The two sisters exchanged a wary look with one another. “We both heard him. He was really mad. He doesn’t want you to like Mr. Mason and he told us not to like him either,” Anna said. “He said he doesn’t belong in our family.”
Emma snuggled in close and Layla wrapped her arms around her. “Mama? Do you think God could find someone for Daddy to like in heaven so that he’ll be happy?”
“Yes, sweetheart. That’s a very good suggestion and I think we should pray for that. We all want Daddy to be happy in heaven.”
Actually, Layla didn’t really care if Asher rotted in hell. But happy in heaven beat angry in Alcott Manor any day. He was her past, and Alcott Manor was a key part of her future. Her financial future. He didn’t belong in either arena. She didn’t want to believe that he could still be there, neither did she want to think about how he could intervene in her relationship with Mason, but the girls’ stories were too coincidental.
Had they heard Asher complaining about Mason?
She got the girls convinced that praying for him was all that was needed and that there was nothing to worry about. Mason took the girls to his outdoor ping pong table and got them involved in a tournament while she made a phone call.
“Well of course, honey. You know I’m always happy to have the girls with me.”
Layla took the bone she was going to pick with her mother and placed it aside. Right now she needed her help. “I think they just need something familiar in their lives right now and spending the weekend with you would really help.”
“Are you coming, too?”
She hadn’t thought about herself or where she would sleep this weekend. Getting her girls out of the house and away from Asher had been her first priority.
“No, I’ve got to be at the manor.” She would figure her sleeping arrangements out later. She wasn’t sure how comfortable she felt about being at the manor alone. She could go to the manor, do her job, then maybe she would bunk with one of her friends from work.
“Are y’all there now?”
Layla slid the bone she would pick with her mother to the front and center. “No, actually we’re at Mason’s house.”
“Oh.”
“He bought the Edmonton place on the lake and we’ve been out here swimming all afternoon.”
“I see.”
Oh, what a sweet bone.
“Would you pick them up here? Mason brought us so I don’t have my car.”
Her mother agreed, and she couldn’t wait to see her face when she pulled up to this glorious home to pick up her grandchildren.
“I have plenty of their pajamas and clothes at the house, and I’ll feed them. Pizza tonight and pancakes for breakfast. After an early morning swim, of course.”
“Of course.” Her mother could spoil them all she wanted.
She thought about Asher and how she couldn’t let her girls live at the manor if he roamed the halls. Her girls. She would need her mother’s help with that, too, and they would be happy to stay with her.
Asher was dead. But the memories of his anger made her shudder. She would have to be careful when she went back to the manor, because if he did see her and Mason in her dream, his temper would be beyond violent.
21
Layla and Mason waved goodbye to the girls when Jayne Ella drove them away. Mason slipped his arm around her waist before they pulled off and the look on her mother’s face was nothing short of priceless.
Christmas came early this year.
Mason’s winner’s smile made a reappearance and he tugged her to him when they turned to walk inside.
She’d never really known how warm and fuzzy revenge could feel until now.
“To be a fly on the wall when you finally talk with her about all the visits and phone calls she didn’t tell you about…”
“That will be a very good day.” She imagined her mother’s face—mouth open, no words coming out, a slow flush covering her skin. Jayne Ella hated to be caught off guard and she hated to be wrong.
His phone buzzed and he peeked at the screen.
“Anything from Tom’s contacts?” Adrenaline scurried through her veins and hit her chest in a long, panicky ache.
He shook his head. “It will be Monday before we hear anything, I would expect.”
“Or Jordan?” She hated the idea of either one of them kowtowing to Jordan. Like she was some deranged queen who had to be talked out of ruining someone’s life.
Mason walked them in the front door this time and she paused to take in the showroom quality of his home. The mostly leather furnishings were pristine white, as were the walls and vaulted ceilings. Floor-to-ultra-high ceiling windows made the lake an extension of his home, his open air chef’s kitchen could have housed a cooking staff and the outer deck looked like another living room. It was flawless and showed like the main feature from a design magazine.
“Can’t say I ever thought I’d see the inside of this house. It’s stunning. You’ve done an amazing job with it all.”
They walked across the white shag carpet to the outside and she found herself feeling uneasy. Not just because she was concerned she might unintentionally leave a scuff mark on the ultra white room. But more so because with the girls gone, she had a hard time talking with Mason without thinking about the night before.
He described the various pieces and how Dixie helped him recreate the little bit of New York style he liked, so he could enjoy the best of Charleston and the big city. But all she could hear and see was Mason above her, his eyes looking at hers from between her legs, and the expression on his face when he pushed inside of her.
“What do you think?”
“Mmm? It’s stunning.”
“No.” He laughed. “About dinner. Stay for a while and let me make you dinner tonight.”
More time with him would only bring her closer to the inevitable train wreck of an ending that waited for them. “I should probably get back to the manor and make arrangements for tonight.”
