He might as well have said, ‘another thing you’re not telling me.’ I felt like spitting out that I wasn’t in the habit of introducing myself with the byline, ‘by the way, I’m married’ but seriously, was there any point?
“One hundred percent sure,” I told him.
“Well, then, thanks for the insight and for this.” He held the photo up. “I’ll see to it that someone informs you if we make any progress.”
With that, he turned and walked out. I guessed that was the end of our three seconds of friendship.
One man deftly dealt with, one more to go.
I suppose I should have been expecting Joe to arrive in person, since I’d been ignoring his calls, but I really hadn’t.
Joe was a city boy. If some place couldn’t be gotten to by cab or riding the subway, then it wasn’t worth getting to. He didn’t own a car. He didn’t even drive. Why on earth hadn’t he just sent an email if he was so desperate to talk?
I couldn’t be here.
I couldn’t do this now.
Pulling the door closed behind me, not bothering with the crime scene tape, I escaped outside through the kitchen and set off along the lake in the opposite direction from town.
I walked for hours, letting the multitude of thoughts and emotions wash over me instead of trying to fight them. If I’d put any effort into my pace, I could probably have reached Syracuse before I finally turned back.
∞∞∞
I had some half-baked idea that Joe would be gone, that he had a train to catch, a schedule to adhere to.
No such luck.
But I was ready to face him. I’d spent every drop of myself on that walk; there wasn’t much left for him to take.
I walked into the lounge and straight up to the bar. It was gone noon and that was good enough for me on the fine day this was turning out to be. I pulled the Jack Daniels and a tumbler from the shelf and poured myself a decent shot.
“I’ll take one of those,” Joe said as he came to perch on a stool across the counter from me, not a word about my minute stretching into hours. “If that’s okay.”
“Sure, since you’ve already paid for a share of it.” I grabbed a second tumbler and poured, watching for his reaction.
He gave a gruff laugh. “At least some of our money went to a good cause.”
Ah, so he knew.
“Your money,” I corrected as I nudged his glass of whiskey over. “How did you know I was staying here?”
“I didn’t.” Both hands wrapped around the glass. “I went to your house first and your mother sent me here.”
“Did she say anything to you?” I asked warily. “About us?”
He shook his head.
I rolled my eyes. That was just plain wrong. “I get an earful and you get off scot-free.”
“Is that why you’re staying here?”
“No, that’s not it.” I saluted with my glass and false cheer. “The Jack Daniels comes with a free room. Hard to pass on that.”
I threw back my shot and took a deep breath as the fire hit the back of my throat.
Joe nursed his drink while he plucked absently at a thread unraveling from his cuff, the same thing he’d do when he’d written his plot into a hole and was trying to think his way out of it. I’d always joked about that sweater being his muse and I couldn’t help wondering what it meant now.
Was I just some part of a messy plot that needed to be rewritten?
We each sank into our own thoughts but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Joe and I had always been able to be quiet together.
His gaze touched on me, a fleeting trace of a smile, then swerved to the French doors that led out onto the terrace.
I slid my elbow forward and tilted my head into my hand, covertly studying Joe while I doodled circles on the counter with a fingernail.
That angled profile was as familiar to me as the back of my hand. I knew the touch, feel and taste of every inch of his body.
My eyes drifted to his mouth. Would my knees still go butter soft at one of his kisses?
I honestly didn’t know.
I had no freaking clue how this worked.
I hadn’t conceived it possible to be attracted to any man that wasn’t Joe. That’s one of the reasons I’d been so shocked to walk in on Joe and Chintilly, to see his face slack with desire for a woman who wasn’t me.
But look at me and Nate.
Would the spark still have been there if I’d met Nate, kissed him, before my marriage had fallen apart?
Another thing I didn’t know, and now I never would.
Joe’s gaze swung back to me.
“What are you doing, Maddie?” He spun a hand around us. “What’s this all about?”
A dozen snarky retorts came to mind, but I wasn’t in any mood to be snarky. I wasn’t bitter, mad or heartbroken.
Sitting across from Joe like this, I just felt incredibly sad.
“I’m taking some time and space for myself,” I told him. “To think.”
“And when you’re done thinking?” A hopeful note crept into his voice. “Is there any chance you’ll come home?”
I am home.
The thought popped into my head, and now that it was there, it felt right. Not Hollow House per say, but Silver Firs.
For the moment, at least.
I hadn’t given up on my career. There was nothing else I really wanted to do. And to be practical, I wasn’t qualified to do anything else.
That wasn’t quite the same thing that he was asking, though.
“I’m seeing a divorce lawyer on Tuesday,” I said, then added as I realized what today was. “Tomorrow.”
“I see.” He swallowed so hard, his Adam’s apple bulged.
He nudged his empty glass over and I poured for him. I could have done with another shot myself, but I figured this wasn’t the time to blunt my wits and end up doing something I might regret.
Joe dragged his glass closer, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes.
“I’m going to have to let the apartment go,” he said, more weary than angry. “I can’t afford the rent.”
