All That Sparkles: The Texan Quartet (20 page)

She was positively buzzing with excitement by the time they were finished. It was really happening.

By the time the others were ready to leave, Christian still hadn’t turned up. Piper turned to her, concerned. “Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?”

Imogen was positive. Even if Christian wasn’t able to come, she was going to spend the night, camping out in her house. She’d borrowed a sleeping bag and blow-up mattress from Adrian.

When they had all left, she made up her bed in the front room. She debated whether she should call Christian to check if he was still coming but decided to leave him to it.

Too excited to sleep, she climbed into her makeshift bed with the book she’d brought with her. She would read until she got tired. If Christian didn’t turn up, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to live her life based on the demands of a man again.

She was perfectly capable herself.

She was content as she was.

*

It was midnight before Christian left work. He was exhausted and angry. He’d made it clear to his boss that he had plans for the evening but it didn’t matter. The brief was too important and Samuel had suggested if Christian wasn’t committed enough, he would find someone who was.

But that commitment meant he had missed Imogen’s housewarming party.

Would she still be up waiting for him? He’d promised he would be there and he really wanted to be with her. Getting in his car he decided to drive past.

There was only her yellow sports car in the driveway when he arrived and the house was dark. She was inside, sleeping alone in a strange house.

He didn’t want to scare her by knocking on the front door but he didn’t want her to be alone either. Chris sent a text, figuring if it woke her, she could let him in.

A minute later, the light came on in the front room. He breathed a sigh of relief and, grabbing his overnight bag out of his car, he trotted up the front steps.

The front door opened and she was standing in the light, wearing purple flannelette pajamas and a matching cotton singlet. Her short hair was mussed and she had a sleepy look in her eyes. She was beautiful.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“I’m glad you made it.” She smiled and opened her arms. He stepped into them.

Holding her in his arms balanced his world.

“Work needed me to do something urgently – ”

“It doesn’t matter,” Imogen said and led him into the room where she’d set up her bed. “You must be tired.”

He was. Imogen climbed back into bed and Christian stripped off and joined her, chuckling as the air mattress bobbed to get used to the extra body. This is where he should be. He snuggled into Imogen, intending to apologize some more, but instead fell asleep.

*

In the morning Christian woke to sun streaming in the window. Imogen was not in bed with him, but how she’d managed to get out without waking him, he didn’t know. He sat up, groaning at the stiffness in his back. Imogen walked in, fully dressed and looking like she was ready to start the day.

“Good morning!” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure what time you needed to be at work.”

“The usual time,” he said and fumbled with his phone to check the time. Seven o’clock.

“I wish I could offer you coffee but I didn’t think to bring any cups or a kettle or anything.”

She was so bright and cheerful and he felt like crap. He’d missed an important moment in her life and she didn’t seem to mind.

“There’s a towel in the bathroom for you and some hot water.” She laughed. “I think the hot water system is going to need replacing judging from all the banging and clanging it did.”

He hadn’t heard a thing. He’d obviously been tired. Getting to his feet he said, “Imi, I’m sorry I missed last night.”

She took him by the hand and led him to the garish pink bathroom. “It’s fine. You had important work to do.”

But that was the problem. It hadn’t been important work, at least not to him. It had been stuff his boss had insisted he do.

She kissed him. “Have a shower. I noticed a deli down the road. I’ll race down and check if they’re open and get something for breakfast.”

Before he could say anything she was gone.

Sighing, he turned on the shower taps and winced at the clunk and bang in the pipes. Imogen would definitely need a plumber to have a look at it.

He showered quickly, using the rose-scented body wash she’d left in the shower, and then got ready for the day. By the time he was dressed, Imogen had returned with two take-away cups of coffee and a couple of muffins.

They went out to the back porch and sat on the steps while they ate. It was peaceful there. A few birds flittered from tree to tree and occasionally there was the sound of a car going down the street, but it was generally quiet. A nice neighborhood.

“Will you still be able to come to Grandma’s for dinner tonight?” Imogen asked.

He’d forgotten about it completely, but there was no way he was going to fail her two nights in a row. Her mother’s family was lovely but going through photo albums was likely to be very emotional for her. “Absolutely. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.”

“Great.” She got to her feet. “I need to get to work. Chantelle let me leave early yesterday and I don’t want to take advantage of her.”

Chris stood up and followed her inside. “How’s it going?” He’d made more of an effort to call her this week but they hadn’t had the chance to properly chat.

