Chapter Nine
LAYLA
From the moment my alarm sounds at six-twenty I begin an internal debate: should I show up for the run with Owen? No. But will I? Probably. I’m jittery with energy I need to burn off.
Even though it was Miles who delivered an electric heating pad and a mug of hot cocoa last night, I know it was Owen who sent him. I wish it was Spencer, but I’m not that na?ve. Happiness is a mug of hot cocoa, and it was just what I needed to warm up. The cold outside had sunk into my core and a pile of blankets would not do the job.
Why does Owen have to be a nice guy? It would be so much easier to ignore my attraction to him if he wasn’t kind. He should be a jerk and then I would easily forget about him.
No matter my reservations about running with him this morning, I’m ready and waiting at the front door five minutes before our meeting time. When Owen comes down the stairs, he’s whistling. My Opa was a whistler, and it makes me smile. I force a frown. Owen can’t think I enjoy spending time with him, or he might invite me out again, and I can’t trust myself to say no.
“Good morning,” he says with a sunny smile. Someone got up on the right side of the bed.
“Morning,” I grumble.
Outside is cold and dark, though the sky is lightening to a robin egg blue to the east. Running in winter is not for those with weak resolutions, and I’m glad Spencer bought me cold weather running gear. Unlike my roommate Livy, I love winter. At least I do when I’m properly prepared for it. A crisp wind from the ocean caresses my cheeks with icy fingers.
After stretching, we start out at a steady twelve-minute mile down the lane and speed up as we get further. Our breath puffs out in a white cloud as our feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm. This is the first run I’ve had in over a week, and I feel the stress and tension shed behind me.
Poor Spencer. This is a thousand times better than running on the treadmill.
I normally run with earbuds in, but that’s because I run alone. It’s rude when I’m with someone, even if we’re not talking. That doesn’t mean music isn’t running through my head. Today’s soundtrack is the Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night album.
From the main road, Owen takes us to an offshoot lane that does indeed lead to a neighborhood. The houses are colorful, with dormer windows and wide front porches. They’re large, though not mansions like Rheta’s home, and spaced far apart with stretches of barren trees and lawns between each one.
The light from the rising sun casts everything in a sunny glow. It’s a gorgeous morning, and I don’t realize I’m smiling until I catch Owen looking at me from the corner of his eye. I can’t find the will to put the frown back on my face.
We finish the loop of the neighborhood, and Owen asks, “Are you ready to go back?”
My body has warmed enough that I unzip my jacket partway, but I’m not ready to end this yet. “Another loop through the neighborhood?”
“Sure.”
We run in silence a little longer before he asks, “How did you get into running?”
My chest warms with the memory. “My mom. She was a cross-country runner in high school. One of my earliest memories is when she took me out with her in a running stroller. When I got old enough, I rode my bike as she ran.”
“Did you eventually run with her?”
“For a little while. She was diagnosed with cancer when I was ten and couldn’t run anymore, at least not the way she wanted. It devastated her. I did cross-country in high school just like she did and even earned a scholarship that paid for a chunk of college. The sweetest part of running is how I feel my mom is with me.”
I’ve said too much. My connection with Mom through running isn’t something I talk to others about. “How about you? ”
“Spencer, actually,” he admits. His smile turns into a frown. “He’s older than me by two years, but we started Harvard the same year. He picked up running for easy exercise he could squish in between classes. I followed his example. We trained for the Boston Marathon for a few years, but we never qualified.”
I would never guess seeing them together now that they were once close and attended the same university. Owen attended Harvard? It surprises me almost as much as overhearing last night that he was a lawyer in the family firm before he quit.
I’ve always pictured Owen homegrown like me. Harvard is for the wealthy with connections. For the first time since arriving in Maine, I see him as an Eccleston. Or, at least as part Eccleston. His running jacket is old and frayed at the hem, not like my flashy new one. He’s also the best running companion I’ve ever had, and I can’t say the same for Spencer. He’s all about getting the run done, and doesn’t enjoy the journey.
“I have never paid for a race,” I say. “The thing I love about running is it doesn’t cost me anything.”
That makes me sound poor, and I wish I could take it back.
“I love races,” Owen says. “It gives me something to work toward.”
“Since graduating from college, I love how running isn’t competing against anyone but myself.”
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “My family could learn from you. All we know is how to push each other down so we come out on top.”
“Rheta isn’t like that,” I say .
He shrugs but says nothing to support or refute my defense of her.
