Tokens Of My Confection E-Book

D.S. Williams

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Life hasn't been easy for Cady Caldwell, struggling first with her drug-addicted parents, then mistreated by the husband she though would be her savior.

But there was always one thing that kept her going: protecting her younger sisters and ensuring their lives are happy. Escaping her abusive marriage, Cady is shunted off to the small town of Garrison, Montana, to live with a paternal grandmother she doesn't know, and doesn't want to.

It seems that her two younger sisters, and an equally determined grandmother, are hell bent on looking after her. But can they get her to live again?

Leseprobe

TOKENS OF MY CONFECTION

D.S. WILLIAMS

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2019 D.S. Williams

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

PROLOGUE

Cady knew she was in trouble.

Unlocking the front door, she found Jameson waiting at the dining room table, his rigid figure an indication of how tightly strung his emotions were. His broad shoulders vibrated with tension. With anger.

Taking a deep breath, Cady dropped her purse on the couch and walked further into the room but kept a healthy distance between Jameson and herself. The waves of fury emanating from him had her nerves on edge, a warning to Cady that something was wrong. Very wrong. With a wary eye locked on her husband, she scanned the room for Montgomery. He normally greeted her at the door, his fluffy tail wagging a happy greeting.

"You're home early," she commented quietly, her breath hitching in her throat. She listened anxiously for sounds in the house, some clue to where Montgomery was. She desperately wanted to ask, but Jameson hated the dog with a passion and his mood was already black. Perhaps it was best if she navigated the mess she was in first, searched for Montgomery later.

For a minute, she wasn't sure he was going to answer, and the silence stretched out between them, increasing the tension. Cady glanced uneasily at her purse, wondering if she should turn tail and run.

"You're late."

His words made her jump. There had been a time, a few years ago, when that same voice had filled her with an overwhelming sense of security. Now it had a much different effect and Cady cringed. "Yes. I'm sorry. I had a cake to finish and it took a little longer than I expected."

Jameson’s shoulders tensed, and his hands scrunched into fists. "Cakes. It's always the cakes." He held up a page torn from the newspaper. "Fucking cakes," he sneered. "Cady Caldwell. The Queen of Cakes."

He spat her name as if it was a curse and Cady considered her options. Should she admit to knowledge of the newspaper report, or plead ignorance? Which one would work? Jameson's angry stare, his brown eyes penetrating, made it hard to decide. "Why don't we go out for supper?" Cady suggested, deciding avoidance might be best. Perhaps he could be sidetracked – though the whisky bottle and empty glass beside it suggested it was already too late. Jameson had been drinking, and given the nearly empty bottle, he'd been at it for a while. Certainly, long enough to work up into a rage.

He got to his feet, still clutching the newspaper in his fist. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Cady shook her head, her eyes wide. She'd been so careful. When Mario decided to enter her cake in the prestigious Decorators of America competition, he'd promised to keep her name out of it. She didn't need the attention, not when Jameson was so incredibly jealous. When Mario showed her the newspaper this morning, his blue eyes filled with regret, Cady knew it had been a terrible mistake. True to Mario's promise, the newspaper hadn't used her name, but what she'd assumed would take up a few lines in the back pages turned out to be front-page news. 'Mario's Bakery Takes out Prestigious Gold Medal for a Sublime Creation'. It went on to describe the cake and its decoration at length, and the prestige which came from one of San Francisco's favorite bakeries scooping the gold medal out from under the noses of other, more famous bakeries throughout the States. They hadn't mentioned her name, but the subtle hint about the creator being 'the wife of a world-renowned chef' was enough to cause overwhelming damage.

Jameson stepped towards her, his movements slow, measured, his eyes burning with hatred. "You smart ass bitch. You're throwing my failure in my face!"

Cady twisted her head rapidly from side to side, backing away. "No Jameson… that's not true… you aren't a failure…"

"Offering fake sympathy when those bastards overlooked me for the third Michelin star, pretending to care! I bet you were laughing behind my back, the whole time. You're nothing without me! You slap a bit of icing on a cake and you win a fucking award for it! Thought you were clever, not giving them your name? You must think I'm a damned fool. It could only be your doing; that idiot you work for is such a dolt, it couldn't possibly have been his work. You're going to wish you were dead by the time I've finished with you!"

Cady panicked, making a dash for the door even knowing it was a useless endeavor. She shouldn't have come inside, should have driven straight to Harry's when she saw Jameson's car in the driveway. She could have come up with some excuse for visiting, even though she hadn't seen Harry for nearly six months. Jameson's jealous rages had isolated her from everyone, using her desperation for his financial help as a counterweight to everything he demanded.

He wrapped one hand around her arm and wrenched Cady backwards. She struggled desperately to escape, but he was stronger. He wrapped his arms around her waist and Cady kicked and struggled when he dragged her through the house, thrusting her down into the basement. She caught her ankle on a step as she fell, and it wrenched painfully. Any hope of escape was gone and when Cady hit the cold concrete floor, she curled into a ball, making herself into as small a target as possible.