“Really great. Chantelle has a strong business and it’s interesting learning about the differences between a large brand and a smaller one.” She packed up her bedding and grabbed her overnight bag.

Chris hurried to help her and carried both bags out to their cars. He waited while she locked up her house. He felt he should say something else – he didn’t think his apology had been enough but she didn’t seem to mind.

Shouldn’t she be mad he’d not been there, that he’d put his work before her?

Or should he be relieved she was so understanding?

Imogen walked over and kissed him. “I’ll see you tonight.” She got into her sports car and drove away.

Chris climbed into his car, still uneasy. Was she not as invested in their relationship as he was?

*

Chris was halfway out the door at five that night when Samuel hailed him. He wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard him but it was pretty sure Samuel wouldn’t let him go. He was supremely pissed at the man. When he’d arrived in the morning ready to proceed with the brief he’d stayed back to prepare last night, Samuel had told him it wasn’t needed, that the issue had been delayed. So he’d missed Imogen’s housewarming for nothing.

He wasn’t going to miss dinner at Grandma’s.

“Chris, I forgot to tell you. The Australian branch has another issue with the partners. I thought since you are familiar with their operations, you could review the information. I’ve sent it through to you. They’ll be in their office in two hours, expecting a response from us.”

Chris kept his facial expression neutral but inside he was seething. The man had had all day to tell him this. “I’ve got plans for this evening.”

Samuel blinked. “You are aware this job requires you to work the hours needed. If you’re not interested, I’ll find someone who is.”

Chris heard the underlying threat. If he didn’t do this, he wouldn’t be given another chance. He’d be relegated to the group of lawyers who plugged away doing mundane local tasks, never given the opportunity to move up to senior ranks.

But he wanted that. It was far better to be overworked than to have no work at all. Remy had shown him that.

“I’ll get right on to it,” Chris said. He walked back to his office, pulling out his cell to call Imogen.

He hoped she’d understand.

*

Imogen wasn’t sure how to respond to Christian canceling again. She knew work kept him extremely busy, and he’d been busy almost every day since she’d met him, but shouldn’t there be a work/life balance? Shouldn’t there be a time when he could say no, he had plans?

Or was it that his work was more important to him than she was?

It didn’t make much sense because he was never happy when he discussed it. He was always dismissive of it.

Imogen drove to her grandmother's place alone. She couldn’t help being nervous. She’d only met the woman once and there was so much to learn about her family.

She pulled up at the address at the same time as Cece. Relieved she wasn’t going to the only person at dinner, Imogen smiled and greeted her cousin.

“Hiya, Imogen. You’re in for a treat tonight. Grandma’s making her honey-bourbon glazed ham.”

“Sounds great.”

Cece let herself in, calling out, “Grandma, we’re here.”

Imogen’s grandmother came bustling out of one of the rooms. “Lovely.” She gave them both a hug and kiss and then asked Imogen, “Where’s that young man of yours?”

“He had to work.”

Grandma tutted. “There’s more to life than working.” She gestured for them to follow her. “Come through. Dinner’s ready.”

She led them through to the kitchen, where a small dining table was set for four. “Take a seat.”

Imogen sat and inhaled the aroma of the glazed ham. It smelled divine. Her grandmother placed a full plate in front of them both and then sat with her own. After she said grace, she asked, “What have you been up to this week?”

Imogen didn’t want to tell them about her father disowning and firing her. Instead she focused on the positive in her life. “I got the keys to my new house.”

Grandma grinned. “Tell me more.”

So Imogen told them both about the house, about how she’d fallen in love with it even though it needed a lot of work. “Hank Jones is helping me with the renovations,” she told Cece, remembering she worked for the company.

“That’s great. You’re in good hands with him. He’s a magician,” Cece said.

“When do you begin?” Grandma asked.

“Saturday. We’re having a demolition party. George Jones insisted on it.”

“He would have,” Cece said, grinning. “He likes to knock things down.”

“What do you do at the company?” Imogen asked.

“I design the houses. I meet with the clients and find out what they want and make it all fit for the budget they have.”

“Sounds challenging.”

“It’s great fun.”

Here was someone who obviously enjoyed her work. Imogen thought of Christian, wishing he could have the same enjoyment.

“Let’s leave the dishes,” Grandma said when they finished. “I want to go through the photo albums.”

