Chapter Three

Ginger burst into Gran's living room twelve hours later to find her not only in perfect health, but entertaining Ginger's ex-boyfriend.

"Gran, what is this?"

"Ginger, my girl! You came!" Gran's lined face broke into an ecstatic grin.

"Of course I came. I broke the speed limit getting here, expecting to find you on your deathbed." She folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. "I must say, you look especially healthy for someone who is dying."

"Now, I never said I was dying, exactly."

"Ugh, I don't believe this," Ginger groaned before turning on Adam. "Did you know about this?"

"It's nice to see you, too." He smiled, skirting the question.

"Excuse us," Ginger muttered, grabbing hold of Adam's sleeve and pulling him into the hallway. His light hair captured a gleam from the overhead fixture as he stared down at her.

"Adam Nash. I should have known…" She couldn't help but shake her head, disgusted and amused in equal parts, unable to keep the resentment from her tone.

"I'm here visiting your grandmother. Maybe that doesn't figure on your list of things to do, but I wouldn't think you'd take issue with other people checking on her once in a while."

"She has Chris to 'check' on her, and damn you, I haven't been able to do anything besides call her for the last four years, and you damn well know why, or at least you should, seeing as it's all your fault."

There, take that.

"It's my fault you can't handle your own temper? Is that what you're telling me, Ginger? Because it's true, you know. Self-control was never your strong point."

He leaned in close, but she held her ground, refusing to be backed into a corner. "You bastard!"

"Here we are, some nice lemon cookies…" Gran chose that moment to bustle into the dining room with a serving tray. "Ginger, there's coffee in the kitchen. Why don't you get it for us? I can't eat cookies without a cup of good strong coffee."

"I thought you were supposed to switch to decaf."

"It's half decaf and that's as good as that doctor is going to get from me. Adam, why don't you go and help her with the mugs and cream and sugar dishes. They're on the counter."

"I can get them myself." With a final warning look at Adam, she stomped off to do her grandmother's bidding—alone. How dare he invade her territory like this? Her family was, well—her family, something he had no right to encroach upon. And how long had this been going on? She did a quick rundown of her conversations with Gran over the past few years. Had she mentioned seeing Adam, or him coming to visit? Ginger didn't think so. In fact, she was pretty sure Gran had never mentioned Adam at all during those phone calls. How long had her wretched ex-boyfriend been coming around? She wondered if Chris knew anything about it and made a mental note to ask him. "My God." Ginger groaned inwardly. Had he been hanging around Chris, too? It was almost too much to contemplate.

Sure, somewhere deep down, she knew it probably fell into the none-of-your-business category, but logic aside, it made her damn uncomfortable. Adam was the enemy, and her family had no right cavorting with him. She wanted them to hate him as much as she did. Selfish, maybe, but there it was.

"Ginger, I'm not getting any younger!"

"I'm right here, Gran. There's no need to shout."

"I wasn't shouting."

"Gran…" She plunked the tray onto the table before turning to lean over her grandmother, turning up the old woman's hearing aid before taking her seat at the table. "You were shouting."

"You don't have to yell at me, girl."

Ginger adjusted the hearing aid once more. "Better?"

"I suppose."

Adam caught her gaze and smiled behind his coffee cup; Ginger glared back at him, focusing instead on Gran.

"So, you call to tell me you're dying, and I rush the flight and hours-long drive to Atlanta to find you in perfect health. And Adam just happens to be paying you a social call when I get here." She took some satisfaction in the way Gran and Adam exchanged a wary look. So, they were up to something after all…

"I only said that I could go at any time. I'm an old woman, you know."

"Uh-huh." Ginger munched on one of the tart cookies from the tray. "And what about him?"

"I already told you, I came to visit," Adam cut in. "I've been visiting here since you left."

"I didn't leave. I was banned from the town."

"You were not."

"More or less, and I was banned from the CVS pharmacy."

"You still are." Adam grinned.

"I don't find this situation the least bit humorous."

"What 'situation'?" Gran glared across the table. "Can't a woman have a visitor with her granddaughter around?"

"I just don't see why you…" Ginger bit her tongue before she finished what she had been about to say. Why did she have to visit with him? It was Gran's decision whom she wanted to socialize with, plain and simple. Ginger knew she would only sound petty and spoiled if she said anything further.

"So, tell us about Billings," Adam prompted.

"Gran knows what I've been up to."

"Ah, but I don't."

"It's none of—"

"Ginger just graduated from college, isn't that right?" Gran said proudly.

"Yes," Ginger sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she was going to have to suck it up and be sociable to her jerk of an ex-boyfriend for the next hour. "I double majored. Engineering and architecture."

Adam whistled. "Pretty impressive, Red. You did all that in four years?"

"My father left trust funds for me and Chris. I had enough money to pay for the classes." She shrugged. "Then I interned with my uncle's brother's construction company."

"Aren't you going to ask what I've been up to?" Adam cajoled after a moment.

"No."

"Adam's been working at an electronics factory since you've been away. Makes good money, too." Gran winked in a way that made it all too obvious what she was hinting at.

