Page 12 of Married at Midnight

CHAPTER FOUR

Connor parked his everyday car, a gray Nissan LEAF, on the street in front of his grandmother’s faded pink-and-white Victorian located on Capitol Hill. He made his way to the rock near the side of the house and retrieved the spare key his grandmother left for him there so that he would always have a place to call home. Yet Grayson House was no ordinary home.

The mansion drew from an Italianate style, laden with turrets, porches, bays embellished with gingerbread adornments, and fanciful windows. Victorians were like snowflakes; no two were alike, as proven by the ten houses in a row on this street.

With trepidation about what lay ahead, Connor made his way up the stairs to the front door. Ellie followed him. A thick manila envelope was perched against the wooden door. Picking it up, he noted the return address was the Seattle Historical Society.

He handed the packet to Ellie. “Looks like they really want Grayson House to be a part of their holiday showcase.” Inserting the key in the lock, Connor stepped back for Ellie to enter.

With a heaviness that had nothing to do with Ellie, Connor followed her into his grandmother’s house. The musty scent of a house in disrepair filled his senses. The old place would be filled with as much dust as memories—both of which he was in no hurry to confront. The thought had barely formed when Ellie stopped in front of a picture on the wall on the right side of the foyer. She reached out and touched the dusty frame, angling it to the same ninety degrees as the pictures on either side. “Isn’t that your dad?” Ellie asked, obviously recognizing his father from when they’d dated in high school.

“And my mother,” he replied. The photograph of his parents on their wedding day had retained its vibrant colors, looking out of place against the faded wallpaper behind it. His mother and father faced each other, holding hands, appearing as if they were in love. While his grandmother believed in true love and always lectured him about finding it, his own parents had shown him the truth. Love had limits. Lots of them.

“Oh,” she replied, and dropped her fingers from the frame. He’d told her back in high school that his parents were no longer together. One year into his parents’ marriage, Connor had been born. By their sixth anniversary, his mother was gone. Mary Grayson had walked out on his dad and him and had never come back. His father had never been the same after that. And, if Connor was honest, neither had he.

Ellie turned away, heading for the light switch. She flicked it on, and the chandelier overhead cast a yellow-brown light down on them. She surveyed the room. “Despite the dust and the cobwebs, this house really is a treasure.”

The beautiful inlaid stonework beneath their feet was covered in dirt and dust, as was the grand staircase that rose before them, leading to the second story. Off to the left was a formal sitting room. On either side of the stairway were elegant plastered arches that framed the hallways beyond. “Are you happy you said yes to the project?” Connor asked.

“It will definitely be a challenge.” She brought her gaze back to his.

“Have you ever supervised renovation work before?” Connor was suddenly curious about what she’d done during the past eleven years.

“No,” she replied with a halfhearted smile. “But I’m very good at organizing work flow. I’ll find contractors who can guarantee their work will be completed on time so we’ll be done with the house by the time Viola recovers from her heart attack. Before you know it, we’ll be free of each other.”

That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Yet for some reason her words left him irritated. He turned away and moved into the parlor off to the right and flipped on the light. Beaten-gold luminescence revealed four walls once painted a dark red that were now faded to a brownish pink. The furnishings were two red and worn upholstered settees that faced each other, several small tables, bookshelves, and an intricately woven Turkish rug that covered the floor.

Ellie followed him inside the room and set the packet of papers down on a dusty side table near a settee. “Before we get settled, I’d like to set a few ground rules.”

The huskiness in her voice washed over him, reminding him of a time, long ago, when she’d whispered sweet promises of a future together into his ear. Had she remembered those broken promises in Las Vegas? Had those memories bridged the divide time had created to bring them together again? He looked into her face. Eyes he’d always been able to read were closed off to him now. He took a slow step closer.

She didn’t back away, but her breathing quickened. Her lips parted. “Are we agreed on that?”

He let his gaze drop to her lips. “On what?”

“That we should have rules.” Her words were breathless.

“We don’t need rules. What we need to be is convincing as a couple to my grandmother and to all our friends and family.” The air between them all but crackled.

“What are you suggesting?” Her voice lowered even more, her tone provocative, challenging.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That we clear the air between us. It’s obvious we both are harboring old resentment.” The weight of their shared past hung in the air like the dust they’d stirred up upon entering the old house. They’d managed to hide from each other for eleven years. Was it long enough for them to put their unfinished business behind them? Or would they have it out, right here, right now?

“Given the choice, I would have picked anyone else to play the part of my wife, but destiny decided to bring us together instead,” Connor said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the anger from his voice.

“Don’t be so sanctimonious. We ended up in this position because of poor decisions on both of our parts. As a result, you now have a wife to present to your grandmother, and I have a much-needed job.”

Connor drew a long, slow breath, trying desperately to pull himself out of the past. It was, as she pointed out, a win-win situation for them both. “Can you let go of our past in order for us to work together on this project while living in close proximity?”

Determination filled her eyes. “This house is huge. I doubt it would be hard to avoid each other.”

“Then we have a truce?” he asked, extending his hand.

“Yes,” she replied as she slipped her hand into his.

The palm of his hand warmed, tingling in a way it hadn’t for years. He wasn’t quite sure how they were going to pull the whole thing off—acting like a happily married couple, renovating the house, getting along when there was still so much between them, including an undeniable physical response to each other. Was it a spark from the past, or something else entirely?

Ellie tried to focus on the present task despite the tingling sensation that passed between her and Connor’s hands. They’d found a way to reconcile their past, however temporarily, as they worked toward a common goal. “I appreciate your grandmother’s faith in my abilities to renovate and decorate this house.”