Chapter 11
Islept for maybe two hours in Max’s guest room and woke up before the sun rose.
I lay there in that luxurious bed, so uncomfortable in my own skin it was as if I’d gotten blackout drunk last night and made irrevocable, bad decisions that would change my life forever. Except I hadn’t consumed anything but a couple of weak cocktails at the gala, and I hadn’t committed to any decisions, life-changing or otherwise.
I’d merely realized how badly I needed to.
And then there was Max.
Just before six a.m., I stuffed the few things I’d brought with me into my backpack and put it on.
When I snuck out through the guest room’s exterior door, the sun was just rising, casting the lake in muted pinks and yellows. In spite of my grouchiness, it was a sight to behold. I couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to live on the water and start every day with such a view.
I made my way around to the other side of the house, walked through the manicured lawn to the street, and took off in a jog toward home. I knew it had to be seven or eight miles, farther than I usually ran, but I hadn’t figured out a better way to get there. I had friends I could call, but I wasn’t up for explaining the Max situation to any of them and particularly not to Dakota. I didn’t want to talk about Max at all. As far as I was concerned, he could fornicate himself right off after the way he’d acted last night in Danny’s room.
Did I screw up by kissing him?
Probably.
Okay, resounding yes.
But there was no justification for him acting like an asshole when I’d only asked if I could help with anything else. I’d take the blame for the kiss but not for his son’s dirty diaper or the battery in the baby monitor going dead.
I would need the full eight miles to work off my bad mood.
I headed toward downtown, which was on the way home, thankful not many people were out and about yet.
I needed to stop thinking of Naomi’s house as home since it was clear I was no longer welcome. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle her jackass brother when I got there, if he was still there, but I’d figure it out. I hoped everything would be okay now that it was daylight and he’d had a chance to sober up, but I wasn’t going to lower my guard.
When I reached the town square, the only businesses that were open this early, as usual, were the bakery, the diner, and the gym. I went into Sugar to get a bottle of water since I hadn’t planned this third-of-a-marathon trek this morning and didn’t have my own bottle with me.
As soon as I stepped inside, the aroma of sugar and fresh-baked carbs enveloped me. I ordered an apple cinnamon muffin, congratulating myself on the choice that was healthier than a donut. At least this had fruit in it, right?
Olivia London was working the counter. She was a few years older than me, but we ran into each other often and were friendly. I kept our conversation focused on the array of goodies in the display, hoping she wouldn’t notice or ask about my backpack, which screamed walk of shame. By the time I turned toward the door to leave, Chloe Henry was stepping up to the counter to order, so Olivia’s attention was diverted.
As I walked back outside, I realized the rest of the town might already know Ian Finley had showed up, depending on whether he’d made any appearances before arriving at Naomi’s last night. The best way to find out was to check the Tattler app.
On the sidewalk outside of Sugar, I went toward the right side of the square instead of left, even though the left route was more direct to Naomi’s. The left route passed in front of the Dragonfly Diner, where I worked, and the gym, where there were sure to be people on the machines in front of the windows, watching passersby. The right path would have fewer people to run into.
I stuffed the water into my backpack, took a bite of the muffin, and opened the Tattler on my phone. As I walked along the sidewalk, I scanned the topics.
The Rusty Anchor had hosted a surprise appearance of Everly Ash last night, playing some of her new songs to a crowded beer patio.
Kizzy Estes, live-in mother-in-law of Emerson Estes, met up with an “old friend” in Vegas and ended up eloping and moving to Sin City permanently.
Patrick, one of my coworkers at the diner, had announced his engagement to Sebastian Dumas.
Dr. Holloway’s llama had gotten loose again and made her way downtown.
Elsa Karasinski had moved to an assisted living facility in Memphis and was closing Grandma’s Attic.
Poor Ms. Karasinski, but she’d turned eighty-one years old last spring. No one was sure how she’d been handling her store of knickknacks from the last century, either financially or physically.
There were no mentions of Naomi’s brother. He wasn’t known in town, as he wasn’t from here, but if he’d stopped by any businesses and mentioned his name, word would’ve gotten around because of his connection to Naomi. Everyone, not just the artists who used the studio, was curious about what would happen with their property.
I turned left at the corner, and my gaze went to the Grandma’s Attic storefront. The windows were already papered over with Store Closed scrawled in large letters on each side of the door. I frowned, thinking of the dear lady and wondering how she must be handling this giant change in her life.
When I was almost past the store, I spotted a much smaller For Rent sign with real estate agent Darius Weber’s photo, posted in the lower corner of the window.
I glanced at it as I walked by, then halted abruptly when I noticed the second-story apartment above the store was also available. Of course it was. Ms. Karasinski had lived up there for years, and now she was moving to assisted living.
With my hands shaking, I entered Darius’s number into my contact list and walked on, past city hall, past the rest of the businesses on this block, until I hit the paved path that led to the residential neighborhood northeast of downtown and eventually to the road to Naomi’s.
