Haunted: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  Oh no, wait. Sitting on her hands would make it hard to sip her tea.

  Oh, stop it, she told herself. Brandon was here to execute her aunt’s final will, and as soon as it was done, he would return to New York City and take with him the rather inconvenient fact that he was good-looking, sexy, and capable of doing weird twisting things to her gut with just a glance.

  He returned to the table and set in front of her a large mug of tea and several packets of cream and sugar. He had, in fact, returned with multiple options of cream and sugar. Talk about covering all his bases. Holly smiled as she picked out the packets of brown sugar and poured the contents into her tea.

  She looked up, mustered a steady smile, and met his gaze. “It’s a long way for you to travel for a business meeting.”

  “Some meetings need to be conducted in person instead of over the phone.” He reached for his briefcase. His movements were both graceful and economical. “You left Manhattan before the reading of her will.”

  “Yes, I had to get back to school. I couldn’t impose on my colleagues any longer than I’d already had.”

  Brandon slid a thick envelope across the table to her. “You should read it in detail in your own time, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to summarize it for you.”

  “Yes, please,” Holly said as she tugged from the envelope a plastic-encased binder.

  “After settling her debts, of which there were few, and the distribution of gifts—mostly jewelry—to close friends and other relatives, including your sister, Noelle Langford, Ms. Rachel Hunter’s entire estate has been settled on you.”

  Holly’s mind froze. “Her entire what?”

  “Her entire estate.” Brandon leaned across the table and opened the binder to a page in the appendix. “This is an approximation, based on the net worth of her investment accounts as of this morning and the estimated market value of her townhouse in Manhattan. If you choose to sell the townhouse, it will have to be officially appraised, of course. There are, unfortunately, death taxes that have to be paid, and here—” He pointed to a shockingly large number at the bottom of the page. “—is roughly what’s left once the government takes its share.”

  Holly’s lips moved without sound. She couldn’t find enough air in her lungs to give voice to her words.

  Brandon glanced at her face and slid the mug closer to her. “Here, drink. Slowly.”

  The sip of tea burned her lips and scalded her throat, but it yanked her whirling thoughts back into coherence. She stared at the number and blinked hard. It didn’t change. She counted the number of digits in front of the decimal, and to be sure, she checked the number of commas.

  Her voice emerged as a choked whisper. “It’s so much money.” Eight…no, almost nine million dollars.

  “Ms. Hunter owned prime real estate in New York City. Her townhouse is worth a great deal, and fully paid off. My next step would be to put you in touch with her financial advisor so that he can officially transfer her retirement and investment funds to your bank account. Of course, you’ll need to decide what to do with her townhouse—sell, rent, or move in. I’d be happy to put you in touch with real estate agents if you chose to sell or rent it out.”

  “My aunt didn’t have any stipulations?”

  “No. The inheritance is yours, free and clear, to do as you wish.” Brandon smiled then. “You didn’t expect it, did you?”

  “No, I mean. I hoped she would leave me something, like her little porcelain decorations in her curio cabinet—”

  “She did leave those, and everything in the house, to you.”

  “It’s the everything I didn’t expect.”

  “I have something else for you,” Brandon said. From his briefcase, he took out a much smaller envelope and handed it to her. “Your aunt wanted me to deliver this in person.”

  The sealed envelope was addressed to her in her aunt’s shaky handwriting. Tears stung Holly’s eyes, and her hands trembled as she turned over the envelope.

  “I’m going to get more coffee,” Brandon excused himself tactfully, leaving her to the privacy of the letter.

  She extracted a single piece of paper from the envelope.

  My dearest Holly,

  You have been such a joy and delight to me, and my only regret in leaving all this to you is not being able to see your reaction when you receive it. I know you’ll wonder why you. Why didn’t I leave my wealth to a charity, or divide it evenly between you and Noelle? The answer, my dear, is simply that I love you and I know the money will ease your way. Noelle has found happiness with her darling Connor, and he will take good care of her. You’re still searching, and I fear that life—with its worries—has distracted you from love.

  Money can’t create love, but it can buy you time to find it.

  With all my heart, I pray you will find that love has always been waiting for you.

  Your aunt Rachel.

  Holly swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She had to press her lips together to keep them from trembling. Her eyes still moist, she looked up at Brandon as he returned to the table. “Thank you,” she murmured. “This has been incredible.”

  “I’m just the messenger,” he said. “I realize nothing compensates for the fact that you’ve lost your aunt, but I’m honored she asked me to execute her last will and testament for her.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice caught, and she could say no more.

  “You’re most welcome.” Brandon glanced away, the first hint of less-than-professional ease. “If you have no other plans for this evening, I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

  She gaped at him. “I…of course, it would be wonderful.” It’s no big deal, she told herself. Professionals do this all the time, right, take clients to meals?

  “Would you recommend a restaurant?” he asked.

  “Someplace casual?”

  “Someplace with good food.”

  Holly sifted through the restaurants she knew. Very few, she suspected, would meet Brandon’s New York City standards. “What about the Vineyard Wine Bar?”

