Squatter's Rights

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Squatter's Rights Page 15

by Cheril Thomas


  She wondered if they were right.

  “We’ll start the roof tomorrow,” Bryce said. “I’ve got a full crew ready to go. Before we get into details, though, I need to tell you something. I’ve hired a new employee. Winnie’s going to give me a hand.”

  Henry looked as surprised as Grace felt. “You aren’t serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious,” Bryce snapped at his cousin. “You know he’s done a great job when I’ve used him before.”

  “I know you said he did, but…” Henry stopped and shrugged. “If you say you need him, you need him.”

  “I need him. Same as before, to run errands for me between jobs and to do some of the unskilled work.” Turning to Grace, he added, “Try to put your personal relationship aside. Winnie has the most recent knowledge about this place. He did what little work was done around here for the past few years and he can save us some time.” He glanced over his shoulder as they heard tires crunching on the gravel driveway. “And besides, he’s here.”

  “We don’t have a personal relationship,” Grace said. “He just trashed my house and almost got himself killed here.”

  “Trust me and give him a chance, Grace. I’ve tried to look out for Winnie and help him. He’s not a bad guy when you get to know him. And if it doesn’t work out, he’s gone. No arguing, I promise.”

  Grace followed the cousins outside to see Niki standing with a tall young man. The stranger was neatly dressed and clean-shaven with short sandy hair. His worn boots and muscular build said he was either used to hard work or spent serious time at a gym. She looked around for a more likely Winnie.

  “I didn’t expect to find him here, but I guess it’s only right that I introduce you. This is my infamous brother,” Niki said as Grace approached them. “Winnie, meet our cousin, Grace Reagan.”

  “Call me Winston, Grace. No one else does and it will make a nice change.”

  She'd been told Winston Stratford Delaney the Fifth was lazy, devious, destructive, lying, rude and probably dangerous; an alcoholic and drug addict. No one had mentioned he was also charming, well-mannered and gorgeous.

  She shook his outstretched hand and felt herself returning his smile. “Well, Winston, I understand you’re here to help Bryce.”

  “Help Bryce?” His large blue eyes widened as he released her hand. “Why, cousin, I’m here to help you. This old place has a lot of quirks and surprises; you know? And since I’m the only one who has any experience in maintaining it, I can save you some trouble.”

  Bryce broke into the conversation, saying he needed Winston’s help finding an electrical panel.

  “You made a smart decision,” Niki said as the men walked away.

  Grace was relieved that Niki seemed to have moved past their argument. “I didn’t make any decision, Bryce did. He just now told Henry and me.”

  “He hired Winnie without telling Henry?”

  Grace nodded. “It didn’t sit well with Henry, either.”

  “I guess not. He’s never understood why Bryce looks out for Winnie.”

  “Why does he?”

  “Who knows? But even Bryce can’t take much of him. So don’t worry, either Winnie’ll wander off somewhere and not come back until the work is done, or he’ll make Bryce mad, which is what usually happens. But there’s one thing you need to remember. What Winnie wants, he gets. Nothing bad ever sticks to him, if you know what I mean. If he wants to be here and work on the house, you’re better off making use of him. Take it from me, it doesn’t pay to cross my brother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I came to apologize,” Niki said as they walked back up the driveway. “It was unreasonable of me to think you wouldn’t have questions about everything, even the stuff we don’t talk about, like Grandfather. It’s just hard because some topics have always been taboo.”

  “Like your grandfather.”

  “Like our grandfather and Gran’s drinking.” Niki looked miserable.

  “My mother?” Grace asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m bringing it all to the surface.”

  Niki studied the roofline of Delaney House and hugged her fleece vest to her body as if she were freezing in the unseasonably warm November sunshine. “Had to happen sooner or later,” she finally said. “I’ve managed to forget how much dirty laundry we have and it’s a shock to have it all dragged out and opened up for speculation by people who weren’t a part of it.”

