More to Give (An Anchor Island Novel) Read online

  ALSO BY TERRI OSBURN

  Anchor Island Novels

  Meant to Be

  Up to the Challenge

  Home to Stay

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 Terri Osburn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781477826041

  ISBN-10: 1477826041

  Cover design by Georgia Morrissey

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014909728

  For Mom

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  The last time Callie Henderson had laid eyes on Sam Edwards, he’d been naked and nodding off on the pillow beside her. The pillow that a mere week earlier had belonged to Callie’s husband, who’d died in a fiery crash while on a lovers’ tryst with another woman.

  A woman who just happened to be Callie’s best friend. And Sam’s wife.

  Now, six years later, Callie stood outside his office door, struggling not to toss her breakfast. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath for courage, and tapped three times on the solid wood door marked HOTEL MANAGER. Three steady knocks. Full of confidence and determination.

  Fake it till you make it, Callie, she thought. You can do this.

  A muffled baritone answered from the other side. “Come in.”

  Moving on pure adrenaline, Callie turned the stainless-steel knob and stepped through. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but Sam’s failure to glance away from whatever he was reading felt dismissive, and they hadn’t even begun this encounter yet.

  Clearing her throat, Callie traveled the four steps it took to reach Sam’s desk. She kept the greeting formal. She was here for an interview, after all. “Mr. Edwards.”

  If he recognized her voice, Sam gave no indication. “Have a seat, Ms. Henderson.”

  Not so much as an eye roll in her direction. Callie reminded herself this was a job interview and not a long-overdue reunion. She tamped down the ridiculous notion that she was being insulted.

  And then Sam did look her way. His brows drew together as he stared at her, as if piecing together a puzzle. Callie held her breath. She could see the moment when recognition dawned. His eyes went wide before he looked back down at the résumé on his desk.

  “Calliope Henderson?” he asked.

  As Callie wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was asking, she lifted one brow and nodded in the affirmative. He could be asking if she was indeed the potential project leader for the renovation of the Sunset Harbor Inn, or he could be wondering why her last name wasn’t Wellman, as it had been the last time they’d seen each other.

  Until she knew for sure, Callie remained obtuse.

  Sam leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and narrowed his blue-gray eyes. The intensity of his glare sent a flutter of apprehension up Callie’s spine, but she held firm. She had done nothing wrong here.

  “Your real name is Calliope?”

  “That’s right,” she said, ignoring the temptation to chew on her bottom lip.

  The glare continued, accompanied by a twitch in Sam’s solid jaw. Callie could hear the ticking of the crystal clock occupying the left corner of Sam’s desk. As if a time bomb had been set in motion. Before this interview could blow up in her face, Callie sought to defuse the situation.

  “Calliope is my legal name, but I’ve been Callie all my life.” She wasn’t about to clear up the last-name issue until he asked.

  She didn’t have long to wait.

  “And Henderson?”

  “My maiden name. I returned to it after . . .” She hesitated. Saying the words was still difficult after all these years. “After my marriage ended,” she said.

  Another silent pause, then Sam leaned forward, shoving her résumé to the side. “I don’t like surprises, Callie. Nor do I like being manipulated.”

  Before defending that statement, Callie asked, “Could I sit down, please?”

  Sam nodded, and the moment her bottom hit the seat, Callie knew she’d made a mistake. At five foot five, Callie wasn’t the shortest woman, but she’d been built with long legs and not much of a torso. Which meant when she sat down, her eye level was significantly lower than Sam’s and gave him the more powerful position.

  Then again, he was the hotel owner in control of her future. He possessed the power whether Callie sat or remained standing.

  Scooting to the edge of the chair, she straightened her spine. “I’m not sure how submitting my résumé and then accepting your offer of an interview is in any way manipulative. Regarding the surprise, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.” Callie managed to maintain eye contact, but barely. “It’s been a long time.”

  The tic in Sam’s jaw sped up. “You were my wife’s best friend,” he said. Callie waited for him to mention their more intimate connection. He didn’t. “Of course I remember you.”

  The weight of their shared history, mostly painful for them both, hung in the air like the dust on a dirt road on a dry summer day. This was exactly what Callie had hoped to avoid. Six years was long enough for two adults to put the mess of betrayal and bad decisions behind them.

  It wasn’t as if they’d betrayed each other.

  “I honestly never meant to deceive you,” she said. “It’s been more than five years since I went by the name Wellman. The information on that résumé is who I am now—a professional hotel renovator specializing in boutique hotels—which I believe is what you’re looking for.”

