by Tracey Smith
“I have a lot to consider.” Cassidy finally responded. “I have responsibilities to my employer in Chicago and I’m not sure if I can afford to be absent for an entire month.”
“Of course, Ma’am.” Mr. Woodard nodded, resigned. “I do believe the will allowed thirty days for the tenants to clear out before demolition if you were unable or unwilling to assume the property.” Mr. Woodard explained professionally with no censure in his voice, but Cassidy felt it nonetheless. She felt the guilt stabbing at her. She couldn’t be responsible for kicking these people out of their home.
“I said I needed time to consider it.” Cassidy clarified. “Let me contact my employer and see what I can arrange.”
“Oh!” The shock was clear in Mr. Woodard’s voice. “Of course, Ma’am, take all the time you need. The will did not actually specify a time frame in which the decision needed to be made.” Mr. Woodard seemed relieved and surprised.
“I’ll let you know my decision by Monday.” Cassidy stated coolly as she stood to leave.
“Yes, Ma’am, take all the time you need. You have my number.” Mr. Woodard stood and shook Cassidy’s hand. She turned and left his office, smiling briefly at the receptionist who was once again absorbed in her magazine.
She drove back up the mountain slowly, pouring over all this new information. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t leave. Why on earth would her strange uncle require such a bizarre procedure for inheriting this property, and why would he require it demolished if no living family member could take it? Would she even be allowed to sell it if she did acquire the property?
She could feel a tension headache coming on as she pulled up in front of the house. She climbed out the car and slammed the door in irritation for no real reason other than it felt good to do so. As she stomped up the porch steps Ben came walking around from the back of the house all sweaty and dirty and infuriatingly handsome.
“Ms. St. Claire, I didn’t expect you back.” He didn’t attempt to hide his surprise.
“Well I am back. For now. And if you don’t want to find yourself out on your ass you will fill up those hot water tanks so I can take a bath.” Cassidy demanded hotly then turned on her heal and stormed into the house.
Cassidy sunk low in the tub, luxuriating in the feel of the warm water enveloping her. She stretched out allowing her limbs to float as she closed her eyes and felt the tension melt away. Her long blonde hair was piled loosely on top of her head, with stray tendrils dipping down into the water. She could stay here for hours, locked away from the demanding world. And thankfully the bathroom door, at least, did have a lock.
She tried to push out all thoughts of inheritance and tenants and strange uncles. She tried to just take these few moments of reprieve and enjoy them so that her head would be clear later when it was time to make a decision. She wanted to put that off as long as she possibly could.
The bathtub was like a warm cocoon, blanketing her from the harsh world. She stayed in it until the water had cooled and her fingers and toes were pruned to the point of discomfort. Reluctantly she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in one of the large soft towels that she had found placed on her bed. Mrs. Owens must have left them for her.
Her limbs felt limber and her body relaxed for the first time since arriving in Cedar Hollow. She knew she needed to dress, it was still daylight outside, but for the moment she just wanted to lie down wrapped in the soft fluffy towel. She felt drugged from the warm bath and suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She crawled onto the bed still only wrapped in a towel and told herself that she would only close her eyes for a moment.
Three loud thuds startled her out of a deep sleep. She bolted upright in bed and felt disoriented, it was dark outside. Surely it had only been a few moments since she’d shut her hers.
“Miss St. Claire.” Ben’s voice came strong and demanding from the other side of the bedroom door.
Cassidy suddenly realized that in her haste to sit up the towel had fallen away leaving her completely exposed and naked, and Ben Riley was standing just on the other side of an unlocked door. She flushed red and scooped up the comforter pulling it around herself in embarrassment.
“Yes?” She squeaked and mentally kicked herself for sounding so pathetically timid.
“Lucy has prepared dinner, if you’d like to eat.” Ben stated in a slightly softer tone. Then she heard his retreating footsteps as he walked back down the hall.
Quickly she scrambled out of bed and rummaged through her bag for something to wear. She really did need to unpack, that is, if she was staying. She still hadn’t decided, she hadn’t had time to decide, and she’d really hoped to have a decision before she had to face Ben again.
All of her clothes were horribly wrinkled, so for lack of a better option she re-donned the grey skirt and white blouse that she had worn to Mr. Woodard’s office earlier that day. She took her hair down from the sloppy bun that she’d fallen asleep in, but it really was a hopeless mess after having slept with it damp and tied up so haphazardly. Finally after several unsuccessful attempts to smooth out the kinks she just brushed it back into a high pony tail. Feeling horribly overdressed for a casual home cooked meal she opted to leave her heels in her room and padded downstairs barefoot.
The lamp on the side table in her hallway had been lit again, casting a dim glow that led her to the stairs. She looked down into the bleak darkness and felt a sense of foreboding. Why did they keep this house so dark?
She slowly began to descend the staircase into the dark foyer, but hastened her pace on the last few steps not wanting to linger in the shadowy entryway. She hurriedly walked to the kitchen, on the verge of breaking into a jog, and felt an overwhelming sense of relief when she emerged into the brightly lit kitchen.
