Petal to the Metal

by Annabel Chase

  “Good advice for all occasions,” I quipped. “I’m Mia Thorne. Stella said you have papers I need to sign.”

  “I do. Give me one minute. They’re on my desk.”

  This guy looked more like an actor playing a lawyer on American television. I specified American TV because I’d seen a few British shows and their fake lawyers looked more like the guy who worked at the deli in my last neighborhood. Far too ordinary to fill my screen. Andrew called them ‘character actors,’ but I didn’t care. I felt cheated, like I’d paid for a chili cheese dog and received a breakfast sausage link in its place.

  “I’m sorry about your aunt,” Dane said, quickly organizing the papers on his desk. “I didn’t know her well, but I enjoyed her company. Legal documents can be boring, as I’m sure you can imagine, but Hazel always found a way to liven up our meetings.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like Hazel and I have that in common.”

  “This won’t take long, unless you want to go over it with a fine-tooth comb. It’s only a few documents.”

  “I’m not sure it matters what they say,” I told him. “I’m signing on the dotted line regardless.”

  “I would think you’d want to know the details,” he said.

  “Stella said you’d be able to drop me at the house afterward,” I said. It wasn’t actually too far to walk, but there was no sidewalk along River Road and it would be an excuse to get to know Mr. Fairfax a little better. There was no sign of a ring, not that its absence was conclusive. I knew plenty of men who eschewed a wedding band.

  Dane rifled through a few pages and paused. “Oh, and there’s a letter for you in the file.” He produced a standard envelope from the folder on his desk and passed it to me. “Don’t feel like you need to read it now if you’d like privacy.”

  I stared at the envelope addressed to me in neat script. “Hazel wrote this?”

  “Yes, she wanted you to receive it upon her death.”

  It felt odd to hold an envelope addressed to me from a relative I’d never met. What could Aunt Hazel possibly have known about me apart from my name and the fact that I existed?

  “Are you okay, Miss Thorne? It is Miss, isn’t it?”

  I shifted in my seat, realizing that my expression must’ve matched the strange swirl of emotions I felt inside.

  “Yes, fine. Sorry, this is all kind of a shock. It’s a relief that Stella is so organized. I don’t think I would’ve known what to do.”

  “Stella is a gem.” Dane flashed a brilliant smile that suggested expensive dental work. Whatever he had done, it was worth it. Those teeth could entice even the most resistant people into the orthodontist’s chair.

  “How old is she?” I asked.

  “Ageless. If it weren’t for the fact that she works during daylight hours, I’d say she’s a vampire.”

  “Omigod, I had the same thought,” I said.

  “The estate includes Red Clover and all its contents, as well as its two acres. You should be aware that the property is located in a flood zone, but Stella can help you with the insurance you’ll need for that.”

  “I’ll leave that to the new owner,” I said.

  Dane chuckled. “You are the new owner, Miss Thorne. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I am today, but I’m planning to put it on the market as soon as I have it cleaned up.”

  He frowned. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

  “Oh, I know. I saw the gardens. They’re straight out of a horror movie, like a fragrant and slightly more attractive corn maze.”

  Dane seemed to smile despite himself. “There’s a provision you might want to note…” He flipped through the document until he found what he was looking for. “You can only take full possession of Red Clover if you agree to live there for twelve months. Should you live elsewhere or attempt to sell the house within that time, the will is deemed null and void.”

  I leaned forward with my jaw hanging open. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m afraid I am, most of the time. It may surprise you to learn that people don’t want their lawyers to be comedians.”

  I stared at the document in disbelief. Aunt Hazel was a wily one; I’d give her that. “Twelve months,” I murmured.

  Dane smiled. “It’s not so bad. I happen to really like Newberry, though I may be biased since I’ve never lived anywhere else, except Philadelphia.”

  “For college?”

  “And law school. I spent seven years total at Penn. Came home plenty during that time, though. I didn’t like to stay away for long.”