I kept my phone unlocked, with Darius’s info up on the screen, my thumb hovering over the call button as I walked. On the one hand, it was as if the universe had set up this opportunity for me, just when I needed it. On the other, I knew Ms. Karasinski’s apartment would demand a commitment of a year.
What if my plans changed before that year was up? What if I couldn’t handle the rent for a full year?
With a self-derisive laugh, I said, “You don’t have plans, so they can’t change. And you don’t even know how much the rent is.”
I pushed it out of my mind as best I could and dropped my phone into my bag. Savoring my muffin, I kept walking at a quick pace toward the edge of town.
Once I’d made it to the county road to Naomi’s, I chugged some water to wash down my breakfast, the thoughts starting to crowd in.
Should I call the real estate agent? It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. That was too early, wasn’t it? Maybe not if you were in real estate and always hungry for the next deal?
Should I talk to Dakota first? I knew it was too early to reach her, but I could leave a message for when she got up. She’d already given her blessing on searching for places, so until I knew more about Ms. Karasinski’s apartment, I didn’t need to talk to her. The rent might be too high for us anyway.
Instead of taking action on any of it, I dug my phone out and pushed play on my running playlist, regretting that I hadn’t brought my earbuds. I started running again, along the left side of the county road, the tunes half-audible as my phone bounced around in my backpack. It was enough to keep my mind from wandering too much to looming decisions and scary thoughts.
A couple hours later, I reached Naomi’s driveway. I had a side stitch from the muffin, and my legs were extra Jell-O-y thanks to a night of little sleep, but I’d made it. Unfortunately the same car as last night remained in the driveway.
I hadn’t figured out what to do about Ian and how not to get shot or assaulted if he was the violent type, so I pulled out my phone, paused the music, and brought up Darius Weber’s contact info again.
With another glance down the half-mile driveway toward that car, I hit Send to call the real estate agent, planning to leave a message since it was still early.
“Darius Weber. How can I help you?”
My brows shot up, and I stopped my pacing. “Um, hi, Darius. This is Harper Ellison. I was calling about Ms. Karasinski’s apartment.” I swallowed, my mouth sandpaper dry. “Is it still available?”
Five minutes later, I ended the call and bit my lip, wondering what the heck I’d just gotten myself into.
“Good stuff,” I said out loud, trying to reassure myself. “You need a place to live. Here’s a place to live…in the perfect location.”
My heart thundered on as I walked slowly toward Naomi’s house.
I was the first to call about the apartment. The rent, if I split it with Dakota or another roommate, would be more than I was paying now, but anyplace that wasn’t condemned would be more than I was paying. If I kept working at the diner and watched my spending, I could handle it.
Darius had explained the apartment was still full of Ms. Karasinski’s belongings, as she’d had to move suddenly after a fall last week. It was, in Darius’s words, a bit of a challenge. He said if I could squint past all the stuff, I could see it later today.
Without giving myself time to think about it, I’d agreed to see it. Nothing else.
I needed to see if Dakota could join me, or someone, maybe Piper or Shawna or Maribella, who I worked with. But first… I was almost to the house that had been my home for three years.
I studied each window on this side, looking for movement inside or a sign of what was going on. Was Ian still passed out on the couch? Or dead?
That would solve some of my problems. I laughed at the awful thought, then sobered as I stared at the front door. What now? Walk in like I always did, because I lived here? Or knock like a stranger, which I was? Neither one felt right.
I settled for knocking because I wasn’t in the mood to get shot. As I waited for him to answer, I tried to think back on whether Naomi had ever mentioned whether her brother had a gun or was a violent type, but the truth was, she hadn’t told me much about him.
The door whipped open, and there stood the man in question. He narrowed his eyes at me, not speaking. I didn’t know how he usually looked, but today he looked like hell, with bloodshot eyes, scruff on his jaw, and weariness in his expression. He’d changed out of the wrinkled suit from last night and was wearing athletic pants and a Henley.
“Hi,” I said tentatively. “I’m Harper. Naomi’s roommate.”
His shoulders lowered slightly as he averted his gaze to the ground, seeming defeated or annoyed or…regretful?
“You came by last night?” he asked in a voice rough with fatigue and most likely a severe hangover.
“Yes. With my…date.”
Ian walked away from the door, toward the kitchen, leaving it open for me to follow, so I did.
I stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, where he stood on the opposite side, his back to me as he filled a glass with water.
“I suspect I owe you an apology,” he said, not turning around.
“You don’t remember me coming home? Telling me to leave?”
He drank half the glass, then rubbed his temple. “I have some memory of it.”
I stood there tensely, waiting to see what he’d do next, ready to bolt for the front door if he got nasty again.
“What did you say your name was?” he asked.
“Harper.”
He slowly turned to face me, leaning his weight on the cabinets. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I…wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Scotch can have that effect,” I said lightly. “Been there.”
I didn’t like this guy, didn’t trust him for anything, but I needed to get along with him well enough to have a chance to move my stuff out. Even better would be to find out what he planned to do with the studio.
“You lived here with my sister?”
I nodded. “For three years. We were good friends.” I willed my emotions to stay level. “We didn’t have a formal lease, but I paid her rent every month. I could show you payment records on my phone?—”
“That’s not necessary.”
