She had no idea, not yet.
The main house was ten thousand square feet and the guesthouse was fifteen hundred. It was situated on ten private acres, mostly wooded. Before I bought it, I’d only seen pictures. There were chandeliers and French doors, a nice slate patio overlooking the water, balconies. It seemed like a solid retreat, and I didn’t have to justify anything to anyone. I could sink some money into this property and let it sit until I decided to sell it. But now it embarrassed me that I’d purchased something so lavish. Now as we approached the main house and I saw Mindy’s eyes widen, I thought that my decision was obscene. David would’ve thought that I was overcompensating for something.
“I had no idea this place was here!” Mindy gasped as the gray-shingled turrets on the roof came into sight, rising from the forest ground as we approached. “How old is this house? Mansion, really.”
“Uh, I think about fifteen years old?” Was it wrong that I didn’t know the exact date the structure was built?
“It’s gorgeous.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “It’s like a castle.”
Well. My chest swelled a bit at the sheer joy on her face. Yes, the house was enormous and more house than anyone could ever possibly need, but Mindy seemed to like it, so … “Do you want to see the inside?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding? Of course! I’ve never been to anyplace like this. It must have, like, ten bedrooms.”
“Eight. Or seven, I forget.”
We walked to the glossy, wooden front door. I’d liked this feature, especially against the gray bricks of the house. It had a certain elegance to it. I should’ve added something more. One of those potted trees, maybe. A welcome mat of some kind. I’d been here for a few months now and everything looked so sparse. Mindy noticed the moment I opened the door and we entered the two-story foyer. “Does anyone actually live here?” she asked.
I scratched at the back of my neck. “They live in Florida. This is their second home.”
“I thought you said third?”
“Yeah. It’s one of them.”
I was making this awkward. The house was completely empty, and there was no way she was going to believe that anyone was using it for any purpose. Mindy circled the entry, studying the white and gray veined marble flooring and lightly touching her fingers to the wrought iron banister on the winding staircase. “They don’t use it at all. Such a shame. It’s a lovely house.”
“It’s a lot of house,” I said. “Eight bedrooms. Or seven or something.”
“And you have to maintain the grounds?”
“Just basic maintenance, yes.”
She smiled and nodded. “Seems like a pretty nice deal for you.”
I didn’t like being in this big house, pretending it wasn’t mine. “Do you want to see the guesthouse? We probably shouldn’t stay in here for too long—”
“Yes, definitely.”
She stood in place, beaming, and I was struck by how beautiful she was. She’d left her hair silky and straight today, with the purple ends falling near her breasts. She was wearing a light blue sleeveless dress, big silver hoop earrings, and sandals. Her toes and fingernails were pink. Everything about her was so soft and feminine. My chest swelled because she was smiling at me. She was with me, and no one else. I reached out to hold her hand. “It’s over here.”
I took her the long way, down the brick walkway that circled to a patio overlooking the water, lined by purple hydrangea bushes. She kept commenting on how beautiful the scenery was, how tranquil the sound looked from this distance, and I kept smiling. Mindy didn’t see this as a big, ridiculous waste of a house. She liked it here, and that meant everything.
The guesthouse was all right, I guess. Like the main house, it was also constructed of gray brick. Overall it was much less impressive, but still nice. “Oh my gosh, this is adorable.” Mindy gasped as we entered the house. “And it’s furnished so nicely.” She ran her fingers along the top of one of the leather couches in the living room. “Did the house come like this or did you buy the furniture?”
“I bought it.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “These couches alone must have cost a fortune.”
They had. And I realized too late that Mindy was trying to understand how someone who hung flyers around town offering to walk with people could afford this lifestyle. “I got a good deal on them,” I muttered.
Mindy frowned and stroked the couch. “Still.”
Change the subject. “Want some wine? I have a few bottles from my favorite vineyard.”
“You have a favorite vineyard?” Mindy tilted her head at me. “You are full of surprises, Brett.”
I laughed, but it came out kind of nervous. “Yeah, I guess.”
“I’d love a glass of wine.”
I excused myself to go to the basement, where the last owners had installed a small wine cellar. Really, it was more of a wine closet, but it was climate-controlled. As soon as I moved in I’d ordered a few cases of wine from a vineyard in Napa, thinking that I’d either make friends and host lots of parties or drink myself into oblivion anytime I felt sad. I’d done neither. There were a few nights when I’d come down to the wine closet to pick out a bottle of cabernet for myself, but I’d reconsidered when I’d remembered that the wine had cost me four hundred dollars a bottle. Who binge-drinks four-hundred-dollar bottles of wine?
I grabbed one of those bottles now and headed back upstairs to find Mindy leaning against the marble countertop in the kitchen. “This matches the flooring in the main house,” she said. “Everything is so well constructed and thought out.” She paused. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. This must have cost ten million dollars.”
Fifteen. Coastal property was expensive. “Everything was custom-built and designed,” I replied, grabbing a corkscrew from one of the kitchen drawers.
“Do you realize how lucky you are to live here?” Mindy gestured to our surroundings. “Custom cabinets. Marble countertops. That gorgeous fireplace. And you don’t even have to pay rent?”
