![]() | ![]() |
Harper took a deep breath. The check for Mason was heavy in her hand. Instead of coming the next morning like she’d planned, it had taken Harper three days to work up the courage to come deliver the envelope. Three days of knowing she would need to face the guy she liked and walk away for the last time.
Mason, of course, had no idea how significant this moment would be, but Harper did. And her heart was breaking over it.
But how else can I save my life?
She’d been trying to keep her focus on her painting and the marketing side of her business. Revamping her website, starting a small ad on social media. She was dipping her toe into new waters, praying desperately that something would help her see the progress she longed for.
But the envelope for Mason had been like an albatross around her neck. She was too scared to face him and yet too full of yearning to hand it off to someone else. Fortifying herself, she knocked firmly on his door.
She could do this. She had to do this.
She waited...her toes bouncing in her shoes, but no one came to the door. Frowning, Harper tried again. Mason worked from home. Where could he be? She took a careful peek through one of the windows. The home was dark.
Huffing, Harper walked back to her car. “So much for choosing to be courageous,” she grumbled. All that wasted time...for nothing.
She spent the rest of the afternoon trying to ignore the unfinished task, but after dinner, it ate at her again, pushing her to her feet and back to Mason’s house.
Once again, she knocked. This is it. It’ll all be done soon.
The porch light wasn’t on and no lights glowed in the home either. Harper realized Mason was still away from the house. She walked back to her car, wondering where he could be. They all had the same friends... Surely one of them would know if he was out of town.
Punching in her Bluetooth, she called Aspen on her way home.
“Hey, Painter Extraordinaire, what’s happening?”
“Hey, Aspen, do you know if Mason is out of town? Or does Austin know?” Harper made a turn and pulled out into traffic.
“Oh, ho!” Aspen crowed. “Just why do you need to know?” She dropped her voice dramatically. “Come on, Harp. Tell me everything.”
Harper sighed. If only Aspen knew the big complicated mess that was her life. “It’s nothing like that,” she assured her friend. “I just got some mail for him by accident and tried to deliver it twice today, but his house is dark. I don’t want to keep wasting my time if he’s out of town.”
“Ah, well, that’s not nearly as exciting as I hoped it would be,” Aspen grumbled. “Hang on.” Shouting could be heard from the other side of the line and Harper pulled it away from her ear, wincing at the noise. Those Harrison sisters really knew how to be loud when necessary.
The line was quiet for a moment and Harper was beginning to think she’d lost the connection. “Aspen? Are you there?”
“Yep,” Aspen said. “I’m just waiting for Maeve to work up the courage to ask Ethan if he knows where Mason is.”
“Why does it have to be Maeve?” Harper asked. She knew as well as anyone else that Maeve couldn’t stand Ethan. Something to do with a childhood situation gone wrong, though Maeve refused to share what it was. Ethan didn’t appear to let the situation bother him, but he also didn’t offer up any explanations.
“Because I think it’s time she grew up and forgave him,” Aspen said loudly, obviously wanting Maeve to hear her words. More shouting...this time followed by what sounded like shuffling and fighting.
“Oh, good grief.” Harper groaned. She pulled into her garage and shut off the car. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Aspen, I have to get back to work. If you hear anything, can you let me know?”
“Hang on, Harp. Maeve headed over.” There was an unholy amount of glee in Aspen’s voice.
Harper rubbed her forehead. All she wanted was to know when she could get rid of this envelope and therefore get rid of her crush. In her mind, they were one and the same at this point. Hand over the envelope, mentally and emotionally say goodbye, and viola! She was free and clear of any and all obligations. She’d only see him at friend gatherings from here on out.
Easy-peasy-lemon-squeasy.
“Ethan said Mason had a family emergency,” Aspen said, her voice more subdued than before. “He should be back next week.”
Harper’s heart sank. “Is he okay?” she asked before she could think better of it. No! she scolded herself. Don’t get involved. Harper shook her head. Friends cared, right? She’d care if Harper had a family emergency. Mason was still her friend, even if she was saying no to anything more. She could care and not get too involved...she hoped.
“He doesn’t know,” Aspen admitted. “But it sounds like he left in kind of a hurry.”
