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Jack hadn’t really considered the words before, but on that day, he knew he had to find out if they were true.
When the others left the cemetery—Roy clinging tightly to his ex-wife—Jack stayed behind. He needed to plan what he was going to say to Sara and what he was going to ask for. He had one chance and he damned well better not screw it up.
She came to stand beside him. When she slipped her small hand into his, he knew that things were going to be all right.
And they were. Sara became his silent partner in a remodeling business. She kept her part secret because she wanted Jack to get all the credit. She said she didn’t want people saying that of course Jack would succeed since he had a rich old woman backing him.
Jack felt guilty at not revealing her part in his business, but she was right. At eighteen his ego needed to feel that he could succeed on his own.
Sara had helped him through it all. She lived in New York and he often went to visit her. They went over business, then they played. Restaurants, Broadway shows, miles of walking through New York streets. Sara’s love of photography became part of their lives. She said she had GAS—Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Trips to B&H photo store were often on their list of what to do.
Things changed when Jack had shown up with a Realtor handout from Lachlan. There were half a dozen houses for sale in Lachlan and he was trying to decide which two to buy to remodel then sell. He had casually mentioned that he’d heard that the big house called the Stewart Mansion was going to be put up for sale.
One of the things he most admired about Sara was her ability to make up her mind quickly. But on that day he saw the professional Sara, the one who negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts in just minutes.
He heard her gasp, saw her eyes widen. “What is it?” he asked.
“The Stewart house is for sale?”
“It will be. At least that’s what I heard. If you ask me, it’s a white elephant. It’s too big and in bad shape. Hasn’t been touched in years. Anyway, who wants a house like that in Lachlan? They—”
“Me,” Sara said and picked up her phone. Thirty minutes later, she was wire transferring the money directly to the owner, a woman she’d gone to high school with.
After Sara bought the house, Jack and his crew, along with several subcontracting firms, repaired and remodeled the big old house.
There had never been a plan for Jack to live in it, but then there’d been the wreck, his half brother was killed, Jack broke his leg, and... It just worked out.
Then Kate arrived—and she changed everything.
Jack had never met anyone like her. At first he’d been disdainful of her—and maybe a little jealous. Over the years he’d become a bit possessive/protective of Sara. What would happen when this pampered, adored young woman came into their lives?
But Kate wasn’t as he’d thought she’d be. She was far from being pampered. She’d had a rough childhood and a mother who was given to debilitating fits of depression. Since she was very young, Kate had had to take care of her mother. In a way, Ava Medlar was as bad as Jack’s father had been. But unlike Jack, Kate didn’t allow herself to suffer from it. Or, as she said Jack did, “brood” about it. No, Kate didn’t brood about things.
She was a person who thought, This is the way it is, so deal with it.
And deal with it she had.
When Jack went inside the house, it was oddly quiet. No TV, no one talking. Instead, the bedroom doors of both women were closed. Jack let his breath out. Two women in bad moods. He thought of going to the Brigade and having a few drinks. Maybe pick up a nice, uncomplicated girl and have a night of uncomplicated sex. He wouldn’t even ask her name.
But as he looked at the doors, he knew he had to fix whatever was wrong. Should he flip a coin to see who would be first?
Since Kate would ask about Sara he’d better find out about her first.
He gave a quick tap on Sara’s bedroom door, but didn’t leave enough time for her to tell him to go away. She was sitting on her bed on top of her white coverlet, arms crossed, and staring into space.
“Out with it.” He lay down on his back across the end of the bed, hands behind his head. “I want every word.”
“I saw Tayla.”
“Figured so. Use your right cross on her?” When she didn’t answer, he looked at her.
“Tayla was really nasty. Hateful. Angry.”
“You two have been at it for years, so what did you expect?”
“No. I have been at it. She caused the problem, not me. She’s usually contrite, repentant. But something has upset her so much that she’s angry about everything. This murder has caused...”
When Jack saw that she was about to start crying, he moved to lean against the headboard, put his arm around her, and drew her head to his chest. “Exactly what did she say?”
