“That’s you?” Courtney sounded amazed. “I couldn’t put Fatal Deception down. I finished it in two nights.”
“Neither could I,” Aunt Marilyn chimed in. She’d already known about his secret career. His mom had told her not long after the book was released. “And I can’t wait for the next one. Even your uncle enjoyed it, and you know he never reads fiction.”
“You shouldn’t have to wait too much longer. For the next few months all I plan on doing is writing and working on the new house.” And the town of Pelham, New Hampshire, would be the perfect place. He’d be away from all major distractions. And if people did eventually realize who he was, hopefully it wouldn’t be until he finished the renovations and was ready to move on.
***
Exhausted, Taylor Walker popped open the trunk and pulled out the bag containing her body armor. She’d left the house before the sun came up. Coffee and sugar had kept her going much of the day, but she’d passed the point where either would do any more good. As a DEA agent in Boston, working crazy hours wasn’t anything new or unusual. Unfortunately, it would take her body a couple days to feel normal again. Every once in a while, she wondered why she’d left the Boston Police Department and gone to work for the Drug Enforcement Agency instead. Then she’d be part of a successful bust like today, and she’d remember. Yes, drugs and drug dealers were still out there, but thanks to the work she and her colleagues did this morning there were fewer tonight.
“Auntie Taylor.” Reese, Taylor’s niece, skipped down the driveway, her ponytail swaying from side to side. “I made something for you at school today.”
Taylor put her gear down and gave Reese a hug.
“Most kids made it for their moms. Hazel is saving hers and giving it to her nana for her birthday. But I wanted it to be for you.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
Once again, she wished she could catch the jerk who’d first introduced her older sister, Reese’s mother, to drugs. Reese should be making things for her mom, like her friends at school. But she wasn’t. Instead, she was living with her aunt and grandmother while her mom was who knew where, doing God knew what.
“We’re having tacos for dinner. Mimi let me cut up the tomatoes.” Reese loved tacos. The kid would eat them or pizza every day if they let her.
Taylor picked up her body armor and the duffel bag containing the clothes she’d worn to work that morning. After a big arrest and search like today, she always showered and changed her clothes back at the office before she came home.
“Can I carry something?”
Taylor passed the duffel bag to her niece. While Reese was strong for an almost- seven-year-old, the body armor still weighed fifty pounds, not to mention the bag was cumbersome. “So how was school today? Did you do anything fun?”
“Great. The butterflies in class hatched this morning. It was kind of gross. Mrs. Lowell says it’ll be a few days before we release them outside. I wish we didn’t have to. I like having them in class.”
Taylor didn’t remember ever having caterpillars change into butterflies in her first-grade classroom. Then again, a lot of the things Reese did in class were different from when she’d been in school.
“They won’t survive if you don’t release them.”
“Mrs. Lowell told us that. I still wish they could stay. Butterflies are pretty.” Reese opened the front screen door and stepped inside. “Mimi, Auntie Taylor is home,” she called, loud enough for their neighbors down the street to hear.
Priscilla Walker, Taylor’s mother, poked her head around the corner. “I know, I saw her car in the driveway. Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry, Taylor.”
Her mom knew it wasn’t uncommon on days like today for her to not get a chance to eat all day. Often, that meant a stop at the first fast-food restaurant she saw on the way home because she was so hungry she could no longer wait. Thankfully, today had been a little different. She’d managed a light lunch after the arrest. “Starving, and I heard we’re having tacos.”
“Reese made sure to remind me today is Taco Tuesday. Everything is on the table. Have a seat. I’ll be right in. Don’t wait for me to get started.” Priscilla disappeared again, and Taylor heard the bathroom door close.
When Priscilla joined them a few moments later, Reese already had her first taco assembled, although Taylor refused to let her niece start eating until Priscilla joined them.
Reese picked up her taco as soon as her grandmother sat down, but then she paused before taking a bite. “Mrs. Hewitt sent home something about career day tomorrow. She told me to give it to you. It’s in my folder.”
Taylor closed her eyes. She’d forgotten all about career day tomorrow morning. Every year since the new superintendent took office, they did a career day at each of the town schools. This year, Mrs. Hewitt, the elementary school principal, had asked her to participate, and she’d agreed. Too many kids believed working for the DEA or any other government agency was something only men could do. She hoped taking part in career day would show girls it was definitely an option for them when they graduated from school.
“I’ll get it after dinner.”
“You’ll never guess what happened today,” Priscilla said while Reese munched away and Taylor prepared her first two tacos. “Kimberly called me. She and David accepted an offer on the house.”
“About time.”
Kimberly and David Cranston had moved out of the huge house next door and into an assisted living facility a good two years ago. Since then the place had remained empty, slowly deteriorating from the beautiful house Taylor remembered it being when she was young to the run-down property she passed when she went running.
“I hope they got enough for it,” Taylor said.
Although fifteen years separated Kimberly Cranston and Priscilla, the two women were good friends. When the Cranstons put the house on the market, she’d confided in Priscilla that without the money from the sale, they wouldn’t be able to stay in their current location long. Considering how long ago they’d moved, Taylor assumed the Cranstons were getting close to being forced to move again. And Taylor knew the Cranstons’ children would never help. Although all very successful, they were three of the most self-centered people she knew. They rarely even went to visit their parents, never mind help them financially.