  There were areas of Grace’s own life she wouldn’t want to hold up for public scrutiny. She said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more sensitive to your feelings, but I have to find out why my mother left and what happened with my father. It’s awful your family has to go through a police investigation at the same time.”

  Niki rubbed her eyes and gave Grace a wan smile. “Our family. I’ll keep correcting your pronouns until you give up and accept us. You are us and God help you, we are you. All the same DNA, Grace. Family.”

  It was a shaky truce, but Grace didn’t want to argue anymore so she asked if Niki would like to see Emma’s secret room and the clothes hidden away there.

  Two hours sped by while they held an impromptu fashion show, preening and laughing at themselves as they struck poses in front of the tall mirror in the upstairs hall. Emma’s clothes were all long on Niki and tight on Grace, but each of them found a few items that worked. They were debating the merits of a lemon yellow cocktail dress when they heard heavy steps on the staircase.

  “Hey, Cousin Grace,” Winston called out. “Bryce sent me to find you and see if you want to do a walk about the property. He wants to point out a few trouble spots we found.”

  “That’s what I need, more trouble spots. Want to come?” she asked Niki, who was wearing a cashmere sweater with sleeves that came down over her fingertips.

  “Uh, sure. I’ll take this if it’s okay. Those scarves, too?”

  “All this stuff came out of the hidey hole Gran kept from us?” Winston asked.

  Grace felt like she’d been punched. Hidey hole? She’d had never heard anyone else use the term but her mother.

  Winton walked into the secret room and looked around. “I can’t believe I missed this,” he said as he picked up a silk scarf from a pile of clothes Niki had just gone through.

  Alarm bells went off in Grace’s mind. Winston had already upended the house searching for valuables and now he was holding one of the few things Emma had managed to save.

  Niki, apparently, had the same idea. “We’re playing dress up with some old clothes of Gran’s,” she said, wrapping a feather boa around her neck. “Most of it’s moth-eaten, but there are a couple of decent dresses and some fun stuff like this. Can you see Gran in feathers?” she waggled the end of the boa at him.

  “Only old clothes?” Winston sounded skeptical and before Grace or Niki could answer him, he picked up one of the clothing bags. “Oh, ho! What have we here?” He grabbed the sleeve of the mink coat.

  “Be careful!” Niki said as a seam ripped. “You idiot! Old fur rots.”

  Winston dropped the coat in disgust. “What isn’t rotted? Is any of this junk worth anything?”

  Still glaring at her brother, Niki said, “Have a look if you want. There are a couple of evening gowns from the fifties,” she held one of the dresses up. “Gran had them all stashed in here, probably to keep us from doing exactly what we’re doing now.” She pushed Winston back and picked up the mink. “I’ve been through everything. Some neat hats, but no jewelry.”

  Winston glared at her and turned back to the door. “Well, when you girls are through playing we can get started on some real work.”

  “Oh, this is real work,” Grace said. “Unless Niki wants that dress, this lot is going to the dump. Maybe you can load it up for me.”

  “Sorry, I’m on Bryce’s crew, not Henry’s,” Winston said. “I’ll tell the guys you’re on your way.”

  “Asking him to work was a stroke of genius,” Niki said, once he was out of earshot. “
He won’t leave you alone if he thinks you got something he wanted.”

  Tell me about it, Grace thought. The kitchen cabinets with their spray-painted message were never far from her mind. She still wasn’t sure if father or son had been the author, but the meaning was clear.

  Niki stroked the yellow dress. “You aren’t really going to throw all this out, are you?”

  “He’ll see some clothes go on the dump pile,” Grace said.

  Niki laughed and clapped her hands. “I do love having you as a co-conspirator!”

  The walkabout was derailed by Winston, who took the role of tour guide. He insisted they start in the kitchen and led the Cutters, Grace and Niki through the house, describing the structure and its former occupants. They were in the dining room, ostensibly to look at a leak around one of the window frames when he began to describe parties his grandparents had given decades earlier.

