The Forgotten One (The Heirs #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

By noon Hector had called two more helpers, one of which had a beat-up truck that was being piled high with waste from the yard. As the weeds and bushes were brought down to an acceptable size, plenty of problems were unearthed.

Busted sprinkler heads, cracked garden hoses. Rusted hand tools that had been left in the yard and forgotten at some point in time.

The place was an absolute mess, and Max loved it.

It felt good to be moving ... doing.

His motley crew of helpers didn’t need a lot of guidance. They worked with tireless efficiency. The kind of labor employers want from their employees but seldom get. They talked to each other in rapid-fire Spanish, laughed, and sang along with the radio one of them had brought out an hour into the day.

With weeds pulled away, they found rings of rocks where a flower bed once grew. One of the helpers was assessing the neglected irrigation system and writing down what was needed to make it right.

Luis and the new guy with the truck were trimming the hedges and thinning the trees.

The whirl of the Weed Eater was a constant hum in Hector’s hands as he worked his way around the entire property.

Sarah put the flower beds to rights once they were cleared. New Arizona-friendly flowers were planted and covered in mulch.

And Max was rebuilding Miss Abigale’s railing and repairing the missing slats in her wooden porch.

Between Max and Sarah, they’d gone back and forth to the big-box hardware and garden store three times. The shed Max had found in the back had a few useful items, but not much.

Boxes left over from the brand-new tools and equipment piled up right along the bags of green waste they were creating. Yeah, Max could have rented most of the equipment he was using, but what the hell. He was spending a dead man’s money and helping out a woman that had once changed his diapers. A thought that had occurred to him out of nowhere when he was digging around in the shed.

When it was time for a break, Miss Abigale had made plates of sandwiches, some kind of macaroni salad, cut-up fruit, and of course ... cookies.

By the time they called it a day, the front of the house looked like an entirely different place.

Max handed out hundred-dollar bills like you would candy to trick-or-treaters on Halloween.

All four of his helpers promised to return the next morning, 8:00 a.m. sharp.

Max had no doubt they would.

Max had tucked the tools away in the abandoned shed, giving new life to old walls. As he turned around to walk away, his eyes fell on the back house. Many of the weeds had been knocked away; most of the work there promised to come together the next day.

He heard Sarah’s footsteps over the graveled path as she walked around the main house.

She paused at his side. “Do you want to go in there?” she asked, her voice low as if he needed a soft tone in order to answer the question.

“Tomorrow.”

Max sucked in the lukewarm air of the Arizona fall night and walked up the driveway.

They said their goodbyes to Miss Abigale, left the rented truck in the driveway, and headed back to the hotel, dirty and tired ... but satisfied.

“We should stop at a Walmart or something,” Sarah suggested.

“What for?”

“I didn’t bring enough clothes for digging around in the dirt.”

It wasn’t a complaint. Max could hear that in her voice.

He looked at his jeans and pulled the flannel away from his skin.

He’d only grabbed a couple of days’ worth of clothes before he’d left Palmdale in his mad dash to escape the media. All of which were then shoved in a bag before they flew to Arizona.

“Why Walmart?” Max asked.

“Because it’s easy, quick, and cheap. No reason to spend good money on clothes I’m just going to trash.”

They detoured from the direct route to their hotel and hit a Walmart.

They fit right in with the patrons inside the discount store ... minus the pajamas. Why any adult would go out in public wearing pajamas was beyond him.

Sarah had been right.

They split ways inside the store and met up ten minutes later in line at a register.

Max grabbed two pairs of jeans in the size he’d worn since he turned twenty. Another flannel shirt and two plain T-shirts. When he had passed the socks and underwear, he grabbed a pack of each.

As they waited in line for their turn to check out, Max looked at the clothes in Sarah’s hands. Instead of jeans, she had what looked like tights ... or the leggings that many women wore, a pair of shorts, two shirts, and socks. “I’m impressed,” Max said.

“With what?”

“I’ve never seen a woman spend less than an hour figuring out what clothes to buy.”

“That’s because I didn’t need to try anything on,” she said.

At the register, Max told her to add her stuff to his pile.

She protested weakly, then tossed them on the conveyor belt.

Her total purchases cost less than fifty bucks.

Max’s was twice that.

He was once again impressed.