Ben was seated at the small round kitchen table. He wore a clean pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt. His hair was wet and brushed back from his face and he was freshly shaven. Cassidy hadn’t thought he could get any more handsome. She had been wrong.
She hesitated in the kitchen doorway feeling awkward, shuffling her bare feet. Mrs. Owens turned from the stove and smiled at her.
“Cassidy, dear, please have a seat.” Mrs. Owens gestured to the small table where Ben sat. Cassidy glanced nervously at him and found him watching her, she quickly looked away and walked to the table avoiding eye contact. It was a small table, not meant to seat more than four, so there really wasn’t a chair that wasn’t close to his. She opted for the one on the opposite side of the small table, which left them face to face.
Mrs. Owens carried a plate of food to the table and set it in front of Cassidy. “I hope you like eggplant parmesan.” Mrs. Owens smiled kindly down at her.
“It looks wonderful, thank you.” Cassidy answered politely. Truthfully Cassidy had only had eggplant parmesan once before at a restaurant, she hadn’t been a fan, but it would be horribly rude to admit that now.
“If there isn’t anything else I can get you I think I’ll retire for the night.” Mrs. Owens said sweetly as she picked up a large covered tray.
“You’re not eating with us?” Cassidy asked alarmed.
“No, dear, I take my dinner in my room.” Mrs. Owens explained holding the large tray.
“Oh.” Cassidy hadn’t planned on having to eat alone with Ben, she had counted on Mrs. Owens being there as a buffer.
“Goodnight, Lucy.” Ben said as he picked up his fork and started to dig in.
“Night, kids.” Mrs. Owens called over her shoulder as she headed up a second flight of stairs at the back of the kitchen. It had been years since Cassidy had been referred to as a kid. She’d been on her own for so long now, it felt strange to have someone taking care of her.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Ben asked gruffly as he continued to devour his meal. Cassidy realized she’d been staring after Mrs. Owens lost in thought.
“Actually I’m starving.” She admitted looking down at her plate warily. It did look very appetizing. Tentati
vely Cassidy took a bite.
“Wow, this is amazing!” She remarked in surprise.
“Just harvested it last week. Always better fresh.” Ben explained, concentrating on his food and not looking up from his plate. Cassidy felt an odd tension building between them, somewhere between hostility and attraction. Both of them were avoiding eye contact.
“I didn’t realize you had a garden here.”
Ben snorted derisively. “If we didn’t we wouldn’t eat.” He informed her coldly. “Of course I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore if I’m about to be out on my ass.” He challenged finally looking up at her. His eyes burned with hostility. Okay, so maybe the attraction was only on her part.
“Look, I’m sorry for my comment earlier. I was frustrated and overwhelmed, but it was uncalled for. Thank you for the bath.” Cassidy said sweetly trying to ease the tension.
“Whether or not you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that we’re about to be kicked out of our home, now does it?” Anger radiated off of him, and perversely to Cassidy it only made him more attractive.
“Look, I haven’t decided anything yet.” She said defensively, wishing she had her high heels on. They made her braver.
“Yes, well, we both know how this is going to end, and the longer you take mulling over your decision all you’re really doing is depleting our resources.” Ben shot back at her.
“I can carry my own weight.” Cassidy retorted, offended. Nobody had been burdened with supporting her since the day she turned eighteen and she wasn’t going to let Mr. Ben Riley make her feel like some sort of free-loader.
“Oh really?” Ben smirked, and damn if he wasn’t handsome when he smirked. “We’ll see about that.” He smiled cryptically and Cassidy suddenly felt very nervous.
Cassidy looked back down at her plate feeling flushed and having lost her appetite. She picked at her food, her stomach was in knots. She shifted her feet uncomfortably stretching her legs under the table to cross her ankles and her foot brushed his under the table. He was barefoot too. She immediately jerked back as if she’d touched something scalding hot. Ben stiffened at the contact.
“We start early around here.” Ben said standing from the table abruptly and carrying his empty plate to the sink. “Sure hope you packed some pants.” He muttered with his back to her as he washed and dried his dishes.
Cassidy watched as he put away his dishes and then left the kitchen without another word, retreating up the same steps that Mrs. Owens had used.
She finished her dinner alone and then washed and dried her dishes putting them away just as she had seen Ben do. She hesitated at the threshold of the kitchen. She looked out into the murky foyer and then back at the kitchen stairs. She went through a quick mental debate and then sucked up her courage and sprinted through the dark room and up the front steps, only slowing to a walk once she reached the hall just outside her door. The small table lamp was still lit casting the only illumination on the second floor. She tried to look toward the left wing but all she could see was darkness. She suddenly felt as if she was being watched.
Quickly she entered her room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and breathing a sigh of relief. This house was seriously getting to her and she had no idea why. She dragged the desk chair back over to the door and propped it under the handle again, for no other reason than it made her feel better.