  “When Grandfather was alive, he and Gran were very social and were always entertaining. He was into politics big time in the fifties and sixties, you know.”

  Grace looked over at Niki, but she was watching her brother as if she couldn’t wait for his next word.

  “I wish we had pictures of the rooms from those days,” Grace said as she pulled the corner of a peeling strip of wallpaper and was rewarded with enough dust to make her sneeze.

  “Oh, just remove all the crap, clean it up and you’ll see what it looked like in the glory days,” Winston moved out of the dining room and into the rear parlor. “For instance, here’s a hint: this room didn’t have wallpaper hanging from the ceiling and none of the rooms were painted purple.”

  Grace was finding it hard to be quiet while one of the people responsible for the damage to the house was telling them to how clean it up, but she chewed the inside of her cheek and waited while Henry asked what the rear parlor had been used for in recent years.

  “Gran closed the room off. Didn’t want to look at the peeling paper, I guess. Who knows? We used to ride our tricycles in loops through the two parlors and the hall. Good fun when you’re three.”

  “We did not!” Niki’s outburst startled everyone. “Gran would have never let us do that!”

  “Maybe not you,” Winston snapped. “But she let me do anything I wanted. I played in here all the time, although, now that I think about it, it was only when I stayed here alone with Gran. You missed out, I guess.”

  Niki’s face flushed with anger, her hands clenched at her side. “You never spent any time with her unless you wanted something!”

  “And you did?”

  Niki didn’t answer, but Bryce said, “Come on, guys. Play nice.”

  “What era is this section of the house?” Grace asked. When Winston gave her a blank look, she said, “When was this part built?”

  “Oh. Who knows?” His tone said, who cares? “I didn’t say I was an architectural expert, but I know more about the family history than anyone else.”

  Niki turned and left the room. They heard the screen door on the back porch slam. A minute later a car started.

  “She’s always been hyper, and she hates it when I remind her Gran and I had a special relationship.” Dismissing his sister with a wave, Winston moved on to the entry hall. “Follow me. I’ve got more stories you’ll want to hear. For instance, this kinda rounded ceiling is only used in grand houses.”

  “Boy’s always been a fool,” Henry said as the front door closed behind Winston. “Thank God he didn’t get this house.”

  As much as she’d wanted Winston gone, Grace was irritated at his departure. She didn’t understand Bryce. First, he had to have Winston here and then, just as suddenly, made him leave. She’d started to question Winston about the basement when Bryce had interrupted - rudely, she thought - saying he’d totally forgotten about supplies that needed to be picked up.

  “I wanted him to take me through the basement,” she said again, not willing to let the subject go. “He might know what Emma stored down there.”

  Bryce winced and said, “Oh, Grace, I’m sorry. I could see you were getting tired of his silly stories and I sure was.”

  Grace tried to hang onto her temper. “But I was the one who was talking.”

  Bryce’s face reddened. “He was showing off and it embarrassed me. But since you brought it up, please stay out of the basement. All we’re finding is junk - broken tools and old lawn chemicals. A couple of bottles of some chemical mixture exploded and sprayed a wide area. It’s probably weed killer, but I’m not letting the guys finish in there until I have professionals in to deal with it.”

  She didn’t like Bryce telling her where she could go in her own house. She opened her mouth to say so, but he hurried on. “I’m sorry. It’s your call, but you should know the guys have already found a couple of snake skins in the rear rooms.”

  Grace didn’t try to hide her revulsion. He’d said the magic ‘S’ word. If there were anything important in the basement, she’d wait for the workers to bring it out.

  After the Cutters left, she walked through the first floor one more time before locking up. Winston’s stories of parties and politics and children running through the rooms had given her a new perspective on the once grand house. How many generations had crossed its threshold, calling it home and presuming it was theirs? They’d all left their marks - some to fade away, others leaving an indelible stain.