I was starting to feel guilty for lying to her, but telling the truth would create more problems. I hated to admit this, even to myself, but I hadn’t forgotten the things Chase had said to me at the engagement party. I’d been sleeping with Mindy every night for weeks. We spent every spare moment together, and still I had this fear that she would evaporate by the end of the summer. That I would wake up in September and find that this had all been some beautiful dream, and I was nothing to her but a way to pass time. And if she wanted to stay with me, I didn’t want her to stay for my money. At least this way, I knew that she was with me for me.
I poured the cabernet into two wineglasses and said, “Yes. I know how fortunate I am.”
“You should enjoy this, Brett. Soak up every beautiful inch of this place.”
I wanted to show her my garden. I couldn’t get enough of her response to the house. For months I’d been living alone, sort of ashamed of my wealth, hiding from the world except when I emerged to walk with strangers. It felt good to acknowledge the successes I’d had in my past life. To sort of acknowledge them, anyway. “I planted these herbs a few weeks ago,” I said, and crouched down beside the little garden. “Some basil, oregano, chives. Those are mint plants.” I pointed to each plant as I named it. “Lemon balm.”
Mindy already knew I was a decent cook. We’d prepared lots of meals together in her cramped cottage kitchen. “I’m impressed,” she said, and took a seat on one of the lounge chairs beside the empty pool. “I don’t understand why you didn’t bring me here sooner.”
She was looking at me pointedly as she waited for an answer I didn’t have. I took a sip of wine while I thought, then scratched the back of my neck. I could continue to lie, or I could tell her part of the truth. If you want any kind of a future with her, you need to open up. I settled on the truth.
“It’s complicated,” I said as I took a seat in a lounge chair beside her. “I didn’t want you to think that I wa
s wealthy, I guess.”
I could see by the frown lines that appeared between her eyebrows that she didn’t know what to make of this. “Why would that matter? It’s not even your house. It’s only a place you’re living in.”
Truth and lies don’t blend well. I took a different approach. “Mindy. Have you seen this place?” Now it was my turn to gesture around the property. “It’s incredible. And ostentatious. And I didn’t want you to be with me because of all of … this.”
When I started making large sales back in Seattle, my company received media attention. There I was, my face plastered on newspapers around the region with captions stating my net worth. Brett Hannigan recently sold a communications app he developed for nearly a billion dollars. Wouldn’t you know it—old girlfriends started calling to congratulate me, suggesting we catch up over drinks. High school classmates who hadn’t signed my yearbook were coming out of the woodwork to ask if I was coming to the reunion. I’d been left alone for so much of my life, but once I had success people started asking for things. Strangers wanted money to pay medical bills, or to save their home from foreclosure, or to pay off some debt. They sent letters and e-mails that tore at my heart. Thirty thousand dollars is a fortune to me, but you have the ability to help.
I’d thrown up my hands and vented to Lisa, who was always so calm about everything. “I can’t deal with this shit. Sick kids. Foreclosure. And now I’m supposed to save the world?”
I was pacing her office while she reclined in her chair, her wiry legs propped up on her desk, her hands folded in her lap. “You can save some people.”
“Everyone wants something from me. I don’t even know these people. They claim to be high school classmates, or people in one of my lectures in college. I don’t remember them.” A frustrated rage bubbled in my gut. “All I want to do is my job.”
“Brett.” Her deep, steady voice had the ability to soothe even my worst rages. “You shouldn’t be opening your e-mail anymore. Flag the senders you want to hear from and filter out the rest for Jon to review.”
Jon is my assistant. He does a great job responding politely to the people who continue to make requests regarding my time and finances. He also handles the furious e-mails and phone calls from those who see me as selfish for not saving their house, or their car, or their dog who needs surgery. But I still know about it. I know that every day, I let someone down. Hiding in West Portsmouth is childish, I know. But it feels safe. I like not thinking about the e-mails that Jon reviews for me, or the phone calls he screens. I like not getting the death threats or the threats against my family, the promises to file a lawsuit to ruin me or the attempts to blackmail me. Most of all, I like that people here don’t want anything from me other than a walk and pleasant conversation.
“Even if this house isn’t mine, doesn’t it change the way you see me? A little?” I pointed to her. “Recall: You thought I was homeless the first time we met. You gave me a frozen pizza. Now?”
That frown line was still visible between Mindy’s brows. “I don’t actually care about the house. I like you for who you are.”
“Huh.” I leaned back in the chair and set my feet up. “Then you’re not like most people.”
MINDY
I DIDN’T get it. Brett was living in a palace—and he’d never even brought me here? Weren’t men supposed to like showing off for the women they were dating? But Brett appeared embarrassed by the entire thing. He must have felt like a fraud, living in this giant house that he’d never be able to afford. I guess now that I thought about it that way, it made sense.
The patio by the pool was lovely. I could spend every day there, sitting in the sunshine. My sunglasses were resting on my head, but I brought them down and leaned back in the lounge chair, mirroring Brett’s pose. I reached for his hand. I could invent justifications for not having been invited here, but it still hurt that he’d concealed this from me. “I don’t know if I’m like most people,” I said. “I don’t think I’m anything special. But I don’t think any differently of you.”
