Chapter 34 Cow Intervention
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
COW INTERVENTION
Harlow
Ipull to a stop on the rocky dirt road and park at the end of the lane. I’m early, but that was my plan.
This is also the first time I’ve driven my new car. Devon was right, it’s the shit. But it’ll never stay clean on this lane that leads to the house. Grandma always complained about the dust, but when I was twelve, I didn’t think it was a big deal.
I just added a paved road to the contractor’s list. This will be our first official onsite meeting.
He said he knew of the property. I hope he doesn’t run the other way when he sees it.
There are only so many contractors in Winslet.
I know because I had to track them down.
This guy said his other jobs are small enough, he’d clear his schedule for me.
And he came highly recommended by the town librarian.
I’m counting on her for more than just book recommendations.
Devon had to bring entire crews in from out of town to make the estate what it is today, but the scope of his project was much different than mine. I want to use locals to make Grandma’s house the way it once was.
Well, the way it was but better. Her lime green bathroom tile will not be salvaged. The heavy woodwork on the staircase, however, will be brought back to life.
My cell vibrates as I make my way down the drive taken over by weeds and brush. I answer immediately. “Good morning. How are things back in Manhattan?”
Chrissie answers in a whisper. “Um ... I don’t know how to describe it, and I really don’t know how to react. I’m used to your dad barking orders and making demands. But ever since you told him he has a son, he’s been...”
I stop where the drive opens up to the overgrown front yard and try not to panic. “He’s what?”
“I don’t know. Gloomy? Heavy? I didn’t think he had it in him to be so introspective.”
“Oh. You had me worried for a moment. He’s just getting used to the idea. I talked to him first thing this morning. He wants to call Jett, but he’s also nervous. The guilt is eating at him.”
“That’s it, guilt,” Chrissie echoes. “Has Patrick Madison ever felt guilty for anything in his entire life?”
I think back to when we lost my mom, and Dad hit his low point. After that, nothing was ever the same.
“He just needs time. I’m sure he feels guilty. Hell, I feel guilt that I grew up with a father and Jett didn’t. I’m anxious to find out why that was kept from Jett and Dad. For their sake, I hope it was a good reason.”
“I got to the penthouse an hour ago. He’s sitting in his office chair staring out at the city. He hasn’t said one word to me about work. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t do anything. I know him. He needs time.” A call beeps in, so I pull the phone away from my ear to see who’s calling. Devon. I’ll call him back.
“You know me. Doing nothing is hard.” Chrissie takes a breath and changes the subject. “What are you up to today?”
“I just got to Grandma’s house. I got permission from the county to meet with the contractor before I close on the property next week so we can hit the ground running. Or at least at a powerwalk. I have a feeling progress in Winslet will go slower than I’m used to in New York.”
“That thought makes me shudder.”
I kick a rock out of the way with my sneaker as the house comes into view. “I’ll never get you to move across the country with me, will I?”
“I love you, Harlow. I’ll visit, but I need the city energy. It feeds me.”
I sigh and come to a stop in the middle of what used to be a pristine lawn. Now I’m standing in a sea of weeds, and overgrown ones at that. “Then visits, it is. Quarterly, at least. Maybe every other month. I’m holding you to it.”
“I can do that. I’d better go. I need to check on Mr. Melancholy. I’ll let you get to chicken houses and vegetable gardens. If you buy a cow, there will be an intervention. Understood?”
“What about a goat?” I tease.
“Only if it’s a fainting one. I’ll need something to entertain me while I’m there.”
“That’s horrible. I’d never let you do that to my goat.”
“But aren’t they made to faint so we can take videos of them and post them on the internet? Why else would they faint?” she demands.
“You might have a point. Why do they faint? Still, that’s mean.”
“And that right there is why you’re moving to small-town America, and I need sirens and gunshots as white noise,” she explains.
“We have gunshots in Winslet,” I remind her. “I’d tell you to give my dad a hug, but I know you won’t. Tell him I love him, and I’ll check on him after my meeting.”
“Will do.” Her heels click on the marble of the penthouse. Even though I grew up there, I don’t miss it. Maybe I am meant to live in a small town.
We disconnect, and I slide my cell into my back pocket. I look up at the house that stands tall over me in the warm, morning sun. Well, if I’m going to live in the country, I can’t be afraid of critters that might be lurking around every corner. This is why I came early.
I put one foot in front of the other until I make it up the creaky steps and tear the crime scene tape from the front door that I hope with all my heart can be salvaged. I nudge it open farther and peek inside.
Memories of my mom and grandma from decades ago flood my brain and warm my heart. This is why I’m here.
Devon
Iwalk into Felicity’s new office. She hasn’t wasted any time making it her own. Pictures of her husband and dog litter the credenza behind her desk, and she has sticky notes plastered across the wall in every color of the rainbow. She just walked in and hasn’t even had a chance to put her bag away.
“Good morning, Mr. Donnelly,” she sing-songs. “I was just about to come see you.”
“I beat you to it.” I lean a shoulder on the door jamb. “Are you getting settled?”
“I am, but I need to ask you something—”
I put a hand up and interrupt her. “In a second. I hired a general manager. You’ll still report to me, but she’ll be over the hotel operations. I’d like her to shadow you when she starts, if that’s okay.”
Her face lights up. “I’d love to. I’ll introduce her to everyone.”
“I knew you would. I’ll let you know when.” I turn to leave since my list of shit to do is long before I head out of town with Harlow.
“Wait, Mr. Donnelly. I need to ask you something.”
I turn back, already halfway out the door. “That’s right. Shoot.”
“I just wondered if you’ve called Chief Moretti.”
I turn fully to her and cross my arms. “Why would I need to call Dean?”
“Because of Mrs. Madison.”
“I’m confused. Why would I call Dean about Harlow?”
“No,” she goes on, her expression just as confused as mine. “Not Ms. Madison. Mrs. Madison—Janie Madison.”
I drop my arms, feeling the tension headache return that only Janie can induce. “What about her?”
“Well, you told me she wasn’t welcome on your property again. And I guess she wasn’t technically on the resort, but I did see her when I turned in.”
I glance at my watch. “Janie is in Winslet? You’re sure it was her?”
Felicity senses my unease and clenches her hands to her chest. “Yes, I’m sure.
She was in the passenger seat. A man was driving.
I didn’t get a good look at him, but I’d know that woman anywhere.
It was ... maybe fifteen minutes ago. No, twenty.
I got here but stopped to talk to the chef about a luncheon next week.
Then she poured me a cup of coffee, and we talked about the Fall Art Fair since she’s new.
Then I finally came to my office.” She waves her hand around like a nervous bird. “And now is now. Should we be worried?”
“No, it’s fine. Thanks for telling me,” I rattle off and turn back for my office where I left my cell.
I pick it up and press go on Harlow’s number. She’s meeting her contractor at her property this morning.
It goes straight to voicemail.
“Baby, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this.”
I open our text string and regret not making her share her location with me.
Me – Call me right away. Janie is in town.
I stare at the screen.
Not one bubble.
Fuck.
I call again.
“You’ve reached Harlow Madison. I can’t wait to talk to you. Leave a message, and I’ll call you back.”
“Dammit,” I bite.
Something doesn’t feel right. Janie’s in town and Harlow isn’t answering her calls.
I grab my keys and slide my cell into my pocket. By the time I hit the front doors, I’m in a jog to the parking lot.
If there’s one person I don’t trust who’s still walking freely around the world, it’s Janie-fucking-Madison.