  Grace was coming to realize that although she would pay the bills and oversee the restoration, this was Delaney House and she was only passing through.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Over the next two weeks, Niki stayed busy with the inn, not avoiding Grace, but not seeking her out her as she once had. Grace let herself enjoy the breathing room. She had plenty to keep her occupied.

  For once Delaney House seemed to cooperate with her plans. As the house filled up with workers and their tools, the atmosphere in the old space changed. A new energy seeped through the rooms as if released by the physical activity.

  And there was Bryce. He treated her with deference, never far from her side when he made his daily rounds. His face would light into a smile when he succeeded in catching her eye, and Grace found herself smiling back. A tiny swell of happiness took root near her heart. It was a strange feeling. She didn’t let herself analyze the oddities of the relationship; she wanted to enjoy it. Without getting carried away, of course.

  It came as a shock one morning when Grace realized she was happy. Even Winston’s presence didn’t mar the exhilaration she felt as she watched Delaney House begin to return to life or the tingle of anticipation each time she caught sight of Bryce.

  She was surprised to see how well Winston and Bryce worked together. Bryce always spent time with Winston after consulting the crew foreman on the progress of the day’s project. Winston managed the supplies and ran errands. Bryce would leave a list of instructions with Winston each day and Winston would disappear on his appointed rounds, which usually kept him away from the house for several hours. The tasks he was given at Delaney House were simple, requiring no particular skills, only a strong back.

  “I’m not billing you for him unless he’s here at the site,” Bryce told her. “Winston’s my employee and I have him doing errands for other projects as well as this one. He’s a big help, but I’m keeping him away from here as much as I can.” One of his shoulder hugs ended the conversation. The hugs weren’t as casual as before; an electricity passed between them at every touch. Being near Bryce felt dangerous and Grace liked it. Still, she held back, telling herself there was no point to a new romance. Wherever she went after Delaney House was finished, it wouldn’t include Bryce Cutter.

  For the most part, Winston stayed out of her way. Other than an occasional smirk and calling her ‘cousin’ in a drawn-out singsong voice, he left her alone. Days went by in which the house seemed to be deconstructing as rot and decay were cut away and buried original details emerged.

  The interior demolition phase was nearly complete when Winston’s accidents st
ared.

  At first, there were the anyone-could-have-done-it type of mishaps: the wrong cabinet removed from a bathroom, an original glass window shattered, an unsecured brace on the ladder he was using. It was a short ladder and a short fall, but he was out for a day with a bruised knee. Bryce lectured the moaning Winston even as he helped him out to the truck for the ride to the Urgent Care center. Grace thought Bryce was being unnecessarily harsh and was further surprised to see the other workers were unsympathetic as well.

  Henry’s early assessment, ‘boy’s a fool’, seemed to be the general consensus among the older workers. Their attitude didn’t change when Winston came back to work. Grace tried asking Niki for advice, but only got a shrug and a ‘hate your luck’ look for her trouble.

  She was on the third floor washing years of grime off the hallway baseboards so they could be painted when she heard Winston’s angry voice yelling ‘It wasn’t me!’ The last time she’d seen him, he’d been assigned to scraping wallpaper off the dining room walls.

  “Who the hell else was working down here?” the foreman, a usually quiet man named Marty, countered in a tone Grace had never heard him use before. She sat back on her heels and listened to the conversation echoing up from two floors below. “Don’t you have enough sense not to put a work rag down a toilet? There’re two inches of water and mess in there.”

  “I told you, it wasn’t me! I only have two rags and they’re both right -”

  “Yeah, both right there, huh? I see one right there and I just fished the other one out of the toilet. After I slogged through a flooded bathroom. Get your ass in there and clean the mess up. And one more screw up and I’ll -”

  “You’ll what? Let’s talk to Bryce and see what you’ll do.”

  Grace rose and headed for the stairs.

  “Clean. It. Up.” Marty’s voice traveled through the house.

 

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