The House on Harbor Hill

by Shelly Stratton

  “Well, that’s not up to you to decide, now is it? If I decide it’s time to go, I’m going.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re a grown man. I know that. But, Aidan, I’m just trying to—”

  “I didn’t come down here to start an argument,” he said, holding up his hand. “I told you this because you need to know. Because when I do leave, I want to make sure that you’re okay . . . that I’m not leaving you alone to fend for yourself.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll have the girls to help me take care of Harbor Hill.”

  “What girls, Dee? Tracey will leave too one day. You have no idea how long it will be before the next woman lives here—if one lives here. And how long will she stay? You can’t do this forever.”

  She raised her chin. “Says who? You?”

  “Life says so, Dee. The writing is on the wall—literally! You have some crazy person harassing you and writing offensive messages on your garage door. Add that to the fact that you’re sixty-seven years old, with diabetes, arthritis in the knees, and high blood pressure. You’re getting older and—”

  “I wish you’d stop talking about me like I’m near death’s door. My grandmother lived well into her nineties! She still picked apples and tended her own chickens to the day she died. I could have more than twenty years ahead of me!”

  “Again,” he said, exhaling as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, “I’m not here to argue with you. But I do think it’s time to seriously consider moving on from Harbor Hill. You should—”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head again. “No, Aidan!”

  “Just hear me out.”

  “There is nothing to hear! I’ve told you a thousand times I’m not leaving this place! It’s my home. My . . .”

  My burden, she wanted to say but didn’t.

  “My responsibility,” she said instead.

  “Dee, you’ve taken care of countless people your entire life. You’ve done it selflessly, and most have never given anything back in return. Isn’t it finally time for you to do something for yourself. . . to live for yourself?”

  She turned away from him then, unable to meet his earnest gaze any longer.

  Delilah would never be able to explain to him that what she did for him, his mother, and the many other women who came into her home was a penance she felt she owed. She had taken a life, and she would strive for the rest of her life to make up for that sin, to make amends to God for what she’d done.

  “Teddy wants to buy the house,” he said. “And—”

  “And turn it into another ugly hotel, I bet! Like we don’t have enough of those around here! Or maybe he’ll make it into a casino.”

  “Dee, I don’t think he wants to do that. And frankly, I don’t think he can do that. Harbor Hill isn’t zoned for—”

  “If you have enough money, you can do anything. Trust me! I know.” She had come up against money and power before. She’d seen how often people won when they had the dollars to back up their motives.

  Aidan sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Look, you’re making assumptions . . . blind assumptions. The only way to find out what Teddy really wants to do with this place is to ask him. He wants to have a meeting with you at his office in the city. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

  She opened her mouth again to say that if Teddy Williams disappeared out of her life, she’d be perfectly happy, but Aidan spoke before she could.

  “You don’t have to commit to it. But I really, really want you to hear him out, to seriously consider what he has to say.”

  She gnawed the inside of her cheek.

  “If you do this for me, Dee, I won’t bring it up again. I promise! Just . . . go there with me. Give him thirty minutes, and see what he has to say.”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly opened her eyes again.

  “Fine, Aidan. I’ll go. I’ll go if we never have to talk about this again. You hear me?”

  * * *

  Teddy’s waiting area at his real estate office was as sterile and banal as Delilah expected it to be, with lots of chrome, glass, and bright lights that made her feel like she was on a theater stage. A pretty redhead sat behind the receptionist desk, clicking away at her computer and chirping perkily into her headset. She had offered Delilah and Aidan coffee, tea, or bottled water when they’d arrived.

  Aidan had accepted the coffee. Delilah had said she didn’t want anything, thank you very much.

  “If you will wait here, Mr. Williams will be with you shortly,” the young woman had said nearly fifteen minutes ago.

  “Does he expect us to wait for him all day?” Delilah now whispered none too softly to Aidan, who sat in one of the leather club chairs beside her.

