Haunting Olivia (6 page)

Kayla sipped her orange juice. “Okay, Dad, so what does inner beauty mean to me?”

He smiled. “Why don’t we head home so you can spend some time thinking about that.”

HAUNTING OLIV IA

51

“Can’t you help me?”

“The answer needs to come from you, honey, not me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

By the time Olivia arrived at the cottage, it was pitch dark and late, almost 11:00 P.M. She was grateful for the darkness; she wasn’t quite ready for the familiar sights and shops and people and places, particularly places where she and Zach used to go to be alone.

She sat in her car for a moment and stared at the lovely gray shingled house. Even in winter, the cottage was so welcoming. There were quaint touches everywhere, from folk art bird feeders to a decorative wishing well, in which she and her sisters used to pitch pennies. The house would be warm; her father’s lawyer had alerted the caretaker that she would be arriving this evening and the woman had promised to turn on the heat and stock the place with some basic necessities.

Tomorrow she’d have to go into town and buy one item from two stores. The charming coastal village was always bustling on Sundays. She wondered if she’d run into anyone she knew, anyone she’d remember or who would remember her.

Olivia grabbed her overnight bag, deciding to leave her suitcases in the trunk until tomorrow. With a deep breath, she opened the door with the key Edwin Harris had given her, and warmth and the foyer light and the scent of pine needles greeted her.

She was surprised to discover brand-new furni-ture and artwork and knickknacks, down to the 52

Janelle Taylor

switch plate covers. The cottage had always had a nautical theme; William Sedgwick loved boating and the water, but now the cottage was decorated in a folk-country style, much like Olivia’s own apartment, with whimsical feminine touches. In the entryway was a console table upon which sat eight figurines of ballet dancers. Olivia had loved ballet as a teenager. It was almost as if William had the place completely redecorated to suit her taste.

She’d learned from Amanda last month that William had known he was dying. He hadn’t told his daughters that he’d been diagnosed with late-stage cancer or that he’d suffered a heart attack.

He’d been given a certain number of months to live, and the sisters had surmised that he’d decided to get his affairs in order.

But why redecorate the cottage for her? How could he have been so sure she’d accept the terms of the letter?

Questions. She had plenty. But she was exhausted and didn’t want to think too deeply about anything, especially about how she felt even being in this house, standing in this living room, where for so many summers she had sat uncomfortably on the sofa, trying to feel as though she belonged here, to these people, to this family—if it could even be called that. And then there had been Zach, and Olivia had understood what the word
family
really meant to some people. Zach had been family.

She glanced around the pretty living room, and despite how little it looked like it used to, Olivia could remember that first day she met Zach, how she’d been sitting in this room with her sisters on the second day of their annual vacation, and there’d HAUNTING OLIV IA

53

been a fight, something stupid and petty and based on charged emotions the girls simply didn’t know what to do with. And so she’d gone out for a long walk along the beach, and there was Zach, a boy she’d never seen before, angrily throwing rocks into the ocean.

“Can you spare some?” she’d asked, tossing a shell as hard as she could into the gorgeous blue water.

He’d whipped around, that delicious tangle of thick, almost curly hair shielding his eyes. He had brushed back a lock from his forehead, and she had stopped in her tracks, just stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes had held hers in a way she’d never experienced. A green-gray hazel, intense, penetrating, expressive, those eyes were strangely familiar, though she’d never seen the guy before.

This is what it feels like to fall in love,
she had thought crazily.
You meet someone, and before you even
hear his voice, before you even know his name, know him,
you’re enamored.
It made no sense, but that was how she had felt. As though she
did
know him. Inside and out.

“What are you so ticked off about?” he had asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “What could possibly ruin your day?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she had asked, hands on hips.

“I’ve seen you around,” he had said, squinting in the sunlight. “You’re a summer kid. You come every summer, litter up the beach for a week, then go back to your ritzy house in Connecticut or wherever.

Like you’ve ever had a problem.”

