Chapter Thirteen #3
“Business as usual here. Nothing to worry about. Oh, but I did see Brookie at Emmett’s yesterday. I showed her the place where you’re staying. At least, the place I thought you’d be staying.”
Blane scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I should call her.”
“Yeah, you should. If she doesn’t beat you to it.”
“She gonna call me?”
“Probably within the next ten minutes or so,” Cash said with a laugh. “I just talked to her.”
“Is she all right? Everything okay with her?”
“Relax. Yeah, she’s good. I called her about something that has nothing to do with you.”
Blane scowled. “And what’s that?”
“Like I said, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Cash.”
“She’ll tell you herself if she wants to, I’m sure.”
“Fuck you. You’re just making damn sure that if she doesn’t call me, I’ll call her, right?”
Cash laughed again. “I’ll let you be the judge of that. Gotta run, bud. But you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I’m good. And you don’t need to keep that villa. It’s stupid to pay good money for a place I’m not gonna stay.”
“Okay. I’ll get on it. See ya later.”
“Yeah. See ya.”
~ ~ ~
After they’d eaten, Bea felt a little guilty about going straight back outside to work on her garden, but Blane had insisted that she should.
When he’d first talked about walking the land to get the lay of the place, she’d assumed perhaps he wanted some air and a little space, but when he started talking about figuring out the property lines, she understood that his motivation was more likely security.
Since that was simply Blane doing his thing, she’d dug out the paperwork from the sale and given him the property plan.
She felt a lot more relaxed about getting back to her gardening after watching him stride purposefully away along the perimeter wall, plan in hand.
She went back to the corner where she’d left her gloves and trowel beside one of the trays of plants but stopped a few steps short when she saw that the tray wasn’t there.
She let out a short laugh. She was absolutely sure that was where she’d left it but apparently, she was wrong.
For a moment, her sister’s voice echoed in her head.
But Beatrice, why on earth would you want to move to a country where you don’t know anyone and don’t even speak the language?
You’re not getting any younger, you know.
And there is a history of dementia in our family.
What will you do when you can’t remember things?
At the time, Bea had laughed, but standing there staring at the empty space where she was certain she’d left the plants, a little inkling of doubt crept into her mind.
No. She simply must have been mistaken. She looked around but couldn’t see the tray anywhere.
She walked all the way back to the gate that Blane had driven through earlier, knowing full well that she hadn’t been out there since they arrived home, then followed the front wall back past the house to where the little footpath came in.
There was another entrance there, this one with a small pedestrian gate in place, and she frowned when she saw that it was standing open.
It had been closed earlier; she knew full well that it had.
She approached it cautiously, then immediately felt foolish for doing so.
Perhaps someone had stopped by while they were out.
Someone from the village might have come to welcome them.
She frowned at that thought. Come to welcome her.
She was the one who’d moved here. Blane was just…
Well, she didn’t know what Blane was, exactly, but he was here, and that wasn’t the point anyway.
She reached the gate and was about to close it when she saw the tray of plants sitting on the other side. That made no sense at all. She blinked a couple of times, but that didn’t bring the plants back inside the garden where she was certain she’d left them.
Perhaps she’d carried them out there for something or other, put them down, and then forgotten what she was doing.
She had no idea why she would have done such a thing, and she was almost certain she hadn’t been through the gate since they got home, but what other explanation was there?
Perhaps Blane had gone through it on his way around the property.
That would explain why it was open, at least.
She picked up the tray, closed the gate behind her, and went back to work. Still, when she reached the corner of the garden again, she glanced back to reassure herself that the gate was closed now. It was, and she told herself that was that.
~ ~ ~
Blane checked the property plan as he followed the wall around the boundary.
It was in decent condition, and the couple of gates back here were both in good working order.
The property itself was bigger than he’d expected, and he was curious about the shepherd’s hut Bea had mentioned.
From what he could tell on the plan, it sat on a separate parcel adjoining the main property, and he started in that direction but stopped when his phone rang.
He pulled it out of his back pocket and smiled when he saw Brooke’s name on the display. He’d tried calling her earlier, after he talked to Cash, but she hadn’t answered.
“Hey, Brookie. How’s it going?”
“Blane! It’s so good to talk to you. I’m fine. How are you? What’s going on with you?”
He frowned, wondering how much Cash had told her, although Cash knew better than to give anything away. “I’m in Crete,” he said eventually, not knowing what else to go with.
She laughed. “I know. It looks amazing.”
“Oh, that’s right. Cash showed you the photos of the villa?”
“He did. Blane, I can’t believe you’re staying in a place like that. It looks fantastic, and that pool! I’d love to swim in that. And the view of the ocean. I don’t mind telling you, I’m jealous.”
He smiled through pursed lips. He really should tell her that he wasn’t staying at the villa.
That might make her feel better, but then he’d have to explain why he wasn’t staying there and where he was staying instead.
He glanced back over his shoulder toward the house, and the thought came out of nowhere that Brooke would like Bea.
He knew she would. Where the hell that had come from, he didn’t know, and it wasn’t relevant anyway.
“I think you’d like Crete.”
Brooke laughed. “You think so? I can tell you right now I’d love it just from the photos. I’m so jealous. I wish I could see it.”
He smiled. “Maybe I should bring you out here another time, then.”
The line went silent, but he knew damn well she was still there.
He frowned as he waited for her to answer.
He’d said it thinking he was putting her off—another time, not now—but as soon as the words were out, he realized that wasn’t why he’d said it.
He was thinking about coming back. That alone was enough to tighten his jaw.
Normally, he wouldn’t even bother putting Brooke off. He’d just say no.
“Blane? Seriously? You’d let me come out there with you? It’s not dangerous?”
He closed his eyes. Of course that was what she’d think. Ever since she was small, Brooke had wanted to go places with him, and he’d never offered to take her or show her any of the places he’d been because they were too damn dangerous.
He looked around at the olive-green hillsides dotted with stone houses beneath the blue sky. There wasn’t a damn thing dangerous about this place, not for Brooke anyway.
“We can talk about it when I get back. How about that?”
“Okay.” She laughed. “I’m waiting for the catch.”
“There isn’t one, Brookie. I think you’d like it here.”
There was a brief pause before she asked, “Do you like it there, Blane?”
He looked back toward the house again and nodded to himself before he answered. “Yeah, I do. A lot.”
He heard her inhale sharply, but all she said was, “I’m glad. Oh, crap, listen, I’ve got another call coming in. I have to run, but call me again soon, okay? Or I’ll call you.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, kiddo. I promise.”