“Okay, thanks,” Harper said. She headed inside. “I’ll chat with you later.” Shutting off her phone, she dropped it and her keys on the side table and walked to the couch, falling into its softness. She studied the envelope. “Guess I’ll just have to give you back later.”
Once again, that weight sat on her shoulders. She wanted this done now. Needed it to be over. As long as she kept thinking about Mason, and now worrying about him, she wouldn’t be able to give enough attention to her work, and she was desperate to finally make some headway on her road to independence.
Harper shook her head. “No. I’m in control here.” She straightened and dropped the envelope on the coffee table. She refused to give it another thought until next week. Once Mason was home, the problem would be over. Until then, she would simply be a grown up. That’s what women do.
If there was anything Harper retained from her mother’s story, it was that she could handle anything life threw at her. She could fix her business. She could make it succeed. She could win against her mother’s machinations, and she could definitely get one handsome lumberjack out of her head.
Walking to her art room, Harper turned on the light and went to her current work in progress. She tilted her head, trying to look at it objectively, but it was no use. She hated it.
Three days of work, three thrown away canvases. She had been trying to shift her style to be more like the past winners of the award, but it just wasn’t working. Harper had certainly learned abstract painting during art school, but it had never resonated with her. It felt like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.
Sighing, she threw the picture into the discard pile. Time to try again. She needed to be bold, to draw out emotion, and to really put together something eye-catching.
Pulling up another canvas, she grabbed her stool and prepped her tools. She could do this. There was no other option.
*****
“I HAD NO IDEA SHE WOULD have a will,” Mason whispered to Crew as they walked through the lawyer’s office. He nodded to a few people as they walked, all dressed in business suits and looking like they were heading to important meetings. Mason tugged at his collar. His favorite flannel shirts had collars, but he always left the button undone and he almost never wore a tie. Also known as a choking hazard, he thought wryly to himself.
This whole funeral and reception had felt like a farce. Aimee had almost no friends left at her childhood home, but Mama had made sure the church had been packed. Afterwards, she hosted a luncheon dressed in her best black dress, her hair professionally styled and an unused handkerchief in her hand to signal her mourning.
More and more, Mason was coming to understand why Aimee had run off. After having a taste of his own freedom, his eyes were beginning to open to the prison his younger sister must have felt when she was growing up.
This morning his mother had redone his tie three times before they had been allowed to leave the house and it had irked Mason more than it should have. He had never really noticed when they were younger how much she was constantly...fixing them. Her words were often disguised as being helpful, and being the laid back guy he was, he had taken it all in stride as a parent loving their child enough to help.
Now he was seeing things differently. Since arriving home, he had been told his hair was too long. The beard needed to go. He was eating too much. Didn’t they ever see the sun on that coastline? His skin was too pale. He didn’t eat enough. His clothes were too casual.
Mason had tried to be understanding, but the more she had nitpicked on him, the more he had had trouble controlling himself. Crew had been smart enough to book a hotel. Apparently, he had caught on long before Mason that home wasn’t the most uplifting place to be.
“I wish you would have shaved before we came,” Mama murmured as they arrived at the lawyer’s door.
Before Mason could reply, she continued.
“How unprofessional. Who brings their child to work?” Mama sniffed and stuck her chin in the air.
“Enough, Patricia,” Mason’s dad scolded under his breath. “People can hear you.”
Mason’s mom frowned, but didn’t argue.
Small mercies, Mason thought, then felt bad for his impatience. His mother was doing the best she could. Her daughter leaving home and refusing to have any contact couldn’t have been easy. A little compassion could go a long way right now.
He glanced sideways, noting the secretary his mother had been complaining about. She held a small girl on her lap. The child couldn’t have been more than one or two years old. Her hair was dark and curled slightly at the edges. While Mason was watching, bright caramel colored eyes looked up to meet his.
Mason almost jerked back as a jolt of something hit him in the chest. He rubbed his sternum, unsure what was coming over him. He had no experience with little kids and had never been particularly drawn to them. They were fine and he hoped to be a father someday, but as a single man in his upper twenties, he hadn’t found much of a need to spend time with any.