  She watched as he glanced up from the magazine he held, an old issue of People with a smiling actress on the cover. “We got here early, Dee. We haven’t been waiting that long.”

  As if on cue, one of the glass doors at the end of the hall swung open, and Teddy strode out. He was decked out in a pin-striped suit and periwinkle shirt today, with a gold tie clip and cufflinks—looking every bit the smooth-talking salesman she expected him to be.

  “Ah, so you made it!” he said as though he was surprised to see them, as if the receptionist hadn’t told him fifteen minutes ago that Delilah and Aidan were here waiting for him in the lobby.

  Aidan rose to his feet first. Delilah reluctantly followed suit.

  When Teddy reached them, he embraced Delilah in the customary hug she was starting to loathe, crushing her purse between them. He shook Aidan’s hand.

  “How are you today, Delilah?” he asked, turning back to her. “You look lovely, as usual!”

  No, she didn’t. She looked tired after getting only a few snatches of sleep since Aidan had told her a few days ago he’d be moving out soon. She shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

  “Well, hopefully, I can make you happier. Hopefully, you’ll let me make you a very rich woman too! Let’s head back to my office,” he said, gesturing down the hall. “Follow me.”

  The three made their way down the hall, with Teddy yapping the whole time, pointing to plaques and pictures on the wall, telling some inane story. Delilah chose not to pay attention. All the polite conversation between him and Aidan was background noise for her. She wasn’t going to sell Harbor Hill—not today, not ever. In fact, she planned to will it to Aidan—though she hadn’t told him so. After her death, he could do with the property whatever he wished. He could even sell it to Teddy if he was still so fired up to do that.

  But she wouldn’t complicate things by telling him the truth. Instead, she would do what Aidan had asked her to do—or at least pantomime it.

  “You can have a seat right there,” Teddy said, opening his door, revealing an expansive office with twelve-foot ceilings and large windows facing a series of office buildings with glass exteriors and a parking lot. He gestured to two chairs facing a large desk that took up a third of the width of the room. Behind the desk was a series of shelves covered with photos and knickknacks. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Aidan and Delilah took the seats he offered. She set her purse on her lap, and Aidan reclined back in his chair, raising his ankle to his knee.

  “First, I want to thank you for coming here today,” Teddy began, not taking the chair behind his desk but sitting on the tabletop’s edge.

  It gave him a two-foot height advantage over them so that they had to peer up into his blue eyes, into his smug face.

  “I’m happy to see that you’re finally willing to hear what I have to say, Delilah. I know you’ve been . . . uh . . . hesitant, shall we say, to move forward with a deal. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind. I just promised Aidan that I would hear you out. That’s what I’m here to do.”

  “All the same. It gives me the chance to show you with visuals what I’ve had a hard time conveying with words.”

  He then ro
se to his feet and walked behind his desk, where he typed a few keys on his opened laptop keyboard and turned the screen toward them with a flourish. “Now take a gander at this!”

  On the screen was a three-dimensional rendering of Harbor Hill, though it had undergone a massive makeover compared to the house she lived in now. The colors were more vibrant. It looked nearly twice as big, with east and west wings. The front porch had been removed and replaced with a grand veranda. Windows, doors, and posts had been added, along with other details that would raise the value of the house by a good hundred thousand dollars by themselves.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he asked with a chuckle, mistaking her shock for awe. “I had one of the best architects in the region do a mock-up. The improvements wouldn’t just stop with the house itself. We’d improve the rest of the property too. Add a negative-edge pool,” he said, tapping his laptop mouse. Suddenly, a pool bordered by lawn chairs, cabanas, and women in bikinis appeared on screen. “We could even add a guest house.” He tapped the mouse again. “We’d stay with the beach house aesthetic throughout, of course, but it would all be amazing, without a doubt. From what I’ve shown you, you have to agree!”