I leaned on the doorframe, lowering my guard by a degree but not relaxing enough to enter the room. “Your aunt Sharon tried to contact you after Naomi… She said she left a dozen messages.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I was in Thailand, off-grid for two months.” His lips slipped into a frown momentarily. “I didn’t know until a week ago. This is the soonest I could get here.” The quiver in that last word told me what his words didn’t. Not getting the messages about his sister bothered him.
“You and Naomi weren’t very close, right?”
“We were…different. Opposites, you could say. It’s been a few years since I talked to her.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He turned his gaze out the window that looked over the driveway. “We fought about this place when our grandfather left it to us. I wanted to sell it then.”
“She didn’t,” I said with certainty. “She loved this place. The farmhouse. The land. The studio.”
“That outbuilding out back?”
It was technically a farm outbuilding, I supposed, but Naomi had made it so much more. “Have you been inside?”
Ian let out a sardonic chuckle. “No. I didn’t make it past the scotch.”
There was enough self-derision in his tone that I kept quiet, wondering for the first time if there was more to this guy than I ever expected.
“I came back to take care of business,” he said. “Drove straight here when my plane landed yesterday to take stock of what would be involved.” He dropped his gaze to the floor and rubbed his temples. “When I walked in the door…” He shook his head, his eyes closed, then swallowed. “Everything about this place is so one hundred percent my sister… Damn.” His voice cracked, and he took several seconds to speak again. “We hadn’t talked for five years. I thought I was still mad at her. Then I walked in here, and it was as if she might glide into the room at any second. The colors are her. The decor is her. I could swear it even smells like her, light and airy and sweet.”
I had the same thought every time I walked inside, even though it’d been weeks since Naomi had been here in the flesh. I could still smell her sweetness.
My caution toward this guy slipped several degrees and was replaced by sympathy. I could tell just from looking at him his sister’s death had hit him harder than he’d anticipated.
“I’m not a big drinker,” he continued. “I didn’t expect to be blindsided by her loss…” He covered his eyes, then roved his hands down his face. “I saw the scotch and got a glass to dull things a bit.”
“Did it work?”
“Not nearly enough.”
I nodded. “I tried the same kind of thing a couple of times. Vodka instead of scotch. It doesn’t matter how much you drink. When you sober up, she’s still gone.”
“Yeah,” he said on a pained exhale. “I’m sorry you walked in on that. Sorry you had to go somewhere else last night. Please tell me you didn’t sleep in your car.”
“I didn’t sleep in my car.” That would’ve been smarter, I realized now.
He drank the rest of his water, set the glass on the counter resolutely, as if he was closing the topic of last night. I needed to do the same.
“Do you know what you’re going to do with this property yet?” I asked. “A lot of people are wondering.”
“I’m going to sell it.”
Even though that wasn’t surprising, it felt like a punch to the gut.
“I’ll give you time to find a place to live,” he said, as if my reaction showed on my face. “I’ll move to a hotel.”
“It’s your house.”
“I own it, but it’s your home. Contrary to what you saw last night, I’m not a complete asshole.”
I studied him and found I believed this was more Ian Finley than the guy from last night. There was no question he was grieving his sister in addition to being hungover. Something in my gut said I could trust him on some level. Maybe if I spent more time with him, I could convince him not to sell. To keep the studio open. So many people relied on that space to escape into their art.
“Do you own a gun?” I asked.
“Do I what?” He said it with a chuckle of disbelief. “No. I don’t own a gun. Do you?”
“No. I have a lead on a place to live, but it would take a bit for it to be ready. I don’t exactly know how long yet.”
“That’s fine. I’m not unreasonable…unless I’ve had a bottle of scotch.”
“Thank you,” I said. I watched him for a few more seconds, finding nothing to dissuade me. “You’re welcome to stay in one of the other bedrooms instead of a hotel.” I had a lock on my door, but I didn’t think I’d need it.
He studied me right back, his head tilted. “If you’re sure you’re comfortable with that, I’ll take you up on it.”
“I’m sure. I’ll be out in less than a month.” I couldn’t let myself think too hard about what I’d just indirectly committed to. I obviously couldn’t stay here. “If it goes into September, I’ll pay a prorated rent.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ian said. “Being able to stay here will help me a lot. I’ll be taking stock of what needs to be done, seeing to any repairs or upgrades. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible and give you a heads-up on any projects that might be disruptive.”
I nodded just as I caught sight of an SUV pulling up in the driveway. My heart lurched when I recognized it as Max’s. “I have one more condition to add to our deal.”
His brows went up in question.
“That guy from last night? He’s going to show up at the front door in about thirty seconds. I’m going out the back, to the studio. If you can get rid of him, I’ll buy you dinner sometime.”
Ian followed my gaze out the window as Max got out of his vehicle. With a half grin, Ian said, “I can handle him.”
“Thanks.” I returned his smile. “We’ll shake later. I gotta go.”
Without waiting for Max to knock, I beelined right the hell out the back way to my refuge.