Seventeen Years Later:
Seventeen years later, Aaron Carson frowned at the blank eyes staring out the large bay window in the dining area. With the help of manuals and money and lots of summers working hard, they’d remodeled the house into two very large sections with the kitchen and dining area central between them.
“You had a nightmare,” he said simply, pouring coffee and watching the thick, dark lashes blink as if only just returning from somewhere else.
“So?” Anna shrugged it off, shaking her head and glancing at the clock. “You have them, too.”
“They don’t show on me as much as they do you,” he tossed back, typical big brother logic.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Why won’t you take the sleeping pills?” He scowled as she bent over the sink, what he knew from experience was icy cold water being splashed onto her face and into her eyes.
“You don’t.”
Aaron just sighed. They’d had this line of morning conversation repeatedly over the years. Usually it meant she was finding bits of information in the nightmares masquerading as dreams.
“It’s weird that we go months at a time without thinking about it,” he leaned on the counter, his suit jacket shoved back and hands in his pockets, staring out the same window she’d been lost in minutes ago. “Then all of a sudden, it’s back as if it were yesterday.”
“Sometimes it’s just little niggling questions…watching people I work with, listening to them talk about their families,” she shook her head, tucked in her tank top and pulled a sweater over her head.
“Wondering what happened to ours,” he finished the unfinished statement.
“Yeah…maybe…I’ve got a consult in thirty minutes,” she said, lifting her pack to the counter and checking the contents. Large water, phone, wallet, keys, datebook. “Otherwise, I’ll be at the nursery. Have fun…bye…”
His nod was absent, his own memory shoved back as he prepared for the day.
****
Carter Shipley did all his own foot work.
He enjoyed it. A modern day version of being on the hunt, he thought briefly. From his office window he watched the tall, lean woman leave her SUV. Her skin was sun flavored, even at the end of March.
Her hair barely touched her ears and dribbled in small curls over her forehead, wide hoops of gold caught a string of sunshine now and then as she crossed the parking lot, her head swiveling and taking in the area. Noting escape routes, he thought absently. She parked in such a way nothing was in her path, nothing blocked her leaving.
He couldn’t get a gauge on her eyes, she was wearing big mirrored glasses keeping that part of her locked inside for now. He leaned back in his chair waiting for the announcement, his hand out to idly close the folder on top of his desk.
“Anna Carson to see you, Carter.” Came the clear easy voice of his admin.
“Send her back, Nora…” He remained leaning, his hands resting over the closed folder as the mystery began. She opened the door, one hand rising and lifting the glasses to sit atop the unruly curls. There were few photos of her and none of them did justice to the woman standing in his doorway at nine that morning. At thirty-three she could easily pass for barely twenty-five. On a bad day. The eyes she had been hiding were large and shrouded with thick lashes creating a shadow of smudge that hinted at the woman inside.
The wave of fear that swiped at her made her grateful she’d passed on breakfast that morning. For an instant, she’d forgotten to breathe as she stepped over the threshold into the large, well decorated office.
The sign outside said attorney. But that wasn’t what she felt.
Anna looked around her, taking in the pleasant, unusual scenic photos on the walls, the thick carpeting and comfortable waiting room. The receptionist was in her mid fifties, lean and smiling at her.
The oppressive wave became more so as she followed the hand pointing to the office once permission was granted. Anna stood momentarily in the doorway, composing herself before lifting her glasses and gazing at the man behind the large, old desk.
“Carter Shipley?” She said quietly, closing the door and striding forward. She slid her palm into the one he offered when he stood up. “Anna Carson. You asked for a landscaping consultation.”
“Please, Miss Carson, have a seat,” he gestured politely before sinking back and watching her. She chose not to sit. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or water, perhaps?”
“Nothing, thank you. Your message about the consultation didn’t tell my admin where the property was that you wanted to have evaluated,” she said smoothly, keeping her voice level and low.
He was staring. Oh, it wasn’t blatantly obvious, she thought. But she could feel his eyes taking in every inch of her and more. He was over six foot tall, lean and filled the dark suit as if it were a second skin. That skin seemed to be a naturally tanned shade, his hair was wave less, a dusty shade of blond and smooth without being forced into it, an occasional strand from the side parted cut came to rest on the gold framed glasses. Reflections from the room bounced off the lenses but didn’t block the pale green eyes watching her.
“No time for social niceties, Miss Carson?”