But there was something about the girl that tugged on his heart, not to mention...she looked slightly familiar.
Mason shook his head and turned away. He’d never seen that secretary or her little girl. His mind must still be going crazy.
“Mr. Musk will see you now,” the secretary said, standing up and planting the little girl on her hip as she led the way to the other side of the room. With a wide, polite smile, the woman held the door open, allowing the whole family to enter.
Mason almost groaned when Crew gave the woman a wide smile. He elbowed his brother. “Now is not the time,” he scolded.
Crew gave his brother a look. “It’s always the right time to notice a beautiful woman,” he whispered back.
“She has a child,” Mason pointed out. “Which more than likely means she’s married.”
“Not always.”
“Whatever,” Mason conceded. “Just focus, huh? Mom needs us right now.”
Crew scowled, but nodded.
“Mr. Musk,” Timothy, Mason’s dad said loudly. He walked forward to shake the man’s hand. “We appreciate you doing this on such short notice.”
Mr. Musk, a man who appeared in his fifties, shook Timothy’s hand, but otherwise didn’t appear moved. “It’s my job,” he said bluntly. “And Aimee asked me for a special favor.”
“You saw her?” Mason blurted out without thinking.
Mr. Musk looked at Mason and his face softened. “She was friends with my youngest daughter. I heard from her now and again.”
Fresh pain squeezed Mason’s chest. He had always thought himself a conscientious person, one whose careful planning led to much more success than failures. But he was beginning to see how wrong he had been. Not only had his eyes been opened to his mother’s issues, but to his own. When his sister had left, he had tried to contact her a few times and she hadn’t responded. He’d tried to give her space, assuming she knew he would always be there to call on. She was an adult and she knew he loved her.
But maybe she hadn’t. She hadn’t turned to him when she was in trouble. She hadn’t contacted him even though she had settled not very far away. She hadn’t told him about the will or let him into any part of her adult life. Somehow...despite his best efforts, there had been a wedge between them and Mason had never seen it.
“Please have a seat,” Mr. Musk instructed, sitting himself in his leather chair.
He nodded to someone behind Mason and Mason turned. The secretary closed the office door, but stayed inside, the child resting on her hip. Once again, those eyes were on Mason and he felt slightly uncomfortable with the little girl’s attention. Turning around, Mason faced the desk, waiting for Mr. Musk to begin.
“Let me just say before we begin that Aimee was a lovely young woman and she will be dearly missed.” Mr. Musk cleared his throat and put on a pair of reading glasses, ignoring Mrs. Turley’s huffing.
It took a few minutes to get through the preliminary part of the will and Mason mostly tuned it out. It wasn’t as if Aimee could have had much in the way of worldly possessions. Being here, for him, was merely a formality.
“I only have two things I would like to bequeath,” Mr. Musk said. “To my brother Crew.”
Crew straightened, showing his intent to listen.
“I would like you to take all of my assets and liquidate them as best you can, donating the money to charity.”
Crew nodded immediately.
Mason joined him. It was a nice request. He was glad to see that Aimee wanted to help others.
“And to my oldest brother, Mason.”
Mason jerked his head toward the front. He hadn’t been expecting this.
“Even though you tend to favor Mother, needing to be in complete control—”
“Well, really!” Mama huffed.
“Patricia,” Papa warned.
“She had no right to say that in her will, of all things,” Mama argued.
“Mrs. Turley,” Mr. Musk said plainly. “If you cannot quiet down, I’ll have you removed.”
The little girl began to whimper and Mason wondered why the secretary didn’t just take her out. It was apparent the child didn’t like it in here. Heck, he didn’t like it in here!
Mr. Musk cleared his throat and went back to the will. “Even though you tend to favor Mother, needing to be in complete control, you’ve always been kind. I feel that my most valued possession would be best kept in your hands because you have the potential to provide her with the most solid foundation.”
Mason leaned forward. “Her?” He had to have heard wrong. Did Aimee have a pet?
Mr. Musk tilted his head toward the door. “Mason, please meet Layla, your niece.”
Slowly, Mason turned around. This had to be a dream. There was no way this was real.
“Layla, meet your Uncle Mason, and now, also your guardian.”