I think about dinner last night and Dorian’s conjecture about Rheta. “Do you think she’s dying?”
We exit the neighborhood and slow to a walk as we head back to the cabin.
“I don’t know,” Owen eventually says. “I haven’t seen her for eight years and she’s frail, but she’s getting over the flu and also eighty-one. For my mom’s sake, I hope it’s not something terminal. They’re finally getting the chance to have a relationship after so many years.” He looks toward the horizon. “I think my uncle and Spencer will sue Grandmother for control of her estate. If she is dying, it’s unfortunate her last months will be spent in legal proceedings with her family.”
“I agree.”
I like Rheta, and she planned this week to have time to spend with her family. It doesn’t seem she’ll get that if Spencer, Dorian, Gerald, and Ellory spend it working. So much sadder if they’re secretly plotting behind her back.
We reach the stairs to the front door but both stop at the bottom. Is he as hesitant to end our morning as I am? I loved running with him. I loved our conversation. I love how easy we are together, like we’ve known each other for months and not days.
All terrible things. I jog up the stairs. “Thanks for the run, Owen.”
“Layla, wait.”
I turn. “Yeah?”
He fidgets with the zipper of his running jacket. “I know being here together this week might be awkward, but I hope we can still be friends.”
My heart grows two sizes at the pleasure his words give me. Friends hang out together. They don’t feel the need to avoid each other. Sending cocoa to a shivering friend is acceptable behavior. As is complimenting their eyes. They can go on morning runs and not feel guilty for enjoying the time spent together. By sticking Owen in the same box as Livy and Meg, I erase all my conflicting emotions about spending the week with the two cousins in the same house. Owen equals friend. Spencer equals boyfriend-slash-secret fiancé. Part of me thinks they should swap places, but that part of me is stupid.
Friendship with Owen equals perfection.
“I’d like that too. If you’re up for it, we should go running again tomorrow.”
He smiles. “I’ll plan on it.”
I push through the front door before he can see my mouth mirror his. I hum Shania Twain’s “Best Friend” all the way to my room.
I have texts waiting for me from Meg and Livy in our group chat, but I don’t read them. As much as I want to know how much fun they’re having with Meg’s family, it’s easier if I keep my focus here in Maine. They’re probably worried about my silence, but they would be so much more worried if they knew the truth.
If I were home, I’d stay in my pajamas all day, or at least yoga pants and a t-shirt. Instead, I curl my hair and apply makeup to smooth out my pinkish complexion and bring out my eyes. I wear the softest gray wool pants I’ve ever touched and a green silk blouse that feels like a cloud against my skin. Not my usual wardrobe for a Sunday morning.
I glance at the schedule. Today we’re visiting the town of York and the Nubble Lighthouse. I grab the Valentino flats Spencer bought me since it seems we might walk a lot.
I’m excited about tomorrow’s visit to a tree farm. This house needs some sort of decoration for Christmas, and a tree is perfect. On Christmas Eve, Rheta has planned Nordic skiing at Mount Agamenticus. I don’t imagine she’ll be joining us on such a rigorous activity. The day after Christmas will be Boxing Day at the community center, whatever that means. Friday is a family discussion with her lawyer about her last will and testament. I’ll be officially engaged by then. Does that mean I’ll be invited to the family meeting? Something that’s not worth worrying about right now.
I knock on Spencer’s bedroom door, but there’s no answer. A glance at my watch shows its nine. He must have already gone down for breakfast. Except when I enter the breakfast room, I’m the first to arrive. I expected everyone to be prompt after Rheta’s edict last night, but even she’s not here yet.
The breakfast room is smaller than the dining room, with a table large enough to seat twelve instead of thirty. The east wall is completely glass, with a sliding door and windows that open onto the back deck. Beyond is the ocean where sunlight reflects off the water. It’s breathtaking. This may be my favorite room in the house .
A server, a young woman who looks to be around age twenty, stands next to the sideboard and smiles at my entrance. The smile only lasts a few seconds until she looks down. I wonder if she isn’t allowed to engage with the guests in the house. It bothers me if my guess is correct. Enough that I go to the sideboard, but instead of picking up a plate, I speak to her.
“Have you worked here long?”
She clears her throat. “Not long.”
I lean close and say in a whisper, “This place is crazy, right? I counted ten bedrooms upstairs, all with their own bathroom. I hope you don’t have to clean them all.”
Now she looks up, her eyes dancing. “No, I’m kitchen help.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I don’t know yet. This is my second day, and it’s only a seasonal position.” Her face brightens. “But if Ms. Rheta likes my work, I could get a permanent spot on her staff.”