The first kick created a wellspring of agony in her lower back, convincing Cady her kidneys had exploded. The second kick cracked a couple of ribs. Jameson resorted to using his fists, punching Cady's face until she was seeing stars. Her screams were reduced to horrified whimpers, and then little moans as her body became a ball of incessant pain. Jameson clutched her shoulders, lifting her head again and again, slamming her against the unforgiving concrete. He stopped abruptly, using a knife to tear her shirt away, his eyes filled with fury. The knife flicked through her bra, catching her skin when he cut through the fragile lace and Cady whimpered. "You're an ungrateful little whore. You used me from the beginning," Jameson muttered, shifting his attention to her jeans.

She tried to see past the stars inhibiting her sight. When Jameson came into focus, she watched anxiously when he lit a cigarette, lowering it from his lips to blow against the smoldering end, to make the ash redden.

He brought the burning cigarette down and pressed the tip of it against her naked breast. Cady screamed and screamed, the lancing pain in her head surpassed by the pain as her skin burned. Her last conscious thought, as the world darkened around her was that Jameson was going to exceed his plan. He'd announced she was going to wish she were dead.

Cady thought she probably was dead.

1

Meredith Caldwell paced. A fine figure of a woman, she was still a beauty in her advancing years. Her gray hair was stylishly cut, and she filled out a pair of jeans like a woman who was two decades younger. Yes, indeed; a damn fine-looking woman. Sheriff George Davis watched as she walked back and forth across the living room, pausing on the completion of every lap to peer through the lace curtains, watching anxiously for an approaching car. He idly wondered if she might wear a hole in the carpet before her granddaughter arrived.

George tried – and failed – to keep his eyes off her shapely legs. He sipped from the coffee mug he gripped in one calloused hand then cleared his throat. "Meredith, for Christ's sake – sit down. They'll get here when they get here. You wearin’ a hole in the carpet ain't gonna hurry them up."

She stopped pacing and glanced at George with anxious blue eyes, tiny frown lines marring her skin. "Shouldn't they be here by now?"

George glanced at his watch. "It's a couple of hours drive to Garrison and they could have hit traffic leaving Billings. I'd guess they'll arrive anytime in the next half hour." He watched Meredith resume pacing and drew himself from the chair, placing a hand on her arm. "Meredith. You pacing ain't gonna make a lick of difference. Sit down. Please."

With a heavy sigh, Meredith took his advice and settled on the edge of the couch, but her attention remained focused on the window. She'd waited so long for this day. She'd met her other two grandchildren more than twelve months back, but today was the culmination of a long wait to meet her eldest granddaughter. Even now, it was obvious she couldn't quite believe it was going to happen. If only it was under better circumstances.

George sat back down and picked up his coffee mug. "You haven't told me much about her."

"I don't know much."

George shrugged, determined to keep Meredith talking if it meant she'd relax a smidgeon. "So, tell me what you do know."

Meredith clasped her hands together. "Her name is Arcadia, but she apparently prefers Cady." Her gaze had to be forcefully torn away from the window to face her friend.

"No surprise there." George grinned. "You've got to admit; they gave those kids the worst damn names." He'd never heard such ridiculous names in his life – even with the younger generation’s penchant for bestowing God-awful monikers on their kids – Meredith's son had taken the cake.

"I've met Sid and Harry. It's been wonderful having the opportunity to know them after the shock of discovering they existed." Meredith smiled warmly; obviously pleased with the relationship she'd forged with the girls.

George knew that despite the masculine-sounding names, 'Sid' and 'Harry' were women. Sidonia and Hermione. God-only-knew-where their parents had gotten those names. It wasn't much wonder the girls preferred the nicknames they'd bestowed on themselves. It had been an emotional moment for Meredith when she'd discovered her deceased son had fathered three daughters. It had come as quite a revelation, not only to Meredith, but to the entire small community of Garrison.

"You still don't know why Cady wouldn't meet with you before now?" George asked quietly.

Meredith had lost her battle with impatience and was pacing again. She shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe because she was older, Mark managed to turn her against us. Lord knows, he made his own disdain obvious enough. It wouldn't come as a surprise if he'd told Cady any number of lies."

Everyone in town knew the story of the Caldwell's oldest son – Mark had gone bad as a teenager, rebelling against his parents and descending into a sordid life of drug use and alcoholism. He'd up and left Garrison when he was seventeen, and other than intermittent contact with Meredith, usually begging for money, he’d had no contact with his parents.

Jim Caldwell had passed away just a few short years after Mark's disappearance, the strain of worrying about his son bringing on a heart attack at the age of forty-nine. Meredith had been left to bring up their younger son alone, but she'd done an excellent job. Unlike Mark, David had matured into a good-hearted, responsible man. Meredith was so proud of him; he was caring and considerate, and he'd never given her a lick of trouble in the years since.

Three years ago, George had been the one to bring the terrible news to Meredith of Mark's death. She'd accepted the news stoically, reassuring George that to all intents and purposes, Mark had been dead to her for years. Despite the heartache, she'd provided her son with a Christian burial, bringing his body back to Garrison and he’d been laid to rest close to his father's grave in the town cemetery.