She dismissed Imogen’s offers to clean up and took them both through to the living room where there were a number of photo albums already on the coffee table. She handed one album to Imogen. “This one is for you.” She indicated Imogen should open it.

The first picture was of her grandparents on their wedding day and the rest of the pages took Imogen through a photographic history of her family. There were pictures of her mother as a child playing with her brothers, pictures of Remy and Frances’s wedding day, even a picture of Frances holding a baby. The caption next to it said
Franny & Imogen (1 day old)
. Her mother was gazing at her with an expression of awe and happiness.

Imogen sniffed.

“I wasn’t sure what photos you had, so I made copies this week,” Grandma said.

“Thank you,” Imogen choked out. She hadn’t seen many pictures of herself as a baby and none of her mother with her.

“I’ve got some home movies buried somewhere,” she continued, “but I haven’t been able to find them. I’ll have a movie night when I do.”

Imogen couldn’t form any words. In less than a week she’d discovered more family than she’d ever dreamed of, she’d learned where she’d come from and viewed pictures of her mother she’d never seen before.

She hugged her grandmother, blinking back her tears.

“There are times when the family moves me to tears too,” Cece said with a smile and added, “Usually tears of frustration.”

Imogen laughed, appreciating Cece’s attempt to cheer her up. With the mood lighter, she went through the other photo albums with them both, watching her cousins grow up in photos of vacations they’d gone on together. She couldn’t help the envy when she saw them all posing at some beach. She might have flown to Paris or London or New York for vacations but they had never been much fun. They had been filled with fashion shows, museums and plays. Imogen had enjoyed them but she had always wished she had a sister she could share it with.

When the evening was over, Imogen promised her grandmother she would come again next Thursday and arranged to meet Cece for coffee during the week.

More content than she had been all week, she drove home to Piper’s apartment.

Friday morning Chris didn’t go in to work. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t leave, and today was his pro bono day. He drove instead to the building that housed the legal aid offices and walked in the door as his phone rang.

It was work.

He debated not answering but that wouldn’t help matters. He knew the argument he was going to use and he was fairly certain Samuel wouldn’t disagree.

“Morning, Samuel,” he said.

“Where are you, Chris? The UK merger is hotting up.”

“I’m at the pro bono offices, doing my community service. I know how important it is to the company to uphold our community commitments.” Before Samuel could comment he added, “I’ve uploaded all my notes to the case file and I’ve kept you informed with everything that has happened. If you want me to tell Rosalie I have to leave now, I can …”

Rosalie ran the pro bono service and nobody messed with her. She had contracts with each of the companies that guaranteed a set amount of hours per month and she came hunting if anyone didn’t fulfill them. It was her passion.

“No, it’s fine. Be here early on Monday.”

Chris hung up and sighed with relief.

“Tried to call you in, did they?”

He turned to Rosalie standing at the reception desk. She was only a few years older than he was and today she wore her usual jeans with a beaded purple top. Her dangling purple earrings were in the shape of a peace sign, and despite her flip-flops, which added to her hippy appearance, she was tough. He grinned and nodded. “You’ve sure got them running scared.” He walked over and shook her hand. “I’m mighty grateful.”

She laughed. “I’ve got a full day booked for you. You might not be so grateful by the end of it.” She led him into the office and showed him the pile of client notes. “Some have written up what they need and others want anonymity.”

It wasn’t unusual for people to be cagey about why they needed a lawyer, worried about their privacy.

“I’ll give you five minutes to read through and then send the first one in.”

Chris settled at the desk, read through information from the first client, who wanted advice on a building contract. There was a copy of the contract with the notes and he started to read.

*

By the end of the day, Chris was tired but energized at the same time. He’d met with client after client and had lunch at his desk, but he was certain he’d helped each and every one of them in some way. That feeling of satisfaction was what was missing from his normal day.

Perhaps Imogen was right. Perhaps he should start thinking about a career change.

He shook his head. Even the idea made him tense. But why was that? He wasn’t enjoying his job.

It wasn’t just about the money. It was about proving he could make something of himself, that the money his father invested in him to put him through college wasn’t wasted. It would be ungrateful of him to give up after all of the hard work his father had gone through, all of the things his father had sacrificed to give him this opportunity.

His cell rang. Unknown caller. He answered it.

“Chris, it’s Cece Ryder, Imogen’s cousin.”

“What can I do for you?” Was she calling to tell him off for not attending Grandma’s dinner the night before?

