Sweet Talk Boxed Set (Ten NEW Contemporary Romances by Bestselling Authors to Benefit Diabetes Research plus BONUS Novel) (2 page)

“Thanks for staying, Ginny. You can leave now. I’ve got the kids,” Whitney said to the sitter, who gratefully jumped up and rushed from the home without a word. She was only a teenager, and would probably be too frightened to ever babysit again.

Whitney made her way up the stairs and looked in quietly on both children. They were sleeping soundly and she didn’t want to wake them. They’d gone to sleep full of hopes and dreams of the upcoming holidays, and when they awoke, their entire world would be changed forever. Talk about cruelty.

She crept back down the stairs and sat motionless on the living room couch. When the morning light started peeking through the windows, her six-year-old niece, Ally, wandered into the room, still gripping her blanket. She was rubbing her eyes sleepily, and she smiled when she spotted Whitney sitting there.

“Aunt Whitney!” she exclaimed before cuddling up in Whitney’s arms.

Whitney rubbed her niece’s hair while the two of them waited for Brayden to join them.

When he finally appeared, Whitney had no choice but to be the bearer of bad news. How could they possibly move forward?

Chapter One

One year later

Whitney gazed out the window, watching as snowflakes drifted down on top of one another, creating a blanket of white. At one time, this had brought her joy. Now, it only brought her sorrow.

She sat back down at the counter of her pathetic customer service job, watching the clock for closing time. She wanted to get home to her nephew and niece. They’d had a year to grieve. It was now time to build new memories, and that wasn’t something she could do while working long hours at a job like this.

At least this would be her last day here. She’d certainly have to go looking for another one, but this was a dead end, and she couldn’t provide properly for her newfound family on the wages she was making.

She sighed as she looked around. So many changes in such a short period of time — taking care of two young children, putting her education on hold, and trying to hide the pain she felt at losing her sister so she could help her niece and nephew to heal.

To top it all off she couldn’t connect with her nephew. He was bitter and angry at the loss of his parents, and he seemed to feel that he should have done something to prevent it. He was now nine and acted like an adult. It frightened her.

She was failing on every count. Life had always been easier for her sister, who had made like look effortless. What had gone wrong with her own DNA?

Maxine had been the perfect mother, friend, sister, wife and employee. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. Whitney only hoped that her sister wasn’t looking down upon her and shaking her head.

The last of the customers walked from the store and Whitney moved to the front door, locking it for the last time while her co-worker and friend counted out the till. It didn’t take long, and then the two of them left the store together before rushing to their cars.

The roads were icy, but Whitney didn’t mind much. At least it gave her a few extra minutes to paste on the smile she needed to have in place when she stepped through the front doors of her home for the past year.

Her sister had left the house and custody of the children to her. There had been a modest life insurance policy, but Whitney had placed that in a trust for when the children turned eighteen. Enough had been taken from the kids already and she wouldn’t touch their inheritance, even if that meant a few extra nights of macaroni and cheese for dinner.

Ally and Brayden had attended a private school since kindergarten, and Whitney wanted to keep their lives as normal as possible, so her money was stretched to the penny. But the fewer changes she could make, the better.

“Time…,” she murmured. She’d been saying this same thing over and over again for more than three hundred and sixty-five days. Everyone told her all she needed was time. Maybe one day that would be true.

She squared her shoulders and stepped into the house. The home was eerily quiet, which immediately worried her. She knew beyond a doubt that if the kids were quiet, they were most likely up to no good. She tossed her purse onto the chair and went in search of Brayden and Ally. She stepped into the kitchen and felt her feet slip out from under her.

“What the heck?” she yelled as her tailbone connected with the ground and she thrust her hands out to stop herself from sliding. Was that a layer of oil on the floor? Yes, and worse. There was a mixture of flour and oil all over the place. What had the kids done now? And where in the heck was the sitter?

The babysitter came flying around the corner.