The few belongings Mark had in his possession when he died were forwarded to Meredith. It had taken a few weeks before she could face going through them and George recalled her excitement when she discovered there were three birth certificates for three baby girls, resulting from a relationship Mark had with a woman named Lisa Drummond.

With David's support, Meredith hired a reputable private investigator to find out more about Mark's family. Over the next few months, she'd received sporadic reports, learning that Mark lived with Lisa Drummond for several years. They’d had the three children together, but the relationship was volatile from all accounts and there'd been more than one occasion when the children were taken by social services. Reports of arrests for drug use, alcoholism – even prostitution – were recorded for both Mark and Lisa. Meredith had been devastated by the knowledge; worried about what the three little girls had dealt with, and so sorry she hadn't been able to help them.

"You think Mark would have fed Cady more bullshit than he did Sid and Harry?" George questioned. There was something strange about the situation, and George had been chewing over the mystery for months, ever since Meredith first contacted her granddaughters. While Sid and Harry embraced their newly-discovered grandmother with open arms, Cady had been reticent, refusing to meet her. Cady's current circumstances could have something to do with it, but George's gut instincts told him there was more to the story than met the eye.

"She's the eldest," Meredith pointed out. "Sid and Harry were maybe too young to influence." She chewed her lip pensively, searching the street outside.

"She's agreed to come now," George offered. "Maybe what was a bad situation for the girl will turn into something good, for both of you."

Meredith frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "She didn't agree to come. Not without considerable pressure from Sid and Harry. I think it's been an uphill battle to get her here at all."

"She'll be safer." George intended to be certain of it, after hearing what her bastard husband had done. He'd seen the medical reports – the information he'd kept from Meredith. She was anxious enough about Cady coming to stay, without hearing about the beating the young woman had taken; the history of domestic abuse. George soothed his conscience by reminding himself of his legal obligation to suppress the reports. He'd received them as a courtesy from the San Francisco PD and once George read them, he'd taken no chances, going so far as to send Kane to collect the young woman from Billings. Nothing was going to happen to Cady Caldwell on his watch, he respected and cared for her grandmamma too much to let anything go wrong.

Meredith turned to him, offering him a tense smile. "Thank you, George. I appreciate everything you've done."

"It's nothin', Meredith. I know how much you've come to love Sid and Harry and the SFPD agreed it was a good idea to get Cady out of California."

"There's still no word about her husband?" Meredith asked.

George scowled. "No sign of him, he's lying low." The bastard had disappeared after he'd beaten the crap out of his young wife and left her for dead – and George's blood boiled whenever he thought about it. Wife beaters were lower than pond scum and George had seen a few in his time, but this case – where it involved someone he knew, even by association - was stuck in his craw. He wouldn't rest until Jameson Le Batelier was captured.

"They're still searching, aren't they?"

"Yeah. He can't disappear for long. The guy is too well-known. His face is recognizable."

"George, be honest with me." Bright blue eyes sought his and he gave Meredith his full attention. "Do you think he'll try to hurt her again?"

George inhaled sharply; this was a conversation he’d hoped to avoid. "I can't answer that," he said gently. "This asshole doesn't have any prior convictions, but I don't know enough to say what he might do. There's a history of violence with Cady, but it was never enough for the police to press charges, not when Cady wouldn't corroborate. What did Sid and Harry tell you?"

"They had no idea about the physical abuse. But neither of them had seen Cady for nearly six months." Meredith turned back to the window.

George knew what happened with Cady was standard procedure for a wife beater – isolating them from family and friends. He wondered how Cady's sisters were coping with what had happened. Domestic violence never just affected the victim; it had a ripple effect on their families and loved ones too.

George heard a car coming down the street, his years as Sheriff fine-tuning his senses. "Looks like the wait is over. I think that's them."

2

DeputyKane Garrison drew to a halt in front of Meredith's house, glancing in the rearview mirror at the young woman sitting behind him. "We're here."

Sid whooped with joy. "Gran's gonna be so excited to meet you, Cades. Let's go!" With a brief smile, Sid pushed the car door open and launched herself onto the front walk towards her grandmother.

Cady watched Sid throw herself into the arms of the older woman who stood near the bottom of the steps. Even from the car, she could hear Sid chattering a mile a minute. When Deputy Garrison picked them up from Billings, Sid had climbed into the car beside him without a hint of shyness and proceeded to talk his ear off for the entire two-hour journey. Typical for Sid, she was exuberant and excitable, her joie de vivre tangible to everyone around her. Through Sid's intensive questioning, Cady knew that Kane Garrison was married with twin sons and was a descendant of the original town founders, who'd travelled across the wilderness to Montana in the mid-eighteenth century and settled in the area.

The Deputy stepped out of the car, reaching down to open the back door for her. "Ms. Caldwell?" He held the door patiently, waiting for her to make a move. She was as skittish as a newborn colt and he watched her take a deep breath, centering herself, but still she didn't attempt to get out of the car. He leaned over and regarded her for a second or two, offering her a warm smile. "Your Grandmamma's excited about meeting you, honey. Come on out, now."

