by Rachel Kane
But this?
There was no room for mansions in his life.
Not for the kind of faded grandeur this place represented. Trying to be a good dad and a good employee meant letting yourself fade into the background, really, turning your life this kind of featureless beige to make room for the important things, first steps and the hope of a quarterly bonus. Not impossibly tall ceilings and long galleries waiting to be filled with art.
“You think I can sell it pretty easily?”
Edwards began to nod, but Liam had seen that momentary hesitation. “I believe you can sell it,” the lawyer said carefully.
“…easily?”
“Well. We are a very small town, Mr. Cooper. You won’t find a local buyer. We’ll have to reach out to realtors, developers.”
It caused him a pang. All this would be his…for a moment. For some tiny fraction of his life, he would be a man with a mansion all his own, one of historic significance.
And then it would be over, and the money would be tucked away safely and responsibly in accounts he would never look at until the proper time had come, college, retirement, medical emergencies.
Yes, safety and responsibility. Those were the watchwords, when you were a single father with bills to pay.
“You are not selling a castle!” said Judah. “Oh my god, are you kidding me?”
“It’s not a castle,” Liam said. The paperwork would take a while to finish, but would be ready for his signature in the morning. Mr. Edwards had offered to send it all to him through the mail, but Liam thought speed was of the essence here, so he’d taken a room at the Superbia Motor Lodge with its hissing, buzzing vacancy sign, wishing he’d brought a change of clothes with him.
The motel’s phone crackled, but at least with a landline he didn’t have to worry about losing his cell signal.
“Fine, fine, a mansion! Does Mama know about this?”
“Not yet.” It had seemed safer to call his brother first. Mama… Well. Anything about Dad was a complicated conversation with her. He’d have to think carefully about how to approach it.
“Can we see it?” Judah asked.
“Oh, I’m trying to get it onto the market as quickly as I can, man. Don’t get the wrong idea. I can’t keep it. It’s… It’s just way, way too much.”
How could he even describe it to Judah? He wasn’t an architect, he didn’t have the words for all the beauties of the building, for all the intricacies. Moldings? Cornices? He wasn’t a mansion guy. Yet his mind was full to bursting, and he had to talk about it.
“What I don’t get is, why you? I mean, no offense,” said Judah. “But if it was willed to Dad…why wouldn’t it go to Mama instead of you?”
“Oh, you should see the will, it’s a masterpiece in old-fashioned patriarchy,” said Liam. “Lots of first-born male child business. The lawyer says the technical term is primogeniture.”
“It still sounds like family business,” Judah said. “You should discuss it with Mama before you make any decisions.”
He stammered for a minute. “You know what she’s like on the topic of Dad.”
“All the more reason not to spring things on her. Look, why don’t you just come home so we can discuss it?”
“What are we going to do with a place like this?” asked Liam. “How are we going to afford the upkeep, let alone the repairs it needs? It’s not… It’s just not practical.”
Judah paused a moment, as though picking his words. “Liam, I’ve seen your life. I’ve been watching it. Maybe you need a little break from being practical. Just for a little while. Wait a few days to make any decisions. Let’s come down there—”
“I’m sure Roo would hate it—”
“I hear the stress in your voice, Liam. We’re not letting you take on the burden of this decision without help, okay? You’ve been through enough, with—”
“Okay, okay, if you don’t finish that sentence, you can come.”
There was another long pause.
They hadn’t talked about things. Not really. Hadn’t talked about everything that had happened in the past year. His family had been there, had been right there, helping with everything, cooking his meals and cleaning his apartment and taking care of Roo, and had made sure he knew that the minute he needed to talk, there were caring ears waiting for him… But while he could accept the casseroles and the fresh laundry and all the other help, he couldn’t bring himself to talk. Not about all that.
Not yet.
Sometimes there’s a pain that goes so deep, it might never surface again, like a ship crushed by a storm, sinking down to the bottom of the ocean. You know it’s there, everybody knows it’s there, but it’ll never see the light of day again.