"Gran, what a thing to say!"

"Well, he does."

"She's exaggerating," Adam smiled, "but I get by."

"That's good to hear."

"What are you going to do now that you're done with school?" Adam casually redirected the line of questioning back to her while topping off his coffee.

"I never said I was done with school. I could go back for a Master's degree." But she doubted that was going to happen anytime soon. She'd almost depleted what had been left to her in the trust, and she was hesitant to pull out student loans.

"So, is that the plan?"

"What?"

"To go back to school right away."

"Probably not," she admitted. Not that it was any of his business.

"I'll tell you what she's going to do. She's going to have a good long rest now that she's finally home."

Ginger's mouth dropped open. Her eyes went wide, gaze darting between Adam and her grandmother. Home? They couldn't possibly think…

"Gran, I'm just here to visit for the weekend. For now," she added quickly at the woman's desolate expression. "I haven't, uh, made any decisions yet."

"I thought you were finally home to stay. You know, you were off of probation months ago," Gran pointed out with mild accusation.

"Yes, I know, but I was busy with my internship, and then one of the engineers was injured, so I filled in for a while."

"And now?"

"I'll think about coming … home, Gran. I really will."

"Hmm. Well, I guess that's good enough for the time being. You're staying the weekend at least?"

"I'll tell you what, how about I stay for the whole week? We can go shopping, have lunch, and maybe even get our hair done."

"Pick me up tomorrow at ten."

"It's a date, Gran. I'm going to go and see if Chris is home. I couldn't get him on the phone before I left, but maybe he's back by now."

Adam made a big show of climbing to his feet and stretching before his eyes zeroed in on Ginger. "I've got to be going, too. I'll walk Ginger to her car."

"No, really, that's not necessary."

"I insist." He bowed gallantly, winking when she glared at him.

"Fine." She ground her back teeth together, gave Gran a tight smile, and stomped out the door and into the hallway.

"I've been coming to see her since about a month after you left," he said, falling into step beside her.

She whirled around to face her nemesis. "Stop saying I left. I did not leave. I was sent away. There's a difference, not that I would expect someone like you to recognize that."

"What do you mean 'someone like me'?" His eyes narrowed dangerously.

She yanked her arm from the vicelike grip created by his fingers. "Same old Adam." Her tone was scathing.

"Don't give me that line, Ginger. I've never hit you."

She shrugged, staring him down. She couldn't argue that point, but neither was she so inclined to stand in the hallway and listen to him much longer, either.

"I don't care how long you've been cavorting with my grandmother. You are of no concern to me whatsoever," she asserted, chin held high.

"Oh, you care all right. You don't want me anywhere near your family, or you from the look of it. Why?"

"What?" She was taken aback by his bold attitude.

"I asked you why. It's a simple question."

Not really. "How's your aunt Claudia?" she asked sweetly, turning the tables on him in an instant.

Adam swore. "You can't blame me for what other people do. That's insane. And for the record, I would hardly call having coffee with your grandmother 'cavorting.'"

"No, but I sure as hell can blame you for what you do," she countered. "And you acted like a world-class jerk that day, if you'll remember."

"I remember everything about that day."

His eyes bore into hers and she looked away, the primal urge to flee taking over above all else.

"Goodbye, Adam."

"Wait."

"For what?"

"Just … wait. I haven't seen you in four years."

"You wouldn't be seeing me now if it weren't for Gran's—and your—little trick."

"I had nothing to do with that."

"I have to go, okay?" She sighed, suddenly bone-weary. "I need to get home and tell Chris I'll be spending the weekend with him."

"Chris won't be home till late."

"Oh, really?"

"I didn't want to say anything back there. Merle calls what he does 'voodoo.' Sometimes it's best not to get her started."

"So. You've been hanging around my brother now, too."

"You make it sound like I'm some kind of freeloader, hanging around your family's property all day long."

"Are you?" she demanded icily.

"No! I've kept in contact with them over the years because quite frankly I like them. I don't need to freeload off of anyone, and I have enough friends."

"If you like my family so much, then maybe you should have dated them, because you sure as hell never liked me." He'd cut and run the minute she'd been stupid enough to tell him that she loved him. He'd refused to defend her the day she'd fought with his aunt, calling her his "crazy ex-girlfriend." Now he suddenly wanted to make small talk? Fat chance.

"Who's shouting out here?" The blue-hair from 3B opened her door a crack and peered into the wide, artificially bright hallway.

"Ginger, is that you?" The door slammed shut and Ginger heard the rattle of a chain sliding before her grandmother's neighbor reappeared in the open doorway.

She took a deep breath and her fingers twisted around her purse strap at this new delay. "Yes, it's me. How are you, Mrs. Lutz?"

"Merle told us you were coming home soon, and here you are. Oh, and just look at you. All grown up, and what a stunner you've become—all that hair! And who's this with you? Oh, hello, Adam."

"Mrs. Lutz." He nodded a polite greeting, taking a step closer to Ginger.

