back on her.
Maggie blinked back tears. “How much for the mug?”
“You can have it. No charge.”
She had to get back to the inn before she started all-out crying. He’d already judged her for being materialistic. If she stayed any longer she’d start running her hands over everything that had belonged to Ida, remembering a story that went with each item. She’d turn into a blubbering mess and he’d think she had a screw loose. No one needed that.
Maggie nodded to him. Afraid to even thank him for letting her have the mug. On her way back home she made the mistake of walking past a table full of Ida’s old books. Maggie knew many of them were first editions and worth hundreds. Kellen probably didn’t know and would give them away for a song. Maybe he deserved that. Then again, if he needed money to provide for his girls, she should tell him. She stared at the pile, biting her lip.
One book had fallen onto the dewy ground. Maggie bent to pick it up and then froze. She turned and stalked back to Kellen. “Her Bible?” Her voice rose. “You were going to sell her Bible? There is something seriously wrong with you.”
Kellen’s eyebrows formed a deep V. “Excuse me. I think you’d better—”
“If you cared about nothing in that house—” she stabbed her finger in the direction of the cottage “—if you sold every piece of it and bulldozed the entire property, you should have kept this. Out of everything, at least her Bible should have mattered.” Maggie fanned the book open. Every available space on the pages was full of handwritten notes in Ida’s shaky script. Each page was covered with pink, green and orange highlighter, and most of the text had been underlined at one point or another.
Maggie thrust the book into his hands. “These pages record a woman’s faith journey. Do you see her notes in the margin? Every word in this book meant something to her. She held this Bible every day and it changed her life.” Maggie no longer fought the tears as they fell down her cheeks. She snatched the Bible back, pressed it to her heart and crossed her arms over it. “You don’t care about anything or anyone, do you, Kellen Ashby?”
He didn’t even deserve to share Ida’s last name.
Kellen worked his jaw back and forth. One of his girls giggled as they ran through the side yard together. He glanced at them and then back at Maggie. “I think you better leave.”
“I’m keeping Ida’s Bible. Someone who loved her should have it.”
“Fine. Just go.”
She turned her back to him but couldn’t hold her tongue. “Are you going to tear down her house?” If he did, all of Ida would be gone. Forever.
“Not yet.”
So he would someday. More than likely soon.
She clutched the Bible to her chest, splaying her palm against the grooves of the cross on the front cover. “But the cottage is beautiful. It has so much charm and fits in this town.”
“Frankly I don’t care about charm. I care about a house that fits the needs of my girls.” His eyes trailed to take in the West Mansion behind her. “For now I’m going to gut the place and get rid of everything. I have a truck full of my things on its way here that I need to make room for.”
“You’re heartless.” Where had that come from? Maggie never spoke like that. But this man, so far, brought out her worst.
He stalked forward, lowering his voice so his daughters, who were walking toward them, couldn’t hear. “You can think whatever you want about me. But hear this. That house—” he jutted his thumb toward the cottage “—I own it. Ida left it to me. So you don’t get a say in its future. For once in my life, no one is going to tell me how I should act or do things. Especially not a woman who has been freeloading off my aunt for who knows how long.”
“Freeloading?” Maggie jerked her head back.
“I guess I forgot to tell you.” He smirked. “Ida left me the inn, too.”
Ice water filled her veins. She’d wondered...but hearing him say he owned her family home was much worse than she’d imagined.
When she didn’t speak, Kellen continued. “So I’d be careful if I were you, Maggie. Because I have the right to sell the mansion, too.”
Maggie spun back toward the inn and staggered through the yard. She fumbled with the latch on the gate that connected the two homes. At the moment she wished the three-foot-high picket fence was a ten-foot-tall cement wall so she couldn’t see Kellen or the cottage. So she could block them out and pretend he didn’t exist. But what did it matter?
He owned the West Oaks Inn.
Kellen Ashby could kick her out and tear down or sell the home she’d grown up in. The man who didn’t care about the past owned her only connection to hers.
The legacy she’d lost.
Numb, Maggie opened the back door and strode past the mess in the kitchen.
She’d better start packing her things, because with the way she’d just spoken to her new boss, she could guarantee she was very soon to be homeless and unemployed.
* * *
“If you want to take in the sights, I can watch the girls for you.” Mrs. Rowe—the lawyer’s wife—smoothed her hand over the French braid she’d finished on Skylar’s hair.
“Me next.” Ruthy handed the older woman a hair tie and plopped down in front of her.
Kellen smiled as the three females laughed together. While his daughters loved when he gave them attention, they seemed to practically glow under the care of a woman. For the hundredth time he wished he could have given them a better mother in life. One day when he had to explain to them that their own mother hadn’t wanted them, what would he say? That they meant so little to her that she’d signed away her rights the second Kellen offered to give up his claim to all the royalties he earned for writing the Snaggletooth Lions’ popular songs?
He’d never pictured cozying up with Ida’s lawyer and his wife, but he didn’t know many people in town yet. Besides, they were a kind old couple who seemed taken with his daughters.
“We don’t have any grandchildren of our own. Both of my sons decided to pursue careers instead of families. I’m afraid that’s a thing with this generation.” She tickled the back of Ruthy’s neck, causing her to erupt with squeals.
He couldn’t blame the Rowes’ sons. Kellen had taken off from home with only his passion for music lodged in his heart. Not a dream of family. His daughters hadn’t been planned. Family fell into his lap. But he’d choose them now. “Maybe your sons will change their minds.”
Mr. Rowe ducked through the cottage’s small doorway. “How’d the sale go today?”
“Not as well as I hoped, but then again, it’s a Friday and people are working. I’ll try again tomorrow. I really need to clear out the place before the truck with my stuff gets here.”
“I could set you up for an auction. You might do better that way.”
The lawyer was probably in his midfifties. Even though he wasn’t working today, Mr. Rowe wore dress slacks with a tucked-in polo and shined dress shoes. Kellen doubted the man owned a single pair of jeans.
“That’s a good idea.”
“It’ll take one call.”
“Go ahead and do it.” Kellen leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and watched his girls as they chatted with Mrs. Rowe. The woman pulled a baggie of cookies from her purse.
“Oh! Let’s have a tea party.” Skylar jumped up and down and then proceeded to show Ruthy how to nibble her cookie “just-so.” Because that was how ladies ate, apparently.
He’d have to dig back through the garage and save a few