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“Blake Carson,” I said angrily.
He smoothed down a cowlick of hair. “I’m, um, not at liberty to disclose that kind of information.”
“Everyone in the Cove knows.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I still can’t speak about that. I’m here to let you know that you have seventy-two hours—a bit less actually, since the day is about to end—to evacuate the premises.”
“All the furniture?” There were eleven rooms in the house. Where was I going to put all of that? I couldn’t afford moving, let alone a storage facility to hold that kind of inventory.
He opened his car door and took out a large envelope. “You have a few options. You can have an estate sale. The new owner will allow the furniture to stay for a sale in the near future.”
“How kind of him.” My voice wobbled a little, but I swallowed down the tears.
Blake Carson had no idea just what he was doing. All the history and memories. God, the memories. And I hadn’t been able to tell him. Even now, I didn’t know if he’d care about my story.
He’d bought the property on the cheap—at least for him and his billions. When the lawyer had told me the amount of the mortgage, I’d literally gasped. It had started as a reverse mortgage and grown from there until my grandmother had owed millions. The land, the house, and the private beach were worth so much.
Why had she needed so much?
I’d never really know. My grandmother had seen fit to take those secrets to the grave. Not even her will gave me an indication. In fact, her will hadn’t been updated since I was in high school.
And now this. I tipped back my head, praying that the tears wouldn’t flow so hard they brought the running nose and sniffling with them. Too many people had seen me cry now.
“Ms. Copeland?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” I took the envelope he was holding out.
“Do you understand the information I’ve given you?”
“I’m not an idiot,” I snapped.
He straightened his shoulders. “Yes, well, I have to make sure. The realtor will be here with a lock box for the front door on Friday morning.”
“I understand.”
He patted down his stubborn cowlick again. “I’ll be going now.”
“That would be lovely.”
He waved at me awkwardly and backed down the lane, gravel popping under his tires. When I was certain he couldn’t see me anymore, I sprinted for the hill and down to the beach.
The sand was packed from the rains and the tide rolling in, but I needed the ocean. I needed the sea spray on my face. What was I going to do without it? How was I supposed to just pick up and go?
How would I survive?
I dropped to the sand heedless of my skirt, sat cross-legged, and stared at the lacy fingers of the tide until the moon rose over the water. I didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel anything really. Sometime between dark and light, I stumbled into my workroom and found oblivion on the mattress I kept in the corner.
I woke when my alarm told me to wake and washed on auto-pilot. The idea of drying my hair required far too much energy. I sprayed in some gel and left it to wave where it wanted. I simply didn’t care.
It was late enough that the sky was starting to lighten. I still had to use my torch app on my phone to climb the stairs to my room. I found a navy skirt that was long enough so I could wear my brown boots without tights. I unearthed a heather-gray sweater set at the back of my closet. I brought it all back downstairs to my studio so I had enough light to get ready.
I looked like death. Pale and drawn from lack of sleep and sadness. A sudden need to make sure Blake didn’t know he’d defeated me finally put some color in my cheeks. I shook out my hair and stared into the mirror.
He had no clue who I was, but I simply couldn’t look weak. Not if I wanted to finally talk to him about the house. I had to find some way to buy it back from him.
Renewed with purpose, I grabbed my liner and highlighted my eyes. It was a little heavier than I usually wore for daytime, but it suited my wild hair. It was time to take on Blake Carson and find a way out of this mess.
Ten
