Take Me Home (34 page)

He wanted to pull her close again so he could feel all that fire and passion pulsing in his arms.

“Anyway, I refuse to let Frank ruin his family’s lives.” She looked away, then brought her gaze back to him. “I’m going to sell the Castillo, and I want to give you the first chance to buy it.”

Tim looked stunned, and she realized she’d been too abrupt. “Don’t feel you have to. It’s just that I know you really want it, and I thought you should have the right of first refusal. There’s no pressure, though, and you’re under no obligation to take it.”

“Shhh,” he said, touching her lips with his callused fingertip. “I’m not feeling pressured. I know you could find another buyer for the Castillo in no time flat. I’m honored you would offer it to me first.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “But I know how much the painting means to you. There must be another way to get the money. In fact, I’ll loan it to Holly.”

“I knew you’d say something like that.” That’s why she had let herself just lean against him for a few wonderful moments, to absorb his strength and kindness before she had to hold him at arm’s length. “But, as much as we both appreciate it, neither Holly nor I could accept your generosity.”

“We’ll work something out with the bank.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not necessary. I don’t need the Castillo anymore. After my divorce, it symbolized the one time I stood up to Milo and won. Now I’ve rebuilt my confidence, and he no longer has any power over me.”

A flash of insight exploded in her mind. “In fact, I feel as though selling it is my final step in the process.”

“Then I’m a buyer. Name your price.”

This was the awkward part. Claire had spent most of the day trying to come up with a price that was fair to Holly and to Tim. She’d even called Henry back and gotten his thoughts on the Castillo’s value. Her future boss pointed out that she would get a lot more money for it if she sold it to one of his obscenely rich clients or went to auction with it. However, Claire wanted Tim to have it, if it was within his means.

Not that she had any idea what he could afford. He had mentioned owning a couple of pretty pricey artists, but the Castillo was not a small sketch or a study for a larger painting. It was one of the best examples of the artist’s existing work.

So she had come up with a number that was slightly below a conservative market value, but which would cover Holly’s mortgage
and provide her sister with living expenses for at least six months. She named it.

Anger flared in his eyes, but he just shook his head. “I don’t pretend to keep up with the art market, but even I know it’s worth more than that. I give you credit for good intentions, but don’t patronize me.”

Damn!
She should have known he was too smart for that. “I wasn’t trying to patronize you.” She put her hand on his forearms where he’d crossed them and gave him a penitent smile. “I want the painting to go to a good home, and I figure I can negotiate visitation rights.”

“If visitation rights come with it, I’ll hang it over my bed.”

She felt her smile stretch into a grin of pure relief. “Works for me, especially since I’ll still be able to sell you something else for the wall over your sofa.”

“I’m pretty sure you could sell me the Brooklyn Bridge.” He uncrossed his arms. “How soon do you need the money for the Castillo?”

It took her a moment to realize Tim was not going to argue any further about the painting’s price. She was surprised and pleased. “It’s not a rush. Frank was kind enough to leave one mortgage payment’s worth of cash in the account.”

“I’ll wire it into whatever account you choose. Just e-mail me the information.” He glanced at his heavy steel wristwatch. “I’m late for the Wallaces’ ram.”

She blew him a kiss because touching him would just frustrate her. He pretended to catch it before starting toward the door. His steps slowed, and he turned around. “I wish”—he took a deep breath—“I wish you didn’t have to sell the painting.”

“I don’t mind. It feels good.”

Tim sat in the pickup truck, gripping the steering wheel. Even though he was running late, he couldn’t start the engine just yet. He was in the grip of a longing so powerful it nearly swamped him.

Claire had meant it when she said she didn’t need the painting anymore. She had let go of all the pain her ex-husband had caused her. Her voice rang with the strength and hope of looking forward instead of back.

When he had turned around, he had been about to express his wish that he could do the same. But he couldn’t voice that craving. When he opened his mouth, confusion swamped him.

Anais wanted the world to remember her; that’s why she had chosen her path. Would it be a betrayal of her memory to put the loss behind him?

His knuckles went white as his hold on the steering wheel tightened.

He loved Claire, but his guilt kept wrenching him away from her. He could wrestle with it, shove it into the darkest corner of his mind, but it still hulked there. He was terrified it would ooze out and taint whatever they built together.

Hiding his guilt wouldn’t work. He needed to drag it out into the light, and stare it down until it held no more power over him.