“You’re paying by the hour, Mr. Shipley. I’d have thought you’d appreciate expediency,” she countered, meeting his stare only to shiver. She should have turned and left, a small voice whispered. What she felt was too mixed to get a firm handle on, though. Part fear. Partly a new, unnamed tension inside her.
“I make it a rule never to do business with people I’m unfamiliar with, Miss Carson.”
“Did you pick my name out of a phone book, Mr. Shipley?” She notched a tiny one next to her name when she saw his gaze narrow. “Then I’m to make an assumption that someone recommended my company to you. If that assumption is accurate, you’d have only taken the recommendation of a trusted friend or associate. Who knew and could vouch for the work I perform.” She paused, her head tilted slightly. “Did someone recommend us, Mr. Shipley?” She asked softly, knowing the answer already.
“I saw one of your yard signs on my drive to the office,” he told her without blinking.
“That’s very convenient,” she returned with a small smile, falling just short of calling him a liar. She wandered absently, looking around the room. Pictures on the walls. Pleasant scenes, she thought, maybe places he’d been. But no diplomas. Nothing to brag about his accomplishments or achievements. She thought briefly of her brother. He kept all his accomplishments in his home office. He didn’t brag about things he’d gathered, either.
He had a nice sized monitor on his desk, a worn keyboard and several files. Books lined shelves on one wall. She stopped by the window. “You have a nice view,” she commented, staring into the wind blown waters of the Sound. “You haven’t had this office long.”
If this observation surprised him, there was nothing showing in the eyes that met hers. “We relocated from Seattle a few months ago when these were finished. I like the premise surrounding the waterways new ownership.”
“What is your business, Mr. Shipley?”
“Business law, for the most part. I dabble in other areas,” he offered with a casual shrug. “And you, Miss Carson? You’ve quite a successful business for barely being thirty-three.” He watched one dark brow arch almost to a point.
“That information isn’t on my website or my sign, Mr. Shipley. And has little bearing on my ability to do my job,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to the folders on his desk that were casually slid together into a pile. She raised her eyes to his. “I suppose we all have things that aren’t bandied about on bulletin boards.”
“As I stated, Miss Carson, I make it a rule to know someone before I do business with them,” he let his gaze follow the long legs and small heeled boots as she wandered around the room. Like a pacing tiger, he thought. “Hadn’t you heard about the customer always being right?”
“As we’ve yet to establish you as a customer, Mr. Shipley,” she said with a feral grin. “We can’t determine if you fit the category. When I’ve reviewed the property and drawn up sketches for you to preview, then you fall into the customer being mostly right. Very few of my customers have a clue which plants would thrive best in the environment they want established around their businesses or homes.”
“I’m afraid I fall into that category,” he admitted, the smile surfacing very slowly. He watched her pull an iPad from inside the bag at her side, her fingers deftly moving over the glossy surface.
“The information from my admin says you’ve recently acquired a property and want the landscaping to be as care free as possible with no mowing and plants suited for the climate,” she glanced up from the screen. “Is that fairly accurate?”
“You don’t believe in getting to know your clients, Miss Carson?”
Anna turned slowly, thoughtfully. She moved to stand before one of the large, curving windows that opened to the Sound in the distance.
“I don’t generally vet my clients,” she began cautiously, staring out onto the long stretch of low tide sand. “I check the address where I’m meeting them and make certain they’re legitimate people,” she turned and leaned against the wide ledge, her ankles crossed as she studied him. “I let my admin know where I’m going and roughly how long I’ll be.”
“A smart, safe procedure to follow,” he commented into the pause.
“But you…” Her head tipped slightly, thick dark lashes slightly narrowed. “I’d be willing to wager you do a lot of homework before you contract with anyone. And before you accept anyone as a client. I’m fairly certain you don’t contact nurseries for consultations simply to seek out single women.”
“Only fairly certain?” One pale brow rose, the hint of amusement edging his voice and betrayed in his eyes.
“You wouldn’t need to. You aren’t blatantly sexual in the way you stare at me,” she considered her words. “It’s more like you’re trying to ascertain something and you’re doing the politically correct dance rather than come right out and ask.”
“You’d make a good, solid detective, Miss Carson,” he complimented softly, his hands tented thoughtfully.
“I have things I want accomplished today, Mr. Shipley,” Anna pushed against the ledge and straightened her shoulders. “I usually visit the site, take a few photos and go back to my office. I make drawings and then will contact you again, giving you several choices for the property. Usually three options that vary by price as well as design.”
“I was told that you were a strict business woman,” he said, the hint of his smile only making her frown a little more.
