by Brenda Novak
“This is Guy Prinley.”
Her new landlord, as she’d assumed. Sloane willed herself to calm down. She’d have to cope much better if she planned to hold her own in Millcreek. “What can I do for you, Mr. Prinley? Don’t tell me you haven’t received my first and last month’s rent and security deposit. I sent it through PayPal yesterday morning.”
Two weeks ago, she’d gone online hoping to find a place to live in Millcreek when she returned. Clyde had been so weak. She’d known he was down to days, maybe hours, and that she’d have to move soon. But there hadn’t been much available in her hometown and nothing set off by itself, space she would need if she planned to retain both her resolve and her sanity. She’d thought she might have to buy a house—or build one—which would take so long and be such a hassle. But then she’d spoken to Paige, who’d mentioned that Hazel Woods, Sloane’s former piano teacher, a woman now in her eighties, was going into assisted living, and her son-in-law—this Guy Prinley—was planning to rent her secluded Spanish pueblo-style two-bedroom, two-bath home, which also had a large music studio. Sloane was sold the minute she heard the place also had a newly designed kitchen and wide patios that were heavily shaded by the same vines and trees that all but hid the house.
“I have,” he said. “I’m just calling to let you know that I’ve sent it back.”
“Sent it back?” she echoed.
“Yeah, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that my wife already had someone else who was interested.”
Sloane stiffened in her leather seat. Being interested didn’t necessarily mean the house had been taken in advance, so why would he back out on her? “Excuse me? I signed the lease you emailed to me before I sent the money. You got that, too, right?”
He cleared his throat, seemed uncomfortable. “I got it, but…look, I don’t know what to say. I can’t rent the house to you, okay?”
“You already have!”
“You signed only yesterday. It’s not as though you’ve even had time to pack. You can find something else. I’m not sure those electronic signature things are legally binding, anyway.”
“I don’t want to find something else. And those electronic signatures are definitely binding, Mr. Prinley. No one in real estate would be able to use them, otherwise. So please, tell me what’s really going on. This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’ll have to call you back,” he said and disconnected before she could express her full outrage.
Sloane dropped her phone in her lap. She didn’t have the emotional fortitude to deal with something like this today. She’d just buried her best friend!
She pressed a hand to her forehead as she sat there, wondering what to do—until she noticed the way Clyde’s family kept glancing over at her. Apparently, they were bothered to see she hadn’t left.
“Oh, for God’s sake! I’m going, I’m going,” she grumbled, and used her Bluetooth to call Paige as she backed out of the parking space.
“Hey, are you in town already?” Paige asked.
Sloane adjusted her air-conditioning vent to hit her more directly. “No. I’m still in New York.”
“Then you’re coming this weekend?”
“Actually, I’m not sure anymore.”
“What do you mean? You rented a house here.”
“That’s the problem. It’s not clear whether I have the house. I just got a weird call from the guy who leased it to me.”
“Weird in what way?”
“He was basically telling me I don’t have it, that his wife already promised it to someone else.”
“Has the other person also signed a lease?”
“I have no idea.”
“Because if you’re the only one who’s signed, it’s yours. He can’t change his mind.”
“That’s what I told him!”
“What’d he say then?”
“Nothing. He got off the phone really fast.”
There was a slight pause. “So what are you going to do?”
Sloane rubbed her left temple as she drove. The tightness in her throat and chest, the pressure of unshed tears, was giving her a headache. “I don’t know.” She recalled the dirty looks she’d received from Clyde’s kids and couldn’t help feeling hurt. “I have to be out of the place where I’m living as soon as possible, but I’d rather not move twice in one month. Moving is hard enough as it is.”
“Why don’t you come here? Lay over at my house? You can deal with that stupid landlord—or finding another place, if it comes to that—after you get here. It’ll be much easier when you’re not trying to do it from so far away.”
The lump in Sloane’s throat swelled even bigger. She was tempted to jump at Paige’s kind offer, but she also felt guilty. Once she’d graduated from high school, she’d walked away from Paige the same as she’d walked away from everyone else—without a backward glance. She’d had to cut all ties to Millcreek, or she knew she’d never really escape. Her father would use those she cared about to manipulate her if he could.
But Paige and any others she’d hurt didn’t understand the terrible choice she’d had to make or why she’d made it. Paige could have some inkling, since they’d talked about Sloane’s mother on occasion, but she could hardly identify with the deep-seated suspicion that’d eaten at Sloane ever since she was five years old. “Are you positive you have room for me?”
“Sloane, I’m divorced. Micah left me the house. He gave me everything—far more than I asked for.”
Mention of Micah Evans made Sloane’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. She couldn’t help but feel his name right in her gut—even after all this time. He’d married Paige only months after Sloane left Millcreek. Her boyfriend and her best friend—such a cliché, and yet, she’d never seen it coming. She should have, she supposed. She’d known that Paige had a thing for Micah, could tell by the way she’d acted whenever he was around. But a lot of the girls at school had had a crush on him. Why wouldn’t they? He was the boy who had it all—looks, personality, intelligence and athletic ability in a state where football was everything. It was just that Sloane had never imagined he’d suddenly take an interest in Paige; he’d seemed so indifferent to her before.