“But why? I left three thousand dollars in the account.” I’d withdrawn the same amount for myself, living expenses until I recovered the will to fight another day on Broadway. “Surely that’s enough to tide you over?”
He barked out a laugh. “In Manhattan?”
“Isn’t your book releasing soon?”
“Next week,” he said. “But I won’t see a royalty statement for at least six months and, even then, I have to earn out my advance, Maddie.”
Advance! I grabbed at the lifeline. “You’re due another chunk of your advance, aren’t you?”
“When I deliver the second book,” Joe said, giving a slow shake of his head. “Which is still in the plotting phase.”
My lungs deflated with genuine regret. “I’m sorry, Joe, I didn’t know.”
“And if you had?” he said. “Would it have made a difference?”
Right this minute, yes. But at the time when this crazy idea had been born, maybe not so much.
“I didn’t mean for you to lose the apartment.” I grimaced at him. “You could still sell the shares in time, couldn’t you?”
He flapped a hand about. “This isn’t exactly a hot investment, Maddie.”
“Then maybe Mr Hollow will buy the shares back when he hears us out.”
“Only if he’s a fool.”
I wouldn’t go that far, but Mr Hollow wasn’t the shrewdest businessman on the planet either. And I didn’t think he was callous or spiteful. Once I explained the dilemma, he might take pity on us.
Unfortunately, Mr Hollow hadn’t been seen all day and Burns had no idea when to expect him home.
Joe left soon after that.
He had a train to catch, after all.
“I’ll have a word with Mr Hollow as soon as he returns,” I promised while we stood outside, waiting for the car service to collect Joe for the station. “Don’t do anything
rash about the apartment.”
“Maddie…” His eyes creased into mine and my pulse slowed to that familiar, unsteady rhythm.
“What?” I said softly.
He took a few more seconds to just look into my eyes, then said, “At least put off seeing that divorce lawyer for a while. Can you do that?”
A part of me wanted to say yes.
Yes, Joe, let’s wait and see. Maybe none of this will hurt so bad next week.
I sighed deeply and shook my head. “What would be the point, Joe?”
“Once the divorce proceedings are started, the court may decide to freeze our assets.” He looked down at the foot he was scuffing on the ground. “Even if we aren’t in dispute, I don’t know long everything will take. Just give me a couple of weeks to see if I can shift those shares first, okay?”
“Oh.”
His head came up as he looked at me.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess that is the least I can do.”
“Thanks, Maddie.”
It was only when I was alone once more, watching the sleek black town car peel off down the packed dirt road, that it hit me.
Joe hadn’t bothered to apologize.
He hadn’t even attempted some lame explanation.
Instead I’d said I’m sorry, consumed with regret, and now here I was, trying to figure out a way to cure the headache I’d given him.
My fists curled at my sides and my jaw clenched. It seemed I still had healthy reserves of anger to draw from.
I seriously hadn’t meant for Joe to lose the apartment, but maybe I didn’t need to feel quite so awful about it. After all, that apartment had been my home for a short while, too, until he’d as good as kicked me out.
THIRTEEN
Burns and I put on a good show at prepping the house for our hallowed guests. Burns got the polish kit out and kept the coffee coming while I flitted through the reception rooms with an industrial super-lengthened feather duster.
We decided on a bedroom suite that overlooked the lake and swapped out the lumpy mattress for something firmer from a courtyard-facing room. The linen closet was a small shop of horrors, complete with mothballs randomly tossed in between the sheets. I selected a set of cream bedding and shoved it into the machine on a wash/dry cycle, since there wasn’t time to send it out.
My mother came over to finalize the menu before she went shopping for ingredients. Oh, and to drill me on Joe.
“Did you and Joe talk?” she wanted to know.
“We talked,” I said dully. “He went back to New York.”
The look she gave me was so aggrieved, I felt compelled to point out, “For once, I can honestly claim none of this is my fault.”
“I know, honey.” She patted my knee. “I was just hoping this little separation could be resolved before things went too far.”
“Things have already gone too far, Mom.”
“Oh, well…” She blew out a resigned sigh. “I’ll tell you this, though, I don’t know if I can be so civil and polite to him next time I see him.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I assured her. “There’s no reason you’ll ever see Joe again. Now, let’s see that menu you’ve drawn up.”
According to Mr Hollow, The Terrace restaurant had always served a set menu and Mom didn’t need a vegan option since she’d seen both Principle Limly and his wife shoving turkey down their throats at previous Thanksgiving cookouts. We still ended up with a five course meal, which I personally thought excessive but apparently that was only because I confused soup as being a starter and the cheese board as a dessert option.
I kept wanting to feel bad about putting this all on Mom, but it was really difficult when she was acting like a child on Christmas morning.
I found fairy lights in a storage closet and strung them up along the terrace.
With all the effort Mom was going to, I decided to invite Jenna and Jack to partake in a romantic dinner on the house. And since Mr Hollow had to eat as well and Dad was minus his wife for the night, I set a third table up for the two of them.