“I don’t play twenty questions well, Mr. Shipley. Unless you want information regarding plants and how to care for them,” she moved to the door, dropping her glasses over her eyes and pulling it wide. “Have a nice day, Mr. Shipley. It was…diverting…meeting you.”
“A moment, Miss Carson? Please,” he said quickly, waiting while she closed the door. He stood up and lifted the phone. “Bring the car around, Leo. Thank you. I’ll take you to the property, Miss Carson.”
“I can follow you in my car, if you don’t mind.”
Carter pulled a card from his inner pocket along with a pen. “Should we become separated…” He printed clearly on the white square. “This is the address. I’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you.”
His hand gripped hers with the small card in between their fingers. “I think a game of twenty questions would be fascinating with you, Miss Carson.”
“You hold onto that thought, Mr. Shipley,” Anna said softly, her shoulders stiff and lashes narrowed warningly.
He watched the slim, strong fingers pull free of his, long jean covered legs that ended on one end in a pair of knee length leather boots and at the other end in a very nicely rounded derriere. He slid into the back seat of the waiting car and gave his instructions, opening the waiting computer and working on the short drive to Defiance Point.
His estimation of her rose when she stepped from the large vehicle, her sweater pulled over her head and tossed to the seat. She lifted a small digital camera from inside the pack she’d carried, leaving her sun glasses on the dash and keys dangling from one pocket as she walked around the spacious grounds, taking photos and standing to peer out at the Sound in the far distance down the hill.
Anna followed the systematic procedures she’d used since she began changing landscapes. Begin on the left and swing to the right, front, back and sides. It was a nice house, large and adobe style. High, curved archways, stark white columns and half pipe tiles in deepest red making up the roof.
Carter watched her, followed her and finally realized as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t even there. He opened the button on his jacket, shoving the sides back and his hands caught in his pockets. He leaned against the waist high wide stone wall around the back, his palm unit out and tapping over it when she told him with an absent wave that she’d be right back.
She didn’t see him snapping photos of her. She didn’t seem to notice much of anything but the house and grounds at the moment. He watched her move to the very edge of the property, her back to the Sound and her camera taking a few photos before she let it dangle from her wrist. She lifted a large drawing pad, angled one foot against the wall bordering the edge and held the pad in place on her thigh.
There were few things Carter Shipley indulged himself in where his mind wasn’t focused on business. He’d quickly come to the conclusion that watching Anna Carson was one of those few things. Dark brown eyes darted, high, low and everywhere at once it seemed, her hand holding a thick pencil at an angle as she drew. She was left handed, he noticed.
Her face tilted, shifted, her gaze sweeping and drinking in every corner, arch and line of the house. She had a slightly squared chin, the cleft very slight, the tilt incredibly stubborn. If the sunlight rising behind the house bothered her eyes, it didn’t show. He could see the glint of red flashing in them as she moved and sketched. By the time she stopped moving, stilled her hand, she had four pages turned and filled.
“This is your home,” she said after a few silent minutes. The sound of the boats behind her and the sea gulls over head making her smile.
“It is my home,” he answered simply. “I bought it about a month ago. I want landscaping to match the design, but I also want things that will survive the weather here.”
“I understand,” she closed the drawing pad and stood up with a long stretch.
“May I see what you drew?”
“No. Not yet. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Shipley,” she said vaguely. “Spring is a good time to make changes like this…gives the plants a whole season to get settled,” she said as if talking to herself.
“Would you be free for lunch, Miss Carson?” He walked with her toward the waiting vehicles. He watched her turn and face him, his hand up to stop her when she started to speak. “Let me guess…you have a no personal time with clients rule.”
Anna pulled a white card of her own from inside her pack and handed it to him after writing on the back. “I’ll be in my office, Mr. Shipley and I generally lunch a little after noon, if that’s alright. I’ll expect you or I can meet you someplace, if that’s easier.” She felt a glint of satisfaction at the surprise in his eyes. He was slick, she thought, but he managed to keep it off his features, just buried deep in his eyes.
“I’ll look forward to it, Miss Carson,” he tipped his head as she fastened her belt and drove off without looking back. He pushed a pent up breath between his lips, one corner tilting. “A fascinating surprise, Miss Carson,” he opened the back door of the car and glanced at the screen he had left open and working.
He sat back, closed the computer and stared out the side window for a long quiet minute before pulling his phone out and making reservations for lunch. A quiet, private place at the marina.