Cady brushed her fingers across Churchill's fur, savoring the comfort she found in patting him. She'd been apprehensive since they set off from Harry's apartment this morning, and the anxiety just kept reaching higher levels as the day wore on. Even now, Cady wished she were back in San Francisco, where she'd built a life for herself and her sisters.

Until it all collapsed in a whirlpool of disaster.

Why she'd even agreed to come to Garrison, she couldn't say. Sid and Harry had repeatedly tried to convince her she'd like her grandmother once she met her, but flashbacks to the past had kept Cady from contacting the woman. It unleashed too much pain, too many memories that she'd spent years suppressing. But circumstances out of her control had brought her to this point, and Sid and Harry had pressured her into agreeing, despite her qualms. Stuck between one nightmare and another, with nowhere to go in San Francisco where she would be safe, Cady found herself agreeing to stay with her grandmother, at least until Jameson was captured. With a sigh, Cady cautiously edged towards the door, Churchill's leash clutched in her fingers.

She eased out of the car, her eyes widening when she caught site of Meredith's handsome Victorian. It was one of the finest homes in Garrison, built in the late nineteenth century; it featured beautifully painted gingerbread features and a turret, which stood to the right of the front door. A wide veranda graced the entire lower floor and the gardens were a treat to behold in mid-summer, filled with flowers in a multitude of colors and shapes. "It's a lovely house, Ms. Caldwell. I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, Deputy."

Kane took the leash from Cady's fingers and watched the dog climb down eagerly from the back seat, intent on inspecting a new garden. Kane stifled a grin, reaching for his wide-brimmed hat. The trip had been worth it, if only to get a look at George's face when he discovered Kane had transported the huge dog in a County Sheriff's vehicle. He had no doubt he'd be tasked with cleaning the back seat until every speck of dog fur was eradicated, but it had been a deal breaker if he hadn't agreed. Cady Caldwell had absolutely no intentions of getting in the car if the dog didn't get in with her. Thinking back, it had been the most animated she'd been during the entire trip, eyes flashing with single-minded determination as she'd stood at the curb, her fists clenched, and her jaw set in a stubborn line. Reminded him of his wife when she got a full head of steam up, and that was always fun. Of course, with Hallie, making up was the best fun of all.

Kane strode across the lawn with Churchill, catching George's horror-struck expression from the corner of his eye. Yep, he'd definitely be cleaning out the patrol car in the morning. He might even be forced into doing it tonight if the way George’s eyes were bugging out was any indication.

Cady hitched her purse onto her shoulder, taking the first tentative steps towards where Sid stood with the older woman. Meredith Caldwell was attractive, her grey hair curling loosely around a face that was lined, but soft, and she was beautifully styled with subtle make-up. Cady couldn't see much resemblance between this woman and the father she remembered, and she relaxed incrementally. Maybe she could survive this ordeal.

Sid did the introductions, drawing Meredith along by the hand. "Cady, this is our grandmother, Meredith Caldwell. Gran, this is Cady."

"Cady, I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to meeting you." Meredith was stunned by the beauty of her eldest granddaughter. Sid and Harry had told Meredith a lot about Cady, and they hadn't overstated her uniqueness. They’d told her Cady was enchanted by the fashions of the fifties and she was dressed elegantly and beautifully in a stylish sky-blue suit. The skirt flared softly around her slim legs and the jacket was closely fitted, buttoned up the front with a collar trimmed in navy blue. Her deep red hair was artfully curled until she'd achieved a perfect early-fifties style and her make-up was subtle and stunning.

Cady attempted a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for letting me stay in your home."

"It's your home now too, Cades. Isn't that right, Gran?" Sid was watching Cady anxiously and Meredith could see how much the younger girl worried about her older sibling.

"Of course it is," Meredith agreed. Cady looked terrified, her eyes brimming with tears and she resisted the urge to wrap the younger woman in her arms and take the hurt away. She reminded herself to give Cady some time, let her get used to things.

"Thank you, but I... I won't be staying long. As soon as the police have captured Jameso─ my husband, I'll be heading back."

Meredith frowned, but decided against comment. Cady was fragile and hurting. There would be plenty of time for talking once she'd gotten used to Garrison and started to relax. No sense in agitating her further now. Meredith eyed the dog Kane was holding, amused to see the young Deputy letting the dog walk around the yard at his own pace, sniffing flowers, the grass, the trees and doing all the things dogs seemed to like to do. He was a mountain of dark brown and reddish fur, his face almost completely concealed, and she hid a smile when she caught sight of George's dismay as he watched the behemoth of canine fluff on her front lawn. "He's a lovely dog, Cady. What's his name?"

"Churchill."

"Harry and I chipped in and bought him, after—" Sid stopped abruptly, rolled her eyes and her cheeks colored. "Damn it, Cades, I'm so sorry."