“Judgmental, much?” she had shot back. “How about the fact that my father sees me and my half sisters two 54

Janelle Taylor

weeks a year and then can’t even bother spending any of those weeks with us. How about my sisters don’t seem to like me for no reason at all. How about I come here year after year, and it’s always the same thing: my expectations get totally blown.”

“I know about that,” he had said, skimming a rock into the water. “Though I stopped expecting anything when I was about six, maybe seven. However old you are when you realize your parents aren’t these magical, perfect people.”

“I’d settle for halfway decent,” she had said, dropping down onto the sand and tucking her knees under her chin.

He had eyed her. “Yeah, me too.”

They had sat there on the beach, for a half hour, talking, throwing rocks, talking, throwing more rocks. They had sifted sand between their fingers.

She had learned that he lived on the “other side” of Blueberry, in what was practically a shack next to a used-parts lot. His father was an alcoholic.

“And supposedly my mother puts food on the table and pays our bills by selling her body,” he had said, his face twisting. He had squeezed his eyes shut and kicked the sand. “I don’t know if that’s true. I hope it’s not.”

“Me too,” she had said, her heart squeezing in her chest.

“Everyone thinks it is,” he had said. “So what’s the difference anyway.”

Olivia had turned to face him. “It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks. It matters what you believe in there”—she had pointed at his head—“and in here,” she had said, patting his chest.

He had glanced at her, then down at where her HAUNTING OLIV IA

55

hand rested on his worn blue T-shirt. He had nodded, then looked back out at the ocean. “Thanks.”

She had nodded too, for want of knowing what else to say.

“I’m Zach. Zach Archer.”

“Olivia Sedgwick,” she had said. “So how old are you? I’m sixteen.”

“I’m seventeen. For another six months. One more year of high school and then I’m outta here.”

“Where are you going to go?” she had asked.

“Anywhere. New York City. Boston. San Francisco.

Chicago. I’m going to try everywhere and see where feels like home.”

“That’s a good idea,” she had said, wanting him to find happiness but not wanting him to go anywhere without her.

He had looked at her then as though he could read her thoughts. “I wish I didn’t have to leave right now, but I have to go to work.”

“Where do you work?”

“Back room of a supermarket,” he had said.

“Opening boxes, shelving. One day, though, I’m going to be an architect. I’m going to build skyscrapers.” He had glanced down. “That probably sounds pretty stupid to you. Like I’m ever going from shelving boxes of Cheerios to designing glass towers.”

“I have no doubt you will, Zach,” she had said.

“You sound determined. That’s what it takes.”

He had smiled at her for the first time. A smile that completely stole her heart. “Meet me here later?”

“What time?” she’d asked, grinning.

A much older Olivia smiled at the memory. She sat down on the plush sofa, recalling how in that moment, that question, they both knew they would 56

Janelle Taylor

be together. That something special had begun.

They’d met that night at nine-thirty, once it was dark enough and late enough for Olivia to sneak out of the cottage. Her father never had anything to do with the girls after dinner, which was the only time he spent with them. They met on the beach, and hand in hand they walked for an hour, talking, kissing, falling very much in love.

Olivia sighed, barely able to remember that girl she used to be. She closed her eyes, forcing away the memories, memories of a time
before.
Before she was pregnant. Before Zach abandoned her. A time when, for a few precious days, she was happier than she’d ever been.

Olivia yawned and headed for the bedroom that had been hers as a girl. The cottage had five bedrooms, one for each girl, one for William, and one for the sour-faced housekeeper.

Olivia opened the door and gasped. The room hadn’t been changed. Nothing had been changed.

But that’s bizarre, she thought. Why would William redecorate down to the knickknacks and leave this room exactly as it was?

It was a pink room. A pink girlie-girl’s room. A four-poster bed dominated, its fluffy pink down comforter so inviting. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she thought she saw something dart past the door.

She got up and peered out the door way. Yes.

