A Millionaire For Molly

She was right, he thought. It was stupid. Because they were worlds apart.

Why?

The question hammered him in the dark. Why was it so impossible?

Because she didn’t understand.

Understand what?

Understand him.

Hell, he should have had more sense than to ever let a relationship get this far, he told himself savagely in the dark.

Unbidden, a vision of his parents came into his mind-his parents as he remembered them best. He’d been about four at the time, and it was the same sort of ugliness that had dogged him all through his childhood. There’d never been any doubt that his parents loved each other, but they’d seemed intent on destroying each other from the time he could first remember.

So their relationship had been a series of tumultuous merges. They’d come together with mutual need and their love would hold them for maybe a day. Maybe not even for that long. Then the tempers would flare again, with Jackson caught in the middle.

He’d been used as a tool. A weapon.

‘You love me most, don’t you Jackson?’ his mother would demand of him, and his father would grasp his hand and try and drag him away.

‘The boy wants to be with me.’

The boy hadn’t wanted to be anywhere, and the boy who’d become a man was just the same. If that was love he wanted no part of it.

You don’t recover from that sort of damage, Jackson thought bleakly. How could he ever admit to himself that he could love like that? It wasn’t a wonderful emotion you could sink into. It left you exposed to pain and then more pain after that. And then there’d been Diane, and that had hurt still more.

So now he was solitary, and he liked it that way. His father had walked out for the final time when he was ten years old and his mother had punished him the best-or the worst-way she could think of. She’d had an affair that had resulted in Cara-and when that hadn’t been enough for her she’d driven herself furiously into a tree. Because of love…

Love could go take a hike, he told himself into the night. He’d take care of Cara and no one else. He wanted no emotional dependence. Ever.

‘Mr Baird is nice,’ Sam murmured sleepily to Molly as she tucked him into bed. His arms came up to claim her for a goodnight kiss. Such a gesture was unusual, to say the least, and Molly sat down on the bed and hugged him back.

‘Yes, Sam. He is nice.’

‘He kissed you.’

So Sam hadn’t been soundly asleep. There was no sense in denying it. ‘He did.’

And Sam was off and running. ‘Do you think he might like us enough to marry you?’

‘Hey.’ She laughed, but her laugh was decidedly hollow. ‘We’ve only known the man since yesterday.’

‘But he is nice.’

‘He’s very nice. But the man’s a millionaire, Sam. The likes of him don’t look at the likes of us.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’ll marry someone of his own class.’

‘That’s silly.’ He was drifting into sleep but refusing to be shifted from his lovely fantasy. ‘And what’s class?’

‘It’s like the case of Cinderella and the Prince,’ she told him, rumpling his hair and removing his glasses to lay them on the bedside table. ‘The way I see it, it would have been pretty uncomfortable to be Cinderella.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she’d have had to say thank you for the rest of her life and she wouldn’t have liked it.’

‘Maybe Cinderella could have got a job, like lots of married ladies do. Like you.’ He giggled. ‘Cinderella could have sold palaces for a living.’

She grinned at the image. ‘Oh, sure. And she’d sell glass slippers on the side. You’re letting your commercial ventures run away with you, kiddo.’ She kissed him soundly. ‘Now-sleep, young man.’

‘But what about you and Mr Baird?’

‘You know, there’s about as much chance of me kissing your frog, Lionel, and having him turn into a handsome prince as there is of me kissing Jackson Baird and having him propose marriage.’

Sam liked that. He chuckled sleepily and turned towards his frog box.

‘Lionel might like it if you kissed him.’

‘And after Mr Gray went to all that trouble to find a Mrs Lionel for him!’ Molly rose and grinned. ‘Mrs Lionel might have something to say to any frog-kissing I might like to do.’

‘You’re funny.’

‘No.’ The smile died from her eyes as she stooped to tuck his covers closer. ‘Just sensible. Someone has to be.’

‘Miss Copeland?’

After a sleepless night Molly rose early to catch the elderly lady at home. From what she knew of old ladies she’d be more likely to find her alert at breakfast than at midnight, and frankly she hadn’t had herself enough in control to phone last night.

She was right in her guesswork. Hannah Copeland answered on the first ring and sounded wide awake. ‘Yes, dear. I was hoping you’d call.’ Molly had talked to her briefly on Friday night, so the elderly landowner knew what to expect. ‘Does he like my farm?’

‘He wants to buy.’

‘Oh, I am pleased. That’s very nice, dear. Is three million too much?’

‘It’s a very reasonable price. To be honest, you could ask more. If you were willing to subdivide…’

‘No, dear, I do not want to subdivide.’

‘It’s just the place is really worth much more. Are you sure you want to sell?’

‘To the right buyer-yes, I am.’

‘And you think Jackson Baird is the right buyer?’

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if the lady was considering how much it was wise to tell. Finally she decided to be frank. ‘My mother was a friend of Jackson Baird’s grandmother,’ she told her. ‘She was so worried about Jackson. Has he turned out well, dear?’

Molly blinked. ‘I…yes. I guess you could say he’s turned out very well.’

‘He’s not married?’

‘Um…no.’

‘I didn’t expect he would be after those awful parents.’ She paused as Molly waited. ‘But my mother and his grandmother worried so much about him, and I know they’d approve of me doing this.’

‘Miss Copeland, I don’t think Jackson Baird needs any favours,’ Molly said bluntly. ‘The man’s extremely wealthy.’ She hesitated, but the silence on the end of the line told her to move on. So she did. ‘You did say on Friday that if he was interested there were a couple of stipulations you’d make?’

‘Yes.’

‘The Grays being one of them?’

‘You guessed?’ Her pleasure sounded down the line. ‘Of course. I’d never want Gregor or Doreen to have to move.’

‘I’m sure Jackson will agree to that.’

‘And I trust you. You have a lovely voice. Mrs Gray says you have a little boy?’

‘Doreen rang you?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘You don’t mind that I brought Sam?’

‘Of course I don’t mind, dear. The place needs children. I’d rather hoped that despite his parents’ example Mr