“Doesn’t the family only come for vacations?”
“The family, yes, but Ms. Rheta moved here permanently this past summer.”
“I didn’t realize.” I wonder if Spencer knows. If so, he didn’t mention it. “I’m Layla.”
Her smile brightens. “Hannah.”
A clatter comes from the anteroom and she straightens her back and looks down again.
“Miles said I’m to be invisible and silent.”
I can understand how Dorian and Ellory might be offended if the staff started talking to them, but I’m not like that. Just a few days ago I would’ve been in Hannah’s position, trying to make money during the holiday break. I relate to her more than Spencer and his cousins.
“Well, I am the one who spoke to you,” I say. “It would be rude if you didn’t respond. It’s nice to meet you, Hannah.”
“You too, Layla.”
My stomach grumbles. Everything smells so delicious. The food spread out on the sideboard is enough to feed three times as many people as are staying here. There are biscuits, muffins, croissants, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, cut fruit, yogurt, and three fresh juices along with coffee and hot cocoa.
“Hannah, do you know if I should wait for everyone else to arrive before filling a plate?”
“I was told breakfast lasts until ten o’clock and that the family will come and go during that time.”
“Thank you. That’s very helpful.”
My stomach grumbles again, and I reach for a plate. The door opens and I look over my shoulder as Owen, Marianne, and Brady enter.
Brady has a thick book under his arm, and Marianne reminds him there is to be no book reading during meals. “We’re here to spend time with extended family, not fictional characters.”
My eyes meet Owen’s, and I’m hard pressed not to show through my smile how good it is to see him, even though we only separated an hour ago. It’s not a big deal. Friends are happy to see each other.
Marianne comes up beside me. “Good morning, Layla. How did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you. How about you?”
“Well enough eventually. Brady and I rummaged in the kitchen for a midnight snack. I find traveling always wakes up my appetite.”
I turn away so she doesn’t see my cheeks pink from the memory of what happened to me when I tried to do the same thing.
Now that I have my breakfast, I have the dilemma of figuring out where to sit. The same end spot where I sat last night seems like a safe bet. A few moments later, the Clark family does the same and sit in their seats across the table. Which means my friend Owen is directly across from me. I meet his glance and we share a smile.
By the time Spencer, Dorian, Ginger, Ellory, and Gerald enter, we’re half done with our breakfast.
Spencer’s hair is wet, and he wears a fresh shirt and slacks, but there are bags under his eyes and he yawns. I wonder if he got any sleep last night. The other three look well rested. This case might be important, but they could take the night off. It’s unfortunate Spencer didn’t do the same.
His eyes find mine, and I smile and stand as he walks over and kisses the top of my head.
“You look lovely,” Spencer says.
“Thank you. I wish I could say the same. Did you get any sleep last night?”
“A few hours.”
When Spencer goes to the sideboard, I go with him. I want to grab another biscuit. They’re heavenly. The last one melted in my mouth like it was fifty percent butter.
Tori enters, her daughter skipping beside her wearing a blue Cinderella dress. The moment Sadie sees Ellory, she runs over and wraps her arms around her grandma’s leg .
“I pooped in the potty!”
Everyone chuckles while Tori covers her eyes with a hand. “Sadie, remember when I told you we don’t talk about such things during breakfast? Or in public, Ever.”
Spencer frowns at Sadie, as if such a display of pride in her accomplishment is unacceptable. I think it’s cute, and turn his attention back on me so the little girl doesn’t notice his censure.
“How is the trial prep coming?” I ask.
“Not great. I wanted to get caught up on all the latest developments and do what I could before everyone gets involved. It was a solid case two days ago, and now it’s falling apart. We’ll all be working overtime on this one.”
Knowing Spencer, I expect nothing less, but it makes me wonder. “Do you need to go back to Salt Lake?”
I can feel Owen looking at my back. I would miss my new friend if we had to leave. And my roommates would have easy access to me. It’s better for me if we stay here.
Spencer shakes his head. “No, we have to stay. Grandmother wants us here, and if we leave, she might change her will again. Right now, the best course of action is to do what we can to make her happy. It will annoy her that half of us will work during the week, but at least we’ll be present for meals.”
He fills his plate with meat, and I grab my biscuit before we sit down. I glance up to see Owen studying me. I widen my eyes, asking silently what he’s staring at. He grins and shrugs.
