The Man Must Marry(33)
"I don't mind," Willa said, leaning over to talk out of Jen's window. "She asked for my help, so she must want me fussing over her."
"Oh, for the love of-Willa, Richard called last night. He's arriving home today."
Willa glanced briefly at Jen, then looked back at her sister. "And?"
"And … he doesn't know we've moved out,"Shelby said, also darting a glance at her daughter. "I just thought you might want to hang around here today."
Willa patted Jen's arm. "I'll be right back, kiddo. Go ahead and start her up, and get familiar with all the dials and buttons. I need to talk to your mom for a minute."
Willa scrambled out of the truck and ran onto the porch. "I'm not sure you want me here when Richard shows up," she said, keeping her back to Jennifer and her voice low. She glanced toward the door to make sure Cody wasn't within earshot, either. "When Richard brought Abram's body down toNew York , he … well, he was really mad."
"About what?"Shelby asked.
"He claimed I talked you into asking for a divorce." Willa felt her face heat up. "And then Sam Sinclair showed up, and they got into a fight. Then the other two grandsons lugged Richard off and put him on that cargo ship headed toItaly ." She shook her head. "Richard blames me, Shel. But if you want me to be here when you confront him, I'll come back after dropping Jen off."
Shelbyfrowned at her.
"I guess he's right to blame me. But I've missed hearing you laugh like you used to, Shel. I know you haven't been happy for a long time now. Richard's always putting you down, and you … you never defend yourself."
"That's because I no longer care what Richard thinks of me. But I didn't realize how it was affecting my children. Then one day last month, Cody said something to me, and I heard Richard's words coming out of his mouth. It wasn't so much what Cody said, it was the tone he used. That's when I knew staying for the sake of the children was actually hurting them." She reached out and touched Willa's sleeve. "I'm sorry he accused you, Willy. I told him the divorce was my idea and that you had nothing to do with it."
Willa shook her head. "Sam showed up just as I slipped and fell, trying to walk away from Richard, and he thought Richard had attacked me. You should have seen them, Shel; they were like two mad dogs going at each other."
"I'm going to be late!" Jen shouted.
Willa patted her sister's arm. "I'll check in at the factory, then come back here for the day. You can help me move my stuff into the cottage." She ran down the stairs beforeShelby could respond.
"Okay, kiddo," she said, climbing into the truck and fastening her seat belt. "Let's see if we can get to school without breaking any speed records."
Chapter Fifteen
Willa searched the cupboardsof her office bathroom for her hair dryer and finally found it in a box she'd brought in when she had first opened Kent Caskets. She plugged in the dryer. In four years, she'd never once showered at work.
There had been such a fuss over her having an executive bathroom when they renovated the old factory she'd bought. Her chief of operations, Silas Payne, had insisted that Willa have an entire office suite, saying she needed to present herself as a successful businesswoman. Maureen, head of casket interiors, had told Willa that Silas was so insistent because he couldn't very well have his own private bathroom if his boss didn't. Apparently, in big business, bathrooms were status symbols. Willa hadn't envisioned Kent Caskets as a big business, but if her staff wanted to pretend it was, who was she to burst their bubble?
She frowned at herself in the mirror. So, okay, maybe there was a grain of truth in whatShelby had said last night. Maybe she had started up Kent Caskets to give the bored residents of Grand Point Bluff something to do. But she had to earn a living, so it was a win-win situation for everyone. Willa turned on the blow dryer and started brushing her hair, smiling as she remembered her hair-raising ride to work that morning.
Jennifer had to be operating the forklifts and equipment at Emmett's yard; she'd driven the eight miles to school like a seasoned pro. However, Willa couldn't get the hang of driving with her left foot if her life depended on it. She must have looked like a giant jackrabbit, spastically jerking the accelerator, then slamming on the brakes.
When she'd peered into her rearview mirror after dropping Jennifer off, Willa had seen a horrified look on her niece's face. She didn't know if she was embarrassing Jen beyond redemption or if the teenager had feared her beautiful new truck would return minus some paint. Once she'd managed to get on the road-after squealing the tires leaving the school driveway-she'd
had to keep pulling over so the accumulating rush-hour traffic could pass. It was a miracle she hadn't been stopped for driving drunk, which is exactly what she must have looked like. Nevertheless, she was writing an editorial letter to the newspaper first thing tomorrow, explaining horn-honking etiquette to all the idiots who thought they owned the road.
She shut off the dryer, only to hear a knock on her office bathroom door, quickly followed by the familiar tap-tap-tap of Maureen's cane.
"Everyone's in the break room waiting for you, boss," Maureen said, taking the brush out of Willa's hand. She hung her cane on her arm, then started brushing the back of Willa's hair. "We want to hear all about your trip toNew York . I especially want to hear about the board meeting. I hope you knocked the stuffing out of those suits."
Willa sighed to herself. Anyone who wore a tie to work was a suit to Maureen, who still held a few grudges from when she had worked inBoston four decades ago. She'd been passed over for more than one promotion, the positions going to men who were often less qualified than she was. Which was why Maureen had moved to Keelstone Cove and opened a fabric shop twenty-five years ago, having realized there were no glass ceilings for business owners . She had eventually sold the Quilted Lobster for a tidy sum, moved into Grand Point Bluff, and agreed to become Willa's director of casket interiors only because she would finally have a boss who wasn't a man. That didn't, however, stop Maureen from butting heads with Silas on a regular bases. There were days when Willa felt more like a referee than a business owner.
"I knocked out my own stuffing, Maureen," Willa said with a laugh. "I was so nervous I nearly killed myself getting off the elevator. Um … about those beautiful suits you lent me? The brown one is okay because I was wearing it, but the green one has a tear in the skirt. The elevator ate it-along with the slacks Joan lent me."
Maureen blinked at her in the mirror. "Can it be repaired?"
Willa turned to face her. "I don't think so. The elevator chewed it up pretty badly." She turned back to the mirror and started braiding her hair. "We'll get on the Internet tomorrow, and you can pick out a new suit that you like."
"It was a Pendleton, Willa. It cost me a week's wages."
Which was somewhere around a hundred and fifty bucks forty years ago, Willa figured. "You can also pick out a matching blouse and even a purse if you want." She tied off the end of her thick braid and tossed it over her shoulder. "And just between you and me," she said in a conspirator's whisper, "I had those stuffed suits shaking in their shoes by the end of the meeting. I told them I wasn't voting Abram's shares until I was good and ready. Then I told the three grandsons that they were taking me to dinner that night, and we wouldn't resume the board meeting until I was ready to vote."
Maureen's eyes widened. "I bet they didn't like that." She tapped her cane on the floor. "You did good, boss. Didn't I tell you to walk in there as if you owned the place? God, I wish I'd been there to see it. Which one of the boys did you vote for?"