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“That area doesn’t seem to be quite up to Carson Covenant standards.” She brushed lint off her snug yoga pants. “Now my grandmother’s place, that’s more up your alley. No wonder you snapped that right up.”
“I didn’t ‘snap it up’ because there was a dearth of property available in Marblehead.” Available properties were scarcer on the coast, as owners tended to buy and hold on for generations, but that hadn’t affected my purchase.
“Then why?”
I nearly deflected as I always had, but the sight of her curled close to the door, putting as much space between us as possible, loosened something in my chest. I’d given her so little other than a paycheck and my body. She deserved better than that. Better than me.
But for as long as this insanity continued, I was who she had.
“I was very fond of Annabelle.” I stared straight ahead, navigating through the light predawn traffic without sparing her a glance. “She brought me to her home many times, and I fell in love with it. After her untimely passing, I knew her house would be coming onto the market. I had to have it.”
My biggest oversight had been not considering Grace. Oh, I’d considered her plenty over the years, far more than was wise. But I hadn’t thought she would want Annabelle’s house. I’d figured a young girl would want something more age-suitable, perhaps in the big city. She was an artist on her way up, and her current circumstances now wouldn’t be her reality in a few short years. Grace was going places, even if she didn’t fully grasp that yet herself. Her “Fallen Angel” piece was yet another piece of proof.
It was Grace’s turn not to look at me. Instead of pelting me with questions as I’d assumed she would, she stared straight ahead, her face set and stony. “How long were you lovers?”
If I hadn’t had a death grip on the wheel, I would’ve swerved right off the road. “What?”
“You heard me. How long was she your lover?” She swiveled on the seat and met my gaze. “You can tell me. I can take it.”
I couldn’t even process what she was asking. Actually, yes, I could, and I was torn between roaring with laughter and disgust that she thought me to be so indiscriminate. “I didn’t sleep with your grandmother, Gra
ce. She was a bit beyond my age group, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“She was a beautiful, vibrant woman, desired by many men much younger than she was.”
The stubborn tilt to her chin made me smile in spite of everything. “That she was. But our relationship wasn’t like that. I saw her as a parental figure. Someone to look up to.” Someone I’d put on a pedestal since I was young. I just didn’t add that part. Not yet.
“Enough that you wanted her house. A sizable investment, don’t you think?”
“It is. I can afford it.” I kept my tone easy as I signaled into my development. “Her house is gorgeous. The views, the stained glass. The beach access.”
“It needs significant updating.”
“It does, yes. The bathrooms in particular. Your grandmother favored a more traditional style.”
“Seventies chic, you mean?” She smiled faintly and tucked her hair behind her ears. “What do you think they wanted, Blake? Money? Valuables? Maybe just a place to party for a night? The cops are right. Not a lot of townies left on that stretch of beachfront this time of year. Oh, there’s some diehards who hang out all year, but—”
“It wasn’t kids.” I hated having to disabuse her of that notion. Especially since I sincerely wished I could believe such a theory myself. It was less sticky and difficult than facing the reality.
“You seem so certain.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“The build of the guy I shot wasn’t that of a teenager. He was a fully grown adult, as was his companion. I also heard their voices.” Echoes of their shouts at least, not anything I could pin down but enough to know that they most likely weren’t underage.
Then there was Jack’s cuff link. I didn’t want to consider all the implications of that yet, though my mind continued to spin on them in a constant cycle.
She didn’t respond as I signaled and pulled into the wide driveway of my four-car garage. I only had two vehicles, the Land Rover and a convertible Spyder that I took out on the rare sunny day I took off from work. I also had a motorcycle that got even less use than the convertible.
“This isn’t as big as I expected. It’s beautiful though,” she hastened to add as I slipped into the first open spot in the garage. “What I can see of the outside in the dark anyway.”
“It’ll be morning soon. And why does everyone assume I need an ostentatious house just because I’ve done well?”
“Well, what’s the point if you don’t splurge on yourself?”
“Oh, believe me, there’s definite splurges in this house, as you’ll see. But I’m not as interested in showing off as some.” I got out of the car and came around to open her door. Naturally, she beat me to the punch, throwing it open and stepping out with a challenging look that hardened me in an instant.
