AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come on, you’re freezing.”
She went in, and he showed her more. The apartment, the media room and gym. And the middle turret room where, so like her father, Collin had done his art.
But it all started to blur.
“You’re about to zone out,” he observed, “but I really need to go over some practical things with you before I take off and let you settle in. How about we go over those things in the dining room? Not the scary one.”
“Okay. I think I need a cookie. Do you want cookies?”
“I trust no one who answers no to that question.”
She got the cookies, and the champagne.
“From my friend Cleo. We’re going to FaceTime later, drink champagne while I give her a virtual tour.”
“Tech keeps the world close,” he said as he picked up a soft-sided leather briefcase that looked, like his boots, as if it had put in plenty of miles.
“You still don’t look like a lawyer,” she said as they walked backto the family dining room. “Your father didn’t either, not really. My mother works for lawyers.”
“So I’m told.”
“They look like lawyers. Armani suits and Hermès ties. Tag Heuers and Rolexes.”
Not just a slow smile, she thought, but a quick grin when he wanted. And it was a zinger.
“In court I wear a tie with my flannel shirt. To show respect.”
“I bet it looks good on you.” In the kitchen, she opened the fridge to put the champagne in, goggled. “Holy shit. You seriously stocked.”
“Doyles do nothing halfway.”
“I think I need coffee.” She stared at the coffee maker. “I have no idea how to work this machine.”
“Happily, I do. Collin really liked a good cup of coffee.” He set down the briefcase. “Watch and learn—consider it the first on the practical things.”
She watched his wide-palmed, long-fingered hands work their magic. And sincerely hoped she learned.
They sat at the table with coffee and cookies.
“On the snickerdoodle scale, these hit a solid ten.”
“They’re her specialty. They’re wonderful neighbors. I hope the tenants moving into my place appreciate them. And it suddenly occurs to me I’ve never not had neighbors.”
“You can consider everyone in Poole’s Bay a neighbor. No, we’re not next door, but”—he hitched up to take a card case, leather and battered, like the briefcase, out of his hip pocket—“that’s got my cell and the office numbers. Just a call or text away.”
“I appreciate it.”
He opened the briefcase, took out a folder. “More numbers.”
He handed her a paper with a list of names. “Hal Coleson, chief of police. The manor’s considered part of Poole’s Bay. Also the number for the county sheriff. You’ve got Ace, Deuce, and Trey on here, too, along with names and numbers of a plumber, electrician, a general handyman, cleaning service, yard service, a mechanic and towing service if you have car trouble. John Dee’ll be plowing your road, clearing off your deck, walkways. You can expect to hear him outthere before dark, and again in the morning if we get enough to warrant it.
“He also likes a good cup of coffee if you’re open to it.”
“I can be.”
“You’ve got the names of restaurants, the grocery, the pharmacy, laundry and dry cleaning. The mail carrier, if you get any, hits up here around noon most days. Doctors—we’ve got two in the village—same with dentists. And there’s a small urgent care. The two local banks. The one Collin used is bolded. There’s Jodi’s Salon—they do hair and nails.”
“Oh.” Instinctively she reached for her hair. “I’ve used the same stylist for five years.”