Even as I said it, trying to make him feel better, I wondered if that was the truth. I was ashamed of the way I’d thought about Brett’s people-walking career now that I knew he was doing it to connect with his brother. I’d first seen it as a lack of ambition. I hadn’t understood that this was grief. I now knew that until recently, Brett had been a software developer in Seattle, and that he’d only come to Connecticut because it was an escape from the sadness of his old life. How everything reminded him of David. I understood.
Maybe I was like the “most people” Brett imagined. Would I have thought of Brett differently if I’d seen the gorgeous house he’d lived in sooner? Was I that shallow? Perhaps, but it was painful to admit that. I didn’t want to think that I didn’t deserve someone as honest and open as Brett. I wanted to believe that we were good for each other. “I mean, I’m a teacher,” I continued, and squeezed his hand. “I’m not exactly rolling in money. I’m okay with that. No matter what my parents say.”
He turned his head toward me and gave a small smile. “There’s more to life than money.”
“Yes.” I lifted my glass of wine. “Like this cabernet. This is probably the best wine I’ve ever had.”
“You know, I’ve had this wine for months but I haven’t had a reason to open it until now.” Brett raised his glass. “Cheers.”
We sat for a while in silence, holding hands, drinking our wine, and soaking in the sunshine. I set my glass down on a table so I could rise and share Brett’s lounge chair with him. I curled up beside him, enjoying the feel of his sun-warmed body and the vanilla spice scent of his cologne. He wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head.
This was all new territory for me: the guy who called when he said he would, and gave me his free time. Chase had been so different. He’d come around in between girlfriends to avoid being alone. He’d used me like so many other men in my life had used me. I snaked my arm across Brett’s lean torso and kissed his chin. “I’m happy you brought me here. It’s a beautiful place.”
His face brightened at the comment. “It is beautiful … now that you’re here.”
I giggled. “That’s so corny.”
“Blame the wine.” He laughed, too. “Didn’t I tell you I write greeting cards?”
“Ones that sell?”
“No, sadly.” He took another sip from his glass. “But you are beautiful, Mindy. Inside and out.”
I tucked my head down against his chest, wanting to believe that was true. “Thanks.”
“Tell me what you like. What kinds of things excite you?”
“Uh, honestly?”
“Of course.”
“Pretty shoes. Pretty clothes. Anything pretty, really.” I twisted his shirt around my finger as I thought. “I like stories of people falling in love, anything with a happy ending. I like ice cream, and the ocean, and looking at stars and thinking about how small I am.” I felt a smile cross my face. “I like hearing your heart beat right now.” Brett chuckled at that. I liked the sound of his laugh, too. “I like swear words, but don’t tell my parents.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“How about you? What do you like?”
“I like big sandwiches. You know what I mean?” He gestured with his hands. “Big ones, with lots of stuff inside.”
That made me laugh. “What else?”
“Let’s see. I also like the ocean. Any body of water, really. I like the sound of rain on the window. I like long walks and candlelight dinners. Piña coladas and getting caught in the rain.”
I punched his arm playfully. “This was your question. You’re supposed to take it seriously.”
“Sorry. I guess I don’t like talking about myself.” There was a stretch of silence between us and somewhere, the sound of a mourning dove cooing. “Tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“What?” I lifted my head off his chest to frown at him.
Brett shrugged. “I hate small tal
k, so let’s get down to it.”
“You must make small talk with strangers all the time.”
“I try not to.” He tucked my hair behind my ears. “So spill it. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“No, thanks.” I set my head back down.
“Okay, I’ll start.” He cleared his throat. “You’re messy.”
“Wait.” I sat straight up, but I was laughing. “You’re supposed to be talking about yourself.”
“No, we’re talking about you. It’s okay to have flaws. We all do.”
“Then tell me about yours.”
“Fine.” Brett set his sunglasses on top of his head so that I had a view of his beautiful blue eyes. “I’m not good at planning. Back in Seattle, I gave all of my planning work to my friend Lisa. She’s organized. I just like to see where life takes me. That drives Lisa crazy.”
“What else?”
He looked away, toward the garden. “I’m not good at caring for things. I’m trying. Like these plants. I forget to water them. I don’t trust myself with a dog. I’d probably forget to feed it or something.” He paused. “I can be like that with people, too. Relationships need work, and I can forget that.”
I reached up to stroke his cheek while he spoke. He stopped to kiss the back of my hand. Now I could see why Brett had asked me the question, because this kind of honesty felt intimate in a way that even sex didn’t. “Tell me what’s good about you,” I said. I hated to see him looking so sad.
But this question appeared to throw him off. He reached up to touch his neck. “What’s good about me? I’d have to think… .”
“I’ll tell you, then. You’re kindhearted. You’re generous.” I smoothed the front of his shirt while I spoke. “You’re good in bed.”
“You’re sexy,” he said, and grabbed my arm to pull me closer. I tumbled against his chest. “You’re fun and you’re smart and you’re gorgeous.”
“No, we’re supposed to be talking about you!”
Losing Mr. Right Page 19