  Though he didn’t smile or extend a metaphorical olive branch, Sam’s shoulders did appear to relax. Slightly.

  “You’re definitely qualified for the position,” he said. “Your credentials are impressive, especially for someone who’s been in the business for such a short time.” Callie hadn’t embarked on her current career until three years ago, having gone back to school for her hospitality and design degrees after Josh had left her with nothing.

  “Which is why you’re here,” Sam continued. The but was coming. Callie could hear it in his tone.

  “Sam,” she said, then caught herself. “Mr. Edwards—”

  “But I’m sure you understand why this wouldn’t work.”

  “I don’t understand at all,” Callie said, panic thru
sting her out of the chair. “There’s no reason we can’t work together.” This job was the jewel she needed to take her career to the next level. She’d assisted in four hotel relaunches in the last two years, and in every situation, the manager above her had taken all the credit.

  Credit Callie deserved.

  If she could be the person at the top, Callie would finally receive the recognition she’d more than earned already. And, more important, without this job, she’d have to move back in with her mother.

  Sam shook his head, sliding her résumé into an empty file folder. “I’m sure you’ll find another opportunity.”

  “Sam, please.” She leaned on the edge of his desk, uncaring how desperate she might sound. “I can do this. Let me prove it to you.”

  Sam buttoned his suit coat as he rose from his chair. Callie had forgotten how tall he was. With shoulders wide enough to block the sun beaming through the window behind him, Sam stood nearly a foot over her. “Your abilities are not the problem here.”

  “Then what is?” she asked, desperation turning to anger. How dare he take this away from her. After she’d come all this way. When she was the perfect person for the job.

  The stubborn man had the nerve to head for the door, as if showing her out. “My apologies for the inconvenience.”

  He could not be serious.

  “Sam,” Callie said, then fell silent, waiting for him to look at her. Once he did, she let her desperation show. “I need this job. Please.”

  Any hope of leaving Sam’s office with her dignity intact had gone out the window the moment he’d dismissed her as a candidate for the position. There was too much on the line to let pride get in the way.

  If only he’d give her a chance.

  Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Sam lingered near his office door, eyes closed and head down. Callie feared he might be contemplating how to physically throw her out without facing an assault charge.

  Then he dropped his arms and strolled back to his desk, unbuttoning his navy jacket as he returned to his seat. “Are you prepared to take lead on a project of this size? I realize you’ve only ever assisted to this point.”

  A spark of hope ignited in her chest. “I am completely prepared. I assure you I would not have submitted my résumé if I wasn’t positive I could handle the job.”

  Sam studied Callie with narrowed eyes, then returned her résumé from the folder to the center of his desk blotter. With a pinched expression, he dropped his gaze to the story of her short but substantial professional life. Without another word, he pressed a button on his phone.

  “Yes, Mr. Edwards,” came a voice through the speaker.

  “Yvonne, could you page Owen? I need him to show Ms. Henderson to Peabody Cottage.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the disembodied voice.

  With a blank expression, Sam said, “Yvonne at the front desk will take care of you. Come back tomorrow morning, and we’ll get your paperwork completed. I assume you’ve had a long trip.”

  Callie wanted to hug him, though that would clearly be the worst thing to do in this situation. Still, she could feel the smile splitting her face. Instead of taking the hint and heading for the exit, she remained in place.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

  Sam looked skeptical and a bit annoyed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Ms. Henderson.”

  Nothing like having your past show up unexpected and unannounced to ruin a Monday morning. And then, against his better judgment, Sam had welcomed it to stay. What the hell was he thinking?

  He was thinking Callie looked desperate, and the stupid white knight in him, which he’d thought had been buried long ago, had ridden to her rescue.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as Sam stared unseeing at the financial reports on his desk. He should have put Callie Wellman—Henderson now, he reminded himself—back on the ferry the minute he’d seen her. If only she wasn’t the best person to turn the Sunset Harbor Inn into a premier boutique hotel.

  He’d reviewed countless résumés, and none reflected the expertise and experience Callie possessed. Unless her résumé was exaggerated, which he doubted. Callie wasn’t the type to embellish. Back when they’d known each other, she’d been the most honest person Sam knew.

  Certainly more honest than his wife had been.

  And then there were the glowing references. Sam had investigated every job on which Callie had participated in the last two years. Every supervisor had been happy with her work. And the images he’d found online of the finished products had been the final proof he needed.

  Which meant he’d made a solid business decision. His problem with the situation was more a personal one.

  Ms. Henderson had changed more than her name over the years. The Callie he remembered would have apologized for wasting his time and trudged to the door with her metaphorical tail tucked between her legs. Sam had never understood how Callie and his wife had become friends in college. They were complete opposites.