  “I’ll go by your recommendation.”

  The smile Brandon flashed made her heart accelerate. Perhaps professional was not quite the right word for the situation they had gotten into; his smile—and the impact—seemed awfully personal. She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and even then scarcely managed to keep her voice even. “It’s a tapas place; not quite fast food.”

  “I don’t have any place to be tonight. I’ve a reservation at Vandiver Inn.”

  “Oh, an excellent choice.” Holly stood and picked up her book bag. “It’s one of the best B&Bs in town.”

  “I’ll have to thank my assistant when I get back to New York. She made the reservations.” He held the door open for her. “Shall we take my car?”

  “Yes, please.” She flushed. “Mine’s with the mechanic.” She reflected briefly that her worries over paying her upcoming car repair bill were effectively over.

  He led the way to his rented car, a sleek white Audi, and handled the manual transmission with careless ease as he followed her directions to the Vineyard Wine Bar. The previous night, Peter had winked and flirted his way to a table, making her feel like an awkward third-wheel in the process. In sharp contrast, Brandon’s professional demeanor was apparently the norm for his social interactions. His polite inquiry secured him a prime table with a view of the open kitchen, and his discussion of wines and tapas with the female waitress, although animated, did not come close to flirting.

  Surprisingly, she found herself relaxing in Brandon’s presence. There was no second-guessing his focus and attention, and when their orders were placed, she settled back in her seat and offered him a smile. “You’ll let me pay for dinner, of course—”

  He shook his head. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it. A gentleman always pays for dinner.”

  “It’s a wonder the women aren’t lining up and beating down your door to date you.”

  “Maybe they are, but certainl
y not here in Havre de Grace. It’s a beautiful town. I had about an hour to drive around prior to our meeting.”

  “Did you get a chance to see the promenade?”

  “No, I didn’t, but I have some time tomorrow before I head back to D.C. I’ll check it out then. Is there any other place you’d recommend for first-time visitors?”

  “The lighthouse, perhaps? Fantastic views from the top.”

  “Not sure I’ll have the time for it. I’ll save it for my second visit.”

  “You’ll be coming back to Havre de Grace?”

  “Perhaps.” He smiled.

  “What will it depend on?”

  “Tonight.” His smile dug a dimple into his cheek and made her heartbeat skitter.

  “Do you date clients, Mr. Smith?”

  “Brandon. You’re not a client, and to be perfectly clear, I’m not a fortune hunter.”

  Holly flushed. “You’re blunt.”

  “Sometimes it helps to get the awkward assumptions out of the way. I’d be surprised if the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.” He paused as the sommelier came by with the bottle of white wine he had ordered. After the man departed, he raised his filled glass to Holly. “Your aunt told me about you, but here’s to reality exceeding imagination.”

  “Really?” Their glasses tapped. “What did you expect?”

  “From the way Ms. Hunter described you, I expected a saint, halo included. I’m glad to find you quite human.” His appreciative gaze also told her he found her attractive.

  Holly’s cheeks warmed under his attention. “You know about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Wife? Girlfriend?”

  “Neither.” A shadow appeared in his eyes.

  Holly frowned. What was he hiding?

  He continued, “It appears I’m not the only blunt person at this table.”

  “Sometimes it helps to get the awkward questions out of the way. Relationships would fall into that category. I’ve just come to the realization that I’ve spent eight years avoiding deep conversations on relationships. I’m not proud of myself.”

  “So you’ve decided to swing to the other end of the pendulum?”

  “It’ll take me a while to find a good balance, I suppose. Tell me about your family. Do they live in New York City, too?”

  He shook his head. “I was born and raised in Westchester, north of New York City. My mother, however, now lives in Italy. My sister, too, with her husband.”

  “Do you visit them often?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. My sister owns a vineyard in Tuscany.”

  “She makes wine?”

  Brandon laughed. “Her rustic farmhouse is a retreat when she gets tired of Milan, where she lives and works. She designs and models for one of the Italian fashion houses.”

  Holly’s face lit with a smile. “That’s amazing. What’s her name?”

  “Marguerite Ferrara.”

  “Her husband’s Italian?”

  “Ferrara is my mother’s maiden name. When my parents divorced, Maggie took my mother’s last name. I kept my father’s.” Brandon shrugged. “Families are complicated things.”

  Her thoughts flashed to Aidan, Debra, and Peter, and she had to agree with Brandon. “Are you close to your sister?”

  “Close enough, considering the ten-year gap. About a year ago, she ended up marrying a great guy—my classmate, actually. I’m looking forward to seeing them next month in Tuscany.”

  “I’ve never been out of the country. You must think me terribly provincial.”

  “Hardly, but international travel is amazing. With your resources now, I’m sure you’d be able to travel as you wish.”

  “It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” Holly said. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

  “I’d start in Santorini, Greece, the fabled site of Atlantis. Whitewashed buildings against the blue of the Aegean; the contrast is blinding. Rhodes is great, too, especially the old city. I loved walking on cobblestone streets beneath the draping bougainvillea.”

