Mark’s thoughts, however, were centered on the ringed water stains marring the burnt gold and cream ceiling motif. Please Lord, please let the rains hold off until fall. Last winter’s storms were terrible, and I don’t want to have to replace the roof, only in the end to tear the place down. He realized he needed to get his ducks in order, plan how he was going to write his proposal to Free Will Ministries in order to follow through with his plans for the property. But thoughts of the blonde kept intruding. Let’s see . . . Rebecca Lorenzo, wasn’t that the signature on the rental agreement McIntosh had faxed to him just a little while ago? And there was a child, too. Just the two of them . . .
Overhead, he heard footsteps . . . probably the little girl’s, judging by their quickness. Then came the shouts and heavier footfalls of the movers. They hurried down the outside stairwell, their voices fading as they crossed the front yard.
Mark wandered to the window that faced the street. Beneath the neon streetlight sat the van, its loading ramp still angled off the rear of the truck. A dog barked from somewhere in the distance. A car whizzed by. The headlights cut a fleeting swathe through the darkness, then were swallowed up in obscurity. For a fleeting moment, a pang of empathy for his new tenant and her daughter coursed through him. What on earth had prompted them to take the apartment for only three months? He’d been a landlord long enough now to realize that moving was typically a big-time hassle, especially when there were children involved. Maybe Rebecca was a schoolteacher, seeking a change of scenery for the summer. The Oregon coast was certainly a great place for that. Still, on second thought, hadn’t he sensed her quiet desperation only moments earlier? Surely her reason for coming here must be prompted by something more than just an extended summer vacation. Again, something stirred within him, something intangible, but powerful.
Lord, why has this lady got such a hold on me? he silently prayed. Especially when I don’t even know her . . .
* * *
“Mama! Mama! Come quick! Is this my new bedroom? Oh, it’s so, so pretty!”
Rebecca hurried up the stairs behind Wendy. This is more than just your new room, darling. This is the start of your new life. A new life where you’ll be safe and secure.
At the landing, she turned and spied Wendy disappearing through the first doorway to the right. Rebecca hurried after her.
“Oh, Mama! I’ve always wanted a room with a window seat like this one. And look! Look at the cool wallpaper with the stars, moon, and planets. It’s just like my friend Cindy’s room.”
Laughing, Rebecca joined her daughter inside the threshold where she was surveying the wallpaper beneath the dim overhead light fixture, her arms crossed over her chest. “Yes, this is perfect! I’m thrilled you like it.”
“And you’ll be in the bedroom right across the hall from me?” Wendy asked.
Rebecca laughed again, although it was a trifle disturbing to note her daughter’s recurring uneasiness. Ever since August had died, Wendy had been fearful of letting her get too far out of her reach. Rebecca hoped against all hope that the move, this new home, and new friends at school would help change that.
“Yes, sweetie. My room will be right across the hallway. Just like it was back in California.”
As Wendy raced over to the bay window, Rebecca inhaled deeply. The place smelled musty, but with a good airing, that would easily be remedied. Already she could imagine the tangy salt air wafting through the bedroom, causing the white Priscilla curtains to flutter. Oh, how clean and invigorating that would be—so unlike the smog-filled air back in L.A.
“And can we buy some really pretty blue cushions to put here in the window seat? Maybe we can even find some that will go with this cool wallpaper.” Wendy turned and looked at Rebecca. The girl’s doe-like eyes—so much like her father’s—were bright with anticipation.
“I don’t see why not. Actually, I think that’s a wonderful idea!”
“Just look at that big backyard down there,” Wendy said, twisting back towards the window. “And oh, something else, Mama. Can I get a puppy, too? There’s plenty of room down there for him to run.”
“I . . . I don’t know, sweetie. The man at the real estate office never said anything about whether the landlord will allow pets, and I didn’t think to ask.” Actually, her daughter had been begging for a dog long before August had died, but somehow they’d never gotten around to even looking for one.
“Will you please call up the owner and see what he says?”
