The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(39)

“I’m sure it’s good for your image in the community to pretend to watch out for poor orphans.”

He didn’t display even a flicker of shame. “I knew you wouldn’t roll out the welcome mat for me, but I thought maybe we could work together on this.”

“You thought wrong.”

He gazed around at the weedy yard and small honey house with its peeling white paint and sagging tin roof. A gust of wind stirred the leaves but didn’t disturb his expensive haircut. “You won’t get much for this place if you try to sell it. There’s no water view, no beach access, and the cottage needs work.”

He wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already figured out. Unlucky in love and in real estate—that was her. The bank had foreclosed on the five-million-dollar house she and Scott had bought in Bloomfield Hills. The last she’d heard, they’d listed it for one-point-three million and still couldn’t move it.

Mike wandered toward Myra’s abandoned garden where young tomato plants were struggling to survive the weeds. “If you take Toby off the island, you’ll destroy the only security he has.”

“You don’t really think I’m staying here?” She said it as if she had a dozen other options when, in reality, she had none.

He still managed to look innocent as he drove in the knife. “I heard you didn’t get much in your divorce settlement.”

She hadn’t gotten anything. No help from her family, either. Her brothers had their own financial problems, and even if they hadn’t, she couldn’t have asked them for money, not when she’d turned a deaf ear to their warnings about Scott. As for her inheritance … That had been gone within a year of her mother’s death.

“Here, you have a house,” he said. “Myra kept Toby too close, so he didn’t have many friends, but his roots are here, and there’ve been enough changes in his life. I think David would want you to stay.”

She couldn’t stand hearing him speak David’s name, not even after all these years. “Don’t ever come here again.” She turned on her heel and left him standing alone in the yard.

Toby was sitting at the small drop-leaf table in the kitchen, eating another bowl of cereal. The kitchen, along with the rest of the cottage, had been redone in the days of pickled oak cabinetry and butcher-block countertops. A pair of open shelves held Myra’s collection of honey pots and ceramic bees. Through the window over the sink, she watched Mike survey the yard as if he were appraising the property. Finally he walked away.

David had written her one letter.

I’ll always love you, Bree. But this is the end. I won’t be the cause of trouble between you and your family …

She’d been devastated. Her sole comfort had come from her phone conversations with Star. Myra’s daughter was her best friend, the only person who understood how much she loved David, how much more he was to her than a summer romance.

Six weeks after Bree left, Star got pregnant with David’s baby, and David dropped out of school to marry her. Bree had never spoken to either of them again.

Toby picked up his cereal bowl and slurped the remaining milk. He set the bowl on the table. “Gram told me you were rich. I bet you lied to her.”

“I was rich.” Bree gazed out the window. “Now I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because I relied on a man to support me instead of figuring out how to rely on myself.”

“I knew you didn’t have any money.” It was an accusation, another reminder of how much he hated her. Not that she was too crazy about him, either. “When are you gonna leave?” he said.

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question, and she wished she had an answer. “I don’t know.”

He shoved back his chair. “You can’t keep sitting around here not doing nothing.”

He was right, and she needed to show him she had a plan. Something. Anything.

“I don’t intend to.” She turned away from the window. “I’m going to sell Myra’s honey.”



LUCY HAD NO INTENTION OF joining Panda for a chummy pizza dinner. Instead she put on her sneakers and headed outside. She hated to run, but she hated feeling like a slug even more, and she needed to work off her emotions from this miserable day.

From Goose Cove Lane, she turned out onto the highway. Eventually she passed an abandoned farm stand. Behind it, she glimpsed a small blue cottage. She heard another runner coming up behind her and didn’t have to look back to know who it was. “You’re not on the family payroll anymore,” she said as he reached her side.

“Force of habit.”

“I don’t like running, and I especially don’t like running with you.”

“Tough. This road’s too damn narrow. Get on the shoulder.”

“You can hear a car coming a mile away, and I’m doing this because I want to be alone.”

“Pretend I’m not here.” He slowed to keep from passing her. “You’re really not going back to Wynette, are you?”

“You’re just figuring that out?”

“I’d have bet anything you’d change your mind.”

“You’d have been wrong.”

“There’s always a first time.”