“Nah. I’m boring.” He slipped his hands through my hair. “And you’re distracting.”
• • •
NOW THAT July had come, I had fewer than six weeks before I had to move back to River Junction to prepare for school. Before I left, I needed to be sure that Nana was safe. Her ankle was healing, but the process was slow. She had only just started physical therapy. I worried about her living on her own again, and that incident with the groceries in the kitchen haunted me. During our visits, I watched for signs of cognitive decline. For example, this past week when I’d taken her out for dinner, she kept asking me about my brother Michael. “Did he have his baby yet?”
“Yes, Nana. His wife had a baby girl. Her name is Julia.”
She nodded and continued to move the chicken around on her plate with a fork. We’d talk about something else—she liked talking about her physical therapy—and ten minutes or so would pass before she said, “Did Michael have his baby?”
“Yes, remember? Last Thursday.”
“What’s her name again?”
Maybe I was being paranoid by being concerned that she would ask me the same question multiple times in a single visit. But I worried about leaving her behind to live alone again.
And then there was Vaughan and the inn. She needed to go, but asking her to leave hadn’t worked. I couldn’t tell whether Brett had lost interest in this problem. I was talking to him on the walk over to his house, but he didn’t even answer me or offer any insights. That didn’t stop me from raising the issue again over lunch that day. “I need to get Vaughan out of the inn. For my grandmother. I realize it doesn’t bother you”—I looked at him pointedly—“but it’s my family’s inn and it bothers me.”
We were sitting at the reclaimed-wood kitchen table, eating turkey sandwiches Brett had made with bread he’d bought at the farmer’s market. It was delicious, and yeah, I was probably ruining something by raising a touchy subject. I always managed to ruin good things.
Brett looked at me, puzzled. “It bothers me because it bothers you. Why do you think it doesn’t bother me?”
“Because you called me a SWERF.” I set down my sandwich. It still made me a little angry.
He put his sandwich down, too. “Are we having an argument? I thought we were having a nice day.”
We were having a nice day. We were having a great lunch. I couldn’t explain the animosity I suddenly felt. “I want to know that you support me in getting Vaughan out.”
“Of course I do. Prostitution is still illegal, last time I checked.” He reached over to grasp my hand. “I’m sorry I called you a SWERF. Didn’t I already apologize?”
“Okay.” I picked up my sandwich and told myself to move on before I ruined the afternoon.
Over the afternoon and the rest of the bottle of cabernet, Brett and I brainstormed ways to force Vaughan out of the inn. Just as Vaughan had been tracking my movements, I’d been tracking hers. From the cottage, I had the perfect vantage point from which to observe the comings and goings of her staff and various guests. “She has real guests,” I said, “but very few of them. Sometimes she doesn’t have real guests at all, but a steady stream of men.”
We were kicking back in Brett’s living room, hanging out on his leather couches. I took off my sandals and sat cross-legged with a large pillow in my lap. He was stretched out with his feet on the coffee table. More reclaimed wood. The guy liked recycling.
Brett folded his hands behind his head. “You need to make it undesirable for Vaughan to do business here.”
This was my only option. The police wouldn’t help, and neither would the lease. I’d pored over that thing. “I don’t know how to do that. It’s not like I can walk around the inn, pounding on doors. Vaughan has certain rights under the lease.” I believe the legal term was quiet enjoyment.
Brett stared at the ceiling as he thought. “What kind of access does your grandmother have in the lease? Where does she maintain control?”
“Hold on.” I had a copy of the lease in my handbag and I rose to get it. I had read the thing so many times that I knew exactly which provision Brett was asking about. “Here. Nana retained control over the grounds, obviously. And the cottage, of course. And it says something about common areas—hold on.”
This was not something I’d considered on my previous reads. “It says that the sitting room in the inn is considered a common area, available for use by the tenant and landlord.” I looked up. “Why would that be, I wonder?”
Then I remembered a conversation Nana and I had had when we were looking for prospective tenants. She wanted to be able to use the sitting room. “It’s my favorite place in the inn,” she’d said, and looked at me with watery eyes. “It’s the place where I had my coffee every morning before daybreak, and where your grandpa and I would sit together at the end of the day, after we’d finished all of our work. I don’t want to rent the inn if I can’t go there anymore.”
“Oh my gosh. I had completely forgotten about this.” I set the lease down on the pillow. “This means that Nana retains the right to use the sitting room. We can use that room as her guests.”
Brett turned to face me. “How do you use it, then?”
I reached up to tug at the ends of my hair as I thought. “I don’t know. But Sorelle is here and she’s kind of devious. I think we should talk to her.”
“Sounds like plan enough to me.” He rose, pulled the lease from my hands, and tossed it aside. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t I show you the rest of the house?”
“I’ve seen it all.”
“No, I haven’t shown you the bedroom.” He kissed me and reached a hand under the top of my dress. “Would you like to see it?”
“Well, now that you put it that way.”
He picked me up and slung me over one shoulder. I squealed all the way up the stairs.