“Imogen told me about the demolition party tomorrow,” she said. “I want in.”

Surprised she’d heard when George had only filled him in that morning, he gave her what information he had.

“Don’t tell Imogen. We want to surprise her,” Cece said and hung up.

Chris sat back as an idea came to him. Maybe it was a way to make it up to Imogen for missing the dinner. The more people they had working on the demolition, the quicker it would be. He jotted down a few names, tallied up numbers and smiled.

Picking up his phone he rang his father first.

This weekend he was going to show Imogen how much he and others cared for her.

He wasn’t going to let her down.

*

Imogen was full of nerve-tingling excitement as she and Christian drove up to her house early on Saturday. She’d wanted to get there before everyone else and take photos of every room before they started working, and since she’d spent the night at Christian’s it made sense for him to come along. She was going to do a renovation album at the end of it.

As they went through the house she heard cars pull in to the drive. At Piper’s call she yelled, “We’re upstairs.”

She checked out the upstairs bathroom, took the pictures and then caught Christian’s reflection in the mirror. He looked particularly tasty in his work clothes; cargo pants, long-sleeved top and heavy-duty boots. Who knew she had a thing for working men? Or perhaps it was just Christian.

“You done taking photos?” he asked.

“Yep. Better go give the troops their tasks.”

There was a lot of work to get through with only a few people but Imogen was happy to begin.

They walked downstairs together and out of the front of the house.

Imogen stopped and stared.

Her front yard was full of people, all dressed for hard work.

She scanned the faces. There were the people she was expecting, plus Christian’s father, Piper and George’s families and the whole Ryder family including Grandma, who was holding some dish of food.

Imogen gaped. “What’s everyone doing here?” She glanced up at Christian and he smiled at her.

Cece walked up the steps. “You mentioned the demolition so I called Chris to find out if we could help. I figured many hands and all that, so we’ve all come.”

“After Cece rang, I thought there might be others who would want to help so I made a few calls,” Christian said.

He’d been so busy lately she was surprised he’d had time to organize anything. A glow started in her stomach and she turned back to the crowd of people.

Everyone was waiting for her to say something. “Thank you all for coming.” She was overwhelmed by their support. She had so many people who cared for her.

“This house ain’t going to get done if we stand around all day,” Hank called, coming up the steps. “I’ve divided people up by the jobs they think they can do.” He showed her his list.

Imogen scanned it. “Looks good. Let’s get to work.”

There were cheers and everyone divided up into their tasks.

Mr. Barker was in the garden, pruning and cleaning up the rubbish. Grandma insisted on helping him where she could. Trent started fixing the picket fence out the front while Sadie, Connor and Piper prepped the outside of the house for painting.

Inside people split off to demolish the two bathrooms, George started up the floor sander in the bedrooms and Imogen, Christian and Hank got to work demolishing the kitchen.

It was true Imogen had never swung a hammer before, but it didn’t take long to learn. Hank demonstrated what to do with the sledgehammer and then handed it to her. It was heavier than he’d made it look and she struggled for a moment to hold it the right way. She hefted it into the air and used the hammer’s weight to crash into the cupboard. The cupboard cracked and she swung again. This time it came away and the elation that filled her was heady. She could really do this.

In what seemed like no time the big items were cleared out and carried to the dumpster she’d hired. Then it was on to the tile removal.

Hank had brought all his tools, so they were well equipped. Imogen worked on the wall tiles, with a hammer and chisel. It didn’t take her long to work out she had to get the angle of the chisel right in order for the tiles to come off easily and she got stuck in. There was a kind of rhythmic quality to the work and she concentrated on the task. This was her house she was renovating. She would knock it back to its bones and rebuild.

She would make it a home.

A hand on her back stopped her mid-tile. Christian had brought her a bottle of water.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

She took the bottle and pulled down her dust mask. “Thanks.” As she drank, she looked around. They were about halfway through the tiles. Hank had disappeared to help with another task so it was only the two of them in the kitchen and the thud, hum and grunt of the work in other rooms.

“This is incredible,” Imogen said. “I can’t believe how many people have come to help.”

“They all wanted to,” Christian said. “They all care for you.”

How had she got so lucky? Only eight months earlier she had just had her father and Piper in her life. Now she had a whole group of people, including Christian.

He stepped forward and brushed some dust off her nose. “You’re looking particularly adorable today.”

