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ChapterThree
Hadley Masterson hadn’t recognized him, and even though it was dark and she probably couldn’t see him well enoughtorecognize him, a part of Bryson James was still irritated by the fact.
Bryson hauled remodeling debris out of the house next to Hadley’s the following morning, carrying it to the dumpster located in the minuscule side yard.He tossed it in with a noisy clang and, on the way back, noticed movement by the kitchen window next door.
His heart pinched when he thought of sweet Georgia being gone.Normally it was her white-haired head he spotted in that window, followed by her wave to come over for coffee.
He was glad he’d taken the time and made the effort to get to know the elderly woman while he’d had the chance.Georgia had been one of a kind.Short as a minute, as genteel in certain settings as any southern lady could be—and just as ornery.She could outwit him at cards and held a particular passion for flavored moonshine.
What a wonderful surprise she’d been.
The memories of their late-night card games and talks brought a sad smile to his lips.He’d never known his grandmother, and he’d lost his mother when he was fourteen.But Georgia had treated him like her own—another of her “kids,” as she liked to call everyone.
Hadley had been a topic during some of those conversations, and Georgia had expressed her worry about her only granddaughter, sharing more than she probably should have about the things Hadley didn’t say during their brief telephone conversations.He’d wondered at first if Georgia wasn’t reading more into things than she should, but it didn’t take long to discover Georgia to be a sharp, perceptive woman.And as such, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t suspicious about Hadley’s circumstances himself.
What kind of husband would let his grieving wife travel alone?Stay alone?Where was he?Any man worth his salt should’ve been at his wife’s side, comforting her and being there to support her.
Bryson paused and turned toward the old two-story cottage, wondering what would happen to Georgia’s home now.Would Hadley keep it?Spend weekends there with the family who wasn’t at her side now?Sell it like so many others on the street when the families realized the profit margin?
From what he’d gathered from Georgia, Hadley was living it up as a plastic surgeon’s wife in Raleigh in a big house located in an area where all of the city’s prominent people lived.Maybe Carolina Cove was too small town for them?Too touristy?
No doubt Georgia’s modest home wasn’t up to the good doctor’s wife’s tastes, even though it was one of the originals that had survived hurricanes Fran and Floyd and Hazel.
Georgia’s house had great bones and he’d hate to see it destroyed.Maybe he should go ask?Try to make friendly?
He glanced at his watch.It was plenty late enough in the day to pay a call.And he had seen Hadley inside moving around.
Bryson entered the house long enough to pat the Sheetrock dust from his clothes and wash his hands before heading next door.He cut through the overgrown hedges and crossed the driveway to the walk.
“Oh.Hello.”
Bryson looked up and found Hadley on the porch, her slender hands wrapped around a large coffee mug.“Morning.Sorry to bother you but I don’t suppose you have another one of those?”he asked, lifting his chin toward the cup and grasping at the excuse.“The electric is off in the house while we get a couple things rewired.”
“Oh, um, yeah, sure.I’ll…be right back.”
So the hired help still didn’t get invited into the house, huh?Like mother like daughter, he mused.
Bryson tried and failed to tamp down the irritation he felt at being invisible to certain people.The types who demanded he and his crew only use the rear entrance and looked uncomfortable whenever they saw him in public.Some were worse than others and treated him like a second-class citizen because he was a laborer when, truth be told, he probably had more in the bank than they did with their flashy spending habits.
Thirty years ago, he’d worked every summer for his father, learning how to build and repair.
He remembered getting called to Hadley’s parents’ for a job, and Bryson had seen Hadley and some other girls from school lounging by the pool.Nothing made it clearer that his teenage summer and hers were polar opposites.Or that he wasn’t on par with the Dummits, because Hadley’s mother was one of those who’d made them enter through the rear of the house rather than through the front door.
Bryson waited impatiently, watching Hadley through the screen door while she poured a second cup.
And even though it wasn’t polite, he stared, taking in all the changes the last twenty-seven years had wrought.
Her sandy-brown hair fell a little below her shoulders in gentle waves, and she wore white shorts with a blue tank top that brought out her blue-green eyes.Eyes he’d noticed were heavily shadowed beneath, with a few fine lines at the corners.She still looked like a young woman, though, and nowhere near her age.For a woman pushing fifty, she looked to be in her thirties.
“Would you like cream and sugar?”she asked, the words carrying over her shoulder toward him.
“No, black is fine.Thanks.”
She carried both her coffee and his toward him, and Bryson hurried to open the door for her.“Smells great.Thanks, I appreciate it,” he said, accepting the steaming mug from her.
“Of course.Caffeine addicts have to stick together, right?”
He let go of the screen door and it closed with a gentle bang.“Mind if I take a break and sit with you for a bit?”