CHAPTER 16
MINDY
ON HER FIRST full day in West Portsmouth, Sorelle took me out to dinner to apologize, as she put it, “for being a dick of a roommate.” We ate some crab cakes at a little restaurant overlooking the sound. “I shouldn’t have just run off like that and left you alone with Beau. He attacked my ankles this morning.” She showed me the scratches. “And he peed in my suitcase. I forgot how difficult he is.”
Beau had actually started to grow on me now that I could touch him without being mauled. “He’ll warm up,” I said. “I think he’s still adjusting to the move. He didn’t use his litter box the first week we came here. Just refused.”
“Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left him like that. He needs more stability.” I took a sip of my seltzer but didn’t say anything.
Since arriving, Sorelle had been very busy. She recounted her day to me. “I took myself out to breakfast at that place that sells giant muffins. Then I knocked back a few trolls who were talking smack about my insecticide client.”
“I didn’t know you had an insecticide client.”
“I’m good at my job. Word travels.” Sorelle ran her finger along the edge of her margarita glass and then licked the salt off her fingertip. “This troll has been saying that my company uses arsenic even though they claim to be organic. I can’t allow that to stand.”
“Yeah, but …” I leaned forward slightly. “Don’t you think it amplifies their trolling by responding?” My other, unspoken concern was that my friend was a hired Internet thug.
“Meh.” She waved a hand. “If that’s what my clients want, I’ll do it.”
Sorelle was the queen of reinvention. As far as I knew, she hadn’t held a desk job ever. She may or may not have had health insurance and a 401k, but all of that was far too conservative for Sorelle, anyway. “I met some of the girls who work at the inn,” she said suddenly.
“Already? That was fast.”
“They’re so sweet,” she gushed. “That Joss is a cutie. Did you know she wants to be a nurse? She’s working her way through school, God bless her.
” Sorelle shook her head the way a proud mother might. “And Bree. Oh my gosh. Hilarious. They walked with me to get a coffee. Such nice girls.”
“Yes, they are.” Despite my feud with Vaughan, I liked Mira, Joss, and Bree—Mira especially. Sometimes she came over to sunbathe with me.
Sorelle took a sip of her margarita. “You’d never even know they were sex workers.”
I did a double take. “They told you that?”
She looked at me like I was truly stupid. “Of course they told me. We grabbed coffee together.” This was all so matter-of-fact to her.
“But what did they say about it?”
“I think I was talking about being an Internet goat and how I like to, you know, freelance,” Sorelle said, and casually tucked a strand of long, golden hair behind her ear. “Then Joss said that in this economy, she literally can’t find a way to make ends meet in a normal job.” She used her fingers to make air quotes around normal. “I said, of course not. The cost of living in this state is outrageous for any person starting out. I mean, look at us.” She gestured to me. “We both work our tails off and we can’t afford anything more than some shitty two-bedroom in a terrible part of town.”
I knew this all too well. I was a tenured teacher, and while I made ends meet, I didn’t actually make enough to get ahead. My student loan debt made my head spin, and I was nearly ten years out of college. Some days I wondered if I’d ever be able to afford a mortgage—because, see, that would require me to save for a down payment first. “It’s an expensive place to live,” I agreed.
“Right? I said good for them, taking control of their lives.”
“Yeah, but.” I clenched my fists and pulled at my own hair. “See, I don’t want it in my grandparents’ inn. I don’t. Vaughan’s a jerk and I want her to take her whorehouse somewhere else.”
I braced myself for Sorelle to call me a SWERF, just like Brett had, but she didn’t. “You’re upset because they’re working in your family’s inn. I understand.”
My shoulders loosened. “Thank you.”
“Would it make you feel better to know that they are in complete control? Sex is never guaranteed. Bree said that a lot of her clients just want someone to talk to. They’re like therapists almost.”
“I don’t think that makes me feel better.”
“What if I told you that Vaughan was good to them? She gives them a place to stay, decent meals, and pays them well.”
“Vaughan is no hero.” I pushed my index finger into the table for emphasis. “She is not a nice person and I almost got arrested because of her. Long story,” I added. “I don’t like her.”
Sorelle put up her hands. “Okay, okay. I understand.”
“So now that you’re here, I want you to help me get her out.”
I reviewed the lease with Sorelle, giving her the gist of what I’d discovered with Brett earlier that afternoon. “We have access to that sitting room in the front. Vaughan uses it as a reception area. We don’t need to wait to be invited.”
Sorelle finished her margarita and sat back in her seat to think about this. “What if I used it as my office space? Could I do that?”
“You think that would discourage men from coming to the inn?”
“I dunno. I’m brainstorming.”
We sat there well into the evening and ordered an additional round of drinks. The bill was eye-watering, but Sorelle grabbed the check. “My treat. You’re letting me crash at your place and interfere with your love affair.” She winked at me. “How have we not talked about Brett yet? He’s super hot. What’s he do?”
I laughed lightly. “He’s a people walker. You must’ve seen the flyers around town.”
Sorelle giggled. “That sounds like something I would do. Is he a keeper, you think?”
This was the big question, the one I’d been turning over as the summer neared its end. Soon, I’d return to my life in River Junction, and I didn’t know how long Brett would stick around this coast. In Connecticut, people walking was definitely a seasonal business. “I don’t know,” I said simply. “I like him a lot, but … I feel like he keeps things from me.”