“Text me all the details we’ll need to get there,” Judah said finally. “And don’t sign anything until you see us.”
Superbia Motor Lodge might have been cozy, and his little room might have been very clean, but it was not posh enough for room service, and eventually his stomach reminded him of his missed lunch, and the fact that the afternoon had somehow slid on into early evening.
He’d been lying on the bed, flipping through channels. When was the last time he’d gotten to watch TV without an interruption? He hadn’t seen a movie in forever, at least not in one sitting. There was always a phone call or a diaper or some kind of emergency cropping up.
Yet he found that he couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. At least hunger would give him something to do. He went out to the front desk, where a young man dressed in a neat white shirt and black tie gave him a gleaming smile.
“Mr. Cooper, are you enjoying your stay? Is there anything we can get you?”
Liam looked at the boy’s nametag. “Will, is it? Yes, what you can do for me is tell me…where do people eat around here? Are there…restaurants?”
Will laughed. “Of course there are. Unless you’d rather hunt rabbits and squirrels?”
“No, no, nothing that scurries, please.”
“Are you in the mood for fancy?”
“Does Superbia have fancy? But no, I want something simple. Easy.”
“Then you want the Red Cat.”
A memory sparked…hadn’t Edwards said something about that place? “They’re a…cafe?”
“Well, that’s in the name, but they serve more than coffee. It’s our all-purpose diner, too. Renee’s going to love you. She always wants to impress out-of-towners. Tell her hey for me, will you?”
“Sure. I’ll recognize her?”
“Oh, you can’t miss Renee. Trust me.”
4
Mason
“Mason Lee Tisdale, don’t you bring that scowl into the Red Cat!”
Mason offered an apologetic grin to Renee Edwards, who at 6 foot 2, was the only woman in town who could look him straight in the eye without going up on tiptoe. Her voice was made to fill a room, whether it be calling orders back into the kitchen, or belting out hymns in church. “Sorry about that,” he told her, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace, but at least she smiled back, a little reward for the effort.
“You get up here to the counter so I can talk to you,” she said. “I already had Alex in here talking to me about the job you did at the bookstore. Got me thinking, why don’t I have wifi in this place? Aside from the fact that Frank would sit over there in his booth all day, drinking one cup of coffee while piddling around on the internet. But still. I need you to get me a quote on hooking us up. Later, I mean. Business hours.”
He cringed inside. Alex had gotten to her first. Knowing him, that meant Alex had also told her about Mason’s failed date in Corinth. Renee was one of the four people in town who knew Mason’s secret, yet thought she was one of the most notorious gossips in town, she had kept mum on his orientation, respecting his right to parcel that information out as he wanted…as opposed to the rest of his personal life, which could come up as a topic any old time.
“Let me get a coffee and a burger,” he said.
Renee
turned, and with a voice like she was calling hogs, said, “Bobby, one burger, medium, all the works, no fries!”
The little old short-order cook looked out the window that separated him from the rest of the diner. “No fries? Is that Mason? Hey, Mason.”
He waved at Bobby, then turned back to Renee. “Did you hear about Cooper’s Folly?”
“Baby, that is all anybody can talk about. What do you know? Anything? I’ve heard it’s a billionaire taking it over, I’ve heard it’s a consortium—”
The way she said that word was like a melody, so many added lilts and syllables you could almost tap your foot to it.
He shook his head. “Haven’t heard.”
The bell over the door jingled, and the whole atmosphere of the room changed. Renee stiffened, and all the voices of the room went quiet.
Slowly, Mason turned his head.
It wasn’t like Superbia never got strangers. People streamed in from up north, from further south, all on their way to somewhere else. Superbia was never anyone’s destination, but it was a place to stay for a night to recharge, and so new faces did find themselves at the motel, at the Red Cat, at the bars.
Something about the guy who walked in was different. He didn’t have the weary look of a late-night traveler who had pulled in rather than dozing off on the interstate. His eyes were wide-awake and searching.