His phone rang and he reached into his back pocket. “Nonsense. I’ll open a bottle of wine, grill a couple of steaks and we’ll eat on the deck.” He ushered her toward the deck. “Sit out here. I’m just going to take this real quick.”
Mason walked out the front door and she sat on the deck to wait. She could hear him talking to someone out front, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Probably something to do with his business. Maybe a delivery.
The lake held the echoes of their day together and she leaned against the railing to relive a few of the moments. The girls flying off the rope swing and doing dives and flips off Mason’s shoulders. He was a natural with them, one day he would make an amazing father. She thought she felt her heart crack a little.
Several sheets of drawings were spread across the table, anchored by two water-smoothed stones. The papers looked like architectural drawings for different types of roofs and deck enclosures.
“I’m not leaving until I have your word.” She heard a woman say from down below and she knew immediately who that voice belonged to.
“Jordan!” Mason yelled.
Jordan Williams stormed around the corner in a tank top and shorts as though she were searching for something. As if on cue, she looked up and right at Layla. Mason appeared two steps later.
“I knew it,” Jordan said. “Bitch.” She spun around, her ponytail swishing behind her. She marched up the hill to Mason. “You said she wasn’t here. You said y’all weren’t involved.” She slapped him hard against the cheek. “Wait and see what happens now.”
“Jordan!” he called after her.
Layla stood stock still on Mason’s deck, listening to the two of them argue. A car door slammed and the car drove off. She waited in the quiet that was seasoned with lake noises—birds, frogs, and crickets, as well as water lapping at the shore.
The front door slammed and Mason appear around the corner, hands on his hips and face red with fury. He grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses on his way to
the deck and poured them each a glass.
“She’s a piece of work, that one.” He tapped his glass to hers, took a long drink and stared at the lake. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to get my hands on the sick bastard that attacked her that night. Whoever he is, he royally fucked up my life.”
Slick and filthy regret twisted inside of her.
“You told her you wanted to see her again?” she finally asked.
He chuckled. “I called her earlier today and I thought I might be able to encourage her to give up her plan. I did tell her that if she dropped these crazy ideas that we could talk about going out again. And for a minute there I thought I might make progress with her. But apparently she came by the manor to see me and someone told her they had seen you and the girls and I leaving together. And as you saw—I got busted.”
Mason was the sort of man who was too hard on himself when he couldn’t make things turn in the right direction. He drank the last of his wine and cursed.
“Sorry. I thought I could turn this around for us.”
She nodded and drank a long swallow. “Thanks for trying.” She seriously hoped that she didn’t end up having to move into her mother’s house with the girls.
“No, I’ll figure out how to make it work. I will.”
“Are these for the house?” She ran her hands across the plans on the table.
“Yeah, that’s something else I’ve been trying to figure out.” He held his hand up to block the last of the setting sun. “The deck faces west and it gets awfully hot out here in the late afternoons. I thought about enclosing the area, adding air conditioning. But—”
“That’s basically what the house is for, I guess.”
“Exactly. So right now it’s just not usable until the sun goes down. I could add a roof to it, but that blocks out the stars at night. So I’m still tinkering until it’s perfect.” He cursed Jordan’s name and poured himself another glass of wine. And while she knew he wasn’t Asher and he’d never hurt her, his anger made her nervous. Sweaty palm and fast heartbeat kind of nervous.
A memory flashed through her mind with heat and rage—Asher shoving her against the wall after they returned from a party. “You humiliated me—ignored me in front of all those people! You should have been at my side!” She ran her hand over the underside of her jaw where the memory of his grip held firm.
“Aiming for perfection can be a block to your creativity. And your success.”
Though he wouldn’t have known it, she quoted Dr. Waters, who had said this to her all those years ago. She tried to remember his words whenever perfect wasn’t an option. Which was often.
“I come from a long line of perfectionists, you know. My father, my grandfather—both builders, both perfectionists.”
“I can’t do perfect.” She smiled, but her stomach churned with thorny, slimy fear and shame. “I can’t even aim for it, makes me, um. Anxious.” Another memory revisited. This time of Asher smashing his teacup across the room because he said the tea was awful. She had slept in the girls’ room that night and intentionally dreamed that she and her daughters were free from Asher. “I try to dwell in possibility instead.”
He stared at the plans, his eyes shifting from one object to the next in apparent consideration.
“Possibility fuels creativity. Perfection steps on it. The idea of possibility drives confidence. Perfection drives insecurity.” She said it for herself, mostly, to calm herself and especially since nothing in her life was close to perfect. There was no sense hoping for it.
“You sound a lot like Dixie.”
“I will take that as a compliment,” she said proudly.
“Possibility, huh?” He grinned with a sideways glance, the sun setting brightly behind him.
She smiled and nodded.
“Come with me.” He extended his hand to her and she accepted it.
They made their way to the lake and stopped at the hammock Mason had installed between two tall pines. He crawled into the wide rope netting and steadied it for her with his foot on the ground. At first she refused, but he insisted and she followed.