“No amount of money is worth watching these brats,” the woman yelled. “They’re horrible children, absolutely horrible.” She grabbed her purse and went running out the front door. She didn’t even stop to ask for money, which made Whitney almost thankful.

After the door slammed, Whitney turned toward the kids, who were looking guiltily at the floor.

“What were the two of you thinking? That’s the third sitter you’ve managed to chase out of here. How am I supposed to work if there isn’t someone to take care of you?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Whitney,” Ally said with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We don’t need a stupid babysitter anyway. I’m nine and Ally is seven, but you still treat us like babies,” Brayden snapped.

“Brayden, I don’t want you having to take on the responsibility of raising your little sister. You do need someone here with you, whether you think so or not,” Whitney said. “I know you’re lashing out because you’re hurt, but we’re going to be okay. I promise you.”

She reached out toward Brayden but he jerked backward.

“On what planet is everything going to be okay?”

“Brayden, it’s almost Christmas, the season of magic and dreams. We have each other, and that’s so much more than many others have.”

“Brayden, we have to be good or Santa won’t come,” Ally said, pleading with her brother with a hint of magic still in her eyes.

“There’s no Santa Claus,” he snapped. “You really need to grow up, Ally.”

“Oh, Brayden, I wish I could get through to you,” Whitney said before turning to her niece. “Santa is real, Ally. He’s magic and light and represents the good still in this world.”

“Whatever. I hate all of this,” Brayden shouted before he stomped from the room.

Whitney cringed when his bedroom door slammed loudly enough to shake the walls. But she took a deep breath. She could tackle only one problem at a time.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Whitney,” Ally said in between sobs.

Whitney dropped to her knees and pulled her niece into her arms.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay. I know how hard things are for you right now. Why don’t we forget all about this and make cookies?”

Ally gave her a watery smile and nodded her head.

“Is there really no such thing as Santa?” Ally asked with achingly innocent eyes.

“Of course there’s a Santa, and he won’t forget about you on Christmas morning,” Whitney told her.

“How do you know?” Ally asked, and then paused briefly in thought. “Why do bad things happen at Christmastime if Santa is real?”

“Ah, baby, the world is far from perfect, and bad things happen because people make wrong choices. And sometimes bad things happen even to good people, and we’ll never know why. But good things happen too, and that’s the magic and hope that we hold out for.”

“I want to believe that,” Ally whispered.

“It’s okay to feel happy, baby girl.”

“But Brayden says if I feel happy, then I’m forgetting Mom and Dad,” Ally said, another tear falling down her cheek.

“That’s not true, Ally. I loved your mother and father more than anyone else besides you and Brayden. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would break their hearts to know you were sad. They were never happier than when you and your brother smiled.”

When the smell of the cookies that the two of them baked didn’t bring Brayden out of his bedroom, Whitney decided it was time to face him again.

The boy was lying on his bed with his headphones cranked up so loud she could hear them from the doorway. Sighing to herself, she stepped into the room and sank down onto his bed. He tensed, but didn’t turn off his music or acknowledge her presence.

Whitney waited for him to turn the music off. She knew he would in a moment; he was simply making sure she knew he was angry. She was way in over her head with the two kids, but she had always felt that the sun and moon rose on the two of them. After a few minutes, he turned off his iPod and removed the headphones, but he still refused to look at her.

“I know how angry you are with the world right now, Brayden. I also know things haven’t been fair for you or your sister, but it’s almost Christmas, and for your sister’s sake we need to make it as special as possible.”

“What’s the point? Mom and Dad are gone. Why should we celebrate anything anymore?”

“I would trade my very life for them to be here with you,” she told him honestly. “But they
are
gone and we have to live our lives so they can look down on us and feel proud.”

“I wouldn’t want you gone, Aunt Whitney. I love you, I just miss them so much it hurts,” he told her.

She had to pull him into her arms — she couldn’t help herself. He let her hold him without resisting, but she knew that wouldn’t last long.