But he was no local, that was for sure. Even if Mason hadn’t already known every man in town, he would never have mistaken this guy for one of them. Not in those pants. They seemed tailored to show every long, powerful curve of his legs, hugging his thighs, emphasizing his ass in a way that had Mason unable to look away. His shirt wasn’t the rumpled, sweaty mess of someone who had just spent twelve hours in a hot car; the fabric was smooth, looking soft to the touch, and that shade of blue you saw in pictures of tropical beaches.
The same blue as his eyes.
In that split-second, Mason pulled his gaze away from the visitor and towards Renee, only to be horrified to find her giving him a knowing look. God, if she’d been on this side of the counter, she would’ve been nudging him. Look at him, Mason! Look at that butt!
Then her ruby lips pulled into her biggest, most welcoming smile. “Well, come on in! This here’s the Red Cat Cafe, why don’t you get a seat and I’ll be right with you?”
The guy raised a hand and said thanks and started heading toward one of the booths near the window.
“Nuh-uh, baby, come up here to the counter! I like to meet strangers personally!”
Mason gave her a tense look. Tonight of all nights, she had to roll out the red carpet? He’d just wanted to eat his burger in peace, not listen to her interview a stranger about his travel plans, the careers of his parents and grandparents, his ultimate goals in life. In another life, Renee would have made a fantastic interrogator. She would have ruled the Inquisition. Now baby, I don’t want to use the hot irons, so if you sit yourself down and tell me a little about that heresy you’ve been spoutin’…
At least the stranger looked as uncomfortable as Mason felt, especially when Renee pointed to the stool right next to him. Much like with visits to the men’s room, there was a certain polite distance you were supposed to keep from another guy you didn’t know. At least a seat or two’s distance, in the case of a diner counter. The whole world would be at peace, if everyone understood the power of having a little distance between you.
“I think I met your father today,” said the stranger to Renee.
“I declare. You met Pops? Oh, oh, I know who you are!”
The stranger did the most fascinating thing then. He put one finger to his lips, raised the other hand with that keep it down motion. “Shh-shh! Oh please—”
Renee gave him a big wink. “Don’t worry, Mr. Cooper, your secret’s safe with me. Just ask Mason there, he knows I can keep a secret! Mason, this is Liam Cooper! Mr. Cooper, Mason here is our town handyman.”
“Contractor,” corrected Mason automatically, although what was in his head was: Cooper? As in Cooper’s Folly? As in the reason I saw Mr. Edwards’ Caddy outside the gates today? This is the guy who’s going to sell us out?
Curiosity battled with aggression inside him, forcing him to get a better look at the stranger.
Under normal circumstances, he would’ve liked what he saw. Even this time of evening, the guy was clean-shaven, his hair carefully pushed back with some sort of product that kept his ‘do nice and still and shiny, not quite spiky but not quite brushed out. City hair. Intelligent, probing eyes. A strong jaw. The shirt was clearly not just off-the-rack, at least not from any store Mason had ever shopped at; it managed to be comfortably snug over the man’s muscular shoulders, without being too tight and restricting movement. When Renee poured him a coffee and the stranger lifted the cup gratefully, his bicep tensed in the most satisfying way.
“Renee, maybe I’ll get that burger to go,” Mason said, suddenly worried about this guy’s proximity. Or, rather, worried about how he would react to it. On the one hand, from sitting so close to him, he picked up the guy’s scent, and it was interesting, subtle, no overdone aftershave or anything like that, clean with a hint of…baby powder? If he didn’t stop thinking about it, he was going to sprout a hard-on fast enough to knock against the bottom of the counter.
But on the other hand, this was the guy who was about to take an important town landmark and sell it off. He was city-folk, as the old-timers would say. He was trouble.
Best that Mason get far, far away, before his body decided which would win out, his horny interest in the stranger, or this pointless immediate grudge he had against him.
