18. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Christian
M iss Esmeralda was in exceptionally high spirits when I arrived. I’d thought to maybe drop by, but she’d actually called me and had asked me to show up at eleven o’clock on the nose.
Just before the appointed time, I crated the dogs and headed to the nursing home. I found my landlady in the sitting room with an older, distinguished gentleman sitting beside her. Has she found a gentleman caller? He’s a bit younger than her…but go, Miss Esmeralda!
She beckoned me to sit in a high-backed chair across from her. “This is Mr. Sampson.”
I extended my hand in greeting. “Christian Carter.”
The man had a strong shake—but not overpowering. Just solid. He eyed me with incisive dark-brown eyes that somehow suited his shock of short, white hair .
What will Noah look like when he goes gray? Will I be around to see it?
I retook my seat.
“Mr. Sampson is my lawyer.” Miss Esmeralda sat a little straighter.
“Ah.” Is she kicking us out? We could probably find another place to live…right? Hopefully she gives us enough — I was so absorbed in my panic, that I almost missed her next words. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
She gave her lawyer a knowing smile. “Told you he’d be shocked.”
Mr. Sampson regarded me. “Miss Stanton has asked me to draw up the papers so that, after her death, you and Mr. Gainey inherit her house and property.”
My eyes widened. “No. No, no, no.” I turned to the woman I was coming to think of as a friend. “You can’t do that. Surely you have family—”
“Only child of only children. I have a few distant cousins who never responded to my letters about thirty or forty years ago. Look, if I don’t bequeath the house to someone, the state might take it and, if they can’t find someone, they might keep the profits.
I love California, but not enough to hand them a pile of money.
I knew from the moment we spoke on the phone that you were the one.
The only question is whether I give it to you alone or whether I include your, uh, best friend. ”
I chuckled to myself. She missed nothing.
“I can’t speak for Noah. I don’t want to tie him to me.
That said, he loves the property.” If I didn’t spend all my savings, I would have enough for a down-payment on a little property of my own.
Dillon paid me a living wage, so I’d be okay.
Noah could keep the house and… I blinked.
How would we split the dogs? And what if I fell in love with the cats?
Were we going to have a custody arrangement?
Because as happy as he’d been this morning, my worries that I wasn’t enough for him continued to crowd my mind.
“You have time to decide whether you want to accept this gift.” Mr. Sampson offered what I thought of as a sympathetic smile. “This is a lot to take in.”
I blinked. “I met Miss Esmeralda yesterday.”
Slowly, the lawyer nodded. “Yet she spoke to me last week. She wants things settled.”
“She can change her mind, right? If she meets someone else who she thinks would be better suited—”
“There is no one better suited.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “I see you as an intelligent young man.”
“Well, okay—”
“I’m offering you a chance to secure your future—and your friend’s.” She pointed. “You probably don’t think I know, but I do. You talk a lot when you don’t realize it. That first night? You told me your life story.”
“Did I?” I had a vague recollection of a three-hour call. Noah and I had been on the road for about twelve hours, and I’d been ready to collapse. But I’d promised Noah I’d find us the perfect rental—and I had. “I didn’t intend to.”
She pursed her lips. “You being left at the altar was a blessing.”
“I wasn’t really at the altar—”
“And you being in love with someone who you thought would never return that affection made me sad.”
“I didn’t mean to say all that—”
“But then the two of you came by yesterday, and I saw such love—going both ways. Certainly, you might not work out as a couple.”
“I’m not sure we even qualify as a couple— ”
“You’ll make it, though. I feel it in my bones.
And if you don’t, then one of you can hire Mr. Sampson, and one of you can hire Mrs. Estwick—a very competent attorney—and you can sort out the assets.
The point is, that you’ll both come away with something.
” She patted her hair. “As opposed to the state.”
I blinked. “And there’s truly no one else?”
“Mr. Sampson says I’m not supposed to leave him anything. Something about solicitor/client relationships.”
“It might appear I coerced you and, although I appreciate the sentiment, I’m quite comfortable.”
Miss Esmeralda eyed me. “You could give him a tip once everything’s done. Another reason for me to leave you everything.”
“Of course.” When Mr. Sampson wasn’t around, I’d get her to tell me a more specific dollar amount rather than just a tip .
Which meant I was going to go along with this harebrained scheme. “Let me discuss this with Noah. If he agrees, we’ll…do whatever you need.”
Miss Esmeralda grinned. “I knew you were a smart young man.” She pointed to Mr. Sampson. “He’ll bring me the paperwork, and we’ll get this going. I might die tonight.”