Sarah was frugal. The woman knew better than most just how much Max was worth after inheriting one-third of Stone Enterprises ... and she could safely assume Max would have footed the bill for the clothes she was ruining because of the labor she was doing. Yet she suggested the tried-and-true discount superstore and picked out items that were on sale at basement pricing. Max smiled. He loved that about her.

Back at the hotel, they went their separate ways.

Again, the two-bedroom suite came in handy.

The plan was to shower and find dinner.

Not room service.

Less than an hour later, Sarah emerged from her room in a pair of black jeans and a copper-colored blouse that was not from the sale rack at Walmart. The front of the shirt was casually tucked in the front of her jeans while the rest fell past her hips.

She’d put on a dusting of makeup, giving some camouflage to the bruising around her eyes. Her hair was up off her neck, with wispy ends framing her face. Her nose was rosy with color from the sun that had shined on her all day long.

Sarah McNeilly was one beautiful woman.

He knew he was staring and didn’t try and hide it.

“Are you ready?” she asked, breaking the silence that had joined her in the room just by walking in.

Max let his eyes fall. He chuckled and nodded.

On Sarah’s feet were a pair of black Converse tennis shoes. Newer and in better shape than the ones she’d worn that day in the coffee shop, but Converse tennis shoes nonetheless. “Ready when you are.”

Sarah assumed they were going to find a restaurant right in the center of the city.

Max had other plans.

He drove them north, out of the city and onto a highway.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To a place I could never afford when I lived here.”

She smiled. “I bet that feels good.”

It did.

Wrigley Mansion sat up on a knoll, miles away from the center of Phoenix. The mansion itself had been built by William Wrigley Jr., a man who made his money selling chewing gum. History was, he’d built the home for his wife.

Now it was home to renowned chefs and wine aficionados and was a popular destination for couples to have their weddings.

Sarah saw the signs leading up to the mansion and recalled bits and pieces of information regarding the place from the information book that sat in the hotel room at the Morrison.

The valet opened her door, and Sarah put one Converse-covered foot out. By the time she was standing, Max had made his way around the car and reached for her arm.

It was only the second time he’d made so much as a gesture toward touching her since they’d gotten on the plane.

At first, she thought maybe the complete lack of physical touch, flirting ... or anything remotely intimate was personal. And then she witnessed his internal battle as he sat and talked to Miss Abigale the day before. Saw him clamp down on any emotions when Abigale spoke of his mother and the time when he lived in the small house behind the main. The cold in his voice when he talked of the many ... many homes he’d been made to live in growing up was a sure sign of unresolved childhood trauma.

Sarah purposely didn’t come at him, asking why he hadn’t made any attempt to hold or kiss her, even though that seemed to be a singular goal only a few days before. It wasn’t personal, that she felt in her gut.

Now Max led her into the restaurant, his hand on the small of her back, his head held high as they walked into the dimly lit reception area.

Max let his arm drop only when he told the woman at the podium his name for the reservation he’d apparently made.

They were led to their table right away, Max taking up pace behind Sarah, his hand returning to her spine.

Large floor to ceiling windows boasted stunning views of the city skyline. Candles flickered on the linen-clothed tables, with muted conversations between the patrons in the room.

Sarah was instantly impressed.

Once she took her seat, she glanced around. “I’m a little underdressed,” she whispered.

“A woman as beautiful as you doesn’t need a fancy dress to fit in.”

“Right,” she said with doubt. “My black eye is especially stunning.”

“Can hardly notice,” he said.

Sarah appreciated his white lie and the fact that Max liked her for who she was and how she showed up. Converse shoes and all. Truth was, as the day went on, the dark pool under her eye was turning the color that gave the injury its name. She’d applied makeup with a heavy hand before leaving the hotel, and even then, she knew everyone saw it.

She was getting used to the double looks everyone gave her.

A waitress with a sharp white shirt, black pants, and beautifully sculpted features smiled down at them. “Good evening. I’m Kristy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

Even Kristy did a double take when she first glanced Sarah’s way. Her smile wavered, then reappeared quickly before looking at Max.

She paused.

Max paused.

“Kristy Johnson,” he said with a grin.

Kristy lost her professional tone and smiled wide. “Max! Oh my God. How are you?”

“I’m good, really good. You?”

Sarah sat back and happily watched the reunion.