  It seemed like an alien concept to me. I’d never had a home that felt like…home.

  “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

  “You’re not prevented from going to the city, if that’s where your friends are.” He hesitated. “Maybe a boyfriend.”

  “Not anymore,” I said, scowling. Did Dane seem…relieved?

  “You should get to know the town a little. There will be a decent crowd at Jama this weekend,” he said.

  “What’s Jama?”

  “Cuban bar and restaurant. There’s a big outdoor porch with heat lamps this time of year to keep you warm. You can’t miss it. Both the food and drinks are fantastic.”

  “I am easily persuaded by mojitos,” I said, mulling it over. “Will you be there?”

  “I don’t tend to…” He stopped mid-sentence. “My brother’s always giving me a hard time about getting out more.”

  “Your brother, huh? You’re not twins, are you?” That image would be enough to fuel my fantasies through another winter.

  “No, Derek’s two years younger than I am.”

  I could work with that. “Do you get along or are you like those brothers that revert to adolescence when you’re together and wrestle each other to the ground?”

  “We fall somewhere in the middle of that description,” he said.

  I was mildly disappointed. I wouldn’t mind watching a Fairfax brother wrestling match.

  “Is there a car, by any chance?” I asked. Preferably a fast one with two seats and a convertible top.

  The lawyer appeared confused. “A car?”

  “She had a house to pass down to me. Did she also have a car? I didn’t see one.”

  “Oh, I see. No, Hazel stopped driving a few years ago. Her eyesight was failing.”

  “That’s too bad.” Still, it seemed like I’d be able to get around town easily enough and there was always the internet for shopping.

  “I’m sorry if the provision disrupted your plans,” Dane said.

  I waved him off. “I’ve found that life is nothing but a series of reactions to surprises.”

  He smiled again and my body warmed in response. “On that note, what do you say, Miss Thorne? How are you going to react to the surprise of Newberry? Are you going to give us a chance?”

  How could I resist when the question was being asked by Matthew McConaufairfax? I held out my hand for a pen.

  “Where do I sign?”

  The hot lawyer delivered me safely to Red Clover in his gunmetal grey Range Rover. The ride was as smooth as his skin and I definitely felt a blast of heat between us as we sat side-by-side. Or maybe it was a hot flash. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

  He turned off the car and opened the door.

  “You’re coming?” I asked, surprised.

  He hesitated. “I thought I would walk you to the door.”

  I laughed. “It’s not a date.” I immediately regretted my response. I was more than happy to let a ridiculously handsome man walk me to the door, date or no date.

  He stiffened. “No, of course not.” He closed his door and I longed to undo the past sixty seconds. “Let me know if you have any questions. You have my card.”

  “And you know where I live,” I joked. I fled the car before I said anything else.

  I unlocked the front door with caution, hoping the cat wasn’t lurking in the shadows and waiting to attack me in order to suck out my s
oul. I stood in the center of the living room and did a slow, complete turn. This place was going to be my home for the next twelve months. A sense of calm washed over me and I chalked it up to exhaustion. I was rarely calm. My anxiety meant that I spent most of my time on edge, waiting to see if I landed a new client, or what my mother wanted to complain about this time, or whether the latest boyfriend was in the relationship for the long-haul (newsflash: they never were). Red Clover, however, seemed like a safe haven. A bubble from the outside world.

  I returned to the kitchen for a drink and spotted the envelope on the counter addressed to me. No time like the present. I tore open the envelope and removed the letter from Aunt Hazel.

  The sharp ring of the doorbell startled me and I jumped forward, knocking my shin against the doorjamb. That would be a bruise by morning. I dropped the letter on the counter and hopped on one foot to the front door to see who’d interrupted my peaceful moment.

  The woman on the doorstep was no taller than five-foot-three with dark hair cut chin-length and dyed blue at the tips. Her almond-shaped eyes were like two pools of ink. The man loomed over her at about six feet. With his chiseled features and deep brown eyes, he looked like a catalogue model, except for the shaggy coat he wore. He was like the Sears version of Liberace.