By Wednesday afternoon, I’d run myself ragged on nervous fumes and that blank register was starting to look like a blessing. This inn was a lot easier to run when we didn’t have guests to stay.
Burns and I were serving, so I dressed in black pants and a black tee to match his funeral suit. Guests booked in for the evening could arrive any time after two, Burns had informed me, but it was a school night and I didn’t expect the Limlys until after five. We still had at least a half hour to go when I found myself alone with Mr Hollow in the lounge.
He was seated near the window with a glass of ruby-red port, oblivious to the upheaval and excitement.
I perched on the arm of a sofa across from him and laid out my dilemma. The timing wasn’t purely coincidental. I figured if he were ever going to feel sympathetic to my plight, it would be the moment before the curtain went up on our grand event: the first guests of the year. With no small thanks to me.
“It was something of an impulse purchase, you see,” I finished with. “As it turns out, we can’t afford it.”
“You should never have made such an important decision without consulting your husband.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I said contritely, struggling to maintain my smile while my spine bristled. “I realize it’s inconvenient, but it would really help if you’d revert the deal or something, and look for another buyer.”
Mr Hollow’s frown scurried all the way up into his hairline. “I wish I could help you, Maddox.”
My smile wavered. “But you won’t.”
“I can’t.” He adjusted his glasses and rubbed his brow. “The money went straight into the overdue payments on the mortgage. The bank was already threatening me with foreclosure and they won’t extend my mortgage now and allow me to withdraw the funds again.”
“Oh.” I released a heavy sigh.
There was nothing to be done, then. Joe would have to give up the apartment and hell would probably freeze over before another rent stabilized apartment became available.
“I’ll make an appointment with my brokers in the morning,” Mr Hollow said. “See how quickly they can find another investor.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”
“I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
“Don’t be,” I said warmly. “None of this is your fault. But if things are really so bad, have you thought of selling up?”
The property was surely worth a fortune. He’d be able to live out the remainder of his life quite comfortably and with a whole lot less worry.
Mr Hollow sipped on his port. “I’m the last in line, Maddox. I don’t have any heirs and I don’t have that many years left. No.” He shook his head. “It’s all I have to my name, not being the Hollow that traded our heritage for silver. This ship goes down with the captain, I’m afraid.”
Fair enough.
However…
“You’re not that old,” I pointed out, and followed through with his back-to-front analogy. “If you want Hollow House to stay afloat as long as you do, you’ll have to throw her a few lifelines.”
“I’m wide open to suggestions,” he grumbled.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” I said, brightening as I saw a different route out of my current dilemma. “Because I have plenty.”
I wondered how long it would take to sweeten the investment prospects on Hollow House. We were just heading into the busy season. How difficult could it be to start filling beds and get business flowing again?
Who knew, we might even turn a profit by the time I was done.
Mr Hollow’s brows speared. “In my day, young people were smart enough to recognize sarcasm when they heard it.”
Well, that stung.
∞∞∞
My dad was the first to arrive.
He engulfed me in a bear hug, then looked around the reception foyer in awe. “I was a boy the last time I was here. George Hollow threw a Christmas Eve bash. That was b
efore he turned his house into an inn.”
“Well, you’re free to come and go while I’m here,” I told him. “I should have had you and Mom around before.”
“Nonsense, you’ve had more pressing matters on your mind.”
We shared a poignant smile as I grabbed his hand and walked him to the kitchen so he could say hi to Mom.
Dad’s face burst with pride when he saw her bustling professionally between the ovens and the chopping board.
“That’s my wife,” he announced, as if speaking to a roomful of people. “The prettiest girl in the state and the new chef for The Terrace.”
I groaned inwardly. If he continued with that kind of encouragement, there’d be no saving his pension pot from her reckless schemes.
“You daft goon,” Mom scoffed as she glanced up from the sautéing pan, but her smile stretched ear to ear.
Dad went over and tried to steal a mushroom out of the pan. Mom slapped his wrist, then giggled as she grabbed a clean spoon and scooped a bit of everything—mushroom, onion, garlic butter sauce—and fed it into his mouth.
I stood back, watching as they shared the same personal space and chatted. Still so happy, so very much in love. My own marriage hadn’t made it past the first year. A tear welled as that sadness crept over me again. I shook it off. It wouldn’t be special if everyone had it, right?
Burns interrupted a short while later to inform us, “The Limlys are here. I’ve shown them up to their suite and indicated dinner will be served at seven sharp.”
I sucked in a deep breath and ran my hands down my side. “Show time!”
And it really did feel a little like those minutes before the curtain went up. Nerves spiked my stomach; the good sort that charged a rush of adrenaline.
I moved Dad out and showed him to his table on the terrace. Mr Hollow was already seated, and the two of them knew each other well enough to get the conversation flowing on their own.
I checked in to see if Mom needed help. The cold pistachio soup had already been spooned into small bowls, ready to be served. Everything was under control. We were just waiting on Jenna and Jack, who had their own role to play in creating ambiance for the evening.
Worst Laid Plans (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 1) Page 14
