by Rachel Lacey
Hideaway
Rachel Lacey
Copyright © 2021 by Rachel Lacey
All rights reserved.
This book was inspired by the True North Series written by Sarina Bowen. It is an original work that is published by Heart Eyes Press LLC.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
1. Phoebe
2. Taylor
3. Phoebe
4. Taylor
5. Phoebe
6. Taylor
7. Phoebe
8. Taylor
9. Phoebe
10. Taylor
11. Phoebe
12. Taylor
13. Phoebe
14. Taylor
15. Phoebe
16. Taylor
17. Phoebe
18. Taylor
19. Phoebe
20. Taylor
21. Phoebe
22. Taylor
23. Phoebe
24. Taylor
25. Phoebe
26. Taylor
27. Phoebe
28. Taylor
29. Phoebe
30. Taylor
31. Phoebe
32. Taylor
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Acknowledgments
1
Phoebe
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I leaned against it, one hand clasped around the handle of my suitcase. The house looked exactly like I remembered, with floral-papered walls and thick piled carpet that squished beneath my shoes. It smelled the same too, spicy undertones of the incense my grandma used to burn, mixed with the musky scent of dogs. I almost expected to hear Grandma’s voice calling from the kitchen and Comet’s friendly bark as he rushed to greet me.
Today, the house was silent. Dust motes danced in the air where a shaft of sunlight cut across the entryway from the front window. And behind the familiar scents, there was a staleness that came from the house having been closed up for more than six months. I pushed the suitcase ahead of me as I walked into the living room. Its wheels snagged in the thick carpet, and I stumbled against it, banging my shin.
“Dammit,” I whispered, rubbing my leg. My voice disturbed the absolute silence inside the house. I wasn’t used to quiet, having just left Boston and then singing along to my favorite music in the car during my drive to Vermont. My ears seemed to ring with the absence of noise. This was why I’d come, though, not only to clean out my grandmother’s home, but to be alone, to hide out here in the middle of nowhere while I waited for the shitstorm back home to die down.
After three and a half hours in the car, my bladder was pretty unhappy with me, so I went down the hall to the guest bathroom, leaving my suitcase stuck in the carpet. The little bowl of potpourri by the sink was still there, keeping the room fresh despite the layer of dust on the surfaces. I freshened up, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I knew what I’d see if I looked. My eyes were shadowed from too many sleepless nights, my curly hair limp from having dried in a ponytail during my drive. My clothes were probably wrinkled too.
With a sigh, I walked to the living room to retrieve my suitcase, hit by an unexpected wave of nostalgia as I swept my gaze around the room. My grandma’s shelves were filled with the same family photos and knickknacks that had been here for as long as I could remember. There was the sparkly rock I’d brought home from a hike when I was seven, sitting proudly next to a photo of me and my grandma.
“I miss you, Grandma,” I whispered. She’d died in her sleep last fall, taken without warning by a massive heart attack. I’d always thought that was the best way to go, except she’d been way too young and none of us had gotten the chance to say goodbye. The door to her bedroom was closed now, and I couldn’t bring myself to open it, afraid of what I might find. Were her glasses still sitting beside the bed? Had anyone washed the sheets?
Instead, I pushed my suitcase to the guest room across the hall, the room that had been mine for so many summer vacations during my youth. It looked the same too, with a blue-striped quilt on the bed and white lace curtains, although the air here was unpleasantly stuffy.
I went to the window and unlatched it, giving it a push. Nothing happened. This window had always been tricky. I crouched, lifting from my knees as I pushed upward, finally raising the window a few inches with a dull squeak. Fresh air flowed into the room, warm and lightly scented by my grandmother’s rosebushes.
That was a pleasant surprise. I’d been afraid they might have died, left unattended during a harsh Vermont winter. But as I gazed out the window, the backyard looked well-tended. The grass was recently mowed, and the rosebushes I could see from the window were neatly pruned. Had my dad hired someone to keep the place up? If he had, he hadn’t mentioned it to me.
I turned away from the window, and my gaze caught on a framed photo on the dresser of two little girls with their arms around each other as they twirled in a field of tall grass. That field was just through the woods out back, and those girls…
I pressed a hand to my heart. I’d come here for an escape, but I’d forgotten how many memories this house held, memories I wasn’t ready to face yet. I sat on the bed and checked my phone, finding texts from my best friends Courtney and Emily, as well as one from my mom, all checking to make sure I’d arrived safely.
I miss you already, Courtney had written. FaceTime later?
Sending you so many hugs, Emily said.
Drive safely, and let me know when you get there, from my mom.
