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Myles eyed the drink in front of him. An evil he’d long ago learned to say no to. “Thanks, Sam, but I think I’ll just have water if you don’t mind.”
The bartender reached for a glass, dumped a few ice cubes in, filled it with the spigot, and placed it in front of him. “You all right, boy? I reckon I know why you came in here, and I’m sorry, son, but I gotta tell ya, the answer’s still the same.”
Myles raised his brow in understanding. He certainly wasn’t surprised by the news he’d just been given, but knowing didn’t stop the sting. He downed the glass of water, placed it back on the bar, and let out a long sigh. “Life is good, Sammy. No complaints here.”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I know this ain’t what you wanted to hear. That’s why you came in here and all…”
Captain, you mean. It was Captain now. Myles thought, but he didn’t correct the man. Instead, he handed him a card. “No worries, my friend. Hey… listen. This is the number where I’ll be staying. If you hear anything, anything at all, give me a ca
ll. Okay?”
The old bartender stared at the card as he flipped it over in his hands. He didn’t look Myles in the eye when he answered, but then again, he didn’t have to. “I sure will.”
Myles nodded. Old habits die hard, he thought.
He didn’t argue. He knew better this time. He simply stood, picked up his bag, and slapped a twenty on the bar. He nodded one last time at ol’ Sammy, and then he turned and didn’t look back.
Chapter Six
Myles had been on the job for approximately three days before he met his boss. Instead, upon his arrival, a man, who introduced himself as Dean, the Clemens Family’s butler, greeted him at the front gate. Dean was an ogre of a man and about what one might expect from a butler. Round, bald, and well, slightly past his prime. Myles didn’t immediately like or dislike the man, but nonetheless, he got the sense that the both of them wondered why the other was there. The butler ushered him onto a golf cart and told Myles they were headed for his living quarters, which were to be separate from the rest of the staff’s residence. There simply wasn’t room for him, Dean informed him with a hint of a smile.
They passed an expansive colonial style house, a pool, and tennis courts, rounded a bend and stopped in front of one of the nicest barns Myles had ever seen. Dean parked the golf cart, killed the ignition, and then ushered Myles around to the side of the barn and up a flight of stairs. He pulled a massive key ring from his suit pocket, which contained a dozen or more keys attached to it and used one of them to unlock the door. Myles watched as he deftly removed the key from the ring and handed it to him. Dean turned the knob and ushered him inside the small but homey space. The place reminded Myles of a country cottage he’d perhaps once seen in a magazine, the kind that looked expensive and rarely lived in. He scanned the room, noting the bed and a desk where a Mac computer sat. There was also a small sofa and a restroom that he ducked his head into and found that while small, it still contained both a shower and a tub.
“You’ll have to come down to the staff quarters for meals. We have a kitchen and a dining room there,” the man said.
Myles nodded. “This is a nice space.”
The butler looked at the ground and then up again staring out the window. “It used to be the Missus’s writing room.” He sighed. “Although, lucky for you I guess, she hasn’t done much of that in quite some time now....” He paused and exhaled before continuing. “But given her injury, the stairs do admittedly pose a bit of a problem.”
Myles shifted his stance and set down his duffle bag.
Dean abruptly turned toward the door. “Well, you have the key so I’ll leave it to you to get settled.”
Myles cleared his throat. He wanted to tell the man not to worry, he wouldn’t be taking his job—that he was an in and out sort of guy, but he sensed that he wouldn’t have listened anyway. It bothered him that the guy seemed to have known something he didn’t. But he didn’t say any of it. Instead, he simply posed a more clear-cut question. “Am I to report to you when I’m finished?”
If Myles wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw the man flinch. Slowly, Dean turned around and pulled a two-way radio and a folded note from his pocket. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.” He handed the items to Myles and then ran his hand over his shiny bald head before continuing. “This here is a list of things which need attending to around the property as well as a map.” He eyed Myles up and down. “I reckon it should keep you busy for a while. The radio… is how the staff communicates. Keep it with you and turned on at all times. Also, and this is important, you don’t have access to the main house, so make sure to stay clear until you’re told otherwise.”
Myles twisted the knob on the radio, which brought it to life and with it a million memories came flooding back.
He shook his head slightly, needing to gain his bearings, although not enough for the man to take notice. Distracted, he unfolded the paper and stared at the list even though his mind was far from the words on the page. “Looks like I’d better get to it then.”
The butler turned toward the door once again, and without saying a word, shut it a little harder than necessary behind him.
Myles put the few belongings he owned away and then unfolded the map and studied it. He read the list and laid out a plan in his mind. Twenty-seven minutes later, he was onto the first task—to fix a portion of the wooden fence that lined the property. He gathered the tools he would need from the barn, located a half empty toolbox covered in dust, and went to work. It was warm that day, especially so early in the spring season, even for Texas. But Myles didn’t mind the heat. Or the labor-intensive work. He found it meditative in the sense that it took his mind off things and kept him focused. It was just him and the sun and a fence that needed mending. He stayed out until dusk, finding that the fence needed a little more work than the list had suggested. He sat for a moment in the grass admiring his handiwork and watched the sun sink lower in the sky before heading back. He was sweaty and tired, and for this, he was grateful because it was a good indication that this might actually be a good night—one in which sleep did not elude him, as it so often did these days.
As Myles entered the barn to return the tools, he rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He watched the brown haired woman, who was standing with her back to him as he quietly placed the toolbox at his feet.
He stood back up steadily and started toward her, one foot in front of the other. Halfway there, he stopped, lowered his voice and spoke slowly. “I could be mistaken but… I’m not sure you’ve fully thought this through…”
The woman flinched upon hearing his voice and he could tell he’d startled her—that she hadn’t known he was there. As she spun to face him, she eyed him up and down. Myles didn’t takes his eyes from her gaze noticing that the color of her eyes were a shade of green that he was pretty sure he’d never seen before.
“What I mean is… the knot you have there isn’t going to do the trick.”
“Excuse me?” she said with considerable contempt.
“Well, it’s just that the rope isn’t tied in a way that will bear your weight, that’s all.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Are you saying I’m fat?”