“According to Kimberly, they got the full asking price,” Priscilla answered.
“Who’d be willing to pay that much?” Taylor loved the old house next door. It was a one of a kind gem in town, but the house needed a lot of work both inside and out. Even before the Cranstons moved out, it had needed stuff done. The years of neglect since then hadn’t helped any.
Priscilla gave a slight shrug. “Kimberly didn’t know much about the gentleman, other than he’s currently living in Boston. She told me he also agreed to skip a house inspection before the sale is finalized.”
It pleased her to hear the place had been sold, but she feared the new owner might have a few screws loose. Skip a house inspection on that old place? Who in their right mind would do that, especially after looking at the house?
“Maybe someone with children will move in,” Taylor said.
While her niece had plenty of friends, none lived on the street. When she and Eliza had been growing up, many of the houses near them contained children their age. Now, though, Reese was the only elementary-school-age child on the entire street. Instead, all their neighbors either had grown children who had moved out, or babies.
“I was thinking the same thing myself. The house is simply too big for a single person. Whoever bought it must either have children or be planning to start a family.”
She agreed, but then whoever bought the house might not plan on keeping it. Other homes in and around town had been purchased, fixed up, and then immediately put on the market again. A small two-bedroom on Sawmill Road, in fact, had been sold the past fall, and after being gutted and spruced up it went back on the market in March. A sale pending sign had gone up in
front of it last week.
“Did Mrs. Cranston say when the closing might be?” Taylor asked.
“No, we didn’t talk long. She had other calls to make. But I’ll see her next week and I’ll ask.” Priscilla and Mrs. Cranston attended a book club together every other Thursday night.
Across the table, Reese polished off her second taco and started building a third, a bottomless pit when it came to food. With a break in the adults’ conversation, she decided to add her own news. “Stripes caught a mouse.”
Stripes was the American Shorthair cat they’d found in the shed three winters ago. At the time, Taylor had feared the animal wouldn’t make it through the week. He’d surprised them all, though, and while he spent much of his time inside, he did occasionally venture outside on warm, sunny days like today.
“He left it on the patio under the table,” Reese added.
Well, at least he hadn’t brought it inside. He’d tried to do that a time or two. Thankfully, she’d always caught him before he left it somewhere in the house.
“I’ll take care of it after dinner.” While death was a part of life, she didn’t want her young niece seeing a mouse decompose.
“Deb came into the library this morning,” Mom said, once her granddaughter went back to stuffing herself with tacos. “Her son, Jack, is moving back to town this month.”
Already Taylor didn’t like the sound of this particular conversation.
“I guess he hated living in Colorado. It was his wife who wanted to move there. His divorce is final now, and he found a new position with the Manchester police department.”
Yep, she knew what her mother intended here.
“Deb and I thought you two should go for coffee or something. You have a lot in common. And you’re both single.”
Her mom loved to play matchmaker. She’d gone on her fair share of dates, thanks to Mom’s past efforts.
“I remember Jack from high school, Mom. I’m not interested in going for coffee or anything else with him.” In high school, Jack had been a bully. There really was no other word to describe him. Maybe he’d changed over the last sixteen years, but she didn’t care to find out.
“Just think about it. You haven’t gone out with anyone in a while.”
For some reason, Mom believed a woman needed a man by her side to be happy. Maybe it was because she’d had such a great marriage. But Taylor didn’t agree. As far as she saw it, if the right man came along, great; if not, she was okay staying single.
“What about—”
Before Mom finished, Taylor interrupted her, something she tried to avoid, especially in front of her niece. However, she needed to catch this before Mom’s enthusiasm really got going. “Mom, please don’t set me up with anyone. We’ve talked about it before. I’m capable of finding my own dates. I don’t need you to do it for me.”
Mom pouted. “I just want you to be happy like your father and I were. That’ll never happen if you don’t date.”
Taylor realized that and appreciated it. But it didn’t change her mind on the subject. “I know, Mom. But, really, I can handle it.”
“Hazel told me her dad has a new girlfriend,” Reese said, jumping into the conversation and saving Taylor from Mom’s further insistence.
Taylor glanced at Mom because, as far as she knew, Hazel’s father was married to Hazel’s mother. Or at least they had been back in September when school started. When Mom shrugged, Taylor guessed she didn’t know anything either.
“Hazel’s dad doesn’t live with her anymore. He lives in a different house, but she has a room there for when she visits.”
She’d realized not long after Reese started talking that kids held nothing back. If they thought your shirt was ugly, or you looked like hell, they let you know. It sounded like it also applied to when your parents separated. Once again, Taylor was pleased they’d decided not to tell Reese the complete truth about her mom and why she wasn’t around. Since Reese had not even been a year old when she was taken from Eliza, she had no memories of the woman. Someday they’d have to tell her everything. She had a right to know the truth. It wasn’t a conversation Taylor was looking forward to having.
