"Nothing?"
Emmett hid his amusement. "You've got three whole months. Why not sit back and see how this plays out? If it hasn't solved itself by then, then we'll use the loophole and end this farce."
"There's a loophole?"
"There's never been a contract written that didn't have a back door to sneak out of." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Sam seems like a bright boy; he'll figure it out. Just give him some time, Willy."
"I am not sitting around waiting for Samuel Sinclair to rescue me."
"You're not the only injured party here, Willy. Abram blindsided his grandsons, too. You can let Warren Cobb have Tidewater and still walk away a very wealthy woman, but those boys will have lost everything."
"They're young and capable; they can go out and build their own empires."
Emmett sighed and stepped back. "I know you're angry at everyone named Sinclair right now, but you'd never be able to live with yourself if Cobb destroyed Tidewater International. You're going to have to play this game to the end." He gave her a crooked grin. "Why not consider it an adventure? It's not every day a woman has a wealthy, handsome man chasing after her."
She picked up her bags, and heading down the pier. "Let's go. It's starting to rain."
"What about Sam's gear?"
"The seagulls can have it, for all I care."
"Did you make a pass at him, Willy?" Emmett narrowed his eyes at her. "You did, didn't you?" He pointed at her. "I know how your wild child takes over when you're feeling the salt wind on your face. You've gotten your panties in a twist, little girl, because he up and turned you down, didn't he?"
She continued down the pier, stalking past Sam sitting at a picnic table, stuffing a lobster roll into his mouth. Emmett picked up Sam's bag and sauntered after her. Willa stopped a truck leaving the fishing pier, spoke to the driver, then climbed in on the passenger side. Emmett dropped the dry sack beside the picnic table, stepped up to the window, and ordered a lobster roll for himself.
"I thought Willa called you to take her home?" Sam said around a mouthful of lobster.
"She's got her shorts in a twist right now."
Sam snorted.
Emmett took his plate from the vendor and sat down. "You open to a bit of advice, Sam?"
The younger man gave a grunt as he chewed.
Emmett took a bite of his own roll, watching the solid sheet of rain sweep into the harbor as heavy drops began drumming on the canopy over their heads.
"Willa would have been on the Cat's Tail with her parents when it went down off St. Maarten eight years ago," he said softly. "But she'd married David Sommers that year, and it was the first time she didn't make the trip south with them." He looked over at Sam, who had stopped eating. "It's my guess Willa believes that if she'd been with them when that squall hit, they'd still be alive."
Sam said nothing.
"She was two months pregnant at the time. She miscarried about a week after we got the news,"
Emmett shrugged. "I don't know if it would have happened anyway or if the pain of losing her parents caused it. I just know we very nearly lost Willa with the baby." He looked back at Sam. "Willamina is the strongest person I've ever known, but even tempered steel has its breaking point."
"Then if she's witnessed so much tragedy, why would she choose to work with a bunch of old people and own a casket company?"
"For several reasons, though I think mostly because it gives her a sense of control. The pleasure of taking care of her aging parents was stolen from her, so she takes care of people who don't have any family to look after them." He sighed. "Like me, I suppose. She knows we're all knocking on death's door, and if she can't stop it, she can at least control some small part of it. The caskets are her way of making sure we meet our maker in style."
He chuckled. "She only intended to build them for the local market, but she made the mistake of putting a retired Fortune 500 CEO in charge of operations. I don't think Silas Payne has ever heard of a cottage industry."
"So Willa leaves all the day-to-day decisions to Payne?"
"She has to, because she's too busy saving the world one person at a time."
Sam gave Emmett the oddest look. "That's exactly how I see her! She rushes around trying so damn hard to make sure everyone else is happy, she keeps tripping over her own feet."
Emmett took another bite of his roll, pleased to realize that Sinclair was just as sharp as his grandfather.
Oh, yeah. Willy Wild Child had just met her match.
"You said you had some advice?" Sam said, picking up another roll and chomping down on it.
"It's my guess you intend to have your brothers tie up Bram's will in court to protect Tidewater, while you work on fixing Willa's guilt problem so she'll be free to marry you."
"You don't think that's a good plan?"
Emmett set down his food and turned in his seat. "Being men, our first instinct is to fix everything. But women don't want us fixing their problems for them. They want us to listen, get mad right along with them, and love them just the way they are."
"So I should … ?"
"You should forget about that damn bequest for a couple of months and sit back and see what happens. Get to know Willa by getting to know her sister, Shelby, and Jennifer and Cody. Hang around her factory, and talk to her workers. Roll up your sleeves and pitch in like Bram did. You'd be amazed at the clarity of mind you get when working with your hands."
"And Barry Cobb?"
"Folks around here will take care of Cobb, with a little prodding from me," he added with a grin.
"We've sent more than one flatlander down the road talking to himself. You just concentrate on Willa. Charm her socks off her. Make her feel like a giddy young girl again."
Sam snorted and stuffed the last half of his roll into his mouth. Emmett stood up, tossed both their plates into the trash, and took out his wallet. "You might as well come stay with me," he said, paying the vendor for both meals. "That way, folks will leave you alone."
Sam nodded to Emmett. "Thanks for dinner. But I thought you said two ornery men didn't make good housemates."
"Ornery old men." He stuffed the change into the tip jar, then pulled his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Sam. "I'm not worried about our rooming together, because age and treachery overcome youth and skill any day of the week. It's the blue pickup parked in the end lot," he said, nodding down the street. "And since rumor has it you don't drown easy, and I can be a treacherous old bastard sometimes, I'll wait here for you to pick me up."
Chapter Fourteen
Willa stared through therain-blurred windshield at all the vehicles in her driveway. Was she ever going to be alone to think? One of the cars hadNew York plates, so it belonged to Abram's housekeeper, Peg. Damn, she'd forgotten all about her moving in. And evenShelby was conspiring against her, since her sister's minivan also sat in her cluttered driveway.
When had she lost control of her life?
"The real question, Willamina, is when are you going to take it back?" she muttered, her words drowned out by the wind and rain.
But it was the expensive-looking bright red SUV parked directly in front of her headlights, sporting temporary plates, that was really keeping Willa from going inside. Granted, she'd been at her factory for more than two hours with Cyrus's brothers, but surely Sam hadn't had time to go out and buy a car yet, had he?
Maybe she could sleep at her factory, just to get one night alone with her thoughts.Shelby was going to keep her up pastmidnight , asking her all about Abram's home, his grandsons, and the funeral. Willa smiled. If that was Sam's truck, thenShelby had already started the inquisition-after she'd given Sam a piece of her mind for shanghaiing her husband.
The kitchen door opened, and Jennifer stepped onto the porch, pulling on a rain slicker. "Auntie!" the girl called, skipping down the stairs. She ran limping up to the driver's side of Willa's truck. "Isn't it beautiful!" she exclaimed when Willa rolled down her window.