Cady shook her head, her face expressionless. "They brought him after my husband killed my first dog. He broke Montgomery’s legs with a baseball bat and slit his throat."

Meredith had to hold herself very still, fighting to avoid overreacting. She flashed a quick glance towards George; his stiff expression revealed he'd been aware of those details. She made a mental note to interrogate him later, find out exactly what had been done to her granddaughter by the man she’d never met but held a burning fury towards. "I'm so sorry, Cady. That must have been awful for you."

Cady drew herself upright, straightening her shoulders determinedly and Meredith felt a burst of pride in her quietly stoic demeanor.

"Why don't we head inside, I'll make coffee," George suggested. He held his hand out to Cady with a gentle smile. "I'm George Davis, a friend of your grandmamma and Garrison's Sheriff. Welcome to Garrison, Ms. Caldwell."

Cady took his hand and smiled weakly. "Sheriff."

"Yes, let's go inside." Meredith was glad for George's interruption, at a moment when she was struggling to form a coherent thought. "George, if you'll make coffee, I'll take Cady up to show her the room where she'll be staying."

Cady followed Meredith into the house, clinging to Sid's hand like a lifeline. She didn't want to do this, didn't think she could become comfortable in this house, no matter how hard she tried. The house itself was beautiful and decorated with an understated elegance which Cady could appreciate, despite her anxiety. A doorway to the right led to a bright living room, and the door to the left was open, revealing a handsome study. Meredith led the way up the stairs, into a hallway decorated with photographs of what appeared to be local scenery.

"This is your room, Cady. Sid is next door and the bathroom is on the other side of the hall." Meredith pushed open the door and stood back, letting Sid drag Cady into the room.

The room was lovely, and Cady stood in the doorway, taking in the details. Wooden floorboards added a distinct warmth to the room. The walls were painted in the palest shade of blue; the windows on either side of the bed curtained with floral material in muted pinks and blues. A cast iron bed head was uniquely antiqued with white sand wash, and the pink gingham ruffle around the edge of the bed was complimented by matching sheets. Cushions and pillows were plumped up against the bed head, in pink gingham and floral prints which matched the curtains.

"I'll leave you to get comfortable and go help George." Meredith slipped from the room and left the two sisters alone.

Cady rubbed her arms, glancing around the room uncertainly.

"Was this... our father's room?"

Sid lifted Cady's bag onto the bed and unzipped it. "Nah, it was Uncle Dave's but Gran redecorated after he moved out." Sid started taking things out of Cady's bag, and opened drawers, putting the clothes away.

"I can do that." Cady moved to Sid's side, but her younger sister brushed off the offer.

"Nope, I'll do it. You relax."

"I've done nothing but relax for the past six weeks." Cady rubbed her lower back absently, aware of the low-level ache which seemed to develop when she got especially tired. The surgery to remove her ruptured kidney had been successful, but there was still some residual pain to overcome and she hoped it would soon settle down.

"You can just keep relaxing," Sid responded imperiously. "That bastard nearly killed you, Cades. You need time to recover from the injuries." She lifted a pile of Cady's lingerie from the bag and installed it in the top drawer. "You can do that with Gran's help." Sid slumped onto the side of the bed. "Let her in, Cady. She's a wonderful person and she only wants to support you, like she does Harry and me."

"Harry and I," Cady corrected Sid automatically, as she'd been doing for years. She glanced up and found Sid watching her through green eyes so much like her own and filled with unadulterated sympathy.

"I still don't get why you didn't want to meet Gran," Sid began quietly. "She's not like our parents, Cades. She's a wonderful person."

Cady didn't need the reminder and she turned away, staring out of the window at the gardens below while she composed her thoughts. "I know that," she finally admitted.

"So why didn't you want to come?" Sid pressed, brushing her fingers through her hair. She resembled a little pixie, with her dark auburn locks cut short around her face.

"Because our father lived here. And I didn't want to be reminded of him."

"None of us like those reminders, Cades. But Gran won't talk about him, not unless you decide you want to. She's not like that."

"I don't belong here."

Sid smiled gently at her sister, going to her and wrapping her in an embrace. "You'll learn to love it. I did."

3

Meredith was settled at the expansive breakfast bar in Nancy Garrison's kitchen, nursing a mug of coffee and a half-eaten oatmeal cookie. After regaling her best friend with the details of Cady's arrival and the subsequent two weeks, Meredith was at her lowest point. "I don't know what else to do," she admitted. She’d honestly believed she could help Cady and develop a positive relationship with the younger woman. Despite her best intentions, it had been an unmitigated disaster, with no sign of improvement anytime soon. She'd decided on the spur of the moment this morning to drive out to the Silver Peaks Ranch for a visit, see if Nancy could provide her with any ideas on how to proceed.

Cady was monosyllabic at best – answering direct questions with a polite detachment that made Meredith's teeth grind. She wouldn't be drawn into talking about herself or her sisters, the few subjects Meredith had initially thought would be safe topics. Cady would offer no information about herself and showed no interest in developing a relationship with Meredith, nor in seeing anything of Garrison, for that matter. Meredith tapped her fingernails on the black granite counter while she waited for Nancy’s reaction.

