All That I Need (Grayson Friends) (11 page)

Chapter 7

Friday afternoon, a long line of cars, trucks, and SUVs were parked on one side of the mile-long driveway leading to the Yates house. Wisely, Lance had hired policemen to ensure traffic control. Once the limo driver Lance had sent spoke with Security, the driver was waved on. Fallon had accepted the car service because she didn’t need a rental. Scooting forward in her seat, Fallon saw a huge white tent that obscured the front of the house. People spilled out from all sides.

As they neared, another policeman approached the car and directed the driver where to park. When Fallon got out she noted that there were no other cars, only four golf carts with young men dressed in white polo shirts and black pants, each standing by a cart. Apparently they were there to take people to and from their vehicles.

She strained her neck to see Lance and couldn’t. Over the loudspeaker she heard the auctioneer call up the Regency table that held the glass collection from the master bedroom. She wondered if the collection had sold.

“Ms. Marshall?”

Fallon turned to see an attractive middle-aged woman in a black dress with a good-looking young man beside her. “Yes?”

“I’m Carmen, Mr. Saxton’s housekeeper and cook. This is my son, Oskar. He’ll take your bags and show you to the guest cottage,” she said.

Fallon hoped she didn’t blush. “I’m not sure I’m staying here.”

The dark-haired woman smiled in reassurance. “Mr. Saxton said you might not stay, but he thought you might want to freshen up and have a quick bite since your flight was delayed and you had a longer layover in Dallas than expected.”

Fallon felt embarrassed by her own behavior. She was touched by Lance’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll get back to the kitchen and the caterers. Mr. Saxton decided to have light refreshments for the guests.” With another smile, she skirted the tent and disappeared.

“This way, Ms. Marshall.” Oskar, slim and almost six feet tall, picked up her weekender and the garment bag and started in the opposite direction.

Fallon followed him around the tent and through an oversized wooden door in a ten-foot-high adobe wall. Beyond, the landscape was breathtaking. Shrubs were clipped into balls, echoed by round finials. To the left was a long path leading to a pond, and behind were plantings rich in texture and colors of red, burgundy, and orange. A short distance away stood a Pope’s urn, named after poet Alexander Pope. “It’s so beautiful here. The grounds are just incredible.”

The young man smiled over his shoulder. “My father and I thank you. Mr. Yates knew what he wanted in terms of formality, and my father knew what would grow here with the proper care.”

His revelation widened her eyes. “Your father did this?”

“Yes.” Oskar stopped in front of a white cottage with red shutters and a profusion of rosebushes by the steps and overflowing clay pots of brightly hued flowers. “He’s self-taught, and Mr. Yates took a chance on him. He does other projects now and then, but with four acres he spends his time taking care of this place.”

Maintaining a yard this size took hard work and dedication. Her parents might have enjoyed gardening, but she wasn’t much of one. “I was struck by the grounds from the first moment I saw them. Your father should be very proud. Do you help?”

He chuckled. “Every chance during the planning and planting, and now just when I’m home from college.”

“What’s your major?” she asked, liking the friendly young man.

“Landscape architecture.”

“You certainly have the genes for it.”

“Thank you.” He opened the door. “After you.”

Fallon stepped inside and was immediately taken by the room. The open area was quaint and beautiful, with an unexpected palette of cool neutrals of eggshell and pale honey. On top of the whitewashed oak floor was a gray-white cowhide rug. The sofa and two side chairs were upholstered in a honey-toned fabric. By a single bookshelf was a beige leather chaise longue. The curtainless windows had cream-colored wooden blinds. On the low coffee table sat a covered tray, a pitcher of iced tea, and a lush bouquet of fresh-cut flowers.

“Lance said you liked quesadillas, so Mama cooked some for you. The driver called when he picked you up in the car, so they’re fresh and hot.” Oskar placed the garment bag over the back of the sofa and set the weekender beside it. “The main bedroom and bath are through that door. The other bedroom is next to it. Is there anything else you need?”

Fallon gave him points for the diplomatic way he told her about the bedrooms. “I can’t think of a thing. Thank you.”

