A Glimpse of the Dream (13 page)

I sat in my living room the following night reading through the classifieds while eating one of the brownies Simon had brought home from our neighbor. Sunshine really did like her pot. I wondered if it was the pot that made her baked goods so moist.

Having never smoked pot, I found eating it baked in a brownie was awesome. Feeling mildly giddy since I had eaten two, I giggled as I read. I couldn’t believe there was an ad looking for a lady of the night. They used more subtle language, but the “assistant needs to be available in the evenings and open to trying new things” made it pretty damn clear. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the salary: a grand a week. Sure, I’d probably have to work weekends, but I’d only have to work in the evenings and I could literally lie down on the job. I wondered what Simon would say if I told him I was considering changing careers from coowner of an antique store to prostitute.

“Are you eating all the brownies?” Simon asked, coming from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Was I supposed to save you one?”

“It would have been nice.”

“Sorry. They’re just so good.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss on my head. “What are you looking at?”

“I was thinking about becoming a lady of the night.”

“What?”

“There’s actually an ad looking for one. Can you believe it? It pays a grand a week.”

“Shit, for a grand a week,
I’ll
become a lady of the night.”

I turned around more fully to look at him. “You’re not a lady.”

My cell rang and I let Simon get it—I so wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

It was a very short conversation, and, when Simon disconnected the call, he walked over and sat down next to me on the sofa. “That was Mr. Clancy. Mrs. Marks has had a heart attack. She’s in critical condition.”

Suddenly I was sober. We were leaving in two days to visit and have the sit-down that she had seemed so adamant about. I jumped up from the sofa and ran to my room.

“I’ll drive and you get us a flight,” Simon called after me.

I poked my head from the room. “What about the shop?”

“I’ll tell the team there’s a change of plans—we’re leaving two days earlier. It’ll be fine.”

He was right, of course. We had wonderful employees.

“Get packed, I’ll call.”

“I love you, Simon.”

“Ditto, now go.”

Nearly twelve hours after the call from Mr. Clancy, Simon and I were driving a rental car through the town I had called home for so long.

“I’m scared, Simon. What if she doesn’t get better?”

“From what you’ve told me about her, she’s a fighter.” He reached for my hand, and my fingers tightened around his.

“I stayed away for so long, and now she could die and she’ll never know how much she means to me, how she saved me, how much I love her.”

Simon pulled the car onto the side of the road. He barely had it in park before he folded me into his arms. “She knows, Teagan. Family always knows.”

The tears fell. “I shouldn’t have stayed away.”

He pushed me back so his eyes could find mine. “Hindsight, Teagan. It’s very easy to fall into the ‘should have/would have’ game. Don’t do that to yourself. What would Mrs. Marks say?”

Wiping at my eyes, I tried to pull it together. “You’re right.”

“You were hurting, they all know just how much, they understand.”

He was right, and I didn’t need to say it again since he knew me well enough to know I knew. He asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. And thanks for coming with me.”

“There was never a question.”

Pressing a kiss to my head, he settled behind the wheel and pulled the car back onto the road. Before long he was making the turn down the long drive for Raven’s Peak. I waited for Simon to get his first view of it. As an adult, I appreciated the house in a way my younger self never had. It came into view, the Gothic Revival asymmetric house with its arched doorways and windows, the deeply pitched roof, gables, and decorative bargeboards. The soft yellow light that glowed from the glazed windows looked very much like candlelight and gave the illusion that we had stepped back in time.

“Babe, you did not do this place justice with your description of it. And your description was fabulous. This place is unreal.” After parking, Simon climbed out and stared his fill before his gaze sliced back to me.

“You okay?” he asked.

It was hard being back here, but worry over Mrs. Marks trumped every other thought. “Yeah.”

The door opened and Mr. Clancy appeared. Nostalgia filled me, and the tears that were still burning my eyes threatened to fall again. I had missed my family. Hurrying up the steps, I threw my arms around him just as a huge German shepherd came barreling out of the house.

“Who’s this?” Surprise hit me, since Mrs. Marks had always wanted a dog but feared one would destroy her house. Kane and I had always wanted a dog too. Excitement crept up on me.

“Zeus. He’s Kane’s.”

Ouch
. A direct hit.

“It was good of you to come.”

Hunching down, I rubbed Zeus’s head. My worry for Mrs. Marks extended to Mr. Clancy, because he looked so tired and old. “How is she?” I asked.

“She’s moved up to stable condition.”

“Thank God. How are you?”

“Rattled, but better now that she is no longer critical. Come in, please. Before I show you to your rooms, I want to bring you to a visitor in the study.”

Before I could ask him who, he started down the hall, leaving Simon and me to follow him.

