Wouldn’t it make a beautiful wedding present to Angela? She didn’t like the thought of her baby girl being so far away. One day Beaumont House would be Cal’s. Shouldn’t Angie’s family have something, too?
Her husband will take care of her. All she has to do is take care of her family, and her husband will provide. Ralph’s words came back to her. It was what he’d said the first time she’d mentioned setting up a trust for Angela. He’d been willing to do it for Wesley but only because Wes had agreed to go to business school and set himself up to become CEO for the company Ralph’s grandfather had built.
Beaumont women were to be pretty, obedient, and well trained. A bit like a show dog.
The only reason Celeste herself had been provided for at all had been her husband’s laziness when it came to rewriting his will. He’d intended to leave everything to Calvin. He’d told her it was family tradition, and it would be up to Cal to take care of her and his siblings the way he saw fit.
And she’d accepted it. She hadn’t even argued with him. Being the “queen” hadn’t turned out to be so great in the end. Not in a world where only kings were acknowledged.
She wasn’t going to leave her daughter dependent.
“We should find that shelter,” she said.
Cal leaned in. “You want to buy it? Why? We don’t need any extra space, Momma. Hell, we have ten bedrooms as it is.”
“I have my reasons.” She settled back, satisfied for the moment. “Just find out that information for me. And look for your cousin after the ceremony. Helena called him out here earlier on some kind of lighting emergency. I don’t like the fact that the townspeople are already taking advantage of Harry.”
She had to watch out for her nephew. The women here tended to pounce on new men in town like tigers looking for prey. Every woman with an unattached daughter, granddaughter, or niece would lick their chops the minute they saw her sweet, kindhearted nephew.
He reminded her so much of her Wesley.
“I’ll look into who owns Guidry Place now,” Cal promised. “And I’ll look after Harry. Hell, I would do that anyway. You know how many women are going to be after him? I’ll be drowning in the women he doesn’t choose.”
Again, she sent him that withering look.
He straightened. “I mean perhaps I can help him make good decisions.”
She shook her head as the choir started up. He was such a scamp. “I think that will be the other way around. Remember we have to go to work on Monday, and don’t spend the whole weekend trying to prove what a bad boy you are.”
Cal breathed deep, a sure sign he was holding back on her. “Of course.”
He hated work but someone had to take over Beaumont Oil and it wouldn’t be Wes, couldn’t ever be Wes.
She focused on the service in front of her. Duty. She understood that. She’d been doing her duty for thirty years and only once had she really failed.
She would not fail again.* * ****
Harrison Jefferys screwed the wall plate in and flicked on the now functioning light. The priest’s office was illuminated once more. “Let there be light.”
Helena Antoine clapped her hands together. “And you’re funny, too. I would not have suspected anyone from Celeste Beaumont’s family to be so warm and funny.” The woman stopped and grimaced. “Sorry. That wasn’t very charitable of me.”
No, but it was a pretty accurate assessment of his aunt. He slipped the flathead screwdriver back into his toolbox. He hadn’t needed to carry the whole thing in. It turned out to be frayed wiring that had done the deed. The mystery of the flickering lights was solved by handiwork once again. That was him. Harrison of House Jefferys, first of his name, single of leg, and the king of all things handy. “It’s all right. I’m pretty sure my aunt Celeste lives to be feared.”
Unlike his sweet mother. His mother had known how to love in a way he wasn’t sure his aunt had figured out. His mother had loved his father despite poverty, despite illness, despite bad luck. They’d been the unluckiest family in the world, and god how he missed them now.
“Well, we were all surprised to hear you were coming for a visit,” Helena said, straightening the papers on her boss’s desk. She was the church secretary, and she’d been nearly hysterical on the phone. Apparently the good father wasn’t used to working in the dark. Harry rather thought she’d believed there were supernatural forces at work.
“That’s because it’s not so much a visit as a command performance. I’m here to work. I think Aunt Celeste likes the idea of having family on this particular project.” Or all the other contractors knew how picky his aunt could be and managed to find themselves too busy to do the job. His cousin Angela was turning into a bit of a bridezilla, too.