“He’s private.”
I could handle privacy, so I didn’t think that was it. Brett’s story about his guesthouse didn’t sit right with me. It didn’t make any sense. He’d waited so long to show me where he lived, and then he’d justified it with this bizarre excuse that I would feel differently about him if I knew that he lived in such a nice space. His furniture was expensive, his wine was spectacular, and he had better food in his fridge than I did. It didn’t add up. Brett doesn’t walk people, he sells them drugs. My paranoia was spiraling.
That afternoon, while we’d spent time at his house, I’d tried to let it all roll off my back. I wanted to trust Brett. I wanted to believe that what he said was the truth, because I’d been lied to and led along by so many other men and Brett appeared to be different. I wanted to believe that he was direct about who he was. “He’s a great guy,” I said. “He’s the kind of person who says what he means. He calls on time. When he says he’s going to be at my house at three o’clock, he’s there. Nana loves him.”
Sorelle clasped her hands together. “Oh, he’s met Nana?” She knows that my grandmother is a tough one to please.
“He’s met most of my family, actually.” I thought back to when my parents had asked Brett to run a welfare check on me because my cell phone was off. “My parents seem to love him, too. And he apologizes when he’s wrong. He’s okay with being flawed. But I think he’s hiding something from me. I don’t know what it is,” I continued. “You know me. I choose the wrong person. I always manage to fuck things up.” Chase’s words, haunting me again.
Sorelle grabbed my forearm and gave it a firm squeeze. “Mindy, now stop that. Brett sounds like he’s a great guy, and I’m relieved that you’ve finally moved on from Chase. Good riddance to that guy.”
I’d filled her in on all of the drama with Chase. The humiliating admission that I loved him. Jackie and her burgeoning pregnancy. Chase being so cruel to me at the engagement party. The memory still embarrassed me. “Chase is not the person I thought he was,” I said.
But I left unspoken my underlying fear—that Brett wasn’t who I thought he was, either.
BRETT
I WENT to the inn at dusk, knowing that Mindy would be off the property with Sorelle. “We’re meeting at six,” she’d said earlier, when we were lying in bed together. “I should get going.”
I trailed my finger down her smooth abdomen to her hips, delighting in the way she shivered and tensed. “When do you think you’ll be home?” I asked.
She understood my meaning. “Oh, don’t bother to come over tonight. We’ll have too many drinks and walk back home. I’ll wake up on the couch in the middle of the night watching an infomercial for silicone pot holders, Sorelle snoring beside me.”
I grinned at that. “You’ve done this before.”
“Trust.” She squealed a little as I brought my hand between her legs, but she pushed me away. “And if you keep doing that, I’m going to be late.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
Mindy stuck her tongue out at me and climbed out of bed. Her naked body was exquisite, and I watched her while she gathered her clothes. “I had a nice time with you today,” I said.
“Me too.”
She didn’t look at me. She’d been avoiding my gaze for a while, and even when we’d been intimate, it wasn’t the same as usual. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why?”
“You seem upset.”
She pulled on her dress and sat on the edge of the bed to slip on her sandals. “I’m not upset. I’m running late.” She leaned over to give me a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll let myself out.”
I watched her leave the bedroom and listened for her to open and shut the front door. Then I lay in bed with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
It wasn’t the house. It couldn’t be. Mindy said that she loved it, that of course it didn’t change anything between us. We’d had a nice afternoon together. The only real problem she’d mentioned at all had to do with Vaughan. The brothel was weighing on her.
I showered and dressed. I had nowhere to be that night, nothing really to do. I headed outside to weed the garden and do some thinking. I hated seeing Mindy upset over the inn. This had crept into our day and consumed so much of our time. It was all she wanted to talk about, coming up with a scheme to get Vaughan out of the inn! Like it was that complicated. This was just business. It all came down to money.
Every time Mindy mentioned moving back to River Junction in August, my stomach tightened. Our time together was coming to an end. I was going to have to move back to Seattle soon—I couldn’t be a people walker forever. It’s like we’d had this perfect daydream of a summer, and reality was closing in. But we still had some time left together before that happened, and I didn’t want talk of Vaughan to consume it. So I’d fix the problem.
Now I was at the inn, feeling confident that I could solve this entire issue quickly. I should have thought of it sooner. I opened the door and walked to the front desk, where Vaughan was waiting for me. She smiled coolly. “Hello, Brett.”
“Vaughan. Nice night out.”
“Yes.” She shuffled some papers into a pile and stepped around the desk. “Should we sit?”
I followed her into the sitting room. We sat in chairs opposite each other, a table between us. “I know what’s going on here, Vaughan. Everyone does.”
My words had no obvious effect on her. “What can I do for you?”
I’d been carrying my success like a shameful secret. It had come at a time when I’d lost my brother and I’d never fully come to terms with the fact that my life was now different. But I’d started to realize that with money came the ability to do good, and I wanted to do something good for Mindy. “I’d like to buy out your lease.”
Vaughan snorted at that. “It’s not for sale.”
“I think it could be, for the right price.”
Losing Mr. Right Page 20