Nancy sipped her coffee and eyed her friend with sympathy. Meredith was a strong, independent woman who was a pillar of the local community, helping many locals through times both bad and good. To be struggling with her own flesh and blood, particularly after what happened with Mark, was no doubt a bitter pill to swallow. "Nothing is working, huh?"

"Nope. She barely leaves her room, other than to take Churchill for a walk twice a day. Sid's so worried, she's talking about deferring her last semester at SFSU and coming back to stay with Cady until she starts to recover."

"That’d be a shame, she’s only got six months to go.”

"And I’d hate to see her put her dreams of becoming a doctor on hold, not when she’s so close. I don't want to agree to her suggestion, but I don't know what else to do."

"What does Harry think?"

Meredith shrugged gracefully. "Harry’s worried too, but she thinks Cady will start to improve when she believes Jameson won't find her in Garrison. Harry's trying to convince Sid she needs to stay at college and finish her degree."

The back door opened, and John Garrison stepped into the kitchen, brushing his boots carefully on the worn mat outside the door. At sixty-two, he was an attractive man and his piercing blue eyes zeroed in on his wife with the seductive look of a man who was as much in love with his wife today as he'd been when he and Nancy met over forty years before. He brushed a soft kiss across his wife's lips before straightening to offer Meredith a warm smile. "Hey Mer, how's things?"

"Terrible."

John exchanged a glance with his wife, resting one fist against his lean hip. "No success with your granddaughter, then?"

Nancy slipped from the stool she was perched on, brushing a hand across John's backside. "I'll get you a coffee; Meredith, would you like a fresh cup?" Meredith nodded agreement and Nancy picked up her mug. "John knows you’ve had some trouble with Cady; he might have some ideas of how to proceed."

John settled on the stool Nancy had vacated and grabbed a couple of cookies, biting into one and chewing thoughtfully before he spoke. "Mer, she might need more help than you're capable of providing," he announced bluntly. "The girl went through God-knows-what with that prick she married, and we know social services were called in more than once when the girls were kids. That must have left some pretty deep scars on her psyche."

"We know that, honey," Nancy protested quietly. She placed two steaming mugs on the bench and leaned on it, her arms crossed. "Cady's got no real family support network to fall back on, only Sid and Harry and let's face it, for years she's been like a mother to them. All Meredith wants is to provide her with the support she needs, find a way to reach out to her and be accepted."

"It might not be possible." John grabbed another two cookies, levelling Meredith with his direct gaze. "You can't always fix somethin' which is broken."

"I have to fix this," Meredith responded stubbornly. "I'm sure I could help her heal, if she would just let me in. You haven't met her, John. She's a wonderfully unique individual, who deserves so much happiness. She's capable of great affection; she's absolutely devoted to Churchill and showers him with love."

"Churchill?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Cady's dog," Nancy supplied. "Sid and Harry bought him after that crazy bastard son-of-a-bitch husband killed her first dog."

John's lips quirked at his wife's outburst and he didn't miss the flash of anger in her pretty blue eyes. His usually placid Nancy had a head of steam built up over this young woman he hadn't met. He knew, in that moment, it was a lost cause to try and fight them. Nancy had joined Meredith in a mission to help Meredith's granddaughter and no amount of arguing would dissuade either one of them from their goal. He wondered if he should drive into town and speak to the girl himself – give her fair warning that she was about to be tag-teamed into submission by two very determined women. Better still, maybe an invitation to the ranch might draw the young woman out of her funk. "Why don't we invite Meredith and Cady to supper?" If he was going to be shanghaied into any crazy schemes the two women came up with, he figured it'd be best to go on the offensive and make sure anything they planned was something he'd want to be involved in.

"I don't think she'd come," Meredith argued. "I can't get her to leave the house other than to walk Churchill. She's avoiding meeting anyone."

John shrugged. "Okay then. We'll come to your place. Nancy and I, maybe Kane and Hallie. You say she's met Kane already, and Hallie is about her age, which might help them establish a connection."

Nancy and Meredith exchanged a long, silent exchange and John amused himself by trying to figure out if they really did have the ability to talk telepathically to one another. He had his suspicions it was true. Judging by the looks on their faces, there was a lot of silent discussion going on. "It does sound like a reasonable idea," Nancy finally said.

John smirked. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, darlin'."

Meredith was still considering the proposal, examining it from all angles. She feared Cady would veto the suggestion outright and voiced her concerns to John and Nancy.

John stood up, grabbing another couple of cookies. "So, don't tell her. We'll bring everything – that way she won't have a chance to shore up her defenses if she sees you preparing." On those parting words, he pressed another long kiss to his wife's lips, winked at Meredith and headed back out to work.