Oskar went to the door. “Lance said to tell you to come to the auction when you feel like it. He’s running back and forth between the tent and the house showing some special guests pieces before they’re brought down.”

“I’m not missing any more of this than I have to.” She picked up her things and started for the second bedroom. She wasn’t going near Lance’s bedroom. “If you see Lance, please tell him I’ll be out directly.”

“I will.” The young man’s gaze went to the tray before he opened the door. “FYI: Lance and Mama will both probably ask if you ate and enjoyed the food. They both want things to be right for you.”

“Got it.” It was past two. She’d only had a cup of coffee so far. Before her delayed flight, she’d been scheduled to arrive at ten thirty. “Thanks again.”

He closed the door behind him. Fallon put the luggage down, took a seat on the sofa, and removed the dome off the food. The delicious smells wafted up. Smiling, she picked up the soft tortilla filled with chicken and vegetables, took a bite, and discovered she was starving.

That morning her mother had gotten up to take Fallon to the airport and offered to cook breakfast, but she had been too nervous. Megan’s reminder to Fallon that she knew people and showing her the dart-tattered photograph of Lance hadn’t helped. While her mother was willing to defer to Fallon’s judgment, it was obvious that her baby sister wasn’t as forgiving. Fallon had admonished Megan for lying to Lance, but it hadn’t seemed to faze her one tiny bit. Like their father, she didn’t believe in second chances.

Fallon had lived longer. People made mistakes, just as she had in calling Lance a thief.

Finished eating, she took a quick shower and dressed in a knee-length burnt-orange flowing sundress that complemented her light honey complexion. She decided to leave her camera in the room. Admittedly she was vain enough not to want it to distract from her appearance when Lance first saw her. She combed out her curly hair that reached below her shoulders, reapplied her makeup, and left the cottage.

With each step her excitement grew. She didn’t know where the weekend would lead, but she hoped it would bring them closer. She had a strong feeling that his past was standing between them and, until he dealt with that, their relationship would be on shaky ground. Inviting her for the weekend was a good step. She planned to enjoy the time with him and see what happened.

*   *   *

Lance was profoundly grateful for his ability to do two things at once. At the moment, he was listening to the excited comments of a young couple who had just purchased the master bedroom suite and watching the crowd for Fallon. Oskar had told him she had arrived and he’d taken her to the cottage.

Lance hoped she hadn’t freaked if she saw his clothes in the closet of the larger bedroom. He’d intended to have them moved, but time had gotten away from him. After thinking about it, he realized his staying in the cottage might give her the impression he expected them to sleep together. While he hoped they would, he wanted her to know she had a choice.

“The suite will be just perfect in our new home,” Mrs. Forrester said. “I wanted an antique set with a history.”

“You couldn’t have made a wiser choice,” Lance said, trying not to be disappointed when he didn’t see Fallon. “Thaddeus and his wife, Lydia, purchased it on a second honeymoon trip to Europe for their fifth anniversary.”

“And their daughter was born a year later.” The slender woman blushed the color of her red knit top and smiled. “We’ve been married two years.”

“Congratulations. You make a great-looking couple,” Lance said, meaning it. He’d made it a practice never to lie in business. Evade yes, lie no. “It will be delivered to your home in Albuquerque next Thursday. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back. Thank you again for coming, and don’t forget the blue ticket you hold will admit you to the refreshments by the loggia.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Forrester said. “I could use some food. Come on, honey.”

“Good-bye.” Lance turned and there she was, not two feet away, a smile on her beautiful face. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until everything faded away.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he repeated, glad he was able to talk at all. She really got to him. He had finally stopped fighting that truth at least.

She closed the distance between them. “Nice-looking couple.”

“They purchased the master bedroom suite.” Unable to resist, he caught her hand and pulled her even closer. His gaze went to her tempting mouth and stayed.

He heard her sharp intake of breath, but she didn’t pull away.

“If I kissed you the way I want…” He drew in a ragged breath and stepped back. “You get settled all right for the time being?” He wanted her to stay at the cottage, but he wasn’t going to push.