What had gone wrong in their marriage? Sloane was curious, but she couldn’t ask. That was one subject she was fairly certain she and Paige would never be able to discuss. She’d left them both without a word and without ever contacting them again, so they’d moved on with their lives. Sloane couldn’t fault either one of them for getting married and even having a child together, no matter how much it hurt. But, considering their history, wouldn’t they all feel a little—or a lot—uncomfortable?
“I can get a hotel,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to invade your son’s space.”
“No way would I ever let you go to a hotel,” Paige said. “Trevor’s nine. He’ll see it as a grand adventure. And I would love the chance to spend some quality time with you. I’ve missed you,” she added, more softly.
Since she was stopped at a light, Sloane allowed herself to close her eyes for a brief moment in an effort to stem the tears that were finally trickling down her cheeks. She’d missed Paige, too. Terribly. Because she’d never been close to her father or her brother, and her mother had disappeared when she was so young, Paige had been almost like a sister. But Sloane couldn’t allow herself to feel that longing, to acknowledge the pain of their extended separation, because it could and would influence her ability to stand strong against her father.
Someone honked behind her. The light had turned green. With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, she gave the Jaguar some gas. “I wouldn’t want to put you out,” she said to Paige. She wouldn’t want to come to depend on her friend’s support, either. She needed to be able to leave again, when she was ready, couldn’t allow herself to fall into the kind of emotional quicksand that could so easily suck her in and make it that much harder. Leaving ten years ago had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done; she wasn’t interested in ma
king that hurdle any more difficult to clear.
“Life is short,” Paige said. “What matters are the people we care about. Come stay with me. Let me help you get situated here.”
Sloane could almost feel Clyde nudging her to embrace the opportunity. He’d always been so much better with people, always ventured forward when she held back. She needed to gamble more often, perhaps, but it wasn’t wise for her to risk making tight connections, especially in Millcreek where her future was so uncertain.
Despite her reservations, she heard herself agree. After what Paige had just said, it would be rude to insist on getting a hotel, and she was glad for the chance to possibly rebuild their relationship, at least to the point that she no longer cringed when she remembered how difficult things had been between them their senior year.
Once the decision had been made, she felt an exciting yet frightening blend of anticipation buoy her spirits. “I can’t wait to meet Trevor,” she said, and that was true, even though she understood it would also be painful. Had she stayed in Millcreek, she might’ve married Micah and been the one to bear him a child…
“He’s such a sweet boy,” Paige said, her voice filled with the affection she felt for her son. “I predict you’ll love him.”
Did he look like his father?
She’d soon find out.
“It’ll take me a few days to get packed. I’ll rent a storage unit in Dallas for my stuff and will bring only a suitcase to your place. Then, when I figure out what’s going on with the house I supposedly rented, or I’m able to get a different one, I’ll have everything delivered.”
“What will you do with your car?”
“I’ll drive it.”
“All the way to Texas? That’ll take forever!”
“I don’t have to do it in one or even two days. I’ll stop and spend the night whenever I get tired.”
“If that’s what you want…”
Sloane could use all of those hours to prepare for what lay ahead. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”
“It’s no problem. You’re welcome here. You’ll always be welcome here.”
“I should arrive in a week or ten days. I’ll call with the exact date as it gets closer.”
Sloane was about to hang up when Paige stopped her.
“Does your father know you’re coming?”
Sloane almost said, “Not yet.” She hadn’t told him. But she had a sneaking suspicion that word might’ve traveled back to him. Her father was an important man in town—the most important. That she’d run away at eighteen and hadn’t been seen again, except in the pages of various fashion magazines, would be big news in such a small place. Her father had probably told everyone she was just like her mother—flighty, undependable, selfish, vain. He’d characterized Clara that way so many times; Sloane knew “being like her mother” wasn’t a positive thing.
Anyway, if someone in town had learned she was coming back, it was likely Ed would be informed. Guy Prinley might even have been the one to tell him. That could explain why Mr. Prinley was trying to back out of renting her the house. It would be like her father to do all he could to punish her for “turning against him” in the first place.
“I won’t mention it,” Paige said, interpreting Sloane’s silence as a no.
Sloane turned down the long drive that wound around Clyde’s sprawling French Tudor to her own Tudor-style bungalow. “There’s nothing he could do to you for letting me stay with you, is there?”
“Excuse me? Why would he do anything to me?”
Paige owned Little Bae Bae, a boutique downtown that sold toys, clothing and furniture for infants and toddlers. She wasn’t beholden to Ed for her job or anything else that Sloane was aware of.
“He wouldn’t. Never mind. Clyde’s funeral was today. I’m not myself. Let me call you later.”
“Okay,” she said and Sloane disconnected. She hated to think her father might’ve tried to stop her from getting the Woods house, but now that she’d acknowledged the possibility, she couldn’t quit mulling it over.
Especially because there’d always been something about Ed, some lack of feeling or conscience, that frightened her…
Copyright © 2018 by Brenda Novak, Inc.
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ISBN-13: 9781488050084
On a Snowy Christmas
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Novak
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