  “I’m not interested,” I said flatly.

  “But you don’t even know why we’re here,” the woman said, seemingly perplexed.

  The man nudged his companion. “I like her already.”

  “Trust me. I don’t buy leggings or off-brand makeup and your religion doesn’t want me,” I said.

  The man’s smile grew broader. “Now I really like her.”

  The woman persevered. “I’m Scarlet York and this is Patrick Beaumont.”

  “I’m your neighbor, two doors down,” Patrick added. His voice was so velvety soft, I wanted to wrap it around me like a blanket. “We just want to introduce ourselves and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “Thank you. I’m Amelia Thorne, but everybody calls me Mia.”

  Patrick cocked his head. “How is Mia a nickname for Amelia?”

  “What do you mean? It has the letters m-i-a right there in the name.”

  Patrick gave me a sharp look. “So what? Theodore has ‘h-o-r-e,’ but you didn’t hear anyone calling Teddy Roosevelt that.”

  Scarlet elbowed her friend in the ribs. “I told you to be nice.”

  Patrick looked affronted. “This is me being nice. I didn’t call her a whore.” He turned back to face me. “It’s not real fur, by the way.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “No, but you had that question in your eyes.” His finger zigzagged between my eyes. “You were wondering whether to judge me.”

  “I’ve seen enough fake fur in my life, Patrick. You don’t need to explain.”

  “I own a landscaping and nursery business in town,” Scarlet interrupted, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation.

  “Oh, now I see why you’re here. You’ve probably wanted to get your hands on this garden for years and you see this as your big chance.”

  Scarlet offered a shy smile. “I used to beg Hazel to help with her garden. It’s a masterpiece. She didn’t like anyone else to touch it, though. I thought as she got older, she would find the work harder, but she never did.”

  “So you’re not to blame for the monstrosity outside?” I asked.

  “I would’ve loved to tackle it, but my hands were tied. I guess you’re the niece.”

  “She was my father’s aunt,” I said. “I never knew her.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Scarlet said. “Everyone liked Hazel.”

  “Not everyone,” Patrick said. “It would be weird if everyone liked her. That’s not normal.”

  “Neither are you,” Scarlet said under breath.

  “Do you want to come in?” It felt odd to invite strangers into my house. I would never have done that in the city. I didn’t even like standing too close to someone in an elevator.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Patrick said, stepping past me. “Where are you from?”

  “New York.”

  Patrick clapped his hands together. “Love. Have you ever been to…?”

  Scarlet cut him off, joining him in the living room. “Let’s not play that game right now.”

  Ophelia chose this moment to make her appearance. The cat stalked across the floor like a hefty lion in pursuit of a gazelle.

  “What’s she doing?” Patrick asked.

  “Don’t ask me. I only just met her.”

  “I bet she’s really missing Hazel,” Scarlet said. “Those two were inseparable.”

  “Really?” I twisted to watch the cat as she stopped to attack the fringe of the rug. “She’s not the nicest cat in the world. She already tried to bite me.”

  “Ophelia can be very territorial,” Patrick agreed. “It took her years to warm to me.”

  “It takes everyone years to warm to you,” Scarlet said. She turned back to me. “I’ll bring you over some catnip.”

  “I don’t need any help sleeping, thanks. I am a champion sleeper.”

  “Not catnap,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “Catnip.”

  “It helps you bond with your cat, both physically and psychically,” Scarlet added.

  Psychically? I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I’d only just met them. I had to keep my sarcasm in check or I’d alienate the only two people interested in getting to know me.

  I continued to watch Ophelia as she jumped onto the sofa and dragged her belly across the cushions. “Well, she’s not my cat. She belonged to Aunt Hazel.”