"You both absolutely must come inside and say hello to Frank." The sound of Jeopardy playing on the television could be heard from deep within the apartment.

"Mimi, who are you talking to out there?"

"Frank, Ginger and Adam are here!" she yelled over her shoulder, competing with the noise from the TV set.

"What?"

"I said Ginger and Adam are here!" Mimi hollered, louder this time.

The large hallway began to feel hot and small, and Ginger was acutely aware of Adam's presence beside her. "Mimi," she heard herself say, "I really can't today. I'm sorry, but I'll come back very soon, I promise."

"Are you sure? Well okay, dear. I imagine you must have a million things to do."

"I just got in today," Ginger said by way of explanation.

"Oh my! Well, you must be exhausted. You come and see me real soon, you hear?"

She nodded dutifully. "I will."

"And bring this handsome young man with you." The old woman winked.

"Yes. I … I'll do that."

"Did you hear that?" Adam grinned when they pushed through the double doors and exited into the late afternoon, sun-washed parking lot. "You have to bring me with you the next time you visit Frank and Mimi."

"Yeah, right. When hell freezes over. And bear in mind, this is Atlanta. I'm pretty sure you've got a long wait."

"I get the feeling you don't like me very much."

"Brilliant observation. I don't like you, and I especially don't like having you checking up on me."

"Checking up on you? Are you serious?"

"Well, haven't you been? Isn't that why you've kept in touch with my family? So you can conveniently pump them for information?"

"You're delusional."

"Better delusional than desperate," she shot back, glad to have the security of her driver's side door to put some distance between the two of them.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Adam shook his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you were a spoiled, selfish brat four years ago and not much has changed. Goodbye, Ginger."

* * *

She was still fuming over his parting remarks as she pulled into her old driveway half an hour later, tires crunching over baked gravel. The nerve of him, to talk to her that way! Just who in the hell did he think he was?

Someone she had spent all afternoon being very rude to, she admitted, answering her own question. The car door rattled as she slammed it shut behind her. Well, damn him anyway. She didn't care about him, wouldn't even give him another thought.

The house on Magnolia Lane hadn't changed much. The stately home still looked like a long-ago Victorian palace, with its towering structure and wide, plantation-style steps leading to the enormous front porch that stretched the entire width of the house.

Smooth white paint shone like a beacon all around her, and the scent of fresh-cut grass perked her up considerably after her tedious morning and tense afternoon. Standing there looking at her childhood home, she felt the last vestiges of her stress fade away.

She knew from old photographs that in a hundred years very little about her home had been changed—only updated here and there. Even the wide shutters that framed the tall windows still boasted their sunny yellow color. The shade was a tad brighter than it had been a century before, but they were still yellow. It was an unspoken promise among each succeeding generation of the Deveraux clan—an almost fierce dedication to preserve the family home for the generations to come.

Within recent memory, the biggest change to the house was the fact that a Malhaven now held the deed instead of a Deveraux. Although Chris was a Deveraux through direct bloodline, on paper he was also a Malhaven, as he and Ginger had both been born possessing their father's name.

Actually, the first change had been when a female child had inherited the estate in favor of the typically preferred male heir. When Merle Thomson's husband, Jeremiah Deveraux, had died, Merle had taken control of the property until their son, Andrew, became of age. But Andrew Deveraux had died in a boating accident at seventeen, leaving Crista Deveraux as the oldest living heir. Crista had opted to retain her maiden name, even after her marriage to Chris and Ginger's father at the age of twenty-one.

When she left her young family for "greener pastures," her husband had petitioned the courts for sole custody of their two children, as well as ownership of the Magnolia Lane house—and won. Eight years later, their father was dead, and Chris became Chateau Deveraux's newest owner. Sometimes Ginger couldn't help but wonder if, somewhere, the massed ranks of Deveraux dead were turning in their graves.

The sun's daily descent to the horizon was pretty far on; Ginger felt the first faint whisper of an evening breeze and once again turned her attention toward the front of the house. More specifically, how to get in. Chris's Outlander wasn't in the driveway, which meant Adam had been correct—he probably wouldn't be back until late.

But how late was late? She idly tapped a fingernail against the hood of her rental car, then decided to go out for a quick bite to eat before trying the house again. If Chris still wasn't back by then, she would find a hotel for the night and try him again in the morning. She had no more than finished the thought when the blue Outlander swung into the driveway, coming to a stop next to her car.

"Chris!"

"Hey kid! What are you doing here?" Chris snatched her to him for a quick hug before releasing her just as quickly and holding her at arm's length in order to get a good look at her. "Are you okay? Are you by yourself?"

"Gran called me."

"Hell. She really went through with it." Chris slapped his hat against one thigh. "And you fell for it." He laughed.

"So there was a plan. I knew it!"

"She tell you she was dying?"

"More or less."

"Yep, that was the gist of the plan. But I thought I had her pretty well talked out of it."

"Yeah, well, thanks for trying anyway."

"How long can you stay?"

"A week, for now." She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, and I'm starving. Get your purse and let's go. I know a great little place on Fifth Avenue…"