashed
over her with a similar quick perusal.

“I’m Vince Talmadge, by the way. I’m taking care of your
landscaping, both here and at the hotel.” He extended a hand to her.

She found his palm hard, his fingers strong, but gentle. She
met his gaze and felt a zing of interest flash between them, confusing her. He
was completely unlike her usual type. “Nice to meet you. I do have another bag
in the trunk, since you’re offering.” She clicked the remote, popping the
trunk. “I’m Camellia.”

She glimpsed back over her shoulder as he reached into the
trunk, so she caught his frown. “I thought you were only staying a few days,”
he said. “How many clothes do you need?”

Guys just didn’t understand. “I’m not sure how long I’m
staying. It depends on what I learn at the meeting tomorrow.” She held the door
into the kitchen for him as he hefted the suitcase as if it weighed mere ounces
instead of being so heavy, she’d barely managed to lift it into the trunk.

As he passed her, he snatched the medium-sized bag from her.
“I’ll take this for you, too. Mrs. Grady should be around here somewhere. She’s
been working like crazy for the past few weeks getting everything ready for you
ladies. Sisters, right?”

“Something like that,” she murmured as she took in the gleam
of glass, soaring ceilings and hardwood floors, the shine of chrome and calm
presence of the dark marble countertops of the kitchen. Cooking in this place
would be heaven. Not that she had much time for the activity. Or much skill at
it—but in a room like this, she thought it would be a joy to learn more. Maybe it
was time she learned more than the basics.

He caught her studying the room. “Some place, isn’t it? You
won’t go knocking into each other here if you don’t want to, even if there are six
of you. Hey, Mrs. Grady.” He looked toward the open stairwell, raising his voice.
“You’ve got another arrival.”

A trim brunette in her sixties appeared at the top of the
stairs in a pair of faded blue jeans and an oversized, men’s button-up shirt. “Wonderful.
You’re Camellia, right?”

“Please, call me Cami. Which room is mine?”

“Up here.”

Cami followed Vince up the free-standing stairs to the
landing overlooking the great room and kitchen, and headed to the last room on
the left. Vince left the bags outside the door.

“Thanks for your help,” she told him.

“No problem. If I hadn’t, Mrs. Grady would have insisted on
going back for the big one herself.”

The woman laughed heartily. “I’m not exactly on my last leg,
but thanks for helping out.”

He gave her a cheeky grin and turned to the stairs, calling
over his shoulder. “I’ll be mulching the beds if anyone else needs a hand. And
nice to meet you, Camellia.”

“Same here.” Cami watched him descend the stairs with the
speed and grace of a gazelle before she turned back to Mrs. Grady. “Known him
long?” She was curious to learn more about the man, despite her warning radar telling
her to stand back. He wasn’t like the guys she normally dated, and right now,
with her life being dictated to her, she was finding the difference a little
too enticing.

“Forever. I used to keep house for one of his friends’
families.” She opened the bedroom door. “Now, check it out. Your father
approved the redecorating himself.”

The walls were a vibrant peach with pale green trim and
cream wooden blinds. The colors shouldn’t have worked, but they did. They were
repeated in the bedding, the desk snugged up against one wall, and the bathroom
on the other side of the room. The vase in the center of the long counter was
flanked with double sinks and filled with peach and white camellias—fake so
they wouldn’t wilt, but so realistic—if camellias had come in peach—as to trick
the eye. Plenty of cupboard and shelf space was available, all in cream with a
long wall of mirrors behind the sinks and two on hinges so they could be
positioned to give her three angles while she did her hair and makeup. 

A stereo system was set up with a stack of CDs by musicians
Bobby Darin, Perry Como, Frank Sinatra, Michael Bublé, and Harrick Connick, Jr.
Her heart melted a little when she realized the thought her father had put into
making her comfortable.

Cami heard people coming and going over the next couple of
hours, and could smell the food Mrs. Grady mentioned she was making for dinner.
Though she knew she ought to go out and greet everyone, she didn’t want to face
them yet.

When the knock came to her bedroom door, Lana’s voice
floated to her. “Cami, dinner’s on. Come on down.”

I am not a wuss. I’m a strong, independent, capable
woman. I can be nice to these other women, even if I don’t like them.
She
glanced in the mirror see if her clothes were wrinkled, then crossed to open
the door. She smiled at Lana. “Sorry I’ve been hibernating. I’ve been so busy
the past few weeks I’ve gotten way behind on my email.” True, though it was
more excuse than anything.

“Rosemary’s getting everyone from downstairs. We thought we
could use a family meeting before we meet as coworkers tomorrow.”

What an odd relationship tangle they would all have to deal
with, Cami thought as she followed Lana down to the dining area. Two large
trays of lasagna, a huge green salad and a loaf of garlic bread were laid out
on the enormous kitchen island. An assortment of sodas and water bottles sat
nearby.