  “Ophelia doesn’t belong to anyone,” Scarlet said. “She’s her own creature. Still, if you’re going to be sharing a home with her, catnip is a good idea. Something to get her on your side.”

  “So catnip is basically the cocktail of the cat world,” I said.

  Patrick smiled. “Funny you should mention that because Scarlet and I came by to invite you to come out with us. We thought you might like to see the nightlife in Newberry—what there is of it.”

  “As a matter of fact, someone suggested I go to Jama tonight. Do you know it?”

  They exchanged glances. “That wouldn’t be my first choice,” Patrick said.

  “But that sounds great,” Scarlet interjected. “Who recommended it?”

  “The lawyer who handles Aunt Hazel’s estate. Mr. Fairfax.”

  “Dane Fairfax?” Patrick asked.

  “Yes, that’s him. He said his brother likes it there.”

  Patrick snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  Scarlet pressed the heel of her shoe on top of his boot. “We’d be happy to drive you, if you need a ride.”

  “Really? You don’t mind.”

  “Scarlet loves to drive,” Patrick said. “It gives her a false sense of control.”

  “I prefer the back of a cab. Just tell the driver where to drop me and sit back and relax.”

  “Do you have any questions about the town or the house?” Scarlet asked. “If you need your own local Alexa, I’m willing.”

  “Alexa is a pervy stalker as far as I’m concerned, eavesdropping on my conversations and always telling me to have a good day. Who does that?”

  “Sounds like my mother,” Patrick said.

  “Okay, then I’ll be your local tour guide. How about that?” Scarlet watched me expectantly.

  I eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Because this is a small town and you’re new,” Scarlet said.

  “And you want me to hire you to clean up the gardens,” I finished for her. I’d wooed enough clients to understand her strategy.

  “If that happens as a result, great,” she said. “If not, then I’ve made a friend. They’re both pretty good outcomes as far as I’m concerned.”

  To her credit, her response seemed genuine.

  “I noticed a weird trashcan outside,” I said. “I meant to ask Stella about it, bu
t I got distracted.”

  We exited out the laundry room door to where the oversized black bin sat.

  “This is the compost bin,” Scarlet said.

  I squinted at the bin with trepidation. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

  “You put your organic waste in it. The waste breaks down over time and then you can use it for gardening.”

  I grimaced. “You expect me to put rotten food on my plants.” My gaze swept the backyard jungle. “That explains a lot,” I whispered to myself.

  “I could teach you,” Scarlet said. “I offer a variety of services, not just landscaping. Composting is a way of honoring your relationship with the planet.”

  “I see,” I said carefully. I could feel my mother’s judgment from here. Madeline Albrecht would’ve kindly escorted Scarlet off the property by now and dismissed her as a loon.

  “Nature was sacred to Hazel and she did everything she could to show respect and maintain an active connection with it.” Scarlet smiled to herself. “It was one of the things I really liked about her.”

  My gaze swept the surrounding area. “I don’t know how I’m going to get this garden under control. I don’t even know how to identify any of the plants. Unless it’s a rose, I’m clueless.”

  Scarlet clasped her hands in front of her. “That’s my specialty don’t forget.”

  Patrick gently smacked her arm. “Enough with the hard sell. You’ve made your point.”

  I wanted to offer Scarlet a small reward for her effort, one former salesperson to another.

  “Why don’t you come by tomorrow and give me advice on where to start?” Or how. Or anything, really.

  Scarlet beamed at me. “That sounds great.”

  “We’ll pick you up at nine,” Patrick said.

  “I’ll be ready. Thanks for stopping by.” I realized how good it felt to start with a clean slate. No one here knew anything about me or my recent humiliations.

  “Oh, by the way,” Patrick said. “I love a woman with chutzpah. I don’t care what anyone says—a public proposal is always a good idea.” He fluffed his fuzzy collar and turned dramatically toward the door.

  Scarlet lowered her head meekly. “Sorry you didn’t get the answer you wanted,” she whispered and ducked out the house.