He had to find a way to do that so he could ask Claire to take the risk of loving him.

“W
ILLOW’S OUT IN
the south paddock,” Sharon said, checking the horse chart by her desk. “If you want, Lynnie can take the girls to visit the kittens while you go fetch her.”

“Oh yes, please. I’d like to see the kitties again,” Kayleigh said before turning to her sister, “if you don’t mind waiting to talk to Willow.”

Brianna took Kayleigh’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Claire had promised Brianna a trip to the barn after she finished with work, and she’d persuaded Holly and Kayleigh to come too. A dose of sunshine and fresh air would do them all good.

Claire grabbed a lead line from the hook by Sharon’s door. “Come with me, Holl. You can wait by the gate if Willow’s gone too far away for you to walk.”

Holly cast a glance at the children as they walked away with the young stable hand, Kayleigh’s happy chatter floating back to them, before she nodded.

Claire basked in the comforting scents and sounds of the barn: the fresh smell of newly opened hay bales, the dull thud of hooves on pine bark, and the clang and splash of water buckets being filled. They settled and calmed her.

Outside, they walked between crisp white fences to the paddock where Willow was grazing no more than twenty feet from
the gate. The horse raised her head and whinnied softly. She ambled over and stuck her nose between the boards to snuffle at Claire’s pocket.

“She’s got your number,” Holly said, plunking down on an overturned feed bucket and lifting her face to the sun.

“Hey, sweet girl, can’t wait for your carrot, can you?” Claire gave the mare a couple of treats. Then she wrapped her arms around the mare’s neck and murmured in her ear, “I have a tough discussion ahead of me, so wish me luck.” She inhaled the comforting scent of warm horse before releasing her hold and giving Willow a pat. “Go back to your grass because I need to talk to my sister for a minute.”

“About what?” Holly’s relaxation changed to tension.

Claire grabbed another bucket and flipped it down for her own seat beside her sister. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’m going to sell the Castillo painting. We’ll pay off your mortgage with the money and have plenty left over. You and the girls won’t have to worry about losing your home ever again.”

Holly shook her head violently. “No! I mean, it’s incredibly sweet and wonderful of you to offer, but that’s your painting. You kept it from Milo, and I’m sure not going to let my bastard of a husband force you to sell it.”

“Here’s the thing.” Claire held her sister’s gaze so Holly could see she was telling the truth. “I want to sell it. I don’t want it anymore, because it reminds me of all the ugliness with Milo.”

“Well, then you should keep the money. I know it’s worth a lot. You could get a really nice apartment in New York.”

“Oh, right, I’ll live it up in my new condo while my sister is thrown out on the street.” Claire rolled her eyes before she leaned forward. “Look, I love you and Brianna and Kayleigh, and I can’t think of anything better to do with my painting than use it to help the people I love.”

“But you always told me that painting is a masterpiece, one of the best Julia Castillo ever painted. You can’t give up something that...that special.”

“It’s a lot less special than my sister and my nieces. Holl, just say, ‘Thanks, sis,’ and stop arguing.”

“Th...thanks, sis.” Holly buried her face in her hands. “This is too much, and I shouldn’t take it, but oh my God, I’m so relieved that we’ll have a roof over our heads.”

Claire scooted her bucket closer, and the two sisters wrapped their arms around each other and sat there for a long moment.

Holly pulled away first. “You know what? I think this is a good time and place to tell the girls about the divorce. It’s open and beautiful, and the mountains always make your problems seem smaller.”

“I know what you mean.” Claire raised her eyes to where the green-blue peaks touched the clear azure of the sky. “And Willow is here to listen to Brianna, if she needs it.”

“There’s a bench over there,” Holly said, pointing to the place Sharon had prospective buyers sit while she put her horses through their paces.

“I’ll get the girls and bring them back here,” Claire offered. “Do you want me to stay or leave when you talk to them?”

“Please stay. It will help me.”

Claire gave her sister a quick kiss, and jogged toward the barn. A warm glow spread inside her as she thought of Brianna and Kayleigh snug in their little rooms with the dancing unicorns and twirling princesses. The immediate future might be tough for them, but they had a safe place, a sanctuary.

She stumbled slightly as the impact of the word hit her. She’d never really thought about what the name of her town meant; it was just the place she grew up and wanted to leave behind. But
all of a sudden, it had become something different. She had some serious thinking to do.

But first, she had to support three people through a very difficult conversation.