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“YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY staying here, right?” Elliott C. Fairfax III pulled a handkerchief out of his hand-tailored suit and batted at some cobwebs near his head before entering the room.
Katie placed the groceries he brought for her on the bare floor before answering. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s disgusting.”
“It’s a little dusty.”
“It’s filthy.”
“But it has possibilities.”
Elliott cast one eye toward the crack in the plaster overhead. “Yes, like the possibility of a piece of the ceiling falling down on your head at any moment.”
“All it needs is a little cleaning—”
“And a lot of fixing.”
“Okay. I’ll grant you it needs some fixing.” Katie put her hands on her hips. “But nothing a little TLC can’t take care of.”
“I think you mean TNT,” he replied, still looking around. “A stick of dynamite and a bulldozer would do wonders.”
Katie frowned and shook her head. “You’re my agent, a friend. I thought you’d be happy for me. Maybe offer some encouragement...”
“Okay. I encourage you to come back to New York with me and will be happy when you’re out of here.” He scanned the room again with a shudder of revulsion. “I brought you enough food to last a week because I wanted to give you time to settle into your new home. I didn’t realize you were living in something only slightly more sophisticated than a cave.”
“Did my mother send you?”
Elliott glanced away from Katie’s accusing eyes, suspiciously eager to change the subject. “Honey, I know you’re burned out. You need some time off. I get it. But this...” He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. “This is going a bit too far.”
“Too late. It’s mine, and I’m staying.”
“This is ridiculous. How will I even get in touch with you about contract offers? Do they have phone service around here?”
“Send a note by Pony Express.” Katie bent down to move a box of cleaning supplies out of the way. She was trying to lighten her agent’s mood, but he didn’t crack a smile. In fact, he seemed to be trying to decide if she was serious. When his nine-hundred-dollar Italian shoes crunched on some broken glass, he froze in place, and winced as if afraid to look down and see what he stepped on.
“This is crazy,” he complained under his breath as he carefully repositioned his foot.
Katie picked up a broom and began sweeping the glass into a pile, which only served to increase the particles of dust hanging in the air. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. I wanted some peace and quiet and I know I’ll find it here.”
“You can find peace and quiet in Central Park. It’s not nearly as dirty.” He put the handkerchief back to his nose as he noticed the new cloud of dust.
“Depends on your definition of dirty,” Kate shot back.
“Just like it depends what your definition of civilized is.” He fixed his unsmiling gaze on hers. “This is like another planet. Where’s the nearest store?”
“I think it’s only about three miles.”
“Excuse me? Did you say three miles?”
Katie smiled. Naturally he was upset, since he would cringe at the idea of having to travel three blocks to find a good restaurant or gourmet food store.
“Where do you get a cup of coffee around here?” Elliott flapped the handkerchief over his head as if clear away more cobwebs while he walked into the next room.
“From my coffeepot, as soon as I get it set up.”
He stopped abruptly in the doorway of the parlor. “Where’s your TV? Do you have internet service? What in the world are you going to do all day?”
“Take long walks, sit on the porch, write, drink beer...” Katie sighed. She’d found peace. A reconnection to her roots...far away from the materialistic, covetous world she’d escaped.
“Wait a minute. Stop.” Elliott put his hands up, palms out, and then forced a laugh. “For a minute there, I thought you said you were going to drink beer.”
“That is what I said. Champagne doesn’t taste nearly as good after a hard day’s work as an ice-cold beer.”
“This is getting out of hand,” Elliott said in a serious, low tone. “You can’t possibly want to live like a hermit and be completely antisocial. Remember how you used to enjoy getting all dolled up and going to cocktails parties in the city?”
“To which I reply, No-o-o.”
“But you went,” he countered. “You acted like you enjoyed it—and the society pages loved you.”
“I pretended to enjoy it.” Katie crossed her arms. “To please my mother. Big difference.”
“You had me fooled. You must be a helluva good actress.”
“Thank you.” Katie bowed. “My therapist would be glad to know you believe I actually enjoy being around people.”
Elliott’s brow creased in confusion. “Speaking of which, how in the world are you going to get a therapist down here?”
“Why would I need one? I’m going to relax. Keep to myself. I won’t be attending events solely to please Mom...Speaking of which, did she send you?”
“No, she didn’t send me...exactly.” Elliott wiped his forehead with the handkerchief. “I mean, she did want me to see if you would go to the next—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“That’s because I don’t even care. I’m not going.”
“But she has this wonderful new gown she wants to show off, and your figure is perfect—”
“N. O.”
Elliott took a deep breath, as if to respond, but Katie cut him off. “I told her, and I will now tell you, I’m done with it. No more public appearances.”
“Except for the thing in the fall,” Elliott reminded her.
“Yes, of course except for the thing in the fall. But after that, I’m completely through.”
He glanced around distractedly, making it obvious he was seeking a subtle way to change the subject. “So, what are your neighbors like? Have you met any yet?”
“No one but the sheriff.” Katie shrugged. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“Sheriff?” Elliott stood motionless in the middle of the room. “Does he carry a gun?”