There. A little girl! She had her back to Olivia, and she was flying a kite, a kite in the shape of a cat. The girl was laughing and running down the hall.

“Wait!” Olivia called.

The girl turned around, smiled, and then ran—

HAUNTING OLIV IA

57

right through the wall at the end of the hallway. She was gone.

Olivia opened and closed her eyes. She was imagining the girl, that was all. She’d driven so many hours and it was late. And she was back here in this house.

Her mind was telling her it was time to go to bed.

After washing her face and brushing her teeth and changing into comfortable yoga pants and a tank top, Olivia slid under the comforter.

The running girl was the girl from her dreams, she realized. But where was the boy? She’d never dreamed of just the girl before. Why had she seen only the girl running through the house?

She darted up.
Because the baby was a girl,
she knew suddenly.
I gave birth to a girl.
She knew this with startling clarity.
Yeah, right,
she thought, dropping back down onto the soft pillows.
I know absolutely nothing.

Olivia darted up in bed again, her heart pounding. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

It was just after two in the morning. She had the dream again. And again, there was no boy.

Chapter 5

Buzz! Buzzzz!

Someone was pressing on the doorbell. No—

pounding
on the doorbell.

Olivia glanced at the alarm clock. How had she slept until eight o’clock? She rarely slept past six.

She got out of bed and put on her warm terry bathrobe as she slid her feet into her favorite sheep-skin slippers, a good-bye gift from Camilla for chilly Maine mornings.

Buzz! Buzzzz!

“I’m coming!” Olivia called out, wondering who could possibly be at the door so early on a Sunday morning. Who knew she was here, anyway?

Ah, she thought, running to the front door. The caretaker. The letter from her father indicated that the house’s caretaker would stop by every morning at eight to ensure she was there and to collect her receipts.

I’m definitely here,
she thought, looking around the living room in the bright light of day.
I can’t believe
it, but I am definitely here.

HAUNTING OLIV IA

59

Buzz!

Olivia opened the door. This was the caretaker? A very attractive redhead in her early forties stood on the doorstep, wearing a cropped hot pink down jacket, jeans that form fit her sexy figure, and a scowl.

“Let me make one thing clear,” the woman said, tossing her mane of ringlets behind her shoulders.

“When I come tomorrow morning to collect your receipts, I will ring the bell once. If you don’t answer in a minute or two, I will leave and you’ll forfeit your inheritance. So I wouldn’t take ten minutes again to answer the damned door if I were you.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Olivia said. If she weren’t so used to rudeness from working at
Glitz,
she would have been too shocked to speak.

“I’ve been retained by William Sedgwick’s attorney to take roll each morning at eight o’clock. You will need to sign this form and date it. Today is day one. Tomorrow, I will begin collecting your receipts.

You must purchase one item from two different establishments in town for a minimum of two items per day. A cup of coffee counts. So does a cashmere sweater from Johanna’s, which happens to be the store I own and operate.”

“Is your name Johanna?”

“Ooh, you’re a smart one,” the woman said, turning to leave.

“Excuse me,” Olivia said sharply. “Any reason why you’re such a bitch?”

The woman whipped around, clearly surprised.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t like greedy opportunists. You broke your father’s heart when you were a slutty teenager, then estranged yourself from 60

Janelle Taylor

him for years. Now you’re here to collect your inheritance? Sickening.”

Now Olivia
was
too shocked to speak. She took a moment to regain her composure. “Let me make one thing clear, Johanna. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Nothing you said is true. And I don’t appreciate your coming here and throwing ugly false statements at me.”

“You should be thinking about what your father would have appreciated,” Johanna said, continuing down the path.

“Just what was your relationship to William Sedgwick?” Olivia called.

The woman opened the white gate and let herself out onto the sidewalk. “I was his fiancée.”

Olivia gasped. His fiancée? This was the first she’d heard of a fiancée.

“We were planning a summer wedding,” the woman said, her voice cracking.