Rebecca laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll see him around here sooner or later. There’ll be plenty of time then to ask him about a puppy.” She walked over to the window and, wrapping an arm around Wendy, followed her gaze across the backyard. It looked beautiful, just as she’d remembered it, with its sculptured beds of low-growing white flowers. She doubted whether Mark Simons would think much of a dog digging in the flowerbeds or tearing up patches of the manicured lawns. There was nothing to be gained now in pointing that out to Wendy, however, she decided.
“Wendy, just look at all the beautiful flowers,” she continued, hoping to divert her daughter’s attention from the dog. “Maybe later we should cut a bouquet for the dining room table.” White lilacs grew farther back and next to them dwarf milky white dogwoods. Perhaps the former tenant had planted the all-white flowers to be what Rebecca’s mother had always called “A Moonlight Garden.”
Already her easily distracted daughter had sprung up from the window seat and disappeared into the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, but Rebecca kept talking nonetheless. “And oh my, there are the caretaker’s quarters, too. Just seeing it brings back so many wonderful memories. The movie crew sometimes used it as a makeshift costume area.”
Tucked behind the gardens, the small building stood on the back edge of the property. All she could make out was a portion of the peak above the front door and one side of the shingled roof.
“I thought you said you used a costume trailer,” Wendy’s muffled voice sounded from inside the closet.
“We did. We used both, actually. But since the trailer had to stay parked on the front street, the caretaker’s building was usually handier.”
“Hey, look! I’ve even got built-in drawers back in here. This is so cool!” Obviously Wendy’s mind had raced on to more important things, like exploring every nook and cranny of her new bedroom.
Grinning, Rebecca turned from the window just as Wendy reemerged from the closet.
“Is there a mall in this town, Mama? I think we’re gonna need to go shopping pretty soon.”
“Yes, there’s a mall just up the highway, a good-sized one at that. As soon as we get the chance, we’ll go check it out.” She scanned one end of the room to the other, “And oh, while I’m thinking about it, we’ll need to find another twin bed for when your cousin Jodie sleeps over. There’s plenty of room in here for two beds, so it should work out just perfectly.”
“Boy, we’d better start saving our money, huh?”
“You got that right.” Dollar signs were already multiplying inside Rebecca’s mind.
“Mama?”
“Yes?”
Wendy’s mouth turned down at the corners, her expression pensive. “Please tell me again about the movie. I want to know everything.”
Rebecca closed her eyes. The memories were too poignant. She needed time . . . just a few hours, perhaps, to allow the reality to set in. The last time she’d been here in this grand old place, August had been close by her side. And now she was back again.
Without him.
“Mama?”
Her eyes flew open. Giving her head a quick shake, she said, “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose track of what we were talking about.” She stroked her daughter’s bangs off her forehead, then motioned her back to the window seat. “Come on, sweetie, let’s sit down.”
As Wendy snuggled up close, Rebecca smiled. She had probably already told this story close to a million times, but it warmed her heart how
Wendy never tired of it. “Well, let’s see. I guess I’ll start the same way I always do. The movie was about a beautiful lady who lived a long time ago in a grand old house, much like this one. That’s why the location shoot was here, of course. Anyway, the story happened in the dead of winter when the stormy season was at its height. The wind blew hard most every day. It rained a lot too. Sometimes the storms brought thunder and lightning.”
Wendy giggled. “Just like in a Halloween movie, huh?”
“Sort of. Except in some scenes, such as the one I was in, there was snow on the ground, which definitely made it more of a winter story.”
“And don’t forget about the woman, Mama.”
“Okay.” Rebecca squeezed Wendy’s shoulder. “The woman had a head of shiny black hair which nearly touched the small of her back, and her voice was more beautiful than a meadow lark. She was very famous and sang in one of the most elegant and prestigious opera houses in the region. Everyone would come from miles around to hear her. One of her admirers was a handsome sea captain—that was your daddy—who immediately fell in love with—”
“I love to hear about how you and Daddy were such famous movie stars!” a rapt Wendy cut in. “This is the best part.”
