Chapter 2 Jackson #2
He answered her with a glowering silence and stalked out to the car to retrieve his bags. Dumping them in the foyer, Jackson logged onto the Wi-Fi, checked his emails, and placed a call to Esther’s attorney, hanging up with an appointment for ten o’clock the following morning.
Leah appeared in the doorway of the living room. “Want a coffee?”
He pretended not to see the olive branch. “I need a shower.”
“Oh, you might want to wait—”
“No, I don’t.” He had no interest in coffee, small talk, or waiting.
“I don’t want a snack, I don’t want a drink, and I don’t want to be here.
It’s been a long day, so I plan to find a room in this moth-eaten, time-warp of a house, grab a shower, and try to catch up on all the work I should have gotten done. ”
Her lips parted and a small sound came out. Dammit, did she not know when to shut up? Seizing a bag in each hand, Jackson started up the stairs.
The second-floor landing was brighter at least. An enormous, glazed roof lantern filtered natural light from above the third floor into the vast open space.
This house could be incredible with an injection of cash and a whole heap of TLC, but its current state was depressing.
Looking up, he saw moss, mold, and bird’s mess coating the glass panes.
There were damp marks around the frame. Every way he turned there were more signs of decay—and bedroom doors.
Jackson wrenched them open, one by one, stirring vague recollections of sunny visits that turned to dust in his mind as he explored.
Room after room lay empty. Many were dated and tired.
Some had no furniture in them at all. His grandmother’s bedroom, in contrast, was flowery, pastel-colored, and elegant.
Wisps of further memories wound their way around him—warmth, kindness, and caring.
He shrugged them off and closed the door quietly, backing away.
Up another flight of stairs, Leah Raven’s room was a small double at the far end of the landing.
He knew it was hers as soon as he opened the door because her life was freeze-framed inside: the covers on the bed were thrown back; a sketchpad and another pair of glasses lay haphazardly on the pillow.
A furry hot-water bottle had tumbled onto the floor, and a green velvet scrunchie, half a glass of water, and two books sat on the walnut nightstand.
She’d tossed a pair of jeans and a sweater over the back of a small armchair near the window, and the doors to a huge double wardrobe gaped open against faded wallpaper. The scent of pears hung in the air.
Jackson recalled Leah’s face from among the people gathered at his grandmother’s funeral.
All his concentration had been on the memorized poem as he’d spoken, eye contact a strict three to five seconds before moving onto the next person.
He’d long since mastered the art of public speaking, though he still hated it.
And then he’d seen her. Intent gaze communing some kind of message he couldn’t read, dark curls held back from her face by unseen wizardry.
A live electric current had zapped through his veins before he’d shut it down with grim determination.
He hadn’t let her break his focus then; he sure as hell wouldn’t now.
The girl radiated complications and distractions. Jackson had no time or need for either.
He couldn’t remember which rooms had been made up for him and his brother when they were small, so he settled for the one containing the biggest bed.
Wide and solid, with a huge mahogany headboard, it sat on old floorboards in a spacious room along the landing from Leah’s.
A sun-faded, velvet bedspread hinted of a grand past, while the dust particles in the air admitted to a more neglected present.
Jackson slumped on the edge of the mattress with a sigh, wondering how his life had been upended so swiftly.
Taking time away from the office right now was a disaster.
His stress levels were through the roof, the hours in each day too few.
Keeping the business steady under his father’s brash leadership and inflexible decision-making was growing increasingly challenging.
And now he had to get this gothic house of horrors on the market and sold as soon as possible.
Which was going to be easier said than done.
If he could have sorted this out from his condo, he would have, but the inventory and realtor valuations had to be done in person.
Tomorrow’s meeting would give him more details.
It couldn’t come soon enough. Once he tracked down a towel and the bathroom, he’d start making plans to list this mausoleum.
Five minutes later, his weariness was forgotten as Jackson froze his ass off under an icy stream of water. He swore fluently and creatively for every second of the torturous shower, gasping as he finally shut off the flow. Goddamn Leah freaking Raven might have had a point about waiting.
And it only highlighted how much of an intruder he felt in what should have been his own home.