“You sit right there, Mason. I will not have you sitting in your dark little living room, eating your dinner all alone! You know Bobby’s food is best eaten piping hot! What’ll he think if you eat it cold?”
If he could have squirmed into a hole and hidden the rest of his life, he would’ve. Don’t tell the stranger I live alone, it’s not like that! Dad is probably still awake, yelling at the TV!
“What’s good here?” the stranger asked, staring at the laminated menu. “It’s been so long since I’ve eaten anything that wasn’t baby-friendly. I want something that’s a definite choking hazard, like with bones that’ll lodge in my throat.”
Mason swallowed his coffee directly into his windpipe, and started sputtering. He grabbed a couple of napkins from the dispenser and wiped his mouth, desperate not to laugh.
Fortunately, Renee wasn’t going to allow a double entendre to keep her from taking care of her newly-adopted stranger. “Everything’s good, baby, if Bobby makes it. Although some people seem to order the same thing every single day.” She shot eyes at Mason, who had finally regained his composure.
“All right, you know what, I’m going to indulge. Let’s have the fried chicken, side of greens, mashed potatoes, and pie to finish up.”
“I like a man who knows how to eat!” Renee said, and Mason nearly lost it again. She wrote the order down on her pad. “What kinda pie, baby? We got pecan, cherry, chess, sweet potato—”
“Cherry, please. And a scoop of vanilla ice cream, if you’ve got it?”
And here Mason was trying to watch his carbs by avoiding the fries.
After Renee left to put the order in with Bobby, the stranger turned his blue eyes to Mason. “So you’re a contractor?”
I’m the last person you want to talk to, stranger. But he nodded. “Tisdale Electrical and Construction. I’d give you a card, but they’re out in the truck.”
“You’re just the man I need to talk to, then. Not right this second, I don’t want to disturb your dinner—”
Maybe what kept him in his seat was a sense that he needed to keep an eye on the stranger, find out what his intentions were, even though Mason had no right to ask. Or maybe it was a need to keep the stranger’s eyes on him. Not that he sensed any vibe or chemistry there; whatever this guy was in town for, whatever his business at Cooper’s Folly, it didn’t involve Mason�
��s urgent need to get laid.
Mason pointed at the empty counter in front of him. “You’re not interrupting anything. Bobby’s being slow at the grill tonight.”
The man looked around, as though worried about eavesdroppers, then leaned in closer. Oh come on, just another inch or two, you can lean toward me a little more, thought one part of Mason’s brain, while the other screamed for Mason to get away before he and his cock embarrassed himself.
“So, like the lady said, I’m Liam Cooper…and I think I just inherited Superbia Springs.”
There was a tone in his voice that Mason couldn’t quite place. Was it wonder? Awe? Or fear? “Lucky you,” said Mason noncommittally.
Liam shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m lucky. Have you seen it, have you been inside? It’s… It’s going to take some work. The thing is, I’m not sure how much work. I don’t know anything about houses, certainly not houses that big and that old and that…”
“…haunted?”
Liam smiled, showing a row of perfect white teeth, his canines just slightly longer and pointed, not in any obtrusive, noticeable way, unless someone was so hard up (like Mason) that they couldn’t help staring at every little detail.
“Well, I was going to say grand, but sure.”
Fortunately, Renee picked that moment to set a plate in front of Mason, breaking the spell.
“Dang,” said Liam, looking at Mason’s food, “maybe I should’ve gotten the burger.”
Never had Mason been so grateful for a reason to keep his hands busy. Between the stacks of meat, cheese, onions, bacon, jalapenos, and whatever mysterious ingredients went into making Bobby’s secret sauce, it took a feat of concentration and dexterity to get one of these burgers up to your mouth without having half of it slide down onto your shirt.
The problem was in knowing how to reply. Any honest answer about the condition of the place would horrify someone who wasn’t committed to keeping it. Liam might decide based on the amount of repairs necessary, that he had to sell.
