CHAPTER 2
C HAPTER 2
J ust before noon, Marlow got the last of her stuff put away. It had taken her far longer than she’d expected, but now she felt she had a good grasp on what was where, and it all made sense.
Donating the majority of her wardrobe had been a stellar idea. She’d owned far too much to move it all, and what use did she have for formal gowns or business suits? Her instincts, along with what she’d learned online, had been spot on. From what she’d seen of Bramble when she arrived, the townspeople weren’t concerned with fashion.
Going forward, her clothes, like her life, would be simpler. Far more basic. She’d kept only a few of her Dior pieces because they were timeless favorites. She doubted anyone would even notice.
Because summer was just starting, she’d need to pick up more shorts, cotton slacks, and maybe a few sundresses. The problem was figuring out where to shop. Then again, she could probably just go online. In the meantime, she had some jeans, a few skirts, sleep shorts, and plenty of tops.
When she turned away from her closet, a wave of dizziness caused a misstep and she banged her hip into the side of the dresser.
She’d forgotten to eat again. Seriously, that was a bad habit she’d adopted during all the strife with Dylan. She’d put it at the top of the list of things she needed to get over.
Thankful that she had some padding in that area, she rubbed the aching spot and started out of the bedroom to grab food—anything would be fine for a quick snack to take the edge off. The ringing of her phone diverted her again. Was Cort delayed? She hurried through the house, unsure where she’d left the phone while sorting through her things, and finally, on the fifth ring, she grabbed it off the dining room table, swiping her thumb over the screen a split second before she realized it was her mother-in-law.
Almost at the same time, a knock sounded on the front door.
Biting back a groan, she put the phone on speaker and managed to sound pleasant when she said, “Hello, Sandra.” No way would she let anyone, especially her mother-in-law, know that she was still adjusting to all the change in her life.
Once she answered the phone, she opened the door to allow Cort in.
“ Where are you? ” Dispensing with any polite greeting, Sandra snapped out the question, then didn’t wait for a reply. “We went by the house and saw a For Sale sign in the yard. I know it has to be a mistake. Tell me it’s a mistake, Marlow!”
Hoping to end the call quickly, she told Sandra, “This is actually a bad time for me. I could call you back in thirty minutes—”
“Dylan loved that house, and you plan to sell it?” she shrieked. “He worked with the architect. He chose the fountain in the yard himself. He put his heart and soul into that house.”
“Sandra,” she said gently, hearing that the older woman bordered on hysteria. “I’ll call back in thirty minutes. I promise.” Giving Cort an apologetic smile, she gestured him in.
“You can’t be that heartless.” And then with another snap, “Where. Are . You?”
“I’ll explain everything when I—”
“It’s a simple enough question!” she shouted.
Never, even on a good day, did Marlow allow her mother-in-law to use that tone with her. Oh, the woman had tried plenty of times over the years, and after Dylan’s death, Marlow had given her a little more leeway.
No more. “I’ve relocated. The house is in my name, and I no longer need it. If it’s important to you, you and Aston are welcome to buy it. Now if you want to discuss this further, we can do so—in thirty minutes.” She disconnected the call.
Cort didn’t ask a single question about the conversation he’d surely overhead, saying only, “Guess I’ve caught you at a bad time?”
“No, it’s fine.” She welcomed the interruption. Limping a little, she led the way to the kitchen. “My checkbook is in here.”
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“Just clumsiness.” Indicating the coffeepot, she asked, “Would you like a cup?”
For several seconds, he hesitated, then shook his head. “I just had lunch but thank you.”
“Lunch,” she grumbled, then had to laugh. Grabbing her checkbook and pen, she sat at the table and then indicated the opposite chair. “Join me?”
Another hesitation . . . and he sat. “You haven’t eaten?”
“It’s the most ridiculous thing, but before my life changed, everything was scheduled. At work, we always had business lunches and dinners, and on the weekends, there were arrangements with friends, Dylan’s family, or other functions. I never had to think about food.” That sounded pathetic, so she laughed to prove she saw the absurdity of it.
Still, he said nothing, and she just knew she was making him uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. Not your problem.”
“It’s not that.” Sitting back in his seat, he crossed his arms and gave her a long look. “Before my mother passed away, she got so sick that she wouldn’t remember to eat, either.”
How awful for him. Marlow wanted to ask him about it, about his life and his mother’s illness, but she wasn’t sure he’d be receptive. “I promise, I’m not sick. Just pampered and distracted by . . . things. But I’m getting over both, and so far, I’m not too disappointed with my progress.”
He gave her a genuine smile. “My problem is that I want to grab a frozen dinner from the freezer, nuke it, and set it before you with a fork.”
The question tumbled out of her mouth before she could censor it. “Is that what you did with your mother?”
One large, solid shoulder lifted. “It got her to eat, even when she didn’t have an appetite.”