She swatted him away. “I’m a serious demolition expert,” she said and drank some more water. “We should have this done by lunch.”

“Do you want to check out the progress in the other rooms?”

She did, she most certainly did, but she also wanted to finish the kitchen. “I will when we break for lunch.”

Then she turned and got back to work.

*

By the end of the day Imogen was so tired she could barely hold herself upright as she waved goodbye to those that had helped during the day. There were promises to return early in the morning but Imogen couldn’t think that far ahead. She was dusty, dirty and her muscles felt like they were made of lead. All she wanted was a shower and a bed.

“Busy day,” Christian said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She resisted the urge to flop against him so he could hold her up. “I don’t know where everyone got the energy.”

“They took breaks when they needed them,” Christian told her. “I kept telling you, you needed to rest.”

But she couldn’t. Not while everyone was here, working so hard for her.

“Want to take a walk around?”

She did, but she wasn’t sure she would make it up the stairs. “I might need a hand,” she said.

He smiled. “Come on.”

They went from room to room. Each one had some sign of work, whether it was the window frames being sanded, or the floors, or some other thing. Imogen spotted two floor sanders amongst the dust. The walls she’d flagged to come down were gone but the edges required patching. The wall she was putting in had its frame in place. Both the bathrooms were gutted and the front porch and back veranda had been repaired.

Outside all the trees that were staying had been pruned and everyone had been given bags of oranges and lemons to take home. There weren’t a lot of plants that needed to be ripped out, and those that had to be, were gone. Mr. Barker had hired a turf cutter and was planning to rip up the remaining lawn in the morning.

Exhaustion settled around her and tears filled her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s too much. I don’t deserve this much kindness.”

Christian brought her into his arms. “Imi, of course you do. You are the kindest, most generous person I’ve met. This is a way people can repay your kindness.”

“Mama’s family doesn’t even know me.”

“But they want to. Perhaps this is their way of apologizing for the past.”

Imogen hadn’t considered that.

“Come on. I think you need a shower and some sleep.”

Because she was so tired and vulnerable she let him lead her to the car. He opened the door and helped her in, bending over to kiss her softly. In that moment, looking up at him, seeing the care in his eyes, Imogen realized she loved him.

She loved his concern for others, the way he made her laugh, she even loved his loyalty to the job he disliked.

She wanted to spend her life with him by her side. She could visualize him here, in her house – in
their
house – with children running around in the garden.

He moved away to lock up and she stared after him, her breath huffing out with the surprise. Her head was full of love mingled with fatigue, mingled with happiness.

This was a new beginning.

She was going to make the most of it.

*

The alarm buzzed Imogen awake and she moved before she thought better of it.

“Ahh,” she moaned as muscles she hadn’t known she possessed protested.

Next to her Christian chuckled. “I hear you.” He stretched, groaning as he did so.

Imogen checked the time. Every fiber of her body wanted her to turn off the alarm and go back to sleep but all her helpers would be gathering at the house in an hour and she needed to be there to let them in.

She slapped off the alarm and carefully maneuvered herself into a sitting position. “I think I might have been run over by a truck last night.”

Christian sat up behind her and massaged her back.

Imogen’s eyes rolled back into her head. “So good.”

He laughed. “Let’s get you into the shower.” He helped her up and she followed him into the shower. The hot water ran over her back, soothing her aching muscles.

“How am I going to do it again today?” she asked.

“There’s not as much work. The heavy stuff is all done. It will be mostly sanding and scraping today.”

That didn’t sound like much fun to her, but it needed to be done.

And if the others could do it, so could she.

After the shower and the caffeine hit she felt more human but not enough to keep her eyes open during the ride to her house.

When they arrived, Hank and his wife, Marla, were already there working on the outdoor room that was going to be Imogen’s sewing room.

“Morning folks,” Hank called from on top of the roof where he was replacing some tiles.

“How can he be up there already?” Imogen asked.

Marla grinned at her. “He’s the fittest person I know. You forget he does this every day.”

Guilt hit her. It was supposed to be his day off. “He should really get some rest,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Marla said. “He hasn’t been this excited about a project for a long time. You won’t be able to keep him away. In actual fact he’s talking about branching out to do more renovation work rather than just new builds. You’ve given him a new interest.”

Her words made Imogen feel better but she wasn’t entirely convinced. Before she could make sure George’s father really was happy, others started to arrive. Hank came down from the roof to give them all tasks and then went back up with Christian to give him a hand.