  “Have you traveled much?”

  “Forty countries. I keep trying to add to the list, but I’m running out of safe countries to visit. On my last trip, I hitchhiked through India and Nepal.”

  She stared at him.

  He laughed at what must have been an incredulous expression on her face. “Is it so hard to believe?”

  “It’s just, you look…” She shrugged.

  “Like an over-privileged New Yorker? I am. I’m privileged to live in New York, to be able to explore the world, and then return to New York. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of returning home—the sense of completeness, of contentment.”

  “I wish I could say the same. I hadn’t been contented for a while, but it came to a head after my father passed away two years ago. I think seeing Noelle settle down with Connor pushed me over the edge. There’s nothing quite like seeing your baby sister get married to make you wonder what you’re doing with your life.”

  Brandon chuckled, but it was an ironic sound. “Quite so. I know the exact feeling.”

  “How did you deal with it?”

  “I tried to replicate her path to happiness.”

  Only he didn’t sound happy. “And?”

  “I learned that happiness can’t be forced and the timing can’t be controlled. We all travel different paths, and as much as Maggie managed to complicate her extremely drawn-out relationship with Drew, I suspect I have an even greater tendency to complicate things.”

  Holly laughed at his self-deprecating remark. “So women don’t have the monopoly on overcomplicating relationships?”

  “I think it’s possible to try too hard to make something right that simply isn’t meant to be.”

  She stared at Brandon over the flickering candlelight. Just yesterday, she had looked at another man across the table, a man who was trying to make right the wrongs in her life. She had wondered then if it was even meant to be. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

  Brandon nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  Holly tilted her head. “Are you on the rebound?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I like to think I’m not, but it’s not easy to tell, at least not this close to the situation.”

  “How long ago was it?”

  He drew a deep breath. “Almost a year now.”

  “Must have been serious. Most men I know would have moved on within weeks.”

  The curve of Brandon’s lips was self-mocking. “She left me at the altar.”

  Holly’s mouth shaped an O of surprise. “I’m sorry.” She reached across the table and laid her hand over his. “Did you want to talk about it, or should I change the topic?”

  “Let’s change the topic. I think it’s considered profoundly bad manners to talk about prior relationship disasters this early in a friendship.”

  Holly nodded her agreement. I probably shouldn’t mention how my fiancé got my best friend pregnant, and how their son is now in my first grade class, or that my ex- fiancé is apparently still in love with me.

  The waitress came by with the first round of tapas, and for several minutes, the conversation focused on tastes and flavors. Among other things, Holly learned that Brandon hated the smell and taste of parsley but loved white anchovies packed in brine. She confessed to her habit of picking the red and green peppers out of her Thai curries, on the grounds that real Thai curries couldn’t possibly use red and green peppers since they weren’t native to Thailand. Laughing, Holly and Brandon tipped their wine glasses to each other, and Brandon waved the sommelier over to recommend a bottle of red to complement the second half of their dinner.

  The shared meal added to the intimacy of the moment, and by the time dessert rolled around, Holly was thoroughly enjoying the company of a man who had made it clear he was interested in her as a date, was honest enough to confess that he wasn’t entirely certain if he was emoti
onally clear of his previous relationship, and possessed enough self-awareness to be both amusing and fascinating.

  “I had a great time tonight,” Brandon said as he walked her to her door.

  “And you head back to New York tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “You’ll hear from me as well as your aunt’s financial advisor as we finalize your aunt’s estate, but I wondered if I could see you again.”

  “I…yes, I’d be happy to see you again.”

  He glanced at his smartphone, obviously checking his calendar. “How about a week from today? Would December 24 work for you? I realize it’s Christmas Eve, but I’d be able to come down that morning and spend most of the day with you.”

  Holly hoped he wouldn’t hear the pounding of her heart. “Sure, that would be wonderful.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be in touch. And thank you for your company at dinner.” He leaned in to brush his cheek against hers. The smell of his aftershave shot straight into her head—so different from Peter’s, who reminded her of everything young, reckless, and wild. Brandon possessed the scent of a man—sexy and mature. He was the big city sophistication to her small town simplicity, but some of the things he said had resonated with her. They both had pasts they were trying to leave behind and futures they were looking forward to.

  She closed the door on Brandon and walked up the narrow staircase to her second floor bedroom. Mojo tripped alongside her and leaped up to claim the prime spot on her bed. Holly paused by her desk and stared down at her planner. She picked up her pencil and scribbled Peter’s name on December 23 and Brandon’s on December 24. “The ghosts of Christmas Past and Christmas Future.” She smiled at the whimsical thought.

  Well, her past and her future were apparently colliding in her present. What in heavens’ name was she supposed to do?

  Chapter 6

  The next day, Holly took her dog on his customary walk. Mojo weaved from one side of the promenade to the other, oblivious to the amused glances of passersby who stepped out of his way. Holly followed in a straight line, flashing apologetic smiles at the people enjoying a warmer-than-usual winter day in Havre de Grace.