Katie had to close one eye to remember whether or not the kind, blond-haired man with the broad shoulders carried a gun. “Yes. He carries a gun. It’s what sheriffs do in the country.”
“Country? You mean the Wild West.”
Katie couldn’t help laughing at the incredulous scowl on her agent’s face. “Seriously, Elliott. Not having a Starbucks or an Italian restaurant every few hundred feet does not make this the Wild West.”
“Men walking around with guns on their hips do.”
“I know this takes a little getting used to...”
“Getting used to? You’re a city girl, born and bred.”
“Yes, born and bred, but I lived with Grammy every summer.” Katie sighed. “The best days of my life.”
“Really? Running around barefoot in the dirt and going fishing were better than having a view of the Manhattan skyline from your penthouse living room?”
“Absolutely. And I like the view here even better.”
Both of their gazes spontaneously turned to an oversized window where a jumble of trees and shrubs had taken over what was once the garden. A vine had even found its way through a crack and was climbing up the inside of the pane.
Elliott reached over and put his hand to her forehead. “I think you have a fever.”
She swiped it away. “I’m not sick. In fact, I’m feeling better than I have for a very long time.” He stared at her a moment. “You do look good. You have color in your cheeks...even without makeup. You seem...happy.” He frowned, obviously not quite sure what to make of the situation, or how hard to push the woman whose family helped his firm make more money in the past three years than all his other clients put together.
Reading his thoughts easily, Katie glared at him. “Are you really worried about me? Or are you worried you’ll have trouble handling my mother without my help?”
Elliott shot her one of the priceless smiles she knew cost him a small fortune. “You know I’m only worried about you, baby.”
Katie felt a little sorry for Elliott. She knew he was here to check up on her because of the rumors floating around New York. Heck, some of them had even made their way into the tabloids. One claimed the house purchase was a ruse—that Katie was actually at a beach resort in South America recovering from some unknown addiction. Another insisted she’d had a breakdown and bought a run-down, dilapidated old house during a period of decreased mental capacity.
It was Elliott’s job to dispel the rumors, set the record straight, and protect his client’s reputation. Katie knew she was pushing him way beyond his comfort zone.
“Speaking of being worried, do these doors even lock?” He glanced around, his face twisted in alarm again. “You ought to get some deadbolts.”
“Deadbolts? For what? The only thing that comes back this far is the wind.”
“Which is kind of my point,” Elliott said dryly. “It’s dangerous to live alone in the woods with who-knows-what lurking out there.”
“The only thing lurking out there are squirrels and rabbits and birds.”
“Again, my point. You can live anywhere in the world, and you chose this rinky-dink, hillbilly town and this run-down, abandoned property?”
“I can’t explain it.” Katie studied the room, noting its potential, not its pitfalls. “This place called to me.”
“It called to you.” He repeated the words, not as a question, but as if he had to hear them from his own lips in order to understand what she meant. “Let me guess. It said, help me, I’m falling down.”
“Elliott, give me a break.”
“I’m trying to, honey, but this just isn’t you.”
“Actually it is me. What you saw before wasn’t.” Katie spoke in a low, serious tone. “You of all people should understand. Remember how liberating it was when you came out?”
“Oh heavens, don’t go there.” Elliott waved his hand. “Coming out of the closet in downtown Manhattan is a little different from coming out to be a recluse in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s not the middle of nowhere.” She shook her head and inhaled deeply. “It’s home.”
Elliott blinked repeatedly, as if by doing so he could change the view. The once-elegant wallpaper in front of him drooped in long strips, exposing the plaster wall beneath. As he lifted his gaze, Katie hoped he would focus on the priceless quality of the chandelier—not the brown spot around its base.
“It isn’t safe to live here,” he said, taking a couple of steps back. “That thing could come crashing down at any time.”
“You worry too much.”
“And you look at the bright side too much.” He took her hand and steered her away from the area. “And yes, I do worry when a ceiling is about to cave in. You don’t belong here. You’re a bestselling—”
“So?” Katie didn’t let him finish, but tried to temper her words. “Elliott, I know you’re trying to protect me. I know what they’re saying about me back in New York and that my mother is on your case—but I haven’t lost my mind.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ve found where I belong.”
Katie chalked up their difference of opinion to values and upbringing. Elliott thought of her house as the individual elements of wood, stone, columns and beams, that to him were old, tattered, inadequate, and useless.
She, on the other hand, thought of Lacewood as a collection of features that somehow managed to remain steadfast and persevere despite decades of neglect and hardship. That alone made the house worth saving.
Bending down to pick up a paint scraper, Katie gestured toward the ladder on the other side of the room. “Someone left me a ladder. If you want to stick around, you can give me a hand...”
He took a step back. “Who, me?” He sounded appalled, as if she’d asked him to pick something up for her at the local Dollar General. At the same time he brushed some imagined dust off his Armani suit, making it clear the mere act of standing in the room was beneath his normal standards. “I think I’ll pass. I’ve got to get back...” he glanced out the window at his car “...to civilization.”
“Okay. Well then, thanks for stopping by. And thanks for the groceries...and the roses.” Katie nodded toward the bunch of yellow roses, now wilted and droopy from Elliott’s long drive.