“Only Daddy was the star, sweetie, not me.” Rebecca tweaked Wendy’s cheek. “Daddy had been a famous actor long before Winter Rose was filmed. I was just a stand-in, a nobody, when he and I first met.”
“But that’s just not true.” Wendy turned and stared imploringly into Rebecca’s face. Her dark eyes glistened with what Rebecca feared might be the onset of tears. “You’ve always been a somebody, Mama—and most of all, you’ll always be the best somebody to me in the whole wide world!”
Rebecca hugged Wendy long and hard, struggling against tears. She hadn’t meant to sound so self-pitying.
“Wendy.” Her voice caught. “You . . . you and I . . . we’re gonna get along fine here. And just you wait. Before you know it, it’ll seem as if you’ve lived here your whole life.”
The sound of the movers as they lumbered up the stairs, gasping and panting, yanked her back to the present. With luck her several pieces of antique furniture had survived the trip and were still in good shape. If worse came to worst and her money began to run out more quickly than she expected, she might need to sell one or all of them.
“Well, enough of our silly reminiscing,” she said with a forced laugh, giving Wendy a playful swat on her bottom. “There’s work to do and plenty of it.”
“Yeah, and I want to start unpacking my clothes, so I can put them in my cool walk-in closet.”
Rebecca’s cell phone rang. The caller ID said it was Missey.
“Hey, sis, are you in town yet? You said you’d call the minute you arrived.”
“Sorry, I guess I got a bit distracted. And yes, we’re here. We’re in the process of moving into the old Glasgow place this very minute, just as I’d hoped, but things have gotten a bit complicated, I’m afraid. I’ll fill you in on the details later.”
“How about tomorrow afternoon? I’ll have the coffee pot on and a fresh batch of cookies on the table. And you tell Wendy that her cousin’s so excited to see her, she’s about bursting at the seams.”
“I’ll be sure to let her know. And you can bet that Wendy’s feeling the same.”
“Auntie Missey, hi!” Wendy called in a high-pitched voice from alongside her mother.
Missey’s answering laugh made Rebecca smile. “Hi back at you, kiddo! And oh by the way, the cookies I’m baking are your favorite. Chocolate—”
“Mrs. Lorenzo?” The velvety sound of a deep male voice followed by a rap on the half-opened door cut through their conversation.
“Gotta go, Missey!” Rebecca said in a rush. “Someone’s at the door.”
“Okay! Tomorrow then.”
“Uh-huh. See you later.”
“Mrs. Lorenzo?” This time, the rap was louder.
It must be Mark Simons, she thought. The voice didn’t match either of the two men from the moving company, so it had to be her landlord’s. Her emotions bounced between anticipation and near panic as she hurried to the door.
But oh why now? She dragged her hand through her disheveled hair and bit her lip. I’m just not prepared to face him yet—-in more ways than one.
Chapter Two
Rebecca opened the door wider. Yes, it was Mark all right. As he leaned casually against the doorjamb, she forced a bright smile.
“I . . . I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, “but I didn’t want to take off without first meeting you.” He edged nearer, extending his hand. She could see now the depths of his dark brown eyes, the tiny laugh lines at the corners. “Oh, by the way, I’m your landlord, Mark Simons.”
“Hello, Mr. Simons.” She shook his hand, then drew back, alarmed by the electric sensations coursing through her. She caught the scent of his clean masculinity, heard his compelling, resonant voice. She blinked. Why, she hadn’t reacted this way to any man since she’d met and fallen in love with August.
“Uh . . . uh, please come in,” she said, clearing her throat.
“Thanks.”
As he stepped inside, she tried not to stare at him, but couldn’t seem to help it. His hair—the color of dark chocolate—was short cropped, neatly combed. His expressive eyes continued to smile at her from beneath a high, aristocratic brow line. He wore beige khakis slacks. A navy blue jacket accentuated the confident set of his broad shoulders.
