AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Did I wake you?”
His gaze flickered to the clock. It was a few minutes till twelve. “Yeah, but it was time to get up anyway.”
“I don’t know how you manage, working all night and sleeping through the morning. My girls would have a fit if I tried.”
“I don’t have girls,” he pointed out. He only had the one, and she’d left hours ago.
“The blessings in my life.” After a moment, she added, “You and Scott, too, of course. Could I interest you in lunch?”
It had been a long time since last night’s muffaletta, and he’d expended a fair amount of energy since then. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“Oh, it’s rainy and wet and the girls are visiting friends. Why don’t you come over here, and Geneva will fix that squash casserole you like.”
Yellow squash, onions, butter and bread crumbs... It was worth getting out of bed and going out into the rain for. He told her he’d be over soon and hung up, but it took him another ten minutes to get up and dress. He took the stairs two at a time, stopped abruptly at the bottom, then went into the kitchen, where he found a notepad beside the refrigerator with a pen. He needed another five minutes to decide what to say, finally settling on two words: Call me. Tearing off the sheet, he anchored it on the counter in front of the candy jars, where Alia was sure to find it.
The house was quiet but not in an empty way. Alia’s energy was everywhere, seeped into furnishings and rugs and old cypress boards. He felt its absence the instant he locked the front door behind him. He missed it.
But he would be back.
After a stop at his apartment to change clothes, he drove across town, wipers swiping away the rain every few seconds. He arrived at Mary Ellen’s house to find her waiting for him on the gallery, looking pretty as a picture. Southern Belle at Leisure. Her hair was pulled back, her makeup applied, her dress flattering in a deep rosy pink. It was the best he’d seen her look since the day Jeremiah died.
She led him through the house and into the sunroom, where a wicker table was set with china, crystal and silver, familiar patterns that he’d seen at every meal here. Soon she would be making room for their mother’s dishes, probably giving them the place of honor simply because they were Camilla’s.
“I saw Daddy’s lawyer this morning,” she said once they were seated and Geneva had served the salads. Her smile was plaintive. “I told him I want half the money to go to you. Half ownership of the house, too.”
Landry stared at her, totally surprised on the surface. His subconscious, though, had half expected this. She was sweet and giving, and she’d never blamed him for not getting along with their parents.
He hesitated, touched beyond words, before gently, quietly saying, “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want his money, Mary Ellen, or the house.”
“You’re his son. You’re entitled to it. Keep it, give it away—I don’t care, but this is something I have to do. I’ve already signed the paperwork, so it’ll do no good to argue with me.” Her hand shook as she prodded the salad greens with her fork. “What should we do about the house? I hate to let it pass out of the family, but I couldn’t possibly live there, not with the memories it holds now.”
Landry’s fingers clenched the fork. She was so fragile that he found it easy to forget that she had bulldog traits, as well. Sometimes she got an idea in her head and there was no distracting her. She worried at it—and him—until she was satisfied they’d done the discussion justice.
What to do about the house? He’d left seventeen years ago and had zero desire to return. He didn’t give a good damn whether she sold it, let it stand empty until it crumbled in on itself or burned it to the ground. But neither of those last answers would satisfy her. While he was still considering what to say, she spoke again, idly, with a hint of pleasure.
“You and your bride could live there.”
His gaze lifted, his brows arching. “I’m not even dating anyone.” No, he and Alia had totally skipped that first relationship step and gone straight to the good stuff.
“You will someday. You’ll fall in love and get married and maybe even have kids, and what a great home to provide them when that day comes.”
Not nearly as great as a cute little Creole cottage in Serenity, which didn’t even have a second bedroom, thanks to its owner’s fondness for clothes.
“I don’t know about the marrying and kids part—” though he was less sure today that it wouldn’t happen than he’d been a week ago, even a day ago “—but I wouldn’t live there.”