Cady lay on the bed with a book, although she was struggling to concentrate on the words. She hadn't read much since Jameson had beaten the crap out of her two months ago, continued to struggle with the after-effects of the attack. Having your head smashed repeatedly against concrete tended to mess around with your thought processes. Some of the residual effects had long since disappeared, but others were still making their presence known. Although reading was difficult, she'd found it was the easiest way of staying out of Meredith's way and avoid her attempts to forge a friendship. There was nothing wrong with Meredith, nothing at all, from what Cady could see. She just didn't want to start a relationship with the older woman, not when she intended to get the hell out of Garrison as soon as Jameson was captured and charged. She needed to get back to San Francisco, Mario had promised to keep her job for her and she needed to start working as soon as possible. With the fees for Sid's final semester at college due soon, she needed the income to pay that debt, along with the massive medical bills she'd accumulated after Jameson's attack.

Her attention was captured by Churchill, his ears pricking up in interest as he turned towards the windows. Seconds later, Cady heard car engines, growing louder as they approached Meredith's house.

Excited by a change of routine, Churchill vaulted from his position at Cady's side and leaped straight over her and onto the wooden floor, his claws clattering on the wood as he approached the window. He wagged his enormously fluffy tail in excitement before running to the door and turning back to Cady with expectation in his eyes. At eight months old, the Tibetan Mastiff was highly intelligent and devoted to his new mistress.

With a sigh, Cady stood up and peeked out of the window, careful to remain hidden from view to anyone downstairs. Two late model trucks had parked by the curb near Meredith's white picket fence. An older couple stepped out of the first vehicle; they were about Meredith's age and busied themselves retrieving baskets and hampers from the back of the sleek silver truck. Cady recognized Kane Garrison when he stepped from the second truck and watched as he lifted a little boy from a car seat and set him gently down onto the grass verge. Dressed in faded blue jeans and a white polo shirt, he leaned back into the car, drawing a second little boy into his arms. This boy was identical to the first one and Cady could only assume they were the twin sons he'd mentioned. Setting the little boy down onto the grass beside his brother, Kane exchanged a warm smile and quick exchange with the pretty woman who was exiting the passenger seat. With dark eyes and a smile that lit up her whole face, the woman flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder before picking up her purse.

Cady drew back from the window and slumped onto the bed, a sense of dread filling her chest. This had all the hallmarks of a conspiracy and she suspected Meredith was at the center of it. Damn that woman! Couldn't she understand that Cady didn't want to meet anyone? This was a small town, everybody would know about Cady's humiliation and she wasn't up to being the brunt of their well-meaning, but unwanted, sympathy and curiosity.

Churchill whined softly and scratched at the door, but Cady avoided looking at him and fell back on the bed, picking up her book with a huff of exasperation. Why wouldn't Meredith accept that she wasn't going to become involved in this town? Cady wished she'd stop being so nice and leave her alone. Didn't she understand that Cady could look after herself, had been doing so for years now? Not only herself, but her two younger sisters. She didn't need anyone else. In fact, she didn't want anyone else. She'd let Jameson in, and look where that had gotten her – a one-way ticket to hell. Ignoring her conscience, which was busy suggesting she was chicken, Cady forced her attention back to the book.

After a few minutes, Churchill gave up his vigil at the door and returned to the bed. Instead of jumping up beside her as he usually would, he stood beside the bed with his massive black and brown head resting on Cady's pillow. The reproach in his eyes was burning a hole in her cheek, but Cady ignored him, staring at the book. She wouldn’t give in; no matter how pathetic Churchill behaved. He just didn't understand how bad things were, how beaten down Cady felt. How anxious she was about meeting new people. She couldn't trust anyone, no matter how kind they seemed to be. Jameson had been kind, once upon a time. He'd promised her the world and Cady had willingly been drawn into his web, not understanding that it was all a false front, an illusion he'd created to get Cady into exactly the position he'd wanted her. Then he'd set out to destroy her individuality, take away her freedom until she'd lost all belief in herself.

It wasn't long before the knock she'd been expecting came. Cady rolled over onto her side, putting her back to the door and ignored it. A second knock sounded a few seconds later, a little harder and sharper than the first. Cady continued to ignore it, hoping Meredith would get the message and leave her alone. Churchill – the traitor – ran to the door and started up with a determined whine.

The door opened. "Cady, would you come downstairs, please? John and Nancy Garrison have come over and brought the fixings for a barbecue. Kane is here too; you remember him? He collected you and Sid in Billings when you arrived."

"I remember."

"Come downstairs and say hello, honey."

"No, thank you."

Cady heard Meredith's frustrated sigh. "Cady, you can't hide out in here forever."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." Cady turned a page in the book, trying her darndest to make it appear as if she was reading, despite not having focused on a single word in the past ten minutes.

She could hear Meredith's sharp inhalation all the way across the room. What happened next was the unexpected part. "Arcadia Williamina Arabella Caldwell! Get your tush off that bed and come downstairs, right this instant. I don't know how it's done in San Francisco, but here in Garrison, we treat people with respect! My friends have come visiting, and they expect to meet my eldest granddaughter. I will not tolerate you being rude just because you're so busy wallowing in self-pity that you think you can hide out in here and treat other people with disrespect! You will come downstairs, you will be polite to my friends and you will eat barbeque with us. You hear?"