Getting hold of herself, she squared her shoulders. “As you already know, of course, I’m Rebecca . . . Rebecca Lorenzo.” She motioned towards her Wendy. “And this is my daughter, Wendy. We’ve come here from L.A., but I grew up here in Freemont.”
“Hello to both of you—and welcome back, Rebecca.”
“Hi!” Wendy rushed up to join them. “Were you the person who put up this wallpaper with all the stars and planets? It’s really cool!”
He laughed. “No, I’m afraid I can’t take the credit for that, but I’m glad you like it. The previous tenant had a girl about your age, maybe a little older. She was president of her science club at the middle school and picked out the wallpaper herself. Then she and her mom took care of the rest.”
As he chatted with Wendy, Rebecca couldn’t help but notice his easy manner, his spontaneity. Was he always this laid back, this open? Or was this simply one of his better days, as the real estate agent had so succinctly put it?
She turned away, running her hand through her hair again. After the long, tiring drive, she was certain she must look a fright. She felt as wrung out and drab as an old, limp rag.
“Where are the people who came with you?” Wendy asked.
“They’ve already left.” He grinned. “So you noticed them, eh?”
“Sure did! Me and Mom saw them back at the place where we picked up the house keys. Mom told the man who works there she didn’t want to stick around and wait for you, too, though.”
Rebecca felt the color rise in her face and battled against the urge to shush her daughter. She saw a smile tug at the corners of Mark’s mouth as his gaze flicked appreciatively to Rebecca, then back to Wendy.
“So tell me, Wendy. How old are you? What grade will you be in school this next year?”
“I’m eight! I’m going into the third grade.”
Wendy chattered away, answering his every question, and Rebecca waited patiently to make as graceful an exit as possible. While one part of her yearned to question him about selling the house, the other part wanted to send him quickly out the door. At last, she could wait no longer. “Uh . . . I’m sure you’ll excuse us for now, Mr. Simons. It’s been a long day”—she glanced about—“and everything’s such a mess right now.”
“I was hoping we could talk for just a minute or two tonight,” he said, pinning her with his penetrating gaze. He grinned again. “And please. Please call me Mark.”
“All right, Mark.”
“Oh, Mama! Let him stay and talk if he want
s to,” Wendy protested, tugging on Rebecca’s sleeve.
“Well . . . Okay, sweetie, but right now I need your help. Stay by the bottom of the stairs and tell the movers where the rest of our stuff goes. It looks as if they’ve still got a lot to haul in.” She angled a sidelong glance at Mark. “I’m sure Mr. Si—er, Mark and I won’t be long.”
“Okay!”
“Where does she get all her exuberance?” Mark asked, still grinning, after Wendy had left.
Rebecca sighed. “Beats me—though I have to admit, she slept in the car at least half of the drive up here.” She looked around, then gestured towards the living room. “It looks as if there’s enough furniture out front where we can sit down.”
“Sure. Fine.”
“Actually, there’s something I want to talk about, too,” Rebecca said as she sank down in the rose-patterned chintz loveseat and drew in a deep breath. Might as well go for it. He’s here now and there’s no point procrastinating any longer.
Mark took his place across from her on the matching couch, leaning back and stretching his long legs before him.
“You have concerns about the rental agreement?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Fire away.”
“To begin,” she said, ignoring her racing heart, “I want you to know I’m willing to show the house as your previous tenant did. Just give me about a week or so to get settled, first.”
“Good deal.” He beamed. “That’s exactly what I’d planned to ask you.” He paused, then rubbed his jaw. “But where did you hear about the tours and the former tenant?”
“From Norm McIntosh, back at the realtor’s.”
“So you really don’t mind taking tour groups through the house? It can get kind of crazy during tourist season, you know.”
She drew in a steadying breath. “No, I don’t mind at all. You see, Mark, I . . . I have a personal interest here. And a bit of history here, too. I’m sure I can answer any questions the tourists might ask, especially about what went on when Galaxy Productions was filming Winter Rose nearly a decade ago.”
A House Divided Page 2