After sending each of them a quick reply, I left my suitcase in the bedroom and went down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of water. The dishes were all clean and put in their right places. Who had done that? Had my dad cleaned the house when we’d come up for the funeral in November? I’d stayed behind at the hotel when he came here, not ready to see this place without Margery in it.
I filled a glass at the sink and gulped down about half of it, parched from my drive. Then I peeked into the fridge, not sure whether it would be full of old, spoiled food, but it was empty. I’d have to go shopping before dinner. In fact, I was already hungry, but I wasn’t ready to get back in the car just yet.
Instead, I put my glass in the sink and went out the kitchen door, descending three worn wooden steps onto the patio. The rosebushes that ran along the back of the house bloomed with big pink, red, and white blossoms. More roses climbed a trellis over the patio, with two white Adirondack chairs beneath it.
A path ran down to the stream at the edge of the yard, where a small wooden bridge connected it to the hiking trail leading into the woods. As a girl, I had loved to explore those woods. Were the trails I’d tromped down so many times still there?
As I inhaled the fresh country air, I felt myself relaxing for the first time in weeks. This was exactly why I’d come to Vermont. I needed the peace and quiet here, the solitude, far from the stress of the city. I needed to be alone for a little while. I’d even deleted all the social media apps from my phone, hoping that by the time I reconnected with the larger world, my notifications would no longer be a hotbed of attention I’d never asked for or wanted.
Something moved in my peripheral vision, and I turned just as an animal rushed out of the woods, dashing toward me. I inhaled, adrenaline bursting through my veins as the shaggy black creature crossed the yard, my mind screaming bear a moment before it barked.
Oh, thank God.
The dog ran at me, and
I didn’t even have a chance to recover from my shock before it planted its front paws on my leg, tail wagging. It was enormous, with bushy black fur like a…well, like a bear.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I gave it a cautious pat. I liked dogs, but the way this one came racing out of the woods so unexpectedly had scared me. My heart was still pounding. Was it a stray? There was a red collar around its neck, so maybe not. Before I could look for tags, I heard a woman’s voice calling from the direction of the hiking trail.
“Minnie!”
The dog turned its head to stare in the direction of what was probably its owner calling for it, but could an animal this big really be named Minnie? I gave it a gentle nudge since its front paws were still propped against my leg, and it dropped to all fours, panting.
I frowned. This was private property. Why was someone hiking on my grandmother’s land? That was rude, even if the house had sat vacant for a while.
“Minnie!” the woman called again, and the dog dashed in her direction, letting out an excited bark.
I planted my hands on my hips as a tall woman with hair the color of cinnamon came striding out of the woods with another dog at her side. My heart—which was still pounding—lurched for an entirely different reason, because oh, I knew that stride, that smile, that hair.
I’d known her as a little girl, skipping through the field on the other end of this trail, and for one memorable summer when we were sixteen, she’d been more than my best friend. She’d been my first love, the girl whose kiss made me realize I didn’t like boys.
I swallowed roughly, my throat gone dry. “Taylor?”
2
Taylor
I paused with one hand holding Blue’s leash, raising the other to shield my eyes as I stared at the woman standing behind Margery Shaw’s house. I’d been waiting for months to run into someone from the Shaw family, hoping to see a For Sale sign in the yard so I would finally get the chance to buy this house. But out of all the scenarios I’d envisioned, I had never expected to see this particular person.
I lifted my chin. “Phoebe?”
Phoebe nodded, reaching up to tuck a brown curl behind her ear. My chest tightened, memories and emotions rising inside me, because she looked so much the same. She was older now, of course. We both were. But in her blue cotton dress, hair piled in a messy ponytail on her head, she looked so much like the Phoebe who’d been my best friend, the Phoebe I’d fallen in love with, the Phoebe who’d broken my heart.
Minnie ran toward her, thrilled to have found a new friend here on Margery’s property. The Lab mix was hopelessly enthusiastic. So was I, for that matter. We were a perfect match. Phoebe and me, on the other hand? Not so much.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I said, relieved that my voice sounded calm and steady.
“I could say the same thing.” Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest. “This is private property, you know?”
Seriously, this was the way she wanted to play it? After all these years, she was going to treat me like an intruder on her grandmother’s property?
“You know perfectly well that I know whose land this is,” I told her. “I’ve probably spent more time here than you have. I trimmed Margery’s rosebushes when her arthritis acted up. I walked her dog and sat with her in the evenings to drink tea and talk about life. She welcomed me to walk my dogs here any time I wanted, and I didn’t think that offer had been rescinded, especially since I’ve been keeping the place up while I waited for your family to list it for sale.”
Phoebe glanced at the meticulously trimmed rosebushes, having the good grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t know that was you.”