When Rheta enters, everyone stops eating and talking. The room is silent as she sits at the head of the table. Hannah disappears for a few seconds before returning with a bowl of what looks like runny oatmeal and lays it on the table in front of her.
“It is lovely to have my family with me this morning,” Rheta says. “I hope everyone is looking forward to our visit to York today. As stated in our schedule, we shall leave at ten-thirty.”
Dorian is the one to break the bad news to her. “Mother, we have an issue with a case that arose yesterday and unfortunately, Ellory, Gerald, Spencer, and I need to work on it today.”
Rheta’s smile instantly disappears. “Yes, well, I can’t say that’s unexpected.”
“You demanded we visit only a few days ago,” Ellory says. She’s in another tailored business suit, this one a deep burgundy. “You can’t expect us to spend all week without working.”
Rheta nods. “I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Grandmother,” Tori says, “but Sadie doesn’t sleep well in new places and kept me up most of the night. Miles found me a sitter for a few hours so I can take a nap.”
“I’m off to Boston for a spa day.” Ginger dabs at her lips with the cloth napkin. “I scheduled it weeks ago.”
Rheta looks around the table at her family while they share glances with each other. Dorian tugs at his shirt collar. Ellory bites her bottom lip. Spencer hides a yawn. They must wonder how their refusal to participate in the holiday she has planned will affect their standing. Rheta doesn’t come across as vindictive, but this family is different from anything I’ve known, and I couldn’t predict what any of them will do.
“There is nothing mandatory about spending Christmas with our family.” Rheta takes a fortifying breath. “This week in Maine was an invitation. It has been years since we’ve been together, and I wanted to mend broken relationships, but it is a choice. Does anyone else have any pressing responsibilities that will make them unable to come to town with me today?”
I would rather go to York than spend the day alone at the house, but it isn’t lost on me that I will spend it with Rheta, Owen, Brady, and Marianne. Essentially, the Clark family and grandma.
“No, Mother,” Marianne says.
“Wonderful.” Rheta beams. “We will have a lovely day. I hope the rest of you will get your obligations in order to join us tomorrow for picking out a Christmas tree and ornaments. This year I intend to be involved with every stage of decorating the house. We shall do it together.”
“Mother,” Ellory says. Her tone is one she might use with a child. “We’ve never picked our own tree or decorated the house before. I’m sure there are staff that can do that for us.”
Rheta hits her palm against the table. “Not this year. Why pay someone to have our fun when we can experience it for ourselves?”
That’s a weighted question that no one answers, but I wholeheartedly agree.
Rheta eats her oatmeal. We eat our breakfast. No one says a word.
When Rheta’s bowl is empty, Hannah pulls out her chair.
“We leave in forty-five minutes,” she says to Marianne before turning to me. “I’m so glad you can come with us, Layla. Everyone else have a lovely day. I’ll see you at dinner.”
The door shuts behind her with a soft tap .
“Yep,” Dorian says. “She’s definitely dying.”
“She’s not dying,” Marianne says. “She’s old, and she’s had the flu. Is the case really so important that you can’t give Mother what she wants for Christmas? Time with her family?”
“Yes, it really is that important.” Ellory’s voice is calm but her eyes blaze. “You’ve been away from the family and the firm for too long. We have a reputation to uphold, and we won’t lose this case because of Christmas.”
“I didn’t choose to leave this family,” Marianne says softly, but her voice carries. “I was pushed out of it.”
Ellory sniffs. “You went against Father. What did you expect?”
I want to sink into my chair and disappear. I’m an interloper in this family drama. Owen meets my eyes across the table. His jaw ticks.
Dorian waves his hand in the air, as if he’s dismissing this petty argument. “What’s done is done. We can all agree that Father was a controlling—” He breaks off when Tori glares and waves her hand over Sadie’s head. “Man,” he finishes lamely. “I for one am glad to have Marianne back in the family.”
Marianne’s expression softens. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Ellory lays her cloth napkin on the table. “I am too, Marianne.”
Dorian nods, giving the impression that a few words have healed everything. “This is a time to unite and convince Mother not to throw the estate away in pieces. Marianne, since you’re the only one able to go today, we’re relying on you. Now it’s time the rest of us get to work. ”
He stands. The lawyers in the room follow his lead. Spencer kisses my temple before his departure. From the way he glances at Owen, I’m positive he only did it to annoy his cousin. He doesn’t realize that Owen and I are only friends.
I lean back against my chair, exhausted from the Eccleston family drama, and I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours. Six more days to go.