AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She wasn’t wrong. I’ve never met anyone who made me want to do anything greater than go through the motions. And those are fine, for a while, but it isn’t enough to keep anyone with any sense around.
The worst part isn’t starting to think something’s wrong with me. The worst part is starting to wonder if I even care if there is.
I get up and fix Marcel and me both a drink, hoping another sip or two might cure what ails me.
I don’t know what I want.
That’s the truth.
“I’ll take mine stronger than however you're making it now. Your drinks suck when you’re depressed.” Marcel crosses his legs as he checks his phone. “Sorry if that’s rude.”
“No, you’re not,” I zing him back, glad to be on a lighter train of thought.
“What do you think about the old Phillips’ place out there?” Marcel asks.
I watch him lean back further in his chair and gaze across my sprawling property to the cottage beyond. It’s not much to look at now, but the place was no doubt the picture of charm when it was first built.
My own home is the newest one around, though I tried to keep up with my neighbors by making the place look rustic. My favorite part about my and Marcel’s design are the towering windows on the second story. Though the two of us are on the porch, I can still see the red roof of the cottage from this lower level. I bring our drinks over and snap my fingers in front of him.
“We’re already swamped as it is,” I remind him.
We’ve hired a new architect to co-design with Marcel while I’m on hiatus. The guy’s work is incredible, which he humbly attributes to muses rather than his own genius. I can’t say I feel sorry for Marcel for having to work with him. Phil Damini is second to none, not even to the two of us.
“Are you thinking about how Phil is going to outshine you while you’re gone?” Marcel takes a sip of his dessert while checking his watch. I wonder if he has a date tonight and with whom.
“You scare me sometimes.”
“No, I don’t,” he replies. “But answer my question.”
“I just did. Which married woman of Aura Creek has the misfortune of garnering your vampiric affections?” I’m only half joking.
Marcel is a hopeless romantic, with a heavy emphasis on hopeless. It once cost him a piece of his otherwise sterling reputation when the vampire seduced a rival’s wife. Though my business partner plays it cool and rarely talks about his dalliances, how he plans and prepares for his dates speaks volumes.
“I already told you, I currently only have eyes for that house over there,” he finally says.
“You say that whenever you see something worth fixing up, but then you forget about all the other projects you already took on to do that same thing.” I don’t know why I just explained this to him like he doesn’t know this already.
He’s about to reply when a black car drives up the dirt road off in the distance. At first, I assume that whoever is in the sedan is surely lost, no doubt having taken a wrong turn on their way into downtown Aura Creek. It happens a lot.
People will take the road all the way to its end, which sits inconveniently right in front of Marcel’s not-so-new potential dream flip, then look around nervously until I come and help. I try to gauge how serious my business partner is by gesturing to the house with my drink hand.
“Are you going to break my heart and buy that while I’m gone?”
I don’t know how serious I am, but as Marcel’s vibrant eyes glisten, I realize I should get a verbal confirmation while my boat’s still being built. I’d hate to get back from my open-ocean pleasure cruise – party of one and only one – to yet another house to fix.
“How dare you ask a question I don’t know the answer to,” he jokes.
“They’re about to come ask us for directions. Watch.”
I point to the couple climbing out of the vehicle just outside the old cottage. I can’t count how many travelers I’ve had to point back to the main road.
“They better not be stealing our baby out from under us. I’m serious.”
I can’t tell if Marcel means this or not. I chew my lower lip and make a decision, one I wonder if I’ll regret in the end.
“I’ll tell you what,” I begin, watching the burly man in the distance clap a heavy arm around a lithe, slender woman with chestnut-colored hair.
My unbeating heart thuds twice, then once more. My breath catches in my throat as the sensation jolts my drink hand to the side. A few droplets of my drink spill onto my pale hand, and I wipe them away with my other as Marcel continues to study the newcomers.