My gaze shot to Mr. Sampson.
Who gave me a little shake of the head. No, he didn’t know anything specific.
I grasped Miss Esmeralda’s hand. “You have to stay alive for a long time, okay? Are we clear?”
She pressed her hand to my cheek. “For you, my dear boy, I will try.”
About ten minutes later, I was driving around Foggy Basin aimlessly—trying to figure out how I was going to explain this to Noah.
In the end, I headed home. I always wanted to be home when I wasn’t working.
Dillon was a great boss, and I loved interacting with the patrons, but what I really needed was to be home with Noah and our little family of pooches.
He’d said he was looking at some rescue cats, so cat-proofing the spare bedroom needed to be a priority.
After I ran the dogs out, let them do their business, and then did a bit of basic training stuff—which Stormy aced while Sable and River…
well, they tried. Anyway, I gave them each a sliver of freeze-dried salmon and then I led the pile of pooches upstairs.
I wondered if they might go into my room, but they eagerly followed me into the yellow room.
Bright and sunny. Will cats care about that?
Oh well, I will. Noah will. That’s what counts.
I removed the beautiful quilt and folded it gently.
I put it in the linen closet and grabbed an older blanket that was fraying around the edges.
I laid that on the bed and then set about putting all the breakables in a hope chest that sat at the end of the bed.
God, I hope they don’t scratch this. I had the impression Miss Esmeralda wouldn’t care—especially if it meant we were giving a home to some rescue cats.
Through our conversation that first night—which I still held so dear—she’d made it clear she loved animals and had, when she was more mobile, had a variety of pets in the house.
Her last dog passed twelve years ago, with the final cat passing three years ago.
She’d made it clear that if our dogs or cats caused damage, that she only asked we put things to right however you see fit .
She wants to gift us this house? This land?
That doesn’t seem real. That’s not how things work in real life .
Except they just might. If I were in her shoes, I’d pick the best people with the biggest hearts.
Noah certainly fit that description to a T .
He always put people—and animals—first. Probably why he’d chosen so many guys who weren’t right—he’d thought he could fix them.
Is that how he sees me? As someone who needs to be fixed?
I tried to be independent. And reliable.
And strong. But sometimes I wasn’t, and I worried he might just see me as another wayward soul in need of assistance.
As I wrapped a china figurine in a lovely lace doily, something caught my eye. Gently, I lifted the picture frame and turned it over. A moment passed before I realized what I was looking at.
Esmeralda, clearly, wearing a white- or cream-lace dress.
My first instinct was a wedding dress, but I didn’t think so.
Her long, black hair appeared windswept—as if someone had turned on a wind machine.
The woman next to her wore overalls and some kind of a checked shirt.
I couldn’t discern the colors because the photograph was black and white.
A random guess was red and black or perhaps red and blue.
Was this the Lucinda whom Esmeralda had mentioned yesterday?
They gazed at the photographer—Lucinda with a solemn expression, while Esmeralda sported a small smile. A knowing smile. As if saying, I have a secret none of you know about, and I’m not going to share.
Or perhaps that was fanciful thinking on my part.
Standing mere inches apart, they appeared close—although whether from physical proximity or some intimacy that wasn’t readily visible, I wasn’t certain.
I placed the framed photo on the bed. I’d take it to her. She might get upset, of course, or seeing it might make her smile. My gut instinct was smile. If she hadn’t wanted it around, then she would’ve tossed it years ago.
After completing the task of cat-proofing the room as best I could, I took the photograph downstairs. I wrapped it in newspaper and tucked it by the front door—making a mental note to show it to Noah before putting it in my SUV so I wouldn’t forget I had it.
Time to eat. And maybe start dinner. I had some nice chicken breasts. I also had some fresh mushrooms and some string beans. Or maybe tacos. Tacos were Noah’s favorite. I had a taco kit with crunchy shells as well as some ground beef. Somehow, I figured I could make a meal.
I eyed the three dogs who’d dutifully followed me down the stairs. “Playtime?”
Stormy woofed.
The other two looked confused.
I led them into the family room, where I plopped down onto the floor. All at once, I had three dogs trying to climb over me, kiss me, and generally attempt to get my full attention. I hugged, gave scritches, and generally had a great time.
My life can’t get any better than this.
Well, Noah could tell me he loved me in a romantic way. But I wasn’t going to try for the moon when things on earth, at least for today, were pretty darn sweet.