“I love you, too, Brayden. I wish we could all be together, but sometimes we have to work with what we’re given. For now, we really need to do whatever we can to protect Ally.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Can you come downstairs and join your sister and me?”

“Okay,” he mumbled.

For the rest of the evening, there were no more problems, but Whitney wasn’t foolish enough to believe the rough days were over. No. If anything, they were only just beginning.

Chapter Two

“Is this true?”

“Yes, sir. The letter came in today. It was verified. This was sent from your son’s attorney. The instructions were for the letter to be delivered one year from the time of his death. I’m so sorry for you loss, sir.”

“Why a year?”

“We don’t know, sir. Those were just the instructions.”

“I…this can’t be,” Frederick Felton gasped, and he leaned back into his chair. We were supposed to have more time.”

“Would you like for me to call Liam in here?” his assistant asked.

“Yes, please.”

Frederick could barely speak and was grateful when his assistant walked from the room.

He had two sons, and when their mother had died twelve years earlier, his oldest son, Vince, had left home, saying that his father was too cold, too stubborn and was the reason his mother had taken her own life. Vince hadn’t returned.

It had made Frederick look in the mirror, and he hadn’t liked the man he saw.

“Dad?” Liam’s look of concern told Frederick more than anything else how ill he must look at the moment. “What’s wrong?”

Frederick answered through a tight throat. “I have some bad news,” he said.

“I have a lot of work to do, Father. Maybe you should just spit it out,” Liam told him.

“I’ve messed up so many times in my life, Liam, and I’m sorry about that. I should have been more of a parent, should have shown you more love…”

“Dad, I really don’t have time for this,” Liam said as he began moving toward the door.

“Sit down!” Frederick thundered. Frederick spoke more evenly when next he opened his mouth. “Your brother is gone.”

Liam was quiet for several moments. “I know he’s gone. He left twelve years ago.”

“I mean that he’s died.”

Liam’s eyes widened for a moment before his expression blanked. “How did you find out?”

“We received a letter from him.”

Neither of them spoke for several tense moments as Frederick pulled out the letter and laid it on the desk. Then Liam moved forward, snatched up the letter, and quickly scanned the one-page note.

When he set the paper down, he showed the same shock on his face as his father had not too long before.

“Do you think this is true?” Liam asked “That this really is from him? It can’t be…” He knew he was grasping.

“Yes, son, the letter has been verified.”

“Then we need to find the children!” Liam was forceful in his words.

“I think this is the reason your brother didn’t want the letter delivered for a full year after his death. He didn’t want us storming in and uprooting them from their lives.” Frederick looked with sorrow at his surviving son.

“They are family. They should be raised here,” Liam insisted.

“Your brother clearly states in the letter that they will be raised by his wife’s sister upon their deaths. I’m sure he had an iron-clad will in place.”

Yes, Frederick knew he could get around a will. When a man had as much money as he had, there was nothing he couldn’t get. He was only saying the words to see what reaction his son would have.

“We both know that will means nothing. This aunt of theirs can’t possibly be able to take care of these children. She has no idea who they really are.” Liam almost sneered. “Or maybe she knows exactly who they are and is waiting for payday.”

“I want to meet them as well, my son. I’m an old man, and time is running out.”

“You’re only sixty-two. Your time won’t run out than any sooner than mine,” Liam said. He knew his father’s antics all too well.

“We’ll bring them here, meet them, and make sure they know who they are,” Frederick told Liam.

“Good.”

Liam walked from the room, and his father leaned back. His heart was both broken and full of joy. Though one of his sons had been taken from this world well before his time, Frederick knew that he had two grandchildren, and with that knowledge, a new hope was blossoming.

Chapter Three

The insistent knock on the front door made Whitney’s hand fling out, and the flour that flew up coated her already disheveled hair and blurred her vision.

“Dammit!”

After lurching over to the sink, she scrabbled around until she found the washcloth and turned on the water as she tried to regain her sight. Just as her vision was beginning to clear, another knock sounded at the door, this one more forceful than before.