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A palatial antebellum home on the water, Michael Wyndham had presented it to his new bride, a Southern belle who’d defied her family and married for love. It had been passed down through several generations until the last Wyndham left Crystal Lake for a brighter future somewhere else, leaving it to fall into disrepair sometime back in the 1970s. The last anyone knew, it was owned by some distant relative and had become both an eyesore and a liability.
The Wyndham mansion was been a virtual playground for Raine when she was growing up. A place to pretend and explore. A place to find love and fantasize about the proverbial knights in shining armor. When she was younger, Raine used to pretend she was the lady of the house and play inside the ruins for hours at a time.
It was where she’d stolen her first kiss.
“I always loved that house. I didn’t know it was for sale.” She turned back to Marnie.
“We ran into Brad Kitchen at the hardware store yesterday during the Black Friday sales and he told Steven he’d just listed it. Something went off inside Jake—I saw it in his eyes. We all went out to see the place, and even though it needs a lot of work, he put in an offer last night and found out a few hours ago that it was accepted.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t help but feel left out, and though she tried to keep her bottom lip from trembling, she wasn’t wholly successful. “I would have gone…” she managed, “if I’d known.”
“He called you,” Marnie said quietly, “but you didn’t answer your phone, and we just figured…”
Raine blushed as her mother-in-law took in the tangled ponytail, ratty old sweatshirt, and the mismatched socks on her feet.
“Honey, we just figured you still weren’t feeling all that well.”
“Oh, right. There’s a bug going round. That’s fine,” Raine mumbled, hating the hot sting of tears that scorched the corners of her eyes. She squared her shoulders and put on a fake smile. “What’s he going to do with it?”
Marnie’s smile widened. “Why, my dear, he’s going to bring it back to life.”
Chapter 9
“You know you’re crazy, right?”
Salvatore Nuno, owner of the Coach House, shook his head and placed a beer in front of Jake. Moisture gathered along the top of the brown bottle—it was cold, just the way he liked it—and Jake grinned as he took a swig and waited for another sermon.
Salvatore’s forehead was beaded with sweat and the man huffed with a lot of effort as he rubbed at the edge of the worn, wooden bar top. “Wyndham Place is one helluva undertaking, my friend. You ever see that movie, The Money Pit?” Sal’s bushy eyebrows twisted together as he leaned over the bar. “Huh? With that there guy…you know, Forrest Gump?” He tossed the rag over his shoulder and shook his head. “That is what Wyndham Place is, my friend—a money pit. And only a fool would think otherwise.”
Jake set the bottle back onto the bar and tried not to laugh at the outraged expression on the man’s face. “Don’t hold back, Sal. Tell me how you really feel.”
Salvatore shook his head and ran his fingers over his smooth, shiny, bald head. His faded gray T-shirt stretched tight over his belly, and his dress pants hung dangerously low, held up by an ancient leather belt that looked to Jake to be on its last legs. “I’m just telling you the truth. Everyone around here thinks you’re crazy to spend that kind of money on a run-down estate that should be demolished. It’s not just an eyesore, it’s a goddamn safety hazard.”
Jake ignored the comment, mostly because he’d been hearing nothing but the same kind of rhetoric since Saturday, when word had leaked out that he’d plunked down a sizable amount of cash for the Wyndham estate.
Sizable, and about all he had.
Crystal Lake was a small town, and considering Lori Jonesberg was with Brad Kitchen when the offer was finalized, he wasn’t surprised everyone seemed to know his business. Lori owned A Cut Above, the gossip center in a town like Crystal Lake. Newly separated from her husband, she’d wasted no time getting herself on the market and was currently making the rounds with Brad.
“You got that wine ready yet?”
“Hmph.”
Salvatore scowled and grabbed a wineglass from beneath the counter, or at least what passed for a wineglass hereabouts. The stem was thick, the glass dull. It was the farthest thing from crystal, but Jake knew how much Lily enjoyed her wine.
“I hope she likes it, because it’s all we got.” Sal poured a good amount into the glass, muttering loudly to himself as he did so. “Wine? Huh. No one comes in to the Coach House and drinks wine. Scotch maybe, or whiskey, but wine?”
Jake glanced back toward the far corner, where Lily sat. She stood out like a sore thumb, dressed head to toe in white, with her platinum hair curling down past her shoulders just so, emphasizing her considerable cleavage. He was sure she’d dressed that way on purpose.
Lily was a pro at garnering attention. In fact, he was pretty damn sure there was an on switch inside her, and even though she claimed to like anonymity, he doubted she could turn it off even if she wanted to.
She’d drawn some curious stares—a group of young guys hanging near the stage kept glancing back, definitely interested. They nudged each other and whispered behind hands, but no one approached her.
He shook his head. Must be the arctic expression on her face. A man would have to have balls the size of basketballs in order to muster up enough courage to talk to her.
It was Sunday and her last evening in town. Lily was heading back to Texas in the morning. His parents had gone to Putnam’s Landing, a neighboring town, to visit some friends, and feeling restless, Jake has suggested a trip into Crystal Lake.
For the first time in a long time, he was busting with excitement with the need to do something. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to get up in the morning and look forward to his day.