  “Yes . . . uh . . . it all looks great . . . I mean amazing, Teddy,” Aidan began, “but Delilah’s biggest concern isn’t how you would renovate the property, but what you would do with it once it’s been renovated. It’s been her home for many years, and she’d hope that whoever gets the house would have the same vision for Harbor Hill. Did you have plans to make it into a hotel or—”

  “No!” Teddy insisted, frowning for the first time. “No, nothing of the sort! Harbor Hill would become a vacation home for my family, and it would stay in my family. I can promise you that!”

  “Well, that sounds positive, doesn’t it, Dee?” Aidan asked, raising his brows and glancing at her.

  “People make plenty of promises when they’re standing in front of you. It could be a different story if he got the place,” she said obstinately. “He could do with it whatever he wanted then!”

  Teddy raised his hand like he was making the Boy Scouts pledge. “Delilah, you have my solemn promise that I would never, ever turn Harbor Hill into a commercial property. And if my word isn’t good enough, I’ll write a contract to prove it to you.”

  Aidan laughed and shook his head. “Teddy, that isn’t necessary.”

  “No, no, no!” Teddy reached for a notepad on his desk. “Anything to put Ms. Grey’s mind at ease. It’s not a problem, Aidan.”

  He then grabbed a pen and began to write on the notepad.

  Delilah resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his theatrics. While he scribbled and prattled, she scanned his office. Her eyes landed on the glass shelves behind his desk. She saw several pictures, all of which were of Teddy.

  Teddy posing with his family.

  Teddy with his arm slung around the shoulder of other golfers with tanned faces and paunches.

  Teddy posing with a rod and reel off the back of some powerboat.

  He also seemed well traveled. The shelves showed several tchotchkes he must have picked up from flea markets or bazaars around the world: a small woven basket, a porcelain doll, and a chipped ceramic pot. When her eyes landed on a silver flask near the end of one of the shelves, she squinted. For some reason, it looked vaguely familiar. She leaned forward in her chair to see it more closely.

  The flask had a lid attached to it by a small chain. On the front was the engraved letter “C” in a gothic font.

  Delilah’s heart stuttered to a stop, then started up again.

  It can’t be, she thought, staring at the flask.

  But there it was. Even the dent near the mouth looked familiar.

  It was her dead husband Cee’s flask.

  But how did Teddy get it?

  The last time she had seen the flask was the night of Cee’s murder. She hadn’t laid eyes on it since—that is, not until today.

  “Here is a solemn promise in writing, signed by yours truly, that says I will not convert Harbor Hill into a hotel, resort, bed and breakfast, casino, condominium, or any commercial property of the sort,” he said, handing her the sheet of paper. “Go ahead. Read it!”

  She dazedly reached for the paper, still in disbelief.

  Watching her, Aidan’s eyebrows knitted together. “Are you okay, Dee?”

  She nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. She struggled to make sense of her thoughts but couldn’t. She looked at the sheet of paper in her hand, at the emblem stamped at the top in embossed letters.

  “Theodore Williams Properties . . . Theodore Williams,” she whispered. “Williams. Williams.”

  She hadn’t made the connection before. It was such a common name she hadn’t given it a second thought, but now it seemed so obvious. It had been staring her in the face this whole time. Delilah let the paper flutter from her hand. She slowly raised her hand to her forehead, feeling disoriented. The office seemed to spin around her, and she had to grip the arm of the chair to steady herself.

  “Dee, what’s wrong?” Aidan asked, snatching the paper out of her lap and staring down at the sheet. “What are you looking at?”

  She looked up at Teddy as Aidan scrutinized the note. “Williams . . . as in Melinda and Jake Williams. Your mama and daddy.”

  At her words, Teddy’s eager smile disappeared.

  Miss Mindy had had a baby while Delilah was in jail—her last child, the one who was supposed to save her marriage. Delilah had never learned the name of the boy.

  “You’re their son, aren’t you?” she pointed up at him. “You’re . . . you’re Cee’s nephew.”

