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7
Finn
The ceiling in the Den is now finished. There’s still the wood coving that frames the upper corner of all the walls to do, but we’ll get around to that. Then we’re going to have to move all the bookshelves out to do the other walls. While we might have gotten away with not lifting every ornament off the tables, it will not be the same with the bookshelves. Every single book will have to come off. There’s no way me and Emma will be able to move them with how much they weigh.
I make my way over to Ben’s Scott’s house the following day. Mom still doesn’t know that I broke her favorite lamp, and I need Ben’s skills. But it’s not Ben I first see when I pull the truck to a stop outside the large house. Jackson, Ben’s son, walks around the front of the porch and throws a wave when he sees me.
“Hey, man,” I say, stepping out of the truck.
Jackson Scott was my best friend in school. We were practically inseparable. He hasn’t changed much, still as broad as a house and as tall as a door. He actually looks really good, and clearly, he’s doing well. We’ve stayed in touch over the years. Not weekly calls or anything like that, but an email here, and a text there. He told me he had moved back to Sharon springs recently, but I’m still surprised to see him at his dad’s place.
“Finn,” Jackson says warmly.
When I reach him, we throw our arms around each other. “It’s been a while,” Jackson says.
“Yes, it has,” I agree. “So, how’s things?”
At this point, a stunningly beautiful redhead steps out of the house. She’s tall and slender, and someone who likely gets second glances all the time. Word on the grapevine, meaning my mother, is that Jackson has found someone knew, but even I struggle to stop my jaw from falling open.
“That good, huh?” I mutter.
Jackson chuckles as we make our way back to the house.
“Finn, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Bree McDowell. Bree,” Jackson speaks to the stunningly beautiful woman, “this is Finn Brecken.”
Bree smiles, and then the smile falters as her eyebrows knit together. I’m wondering why she looks like she’s trying to figure something out, and then she declares, “Sylvie’s brother?”
“Guilty,” I say with a smile
“I can’t believe she didn’t mention you were in town. I was only with her yesterday. It’s lovely to meet you,” Bree says, holding out a hand.
We shake. She has a firm grip. Always a good sign in my book. And then she waves to the porch. “Why don’t you guys go and sit? I’ll bring you something to drink.”
“I’m actually here to see Ben,” I say. “But I can speak to him later.”
“Well, Ben is in the barn as usual,” Bree says. “Now his leg has healed, he practically lives in it.”
I frown. “What happened to your dad’s leg?” I ask Jackson.
“Long story. Come on. I’ll tell you all about it.”
When we settle on the porch, Jackson gives me the low down on his father’s fall, and how frustrated he was at the time. I tell him I’m not surprised. Ben Scott has always been a determined and active guy. I can only imagine what it must have been like for him to be off his feet for nearly two months.
Bree comes out a couple of minutes later with homemade lemonade, and leaves us to talk again.
“So, what’s been going on?” Jackson asks. “I’m hearing a lot of crap, and I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
I know, in his line of work, that Jackson will have heard the news about the split and upcoming divorce. If I’m not mistaken, he has shares in my company. So, I tell him the truth. I’ve never really felt the need to tell him anything else. We were geeks in high school, watching each other’s backs. Jackson has always been a good friend, and more than that, a good man. I tell him about the stealing, the lies, and finally, the demands Miranda is making.
“Wow,” Jackson says when I finish. “She sounds like a peach.”
I laugh because I can’t help myself. “Yes. But I only have myself to blame.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Jackson says firmly. I throw him a glance and notice that he’s looking at me with a determined gaze. “And if you’re telling yourself that, Finn, then you’re a fool. She took you for a ride. She lied that she didn’t know who you were, for one reason only. So she could get to the money. Just because you wanted to believe she was a good person, doesn’t make you any less of a man. Nor does it make you at fault. We all want to believe that deep down. But people lie. People pretend to be someone they’re not.”
I knew he was talking about his ex-wife. If there’s one thing Jackson had experience in, it was how cold and callous a woman could be. Funnily enough, as I remember the circumstances, she had also been a woman after his money. Only, instead of just spending it, she was sleeping with another guy while Jackson was in the city earning it. At least I don’t have to suffer that. Or, if Miranda has gone behind my back with someone else, I haven’t heard about it. A part of me doesn’t want to know.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask.