She knew he brought them to brighten up her new home, but right now they were anything but vibrant and cheerful. “I’m going to grow my own flowers—all kinds—and pick fresh bouquets every day.” When Elliott didn’t respond, she came out of her daydream. He appeared to be frozen in the middle of the room.
“Who. In. The. Hell. Is. That?” He pointed a shaking finger at the portrait over the fireplace.
“I’m not sure yet. A previous owner, maybe.” Katie studied the woman’s image again. A lustrous coil of hair crowned her head, and her melancholy brown eyes gazed out imploringly.
“Oh, my gawd, she’s watching us.” Elliott walked to the far side of the room, and indeed, it seemed like her eyes followed his movements. “Take that hideous thing down, for the love of Pete,” he said dramatically, moving to another part of the room. “It’s possessed, I’m sure of it.”
Katie studied the beautiful woman with the sad face. “It’s not scary. I feel like she’s protecting me.”
“From what? Is this place haunted?” Elliott was no longer stationary. He strode toward the door at a clip she had never seen him move before.
“Safe travels, Elliott. Tell my mother I’m fine.”
“I’ll tell her you’ve bitten off more than you can chew,” he said, his shoes echoing through the empty room as he made a hasty retreat. “How do you think you’re going to do all of this by yourself?”
“I’m not. The sheriff said he knows someone in town who might be interested in helping.”
“Probably your everyday, small-town, run-of-the-mill chainsaw murderer,” Elliott said under his breath as he unlatched the door. He gave a tug, but the door didn’t open.
“The door sticks a little.” Katie nudged him aside and put both hands on the handle. After a few tugs with all of her weight behind it, the door creaked open. “See? I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“You’re a city girl. You’ve never had to do anything for yourself in your life.”
“Then I guess it’s high time for me to start.” She walked onto the front porch with him. “Anyway, that’s what the Internet is for. These days I can watch a five-minute video and learn how to install a toilet.”
“Excuse me?” Elliott stopped with his foot hovering over the first step. “Do you need to install a toilet? Don’t you have indoor plumbing?”
Katie noticed his sprayed-on tan had turned two shades paler, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
“It was simply an example. Yes, I have indoor plumbing.”
Elliott let out his breath. “It was a bad example to use. Don’t scare me like that.” He put one hand on his chest and pulled his phone out of his pocket with the other. “That does it. I’m giving Jules a call right now and telling her make arrangements for you to go to Paris. Or would you prefer somewhere in the South Pacific? Your choice. You need some time to think. And don’t worry about a thing. It’s on me.”
“Put your phone away.”
He glared at the device in his hand and shook his head. “Might as well. I don’t have any reception here anyway.”
“Makes me love it here even more,” Katie said dreamily. “No contact from the outside world.”
The joyous song of a bird right overhead punctuated her remark. And then, as if on cue, a myriad of other tweets and calls joined the chorus. Katie promised herself she was going to learn how to identify every type of bird by their songs and calls.
“When you come to your senses, give me a call.” Elliott gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Or send smoke signals, or however it is you communicate with each other out here.”
“Maybe the next time you visit I’ll have some chickens,” Katie said cheerfully.
Elliott stopped walking, but he didn’t turn around this time. “I beg your pardon?”
“Chickens. Those feathered things that produce the food you eat every morning. Believe it or not, eggs don’t grow on trees.”
“I know where eggs come from.” He turned around now. “But you’re not going to pick up eggs fresh out of their butts, and then eat them.”
Katie tilted her head. “They don’t get delivered on a plate with Hollandaise sauce and a side of bacon.”
“They do where I come from.”
“Bye, Elliott,” Katie said as he made his way toward a dusty Mercedes parked in a patch of tall weeds. “Watch out for potholes on your way out.”
“Watch for potholes,” he muttered. “The whole lane is one endless pothole.”
As he reached out to open the door of the once-glistening gold-painted car, Elliott stopped and studied the landscape. A breeze picked up at that moment, sending a swirling cone of dust across the unpaved lane. He patted his skillfully styled hair back into place with a grunt of frustration and looked back at her. “Seriously, Kat. No one is going to judge you for going off the deep end for a few days—”
“Here, I’m known as Katie,” she corrected.
“Whatever. Come back to the city...to culture...to society. This is like living in a third-world country.”
“Because we have refreshing breezes? You need to get out more.” She scrutinized his manicured fingernails and his flat abdomen, toned and buff from a vigorous gym regimen. He was a tall man, handsome by anyone’s standards, and relished the attention he received from infatuated women and enamored men alike.
“If you want to get some exercise, you can stay and help me scrape paint. Otherwise I’ll see you...sometime.”
Elliott shook his head and mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear. Then he folded his body into the car and rolled down the window. “Call me when you’re ready to leave.” He made the sign of a phone with his hand.
Katie laughed and waved. “Sure thing!”
He quickly put his window up before throwing the car into reverse and turning around.
“Watch out for bears,” Katie yelled as he drove away. Elliott didn’t hear. He had his foot on the gas pedal and was leaving Lacewood as fast as the condition of the road and the density of the dust would allow.