“Yes, thanks to your thoughtfulness and your excellent staff,” she told him.

“Did you eat?”

Her natural smile came again. “Yes. Oskar said you and his mother would ask.”

“Carmen likes to take care of people.”

“So do you,” Fallon said.

“Only certain people.” And they were few in his life.

“Excuse me, Lance, but you’re wanted in the main library,” Karen, one of his assistants for the sale, announced. Like all of his regular employees, she wore a teal-colored polo with “Saxton Auction House” inscribed on the front.

“Please tell them I’ll be there directly.”

“I’ll get out of your way.” Fallon tugged her hand.

“Not happening.” Taking her elbow, he started back into the house. “I’m not letting you out of my sight so soon.” He stopped and stared down at her. “Unless you’re tired and need to rest.”

“I’m right where I want to be. Let’s go.”

*   *   *

Oskar was right about Lance being busy and in demand. And wherever he went Fallon went as well. She saw a new, different side of Lance Saxton, not just the moody, mercurial one.

He was cordial, personable, even charming to the attendees. He took as much time with the browser as he did with the person who’d purchased smaller items. It was the same with the people who had winning bids on large-ticket items. He was an astute businessman, but he clearly wanted the person to be happy after the sale.

It was almost dark when Security reported that they’d seen the last person off the property. The catering truck—which had been parked in the garage—had left as well. So had all Lance’s house and business staff.

Lance locked the front door and took Fallon’s arm. “So what did you think?”

“It was fast, well organized, and fun.” She shook her head ruefully. “I thought those two men would come to blows over the grandfather clock.”

In the kitchen, he released her, then went to the refrigerator and pulled out several containers and a pitcher of lemonade. “Our dinner. Hope you like salads. I didn’t think either of us would want to bother with the microwave or go out.”

She’d already spoken to Naomi and told her she was in town. Her friend understood Fallon would be spending the evening with Lance. Where she’d spend the night wasn’t mentioned. “I love salads. How can I help?”

“Table is already set. If you’ll grab the ice bucket we’ll be set.”

Fallon did as asked and followed him outside. She filled their glasses with ice and poured their drinks. Night was just settling. The pool lights were on, giving the area a romantic feel. “It’s beautiful and so peaceful here.”

“Glad you like it.” He pulled out her chair, then took his seat. “The salads are labeled. Please help yourself.”

Fallon blessed the food and accepted the container Lance gave her. “Shrimp. Want to share?”

“I’m good with the salmon.” He took a bite. “What’s next for you?”

“Road trip with the food editor of a national magazine.” She grinned. “We’re going to eat our way across Texas and Louisiana. She’ll spotlight the food and I’ll do the local attractions.”

“Sounds like your kind of assignment.”

She lifted a brow. “Is that your way of saying I like to eat?”

He reached for his lemonade. “I think I’ll refrain from answering. It was difficult enough getting you here.”

She paused in reaching for her glass. “I’m sorry about Megan. She’s younger, but she’s fiercely protective.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I admit I was annoyed at the time, but I’ve had time to think and realize she was just trying to protect you. Family should put each other first.”

The way he said the last sentence, his narrowed eyes, she wondered if he’d been put first. Then she wondered if the person who hadn’t put him first was his mother. In hopes of taking the shadows from his eyes Fallon said, “Megan downloaded a picture of you from my going-away party, enlarged it, and then used it for dart practice.”

“How about you?”

“Not once.” She stared across the table at him. “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way you plan or had hoped for.”

His hand flexed on the glass. “Yes.”

“So what’s next for you?” she asked, wanting the shadows gone from his face.

“I’ve met several people at this auction who want me to do some private appraisals for them.” He picked his fork back up and began to eat. “Some items sounded as if they might be worth taking a look. I’m thinking of having an open appraisal day in a couple of months. It will be appointments only, so it won’t get too hectic.”

She relaxed. Whatever it was bothering him seemed to have passed. “From the article I read on you, you recently moved into a new building in Tucson.”

He straightened. “What article? I haven’t given very many interviews.”

Her lips twitched. “Would you believe I can’t remember?”