The Summer Getaway: A Novel(6)

“You were persistent.”

“I can be.”

Her eyes were pale blue, but he would guess they’d been much darker when she’d been younger. Her face was lined, but in a way that made him think she’d smiled and laughed a lot in her life.

Her first letter had arrived while he’d been stationed in Iraq. He’d ignored it. The second had followed two weeks later, then a third. He’d finally answered, mostly in self-defense. Otherwise, she was going to drown him in paper.

She’d explained that they were distantly related through her late husband and that he would be inheriting their house after she died. This house.

“If I’d done drugs, I would swear I was having a flashback,” he admitted, trying to take it all in.

“She does take some getting used to. But you’re here, and you have all the time you need.” She gave him an impish smile. “I don’t plan on dying for a long time.”

“I’m glad. It’s going to take a long time to get used to this.”

She reached over and placed her hands on his. “You’re going to love it here. The weather is perfect, and you’ll be able to explore at your leisure. She has many secrets, as any female of a certain age should.”

Okay, this was getting weirder by the minute. He glanced longingly toward the door. Maybe letting go of his rental house in Texas had been a mistake. Only Lillian had guilted him into an indefinite stay while he “got to know his inheritance” and went through her late husband’s research materials.

Leo Lynn, in life a tenured professor at UC Santa Barbara, had shared Mason’s interest in obscure military history. Lillian had promised complete access to the reference books, notes and source materials. He’d expected a couple of cartons in the garage. Now he suspected it was a lot more than that. He’d assumed this was as good a place as any to work on his book on Major General Henry Halleck. Now he was less sure.

“Is your head spinning?” Lillian asked conspiratorially.

“I’m taking it in.”

She passed him a modern-looking key. “This is for you. It will get you in any of the doors. There’s no alarm.” The smile returned. “We don’t have trouble with anyone breaking in.” She lowered her voice. “Everyone thinks the old house is haunted.”

“Is it?”

“Not that I can tell, but I have hope.” She rose. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.”

He left his untouched lemonade on the table. They went down a hall, made a turn, and walked along another hall before reaching a wide curved staircase. The treads were at least six feet across, and the banister was hand-carved. The only modern touch was one of those stair-lift chairs.

Lillian sat on it and picked up a remote. “Shall we?”

He walked up with her, keeping pace with her slow progress. On the landing, she led the way to the left.

There were a few more twists and turns before they stopped in front of a set of double doors.

“I chose this room especially for you, Mason.” Her smile returned, this time tinged with sadness. “Leo and I so wanted children, but we were never blessed. I suppose we should have adopted, but somehow we never thought about it. Anyway, this would have been our oldest son’s room. I hope it suits.”

She pushed open the doors and motioned him inside.

His first impression was that the bedroom—more of a suite, really—was as big as his house back in Texas. His second was that the room came with a balcony and a view of the Pacific Ocean.

“It’s very nice here during sunset,” Lillian told him. “And beautiful when the storms come in.” She linked arms with him again. “What are you thinking, Mason?”

“That this country boy from West Virginia has come a long way.”

Something brushed against his leg. He looked down and saw a cat rubbing against him. The two in the kitchen had been black and brown. This one was white.

“How many cats do you have?” he asked, as the white cat jumped gracefully onto the bed.

“About fifteen, I think. They’re so restful to have around, and such excellent company.”

Fifteen cats? He swore silently. He shouldn’t even be surprised. Roses had thorns, and his unexpectedly fantastical inheritance came with a little old lady and a shitload of cats.



* * *



Robyn’s mild sense of dread at having to deal with her ex-husband was mitigated by the fact that he wasn’t her problem anymore. Because of their kids, she would be tied to him forever, especially when grandchildren started showing up, but she was no longer “Cord’s wife.”

She didn’t have to worry about him buying something impulsively, without talking to her first. Not a car or this house or anything else. She wasn’t concerned about the ups and downs of his business—although to give him his due, in the past few years, there had only been ups. Their divorce settlement had relieved her of any responsibility to the family firm. He’d released her legally and was in the process of buying her out. A significant lump sum had been deposited the day their divorce was final, and every month he wrote her a check.

Because she had a smart lawyer, she was paid before any of his other bills, and should Austin want to go to college, his four years would be covered by his dad, as Harlow’s had been. The house was a bit more of a complication. She was required to pay the mortgage, insurance and taxes until Austin turned eighteen—something that had happened a few weeks ago. After that, she had six months to sell and split the proceeds with Cord, or buy him out. Something she had no intention of doing. The beautiful house on the water had skyrocketed in value. Keeping it would require getting a loan for at least two million dollars. Even more significant, she didn’t actually like the house.