  Meredith had been strong and willful, ambitious and selfish. She’d treated Callie more like a servant than a friend. Where Meredith was tall and bold, Callie had been petite and quiet. Sometimes Sam wondered if Meredith hadn’t kept Callie around to make herself look better, more powerful, next to Callie’s natural meekness.

  But then there’d been the other reason.

  Dragging himself out of the past, Sam contemplated the woman he’d just hired. That hadn’t been the meek, unassuming Callie in his office this morning. The golden-blond hair was shorter. Edgier. Her chin had never dropped, and she’d held his eye throughout the encounter. The burgundy suit had been all business. A stark contrast to the baggy jeans and well-worn T-shirts of the woman who’d followed his wife around.

  But the eyes were the same. Ice blue framed in long lashes. Even without makeup, Callie had been pretty. Today she’d been gorgeous.

  The phone on Sam’s desk buzzed, interrupting that inappropriate thought. Pressing the intercom button, he said, “Yes, Yvonne?”

  “Ms. Parsons is here for your meeting, sir.”

  Sliding the reports back into the blue folder he’d pulled them from, Sam instructed Yvonne to send in his visitor.

  Willow Parsons, better known as Will around the island, barreled through his door with a large cup in her hand. “Thank God you keep good coffee around this place.”

  A wealthy heiress from up north who’d arrived on Anchor under unusual, and still somewhat mysterious, circumstances nearly two years before, Will Parsons ran the newest business in town, Destination Anchor: Weddings and More (the “more” being anniversaries, reunions, and any other destination event a tourist could want.) The success of the endeavor would rely heavily on the hospitality offered around the island, while at the same time, the hotels would count on Will to bring clients their way.

  All of which meant Sam made time in his schedule whenever Will requested a meeting.

  “Good morning to you,” Sam said as Will dropped into the chair Callie had occupied, then tossed a backpack onto the seat next to her. “Make yourself comfortable,” he added.

  “I hope your Monday is going better than mine,” Will said. She was wearing her usual outfit—jeans, oversize sweatshirt, clanging bracelets, and combat boots. Sam seemed to be the only business owner on Anchor Island who actually dressed like one, though he’d been happy to learn that Will took the time to polish up when dealing with clients.

  “Mine could be better,” he said. “What’s so bad about yours? Anything I can help with?”

  “You already have.” Will held her cup higher. “I dropped my coffee getting out of the car and had to stop myself from licking the gravel to get the caffeine fix.” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Will squinted. “That’s a disturbing visual, isn’t it? Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” he said. “But you mig
ht want to see someone about that addiction.”

  Will waved his words away. “It wouldn’t be so bad if Randy hadn’t cut me off cold turkey. Expects me to drink decaffeinated.” The snort that accompanied those words was less than ladylike. “Says I’m too wound up with the new business and my system needs a break.” With wide eyes, she leaned forward. “You know what I need?”

  Sam shook his head in the negative, silently agreeing with Will’s significant other but opting not to say so aloud.

  “Some damn caffeine.”

  In the short time he’d known her, Willow Parsons had been a laid-back person. Calm. Rational. He wondered where that woman might be this morning.

  “So?” she said, “how did the interview go? Is Calliope your girl?” Will’s right foot began to bounce. “Hard-ass? All business? Or laid-back and easygoing?”

  He debated how to answer. Considering the Callie he’d hired this morning wasn’t exactly the Callie he’d known six years ago, Sam wasn’t sure what she’d be like to work with. Maybe he should have thought of that before he’d given her the job.

  “Yes, she seems to be the right person for the position. Her résumé was enough to convince me she’s capable of transforming the Sunset into exactly what I want.” With a casual shrug, he added, “I’m sure you two will get along fine.”

  “You think?” Will asked. “You could tell that from one short meeting?”

  Tiptoe around this one, big guy.

  “It’s the impression I got. And she goes by Callie.”

  Will sat back, dropping her shoulders. “That’s a pretty name. Where is she staying?”

  “In the Peabody Cottage across from the inn. The proximity made sense.” Sam folded his hands on his desk. “I’m guessing my new employee is not the only reason you called this meeting.”

  “Oh,” Will said, dropping the bouncing foot to the floor. “Right. Well, it does sort of cross over. How long did you plan for the renovation of the Sunset to take?”

  “I’m not sure.” Sam had waited to hire and start the renovations until the main tourist season was over, which was why he was hiring Callie at the end of September. “I’m sure we’ll reopen in plenty of time for spring.”