Chapter Two
Curt stored the empty suitcases in the bedroom closet. He’d signed the purchase and sale agreement the previous week, and immediately hired a company to come in and remove all the items left behind in the house. With all the stuff gone, he needed to decide where he wanted to begin renovations. The house inspection conducted two days ago confirmed what he already suspected: the building was structurally sound, so he didn’t have to worry about the house falling down around his head. He had appointments set up with two HVAC companies to come in and give him estimates for updating the entire heating system and installing central air conditioning. The estimates for updating the electrical should be in any day. And he planned to set up appointments with window companies in the near future. Aside from those three major items, he hoped to complete everything himself. It would take a while, but time was something he had plenty of these days.
Switching off the bedroom light, he closed the door behind him. He’d spent the last few hours settling into one of the bedrooms. Although one of the smaller rooms, he’d chosen it because it needed the least amount of work for now. Once he finished the master bedroom down the hall, he’d relocate into it. He’d also set up his office today so he could get back to work on the book. It hadn’t been difficult deciding which office to use. Although the more masculine of the two rooms was larger, it also reeked of smoke. Curt assumed the former owner had done all his smoking in there and outside, because he couldn’t detect the smell anywhere else. Even if the room hadn’t smelled so bad, he may have picked the more feminine office. Located in the back of the house, the room was farther from the street and overlooked the backyard.
Since he was somewhat settled, now seemed as good a time as any to decide where he wanted to start with the renovations.
Downstairs, he pushed open a door on his left and flipped up the wall switch. The overhead bulb went on for a moment or two before it went dead. Curt made a mental note to change all the light bulbs as soon as possible, even in those light fixtures he planned to replace at some point. The window near the toilet in the first-floor bathroom allowed in enough natural light. Although extremely outdated, it was functional and definitely not a number-one priority on his list, much like the library and upstairs in the home’s billiard room. Both those rooms only needed fresh coats of paint and new light fixtures.
Curt closed the bathroom door and went down to the kitchen. This seemed like the most logical place to start. While he didn’t love to cook, he did when necessary. If he planned on living in the house indefinitely, he’d need to prepare food. With the warmer months here, he could throw a grill outside and do most of his cooking there until he finished renovating the kitchen. On the days he couldn’t grill, take-out was an option. He already had a decent idea of what he wanted to do in here, too.
Although somewhat smaller in size, the room was laid out much like his cousin’s kitchen in Newport before Trent had it remodeled. Trent’s wife, an interior designer, had turned the kitchen there from a place designed for servants to prepare food into a gourmet kitchen the entire family could gather in. While Curt didn’t intend to live here long enough for his family to gather, whomever he sold the house to would.
The light bulb over the kitchen sink went out. Never mind changing the bulbs as soon as possible, he’d change them tonight before he found himself walking around in the dark. During his drive into town, he’d passed a hardware store on Route 38, just down the street from the grocery store. He could head over that way now and kill both errands, because while he’d eaten breakfast before leaving Boston, he’d need to eat again today. When he got back, he’d arrange for a dumpster to be delivered so he could start tearing apart this room, something he was looking forward to. Honestly, he enjoyed the demolition aspect of renovation all most as much as the rebuilding process. S
winging a sledgehammer against something solid gave him a sense of satisfaction he’d never experienced while wearing a suit and sitting in an office.
Assuming he’d go out today at some point, he’d left his SUV parked in front of the house rather than in the garage. He’d been pleased when the building inspector assured him the converted carriage house was safe to use. Even so, he’d left his favorite cars in the garage at his Newport condo and had only his motorcycle delivered here.
A black, white, and gray cat sat on the vehicle’s hood when he walked outside. The cat followed Curt with his eyes as he walked around the front of the SUV. When Curt stopped and held out his hand, the cat twitched its tail. “Hey there.”
The cat meowed and remained still as Curt ran a hand down his back. “Where do you belong, my friend?” Again the cat twitched its tail, but made no indication he planned to move from his chosen spot in the sun.
Careful not to spook the animal, Curt slowly picked it up. The cat looked well cared for, and had a bright orange collar around its neck. He reached for the heart-shaped ID tag attached to the collar. “Stripes,” he said. “The name fits you.” Curt flipped the tag over. An address and phone number were printed on the back. “You belong next door.”
Should he bring the cat home? Some people allowed their cats to roam freely, confident they’d come home when ready. Others never allowed them outside. Curt had no idea which Stripes here was. He’d feel awful if it turned out Stripes wasn’t an outdoor cat, but had instead slipped out. And he would have to meet his neighbors eventually. Even if he didn’t have much interaction with them, at some point they’d cross paths. “Looks like you’re getting a ride home, Stripes.”
Stripes didn’t hesitate to curl up in the passenger seat when Curt set him down.
A long, winding driveway brought Curt down to a small house. The exterior of it reminded him of the house he’d bought, which made sense. Peter had mentioned this home had once been the groundskeeper’s cottage when the Drapers owned the property. Although the home was as old as his, this one had been maintained over the years. Even the lawn and plants in front looked well cared for.
The Billionaire Next Door (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 10) Page 2