Picturing this big, quiet man pampering his ailing mother turned Marlow’s heart to marshmallow. The image was both endearing and appealing. “How long has your mother been gone?”
“Two years.” He made an abrupt topic change. “You don’t need to pay for six months.”
“I want to be sure that I can stay that long.” At least .
In fact, at the moment, she had no plans to ever leave. After only a single sunrise, she felt rooted here, as if this was where she’d been meant to land. She wanted to see the seasons change. She wanted to experience the people and the slower pace of life.
She wanted to find herself. Of course, she wouldn’t go into any of that with Cort. “I’m a businesswoman through and through, and I like insurance.”
“What if I already drew up a contract that gives you a month to month opportunity, ensuring you the option to stay but with no obligation on your end?”
“Wow.” He’d surprised her. “You’ve put some thought into this.”
“You told me your plans on the phone, so I thought I should be prepared.” Lifting a hip, he withdrew a folded contract from his back pocket. “I have to run into town for a few hours. I can leave that with you to read, then grab it on my way back if you want.”
“No need.” It was only two pages, and she had plenty of experience with legal documents. “If you can spare two minutes, I’ll read it now.”
“No problem.”
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, saw it was Sandra, and ignored the call. Standing with the document in hand, she went to her freezer, took out one of the frozen dinners he’d put there, and glanced at the instructions on the back.
She didn’t know he’d followed until he said, “Allow me, while you read.”
Assuming he was in a hurry, she murmured, “Thank you,” and took her seat again. Everything in the contract was in order. As long as she paid on time, didn’t damage the property in any way, didn’t disturb the peace, and didn’t move in anyone else, she’d have the option to stay. If she did cause damage, she’d lose part or all of her deposit. “Are you certain you only want a deposit and one month’s rent?”
“Yes.”
“A personal check is okay?”
“Sure.”
No one would accuse Cort Easton of being chatty. She was about to make out the check when the scent of food hit her and she forgot what she was doing. “What is that?”
“Fettuccini Alfredo. It’s not bad, but definitely not the quality of homemade.” He glanced at her from his position by the microwave. “Or anything that you’d get from a nice restaurant. Still, it’s edible. I have a few in my freezer, too, for when I don’t feel like cooking. I add salt and pepper. You have to eat it while it’s hot, though. Once it cools, it’s not great.”
“My goodness.” She flattened a hand to her chest and said, tongue in cheek, “I think that’s the most you’ve said to me since I arrived.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I talk when I have something to say.”
“Whereas I just talk. All the time. Sometimes endlessly.” Her phone began buzzing again. One glance confirmed it was Sandra.
“Eat before you answer,” he suggested.
“Yes, sir,” she teased back. She signed the contract, made out the check, and set both on the counter beside him. “My mother-in-law. She’s been needier since my husband died.” Feeling she should explain but trying to keep it brief since he wasn’t exactly gabby, she said, “We spent nearly a year going through a contentious divorce, but before it was finalized, he died in a car accident.”
“Rough.”
That single word didn’t begin to cover the conglomeration of mixed feelings she’d had, the predominant one anger. “My in-laws relied on me to make arrangements. He was their only child and they both took it hard. I’ve tried to be there for them, and I guess somewhere along the way, they thought I’d forgotten about . . . other things.” What a lame way to summarize infidelity, abusive words, angry outbursts, and ridicule. Not only from Dylan but from Sandra and Aston as well.
“You’re here to start over?”
“Yes. I don’t need to work to keep up with the rent, but I’d like to find a job, maybe open a small business . . .”
Cort shook his head. “Not here by Rainbow Lake. You’d have to head back to the city for that.”
Amused, she asked, “No new businesses?”
“Afraid not. I sort of slid into being a handyman by working from home. They’ve accepted me, but if I tried to set up a shop, that’d be trouble.”
“Understood. My point is that I won’t miss paying my rent.” She hadn’t lied about the pampered part. She was what they called a person of means, and yet her life didn’t have real meaning. At least, not the meaning she wanted.
She’d get there, though. Relocating here was the first step. Now she just had to keep up her momentum.
The microwave dinged, and he slid the hot entrée out to a plate, got a fork from the drawer, and put both on the circular placemat on the table. He gave a quick glance at the check and contract before folding both into his pocket. “I’ll get going and let you eat.”
She walked with him to the door. “After this, I’ll find a grocery store and buy real food, but for now, I can’t wait to dig in. Thank you again for being so considerate.”
“Yes, ma’am. Around here, neighbors help neighbors. Keep that in mind.”
Standing in the doorway, she watched him get into his truck, wondering if that last comment was mere friendly conversation or a statement to let her know not to get ideas. Ha! The very last thing she wanted in her life right now was another romantic relationship. No matter how appealing the man might be. It didn’t even matter that he appeared to be the total opposite of Dylan.
But a neighbor, a friend . . . ? With a man like Cort Easton, she’d enjoy that quite a bit.
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