Kristy lifted her left hand, flashed a wedding ring. “It’s Darlington now.”

Max tilted his head to one side. “Congratulations. Are you happy?”

“Yeah. He’s a good guy. You’d approve,” she told Max.

Max glanced at Sarah. “Sorry. Sarah, this is Kristy ... we lived in the same home in high school.”

Kristy squished her face. “They saved the worst for last.” Kristy turned to Sarah. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same here.”

Kristy stood there shaking her head. “I thought you moved away.”

“I did. We’re here ... helping a friend,” he told her.

Kristy looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I need to go grab an order. I’ll be right back.” And she was gone.

Max smiled after her.

“She seems nice,” Sarah said, breaking his concentration.

“She is . . . was.”

“You guys lived in the same foster home?”

“Group,” he corrected. “She shared a room with three other girls, and I was with four guys, two of them brothers.” An unpleasant memory passed briefly over Max; Sarah saw it in his eyes.

Whatever it was didn’t last long before his smile snapped into place. “I’m glad she found someone. She deserves it.”

“I would think you all deserve it,” Sarah said from the heart.

Max shook his head. “Not all. Kristy’s been pretty her whole life. That caused a lot of unwanted attention growing up the way we did.”

Sarah felt her smile wavering. She didn’t need a roadmap to see where Max went with that statement. “Oh.”

Max reached across the table, placed his hand over Sarah’s. “By the time we met, Kristy was well equipped to fight off any unwanted attention. Pretty sure she broke more noses than I did.”

That made Sarah feel better. “Go, Kristy!”

Max pulled his hand away and picked up the menu.

Kristy returned, her face lit with excitement. She told them the specials and then talked about the house recommendation. It was a one-price progressive meal that included appetizers, starters, main courses and sides, and then desserts. You could add a wine pairing for each course, or order wine by the bottle or glass, or anything from the bar.

“What do you suggest?” Max asked.

“You can’t go wrong with the house recommendation. The chef changes it up all the time. Unless you’re picky about food.” She lowered her voice, leaned in. “The portions aren’t huge. And you can share a wine pairing. I’m not supposed to suggest it unless you ask.”

They both ordered the house recommendation, at 125 bucks apiece. And shared a wine pairing, even though neither Sarah nor Max was particularly fond of wine.

The sommelier brought the wine with each plate that Kristy set on the table.

By the third course, they both started to rethink their beverage habits.

“I always thought wine pairing was hyped-up crap,” Max admitted quietly.

“Me too.” Sarah swirled the third wine around in her glass.

While Max did taste the wine with each course, he didn’t finish it. When she’d questioned why, he simply said he was driving.

With Kristy ducking in and out more than any waiter you didn’t know would, Sarah and Max’s conversation was greatly altered by Kristy bringing up a name or event from their collective past. She would walk away, and Max would share some background information.

On a normal date, a man ignoring her to talk to another woman would likely rub Sarah wrong.

But this wasn’t a normal date, or a normal man.

Sarah felt that she was watching some of Max’s hard exterior layers slip away.

First with Miss Abigale, and now with an old friend that shared a difficult past.

Max shook his head when Sarah reached for her purse when the bill came. She didn’t fight it.

Kristy opened her arms for a hug from him before they left.

“Thanks for indulging our reunion,” Kristy said to Sarah.

Sarah shook her head. “It’s nice to see Max smile.”

They stepped out in the cool night and waited by the valet as the man disappeared with their keys.

Max put his arms on Sarah’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

She looked up. “For what?”

“Any other woman would have been pissed that Kristy and I talked so much.”

Sarah leaned back just enough that the back of her head rested on his chest. “I’m not any other woman.”

Max kissed the top of her head. “I’m figuring that out.”

“Max?” Kristy’s voice rang out from behind.

The woman ran toward them, the booklet that held the check in her hand. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Kristy’s eyes glistened with tears.

“I’m glad I can,” Max said as Kristy hugged him once again.

“Thank you. This is so ... thank you.”

Kristy went from Max to Sarah as if they were old friends, too. The other woman hugged her, whispered in Sarah’s ear, “He’s one of the good ones.”

And then she scrambled away.

Their car came into view.

Max held the door open for Sarah as Kristy waved them off.

Once they were out of the parking lot, Sarah turned to him and asked, “How big of a tip did you give her?”

“Two hundred percent.”