Walking through the house, I really saw it, maybe for the first time. As a child, I didn’t appreciate what I was seeing, and the last time I had been there, despite having studied art history at BU, feeling heartsore over Kane continued to keep me blind to the treasures surrounding me. The staircase—five large men could comfortably stand shoulder to shoulder on it. It was constructed entirely of polished mahogany with hand-carved balustrades and newels. As the stairs ascended, it split, curving away from the center to either side of the grand hall. The walls, too, were wood, a paneled wood with a warm patina that seemed to gleam in the light from the cut crystal chandelier that hung three stories above.

“I don’t think I ever appreciated just how beautiful this place is,” I said to Simon. “And it’s so organized. Where are all of Mrs. Marks’s knickknacks, Mr. Clancy?” Every room had had assortments of objects encroaching on the floor space, but instead of looking sloppy, it worked.

“She stored them away. She wanted a change,” he said and then added, “you’re seeing the house with a more practiced eye.” He pushed the door to the study open. The study was done completely in a dark burled wood, including the tray ceiling. Built-in bookcases lined the room, the floors were that same dark walnut, and since I’d lived there, several desks had been artistically arranged around the room so that multiple people could work there together. There was one man in a black suit feverishly writing, the sound of his pen scratching over the paper almost comical. He looked up from his work and stood.

Simon stepped into the room, took a turn, and then his focus zeroed in on me. “This is a fabulous room.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said.

“Miss Harper. I’m so happy there is good news for you,” said the man.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

He reached for my hand, squeezing it a little too tightly, and replied, “I’m Dimitri Falco, Mrs. Marks’s lawyer.”

Suddenly I felt dirty. He screamed ambulance chaser—the kind who ingratiated himself with his clients to get a piece of the pie and then waited eagerly for them to kick so he could claim it. The fact that he was at Raven’s Peak now stirred my temper, because he was likely doing just that. Mrs. Marks was fighting for her life, while he sat comfortably in her home waiting with bated breath. Mr. Sleazy was a more fitting name for him. He turned then to Simon, but he didn’t offer his hand, just gave him a passing glance as if he was of no importance.

Simon, being Simon, grabbed the man by the hand with both of his and shook vigorously.

“Nice to meet you.” And though it would appear Simon was being friendly, I’d bet money he was squeezing Falco’s hand just a bit too hard. If riled, Simon could be, in a word, intimidating.

And Mr. Sleazy was not immune. He took a step back, his demeanor clearly shaken. “I’m relieved to hear she is doing so well.”

“Why are you here?” I asked bluntly.

“Mrs. Marks recently made some changes to her will.”

“What changes?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

Mr. Clancy cleared his throat from his spot just inside the door. “I’ll show you to your rooms now.”

“Why did you want us to meet him?” I asked as we started down the hall.

“I wanted your opinion, because something is not right with that guy.”

“He certainly seems slimy. How long has he been here?”

“A few days, and what he’s doing is a mystery. One wouldn’t think it would take days to make adjustments to a will.”

“You think he’s up to something?” I asked.

He turned. “Not sure, but he’s acting suspiciously.”

Interesting. “I’ll keep my eye on him while I’m here.”

Mr. Clancy moved the conversation on. “I was going to put you in your room, unless that’s too . . .”

He remembered the last time I’d visited—how I hadn’t been strong enough then to handle the memories. I was now. “I’d like to stay in my room.” Touching his arm I added, “But thank you.”

Contentment settled near my heart when I saw my old room again—the huge canopy bed that was covered in silk and dozens of pillows. After my studies, I now knew the makers of the furniture that filled my room, furniture I had thought belonged in a museum when I was younger—and I hadn’t been wrong about that. A Hepplewhite lady’s writing desk rested between the massive windows and a Chippendale dressing table was situated on the wall by the fireplace, which was already filled with an impressive blaze. The only change I had made was papering the walls in blue silk, the color of Kane’s eyes. I had begged Mrs. Marks to let me change it when I was fifteen. Didn’t have to beg too hard. Kane had loved it and, as often as he shared my room, I wanted him to like it. Of course, none of that mattered anymore.

“Breakfast is served starting at eight thirty a.m. in the kitchen, as you remember.”

“It’s nice that some things stay the same.”

The oddest look covered his expression in response. What was he thinking? He turned to Simon.

“Now, for you, Mr. Dale. Your room is this way.”

“Oh, I’m coming too,” I said and followed. Simon’s room was down the hall. It wasn’t, thankfully, Kane’s childhood room.

Done in a pale-gold damask swirl wallpaper, the room had William and Mary–style furniture—cherry, old, and exquisite. The bedding was navy-blue silk, and the walls were covered in landscapes done in oil colors.

“I could totally get used to this,” Simon said as he dropped onto the bed.

“Thank you, Mr. Clancy. We’ll be down later after I’ve given Simon the tour.”

“See you soon. Mrs. T is making one of her cakes especially for you.”

My heart hitched; Kane had loved her cakes. I hope he choked on them now. “Yum.”

As soon as the door closed, Simon rolled off the bed. Reaching for my hand, he pulled me out of the room. “Show me this place.”