Cady's eyes widened, and she sat up on the bed and stared at Meredith, barely suppressing the urge to stand and salute. "I hate my full name!" she grumbled instead.

Meredith heaved a sigh, brushing her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Well, don't make me use it again. You're right, it's quite the mouthful."

"It's a ridiculous name," Cady muttered.

Meredith strolled across to the bed and sat down beside Cady, patting her shoulder gently. "I'm not going to take back what I said, Cady. Like it or not, I'm your grandmother and I'm trying my best to help you here. Come on downstairs; meet my friends. Please."

It was the please which swayed her decision. Her grandmother had yelled at her, but somehow, she'd managed to do it without making Cady feel like she was two inches tall. She hadn't berated her or belittled her. Meredith was trying her hardest to be nice and Cady was beginning to like her. Another complication she didn't need or want. But she could tell from the determination in Meredith's countenance that she wasn't going to let this one go. "Fine. I'll be down in five minutes."

Without another word, Meredith stood up and left the room, leaving Cady feeling shell-shocked and Churchill chasing his tail in delight. Somehow, the dog knew that Meredith had won this battle. As Cady got to her feet, she humored herself by deciding that while Meredith might have won this battle, she wouldn't win the war. Cady would go downstairs, but she didn't have to socialize. It would serve Meredith right if Cady just sat in the garden and ignored everyone. That would teach Meredith for thinking she could force Cady into doing something she didn't want to do. Nobody would ever do that to Cady, not ever again.

4

It took about fifteen minutes for Cady to realize she might struggle to win this particular war.

The sound of voices reached her when she walked towards the kitchen and she brushed her hands over her Capris nervously, smoothing the white linen material. She hadn't changed, deciding if she was being forced into this, Meredith's friends would have to accept her exactly the way she was. Her personal style had developed long ago, and she wouldn't change to conform to Garrison's standards.

Cady had loved the fashions of the forties and fifties ever since she'd been old enough to take an interest in clothing. She's obsessed over information on the internet, borrowing books from the library to feed her passion and watching old movies until she was old enough to make her own clothes. She loved the femininity of the era, the swirling skirts, the petticoats, and the elegance of a time long since passed. It had caused nothing but trouble, first with her father deriding her choices, then Jameson belittling the differences he'd claimed to love when they'd first met. Despite it all, Cady's obsession had never weakened, her love for the era growing as time passed.

She was dressed casually tonight, the cotton Capris matched with a checked gingham shirt in red and white, the shirttails tied in a knot at her waist. She'd pulled her hair into a ponytail and wore a red scarf tied neatly around the band. Her feet were encased in soft leather saddle shoes in red and white, which she'd sourced and ordered online.

Meredith’s kitchen was one of Cady's favorite rooms, featuring warm honey-brown wooden cabinets, terracotta tiles, and walls painted in a rich pine green. The entire room was welcoming and relaxing, a place to enjoy a coffee or sit quietly and read the newspaper. At least, it normally was. Tonight it was a hubbub of activity, with Meredith and the two women Cady had spied earlier working together at the bench.

Meredith threw Cady a grateful smile when she walked in, and the pleasure in her eyes confirmed her approval. "Cady, come here and meet my friends." Cady stepped in, holding back a much more enthusiastic Churchill, who was interested in both greeting the new people and sniffing out the source of the smells emanating from the kitchen bench. "This is my good friend, Nancy Garrison and her daughter-in-law, Hallie. Girls, this is my granddaughter, Cady."

Nancy immediately stepped away from the bench and embraced Cady warmly. "Aren't you just the sweetest little thing? It's wonderful to meet you. We've heard such a lot about you from Sid and Harry, but they didn't tell us how pretty you were!"

"Mom, you'll embarrass her," Hallie said, putting down the knife she'd been using to slice tomatoes. "Hi, Cady, good to meet you."

Cady offered her a little half-wave and a smile.

"This must be Churchill. He's enormous, Meredith! How are you coping with this great big adorable dog in the house?"

Meredith chuckled. "He might be a big fellow, but Cady's got him well-trained. Hasn't she, Churchill?" She scratched Churchill under the chin and Cady smiled at the interaction. Meredith had taken the arrival of a massive black and brown ball of fluff in her stride; although she'd admitted to never owning a dog before, she’d accepted Churchill's arrival in her house with good grace and a significant amount of affection.

"Now you girls head outside, I'm sure Tyler and Thomas will get a kick out of meeting this big fella, and Mer and I can finish up the salads. Hallie, introduce Cady to John; he's been looking forward to meeting her," Nancy announced.

"Sounds good to me. C'mon, Cady."

Against her better judgement, Cady followed the young woman out into the garden, which was an oasis of cool greenery in the heat of a late summer evening in Montana. A paved area was set down along the back of the patio with a barbeque and outdoor setting, shaded by spreading oaks. Kane looked up from the barbeque when the door opened and grinned at Cady, offering her a wink. "Hey, Ms. Caldwell. How're you doing?"