He held her close to him and pulled on the rope that kept them rocking back and forth. Mallards squawked and flapped and landed on the otherwise peaceful lake that sparkled with the final traces of the day’s light.
“It’s good to be here at this lake again. With you.” She ran her hand over his chest, remembering what it was like to be so close to him in her dream. It was a strange and intimate secret they shared. From the way he had stared at the bruise on her neck, she wondered if he remembered putting it there. If he did, he would have thought himself completely crazy.
She flowed with what they had for the moment and hoped tomorrow would gift her a miracle. Hope is not a strategy, she could hear her mother say.
Yes, she knew that. But sometimes hope was all you had.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He tilted her chin and kissed her the way he had kissed her in her dream, with warm sugary breath that made her want to taste him. “Since I bought the house, this is the way I envisioned it.”
“Well, it’s beautiful. Everything is just gorgeous.”
“No, I mean, you here with me. When I came home I specifically bought this house on this land, where you and I had so many good times. I had Dixie decorate the interior to very detailed specifications because I wanted everything to be just so. And because I had the hope that one day, if all went well, that we might share this together. I’ve always seen us here.” He stroked her cheek gently with his knuckles.
“You saw us here together?”
He nodded, his eyes wide and revealing a shade of softness that she hadn’t seen in him before. At least not before their night together and that was a dream, she reminded herself.
“Romantically?” As soon as the word left her lips she felt stupid for asking. But this wasn’t her normal experience, so she wasn’t certain.
“Preferably romantically.” He smiled and ran his finger down the front of her neck with the most delicate touch that made her toes curl. When his finger slipped inside the neckline of her top, she steadied his hand.
She had applied waterproof makeup to the bruise he had unwittingly left on her skin. While swimming she wore a swim shirt over her suit—for sun protection, she had been prepared to explain.
For her dry change of clothes she had selected a striped top with a narrow boatneck that covered it nicely. But here in the light of day, if he tugged that neckline just a few inches, he would see the bruise. She would have a hard time explaining that in a way that wouldn’t freak him out and ruin everything.
“I’ve made you feel uncomfortable. There’s no pressure. I just didn’t see any reason to keep that from you. We’ve known each other too long for that.”
More than anything, she wanted to move into what he had envisioned, but fear slithered inside of her like a snake that threatened to destroy.
“We’ve only just reconnected. There might be things about me that you don’t know.”
“I’m looking forward to getting to know these new sides of you.” He entwined his fingers with hers and gazed at them as if he liked the sight of them together. “I’ve put in the prayer and the soul searching to know that being here is right for me. You’ll have to decide what’s right for you, and I’ll respect your choice, whatever it is.”
She held the depth of his gaze and met the sweetness of his kiss. If he cared about her this much, enough to see a future for the two of them together, then surely he would understand. He’d said he was looking forward to getting to know these new sides of her.
After one last kiss he said, “I know you’re generally opposed to perfect—though I would say that us, here together, is pretty damn perfect.”
Layla rested her head on Mason’s chest, inhaled deeply, and her courage to share her secrets with him drifted away like a lost balloon.
Mason watched Layla doze in the late summer sun. There was something unsettled about her, so
mething unfinished, something still waiting to be born. He’d seen it in her when they were younger. He always thought that one day, whatever this strength was would just burst forth and she would be a new person. Instead, it continued to build, just below the surface.
“We’ll work this out,” he had told her earlier. She had smiled, even cocked her head for two beats as Southern women did just before they blessed your heart.
Well bless your heart.
She didn’t believe him. She didn’t trust him.
He wasn’t sure she trusted anyone. She had that alone-in-the-world way about her and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Her mother made her way through life on the wheels of resentment. He’d never liked the way she couldn’t give Layla the space to feel confident about anything, let alone herself.
Then there was Asher.
God really wasn’t paying attention when he made that one. Dixie had said this about that man, and she was right.
Best thing that could have happened for Layla was for Asher to take that misstep off the second story balcony. Karma had her world class game on that day.
Asher hadn’t even been a provider for his family, and Layla must have been supporting them on her salary. A foul metal taste brewed in his mouth at the thought of Asher making Layla support him.
The lake turned a darker shade of blue and the sky settled into warmer shades of pink and orange. Crickets and bullfrogs sang their evening songs.
The hammock creaked when he pulled on the rope, and he hoped the rocking motion would give her a few more precious moments of rest. She needed it. She’d been carrying a too-heavy load for too long, and it was time she had someone to watch over her for a while. He pulled her close.
He thought of Jordan, how she wanted to destroy the Alcotts’ plans for the manor and his home building business, too, for that matter. And he thought of what Tom’s friend said when they’d spoken earlier. That he would make a few calls and do what he could. But that, ultimately, Mayor Williams could keep the tourism plans for Alcott Manor in limbo for years. He might even be able to shut them down altogether.
A Murder at Alcott Manor Page 17