Chapter 22
Calli
Thanksgiving Day rolled around, and Calli woke the boys early for the trip to Lindleyi Manor, the Lindley family estate South of Wabasha on the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi. It was only a two-hour drive, but they planned to stay through the weekend. They’d loaded the SUV for a stay through the weekend plus an empty suitcase. They picked up Jordan on their way out of town and stowed her suitcase in the only remaining space.
Calli had included the empty bag because Isabelle Lindley, mother, grandmother, and homemaker extraordinaire, would be loading them up with Christmas gifts. The conversation with her mom where she had to tell her that Bennett would be taking the boys out of the country for Christmas had been something akin to torture. With apparent disappointment that her famous family Christmas at the manor would be disrupted, Isabelle had also taken the opportunity to remind Calli that marriage was a lifetime commitment, making her disapproval of the divorce abundantly clear—again.
The drive she’d taken a million and one times went by in a blur of conversation and improvised karaoke in the car on the parts of Jordan and Calli. Jax joined in occasionally, but Kent put on his Beats and ignored the fun, rolling his eyes as soon as the singing had begun. They passed through Alma, then turned to the right along the river and climbed the cliffs to Lindleyi Manor.
Calli pulled the car into the circular drive, around a fountain, and alongside what could only be her youngest brother’s latest automotive adventure—a small red sports car that didn’t seem to have any door handles. Calli said, “Oh my lord, Alder has a new toy.”
Jordan’s mouth gaped as she took in the sprawling Tuscan-style façade, then her eyes landed on the car. “That’s a Tesla, Calli! What did you say your brother does?”
“Something in computers out in Seattle. I’m not really sure what his exact job is.” Her thirty-five-year-old brother had always been one to flaunt his latest thing. Everything he’d ever talked about was more techy than she could understand.
“Is he single?”
“Maybe. He’s not married, but I haven’t talked to him in a few months, so I’m not sure if he’s dating anyone.” Calli gripped the wheel as the car idled, steeling herself to face the family and her mom in particular. She cut the engine and sighed loudly. “All right, let’s do this.” She turned to the back seat. “Ready?”
Kent’s eyes popped open, and he was out of the car without a word, circling the ostentatious machine. He reached forward, then pulled back as if he wanted to but couldn’t bring himself to touch something so perfect.
“Go ahead,” said Alder as he stepped from the front veranda, sliding a smartphone into his pocket.
Calli looked between her ogling son and her brother. Kent’s eyes were Frisbee-sized as the door opened of its own accord. Alder strutted over to his nephew and his car with a smirk and threw his arm around Kent.
“Wanna drive?” asked Alder.
Kent’s expression fell. “I don’t have my license yet.”
“Permit?”
“No.” He met his mother’s eyes.
Calli felt her heart crack for her youngest son. Their deal was that he had to pass all his classes before she’d put him in driver’s ed. She couldn’t give him the responsibility that came with driving if he couldn’t be responsible with his schoolwork habits. He loved technology, and this machine was an embodiment of everything he wanted. Unfortunately, it seemed like his ADHD would be a blocker to the things he wanted to do in life—at least for the foreseeable future. Maybe someday, something would click for him. She hoped. “You know the requirements,” was all she said to Kent’s pleading look.
Her younger brother glared at Calli, then said, “Hop in. I’ll take you for a spin.” As Kent hop-stepped around the back of the car, Alder added, “How are ya, sis?”
“You know . . . livin’ the dream.” Calli smiled.
Alder walked over, looking between Calli and Jordan. Calli made quick introductions and cleared her throat when Alder lingered over an extra-long handshake with her friend.
When she cleared her throat, Alder looked over and said, “Mom’s been on pins and needles.”
“Why?”
“Think she’s excited to have us all home but she’s nervous about dealing with you.” Alder raised a manscaped brow. “Go easy on her.”
Calli was appalled. “On her?” She folded her arms across her chest and decided not to discuss this with her ladies’ man, perpetually single, drop-dead gorgeous younger brother. “Yeah. Okay.”
Alder wrapped her in a hug, then went to the driver’s seat of his toy. Chatting with a glowing Kent, he started the car, then whipped the car around the fountain and out onto River Road.
Jordan elbowed Calli. “Single?”
“You’re drooling.” They both laughed, and Calli added, “He’s not the relationship type. Jax, help unload the luggage.”
Jax almost huffed but obviously stifled it. Just as he’d unloaded all the suitcases, a butler emerged from the house.
In a very southern accent, the man said, “Good day, Miss Lindley, Miss Shuler, Mr. Stockton. My name is James. Please join the family in the salon. I will tend to the luggage.” James held out his hand toward the open front door.
“Please, James,” said Calli. “Do call us by our given names.”
“Very well, Miss Callista.” James nodded deeply.
Calli shook her head. Outdated though it may be, her mother was quite the Southern belle, and obviously she’d imported a servant who fit her expectations of southern hospitality. “James”—she smiled up at the tall red-headed suited man—“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Though she’d been raised in Minnesota, the traditions under which Isabelle had raised her, her twin, and their two brothers came back easily. At his nod, she led the way into Lindleyi Manor.
~ ~ ~
Calli strode through the stone arch entry, stepped lightly over the marble-floored foyer with ornately carved custom table, and walked alongside her image in the large matching woodwork-framed mirror. She ignored Jordan’s small sounds of astonishment and marvel. It had been this way all of Calli’s life; the first time she brought a friend home, there had been tons of ooh’s and aah’s. Funny, she thought, with her parents’ home dripping with this much wealth, she shouldn’t have been so worried about landing Dom’s account—strike that, the Moretti account.
But the truth remained—The money her parents gave her when she married Bennett Stockton had gone to pay for his Ivy League master’s degree, while she held only a bachelor’s degree in finance from the University of Wisconsin at Madison. True, it was a good school, but it didn’t compare to the Yale MBA that Ben had “won” in their divorce settlement.
The worst thing she’d done in her life was trust that they’d be together forever and that she was making the best decisions for their family. She’d asked her lawyer, Kristi, if she could go after Bennett for that money, but since they were married at the time, the state of Minnesota considered that money joint resources. The sum of money invested didn’t matter, only what they had at the time of the divorce. Live-and-learn was the bucket she guessed she’d have to classify that mistake in.