She changed out of her clothes and slipped on her satin nightgown. She let down her long hair and brushed it out, enjoying the feel of the bristles against her tender scalp. She brushed her teeth and washed the make-up from her face, feeling more at ease as she went through her nightly routines.
By the time she’d climbed into bed she felt absolutely silly for having run up the stairs. She’d never been scared of the dark before, not even as a small child. There was no reason for her to start now.
She tried to slow her thoughts and fall asleep but her mind was racing with everything that had happened. The meeting with Mr. Woodard, the revelations about her uncle’s strange stipulations for inheriting the house, the overwhelming responsibility that came with those stipulations, and Ben Riley. She was dumbfounded by the undeniable attraction she felt for this man who obviously hated her.
As she lay in bed thinking about his scalding green eyes she heard his heavy footsteps coming down the hallway toward her room. She held her breath and listened. The footsteps got closer, then the light that was coming from under the door went dark and the footsteps receded. Cassidy began breathing again and tried in vain to slow her pounding heart.
The Chosen One watched and waited. The time was coming to finish what had been started. Then everything would be right again. It must be done.
Chapter Four
Three loud thuds woke her from a restless sleep. Surely she was dreaming, it couldn’t be time to get up already. It still looked dark outside.
“Miss St. Claire, breakfast.” Ben’s gruff voice came from the other side of the door then she heard his distinctive footsteps stomping away down the hall.
She sat up groggily rubbing her eyes. This must be some sort of joke, she thought irritably as she looked at the bedside clock and saw that it was only 4:30 in the morning. She stumbled from bed and pulled the curtains to confirm that the sun still hadn’t risen. She knew what he was doing, trying to get her to admit that she couldn’t keep up with him, couldn’t carry her own weight. Well she’d show him she wouldn’t give up that easily.
She quickly rinsed her face and brushed her teeth, effectively waking herself up. Then she rummaged through her bag looking for something to wear. Ben’s mumbled words from the night before rang in her head “hope you packed some pants.” Of course she hadn’t packed any jeans, not for a weekend business trip. But she did have a pair of black slacks and she supposed those would have to do. She tried to shake the wrinkles out of her white cotton undershirt and then made the spur of the moment decision to unpack. She just couldn’t handle the wrinkles, she reasoned with herself. She could always easily re-pack when she needed to, she hadn’t brought that much anyway.
There was a small closet that she had found in the bathroom and she hung most of her clothes in there, only placing her undergarments and nightgowns in the drawers of the dresser near the bed. She felt much better when the task was finished, more in control of the situation. She decided to stick with just the cotton t-shirt and slacks, not knowing what Ben had in store for her today. The real dilemma came when she looked at her shoe selection. She only had heels and she was pretty sure those wouldn’t do.
She wrapped her hair into a tight, efficient bun and applied some light make-up before heading downstairs, barefoot once again. She hoped Mrs. Owens might have a pair of shoes she could borrow.
She passed through the dark entryway quickly and headed straight for the kitchen. She found Ben lounging at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. He looked up expectantly when she entered and examined her from head to toe. She squirmed under his scrutiny, wishing she could control the blush that was rising into her cheeks.
“Like omelets?” Ben questioned.
“Sure.” She agreed smiling. Maybe today they could start fresh without all the animosity.
“Good.” He said standing from the table and picking up a basket which he thrust into her arms. “The chicken coup is through that door and to the left, we’ll need about ten eggs.” He instructed pointing to the kitchen door, laughter and challenge dancing in his eyes.
“I don’t have any shoes.” Cassidy admitted reluctantly, they both looked down at her bare feet. He looked back up, one eyebrow raised in question. “I only brought heels. I was hoping Mrs. Owens might have some I could borrow.” She explained feeling foolish.
“Mrs. Owens doesn’t get up until five.” He told her then turned and walked into a room off the kitchen. He returned shortly carrying a pair of work boots. “You can use these.” He offered handing them to her.
She placed the basket on the table to take the b
oots. They were huge. She looked back up into his expectant face. He was watching for her reaction, a smile playing around his lips. She glared back and plopped down into a kitchen chair pulling on the boots. She didn’t even have to unlace them to pull them on.
She stood and grabbed the basket then stomped out of the kitchen without another word. She clomped her way across the back yard looking for the chicken coup. The boots were ridiculously large causing her to have to take exaggerated steps. “Mrs. Owens doesn’t get up until five,” she mimicked to herself as she searched for the coup. Apparently she was the only one he felt the need to torture this early in the morning.
She found the coup easily. There was a small door on the front; she examined it a moment before opening it and crawling inside. Two rows of chickens lined each wall, each chicken sat on a nest. She considered her options for a minute before approaching the first chicken. It eyed her warily. Slowly she reached out toward it wondering if it would allow her to simply reach beneath it and pull out an egg. Apparently not. As soon as her hand was in striking distance the chicken pecked at her viciously, squawking and flapping its wings. The other chickens followed suit and in no time the coup became a mass of swirling feathers, flapping wings and angry chickens.