  She was about to ask, “How in the world did you get his flask?” when Aidan suddenly exploded, “What the fuck!” making her jump in her chair. “You mean it was you this whole time?”

  Teddy broke her gaze. His eyes snapped toward Aidan.

  “You wrote all those fucking letters, didn’t you? You’re the one who left those notes around her house!”

  Teddy stepped from behind his desk, straightening his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Neither did Delilah. Her eyes danced between the two men, not knowing where to land. What was happening? Aidan had shot to his feet and was jabbing at the paper in his hand. Teddy had stepped back behind his desk, as if to use it as protection from Aidan.

  “Yes, you do! I kept all of those letters—every single one! I’ve stared at them a hundred times. It’s the same handwriting!” He brandished the note in Teddy’s face, making the older man take another step back. “Did you paint ‘murderer’ on the garage too or have someone else do it?”

  “You better be careful with allegations like that and the name calling, Mr. Groundskeeper, or you’ll find yourself in court!” Teddy yelled back. His face was red now. Perspiration was on his brow. “I’ll have my lawyers sue you for—”

  “I was a lawyer before I was a groundskeeper, asshole! You don’t intimidate me. You’re the one who should be intimidated . . . no, terrified, because you fucked up! You got caught!”

  “They must have taken it,” she said, making Aidan whip around to face her.

  “What?” he asked, blinking in confusion and frowning down at her.

  “Miss Mindy and Mr. Williams . . . they must have taken it with them,” she repeated, staring at Cee’s flask, remembering everything all at once. “They had to have been there that night.”

  The wonky carousel she had been riding for decades had finally slowed, and she could clearly see the world around her. More importantly, she could fill in the blanks from her past, those missing pieces that had confused her for so long. After forty-eight years of doubt and confusion, it all started to make sense. Delilah suspected she finally knew the truth.

  She turned to Aidan, wanting to explain everything, but it was all too much. The words piled up on each other, clogging in her throat; no sound would come out. Aidan gave her a worried glance before returning his glare to Teddy
.

  “We’re leaving! And I’m taking this note with me. I’m showing it and the rest of the letters to the police. You’re going to jail, you son of a bitch!” He reached for Delilah. “Come on, Dee.”

  Dazedly, she took the hand he held out to her, still confused as to why they were leaving. What exactly was he ranting about?

  Her thoughts were still lost in the past.

  “I’m not going to jail!” Teddy bellowed and then pointed to Delilah. “She’s the one who should be in jail. She murdered my uncle and stole Harbor Hill from my family. By rights, I should own that house.” He pointed at his chest. “I was doing her a favor by offering her money for it.”

  “You’re delusional,” Aidan spat over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Dee.”

  She slowly rose to her feet, feeling wobbly. Aidan grabbed her purse from the floor and handed it to her. She stared at it for a few seconds like it was a foreign object before finally figuring out what it was. She looped the straps onto her shoulder. She and Aidan then began to walk toward Teddy’s office door, and Aidan wrapped an arm around her, like he was protecting her from something. Delilah took once last glance at Cee’s flask. She felt the strong urge to rush across the room and take it, to say she was owed it for what she had been through.

  “She should’ve been smart and taken the money! But she didn’t, and now it’ll crumble to the ground. It’ll—”

  Aidan slammed the office door behind him, ending Teddy’s rant mid-tirade.

  They rushed down the corridor toward the elevators, and the red-headed receptionist looked up at them quizzically.

  “Leaving so soon? Do you need your parking validated?” she called out as Aidan pressed the elevator’s DOWN button. He didn’t respond. Instead, he silently stepped onto the elevator when the doors opened, dragging a bewildered Delilah behind him.

  * * *

  They didn’t speak again until they arrived at his truck and Aidan stuck his key in the ignition. She watched as he shifted the car into reverse, but instead of pulling out of the parking space, he gritted his teeth. He thumped his fists against the steering wheel, making her jump in the passenger seat.