Authors: Mariah Stewart

Home for the Summer (38 page)

BOOK: Home for the Summer

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“And the wind is whipping that long blond hair around her.” Jesse grinned. “The very one.”

“If I had a dime for every time someone brought that up to me …” She rolled her eyes.

“Speaking of money …” Jesse pulled another stack of papers front and center on the desk. “Here are the bank accounts I told you about. There’s not a whole lot of money left at this point, but if you’re careful, I think you can manage until the house is sold.” He looked up at her. “You are still planning on selling the house?”

“Yes. The sooner the better. That’s why I’m here.”

“I can put you in touch with a Realtor when you’re ready. Now, there might be some minor repairs that need to be done or perhaps some upgrades you might want to think about before you put it on the market. There’s been no updating in thirty years, so I’m sure it all looks very dated. I can send Cameron O’Connor over to talk to you about all that. He’s actually the one who’s been taking care of the place.”

“He’s the handyman?”

“You could call him that.” Jesse appeared to be suppressing a smile. “Now, here are the papers you need to take to the bank in order to have the accounts moved into your name.”

“But if I put my real name on the account, then the people at the bank will know.” She frowned. So much for her desire for anonymity.

Jesse tapped a pen on the desktop and appeared to be considering other options.

“We can do this: We can maintain the accounts as they are now, in the name of your mother’s estate. As executor, I’ve been signing the checks on behalf of the firm. I can continue to do so until the house is sold. You can submit any bills you have for repairs or whatever to me, and I’ll pay them. If you need cash, we can arrange that as well. We can work under the pretext that the estate has agreed to pay for any repairs to the property as part of the agreement of sale.”

“Perfect.” She sighed with relief.

Jesse gathered all of the papers and slid them into a brown legal envelope and tied the strings to secure it.

“Here you go, Ms. Ryder.” He handed it over to her. “I wish you all the best.” He paused, then added, “I hope you do give the folks around here a chance. Everyone isn’t out to hurt you.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She rose, the large envelope under her arm. “Hopefully, I won’t be here long enough to find out.”

Jesse opened the door for her and led her into the foyer.

“If you need anything, anything at all, let us know and we’ll do whatever we can to help,” he told her.

“Thank you, Jesse. I can’t even put into words how much I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe we’ll run into you at Cuppachino for coffee one of these days. It’s the place where all the locals gather every day.”

“I don’t know that I could handle one of those cupcakes every day.”

“They are lethal, but I’ll be sure to tell Brooke that you enjoyed it.”

“Please do.” Ellis craned her neck to see if Violet was at her desk so she could say good-bye, but the room was empty.

Jesse held the front door open and stepped outside with her. “Glad to see the sun came out. It’s been a little on the gloomy side the past couple of days.”

“It’s still chilly,” Ellis noted.

“November moving head-first into winter,” he said. “Hope you brought some warm clothes.”

“I did, thanks.”

Jesse accompanied her to the end of the cobbled walk, his hands in his pockets. “Check in from time to time and let me know how things are going.”

“Will do. Thanks again for everything, Jesse.”

He nodded and waited at the sidewalk while she walked to her car, then waved before turning and going back into the building.

Nice guy, she told herself, and said a prayer of thanks that her mother’s family had selected such a firm to represent them. She was well aware that another attorney might have been willing to sell her out. She could see the headlines now:

Daughter of Clifford Chapman Found Living Under Assumed Name in Small Maryland Town!

King of Fraud’s Daughter Dumps His Name, Hides Out on Eastern Shore!

Sad but true.

She slid behind the wheel and started the car. Following the directions Jesse had printed out for her, she drove around the square and made a left to head back to Charles Street. Once on Charles, she made another left and drove back through the center of town. Two blocks past the light, she took a right onto Lighthouse Lane and drove all the way to its unpaved end. The number 1 was painted in dark green on a white mailbox that looked surprisingly new. She stopped in the middle of the street and stared at her inheritance.

The house seemed to have nothing in common with the others she’d passed on her travels through town, those colonial and federal and Queen Anne styles that appeared on every block. This house, set back from the road, looked like an overgrown cottage, with a misplaced gable here and there. The white clapboard could have used a new coat of paint and the shutters were faded. Three brick chimneys—one listing slightly to the side—protruded from the roof. At the end of the driveway, which was covered in what appeared to be crushed shells, stood an outbuilding, a garage or a carriage house, its windows painted black. The shades in every window of the house had been pulled down, making it look as if it had something to hide. The entire property was encircled by some of the tallest trees she’d ever seen. All in all, the impression was far from inviting.

Like it or not, this was home.

She eased the sedan into the driveway and sat for several long moments before bursting into tears.

To Cole—you are our sunshine

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Because writing the book is only the beginning, I must send many thanks to the amazing team at Ballantine Books—Kate Collins, Gina Wachtel, Scott Shannon, Libby McGuire, Linda Marrow, Junessa Viloria, Ania Markiewicz, Alison Masciovecchio, Kristin Fassler, Scott Biel—I sure hope I didn’t forget someone! These are the folks who do the heavy lifting, and they do a phenomenal job of making what I send them into a book, and then getting it out there and making sure people
know
that it’s out there. I owe them all big time.

Thanks also to my agent, Loretta Barrett, and her crew—Jennifer Didik and Nick Mullendore—for all the years of working so hard on my behalf.

The book you’re holding in your hands is number thirty-five for me! I know! I can hardly believe it myself! But without the support of my friends and family, I’d never have finished that first one. So huge thanks to Helen Egner and the late Carole Spayd for cheering me on back in those early days—and to Bill, Becca, Katie, Mike, and the newest member of the family, our darling Cole, for giving meaning to the journey.

Many thanks to Marianne McBay, Wed Accompli—Weddings and Events, Savannah, Georgia, not only for years of friendship and laughter (we don’t need to say how many years), but for sharing her knowledge of the world of wedding planning that made this book possible.

Karyn Park won the right to have a character named after her in the annual ADWOFF raffle benefitting the Nora Roberts Foundation (thanks and love, as always, to Phyllis Lannik). Hopefully, Karyn is enjoying her new career as a celebrity photographer.

Lastly, since we have three cousins named Bonnie, it was only a matter of time until I named a character after them. So here you go, Bonnie Slavin-Walls, Bonnie Bricker Almquist, and Bonnie Shafer Sayette (whose maiden name was so good I poached it all!).