“It’s me,” I confirmed. “I couldn’t bear to see her rosebushes die off. You know how important they were to her. It seemed the least I could do after everything she did for me.”
“I’m sorry.” Phoebe looked up and met my gaze, maybe for the first time since the summer we were sixteen. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone hiking on my grandmother’s property, and especially not you.”
“You’re the last person I expected to see today too,” I said, forcing myself not to look away beneath her intense gaze. She’d always done that, ever since we were little. I’d felt like she was staring straight into my soul, and for a long time, I’d thought she belonged there. Soulmates. As it turned out, I’d been wrong.
“I just got here,” Phoebe said. She looked tired, now that I was paying attention. Maybe even sad. Why was she here, after all these years?
“Come to clear the place out?” I asked. It had been six months since Margery passed away, so it was certainly time.
“Something like that,” she said, looking down as Minnie bounded up to her with a stick in her mouth, dropping it at Phoebe’s feet.
“Word of caution. If you throw it once, you’ll have to throw it a hundred times,” I told her, forcing a polite smile onto my face, because if I was going to successfully lobby to buy this place, I needed to make nice with the current owner. Our personal history was irrelevant.
Phoebe bent and chucked the stick across the yard, earning her Minnie’s undying devotion. “This dog is really named Minnie?”
“Ironic, right?” I said. “She was the runt of her litter, believe it or not. Their foster mom gave them all Disney-themed names.”
“Not surprised you adopted her. You were always trying to take in strays when we were growing up.” She gave me a hesitant smile as Minnie dropped the stick at her feet again, tail wagging enthusiastically.
“I actually work at the shelter now.”
“Really?” Phoebe’s smile looked more genuine now. “That sounds like your dream job. Good for you.”
“It is, and thanks.”
Blue whined, and I looked down at him. The beagle mix watched me with questioning eyes. I couldn’t believe I was standing here talking to Phoebe Shaw either. I steeled myself as I looked back up. I wasn’t interested in polite chitchat with this woman, but there was one thing she could do for me.
“Are you here to put the cabin up for sale?” I asked.
“No.”
Ugh. That was disappointing, but I still couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. “Well, when the time comes, will you please keep me in mind? I was close with Margery, and I love this property. I’d love to buy it, and I’m willing to pay a fair market price. I could save your family the hassle of having to hire a Realtor and fix it up. I love it just the way it is.”
“I would, but we aren’t going to put it up for sale,” Phoebe said as Minnie dropped the stick at her feet again.
“Why not?” It didn’t make sense to keep the cabin if no one was living in it, unless…oh God. I hoped like hell Phoebe wasn’t about to tell me she was moving to Vermont.
“My dad’s going to use it as a rental property,” she said.
“What? Why?”
“So he can keep it in the family,” she told me. “He grew up here, you know? And so did I, at least part-time.”
“Oh no,” I blurted. “But who will take care of it? The rosebushes? The trails out back?”
“My dad will hire someone, I imagine,” Phoebe said, attempting to ignore Minnie as she nudged the stick against her shoe.
“Please reconsider,” I said. “Name a price, and I’ll do my best to meet it.”
“We’re not going to sell it,” she said, and when she met my gaze this time, I saw something new in her expression. Phoebe wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was a twenty-nine-year-old woman who’d been working at some kind of corporate job in Boston for the last seven years. Finance, I thought. “I’m just here for a few weeks to fix it up to rent.”
This was just business to her. She hadn’t visited her grandmother very often the last few years. Why hadn’t she? Had the family even asked Margery what she wanted? Surely, she wouldn’t have wanted her home to be a party pad for tourists.
“This is a mistake,” I said.
“That’s your opinion,” Phoebe said. “But in the mean
time, this house isn’t sitting vacant anymore, so you should probably find a new place to walk your dogs.”
I gaped at her for a moment before my temper kicked in. “Wow, not even a thank-you for keeping the place up?”
“Taylor…”
But I didn’t want to hear it. I patted my thigh, calling Minnie to me. She picked up her stick and trotted over, tail wagging. I headed around the side of the house, past the purplish-blue Nissan sedan in the driveway that must be Phoebe’s. Minnie trotted over to sniff the tires before following me onto the street. Mountain Laurel Road was barely wide enough for two cars, so I clipped Minnie’s leash onto her collar to keep her close for the walk to my parents’ house.
Usually, I drove here to hike, but since my parents lived just up the road and I was joining them for dinner tonight, I’d parked there today and walked. The proximity to my parents was another reason I’d hoped to buy Margery’s house. I’d worked hard the last few years to save up for a place of my own, and after Margery passed away last fall, I’d realized how perfect her cabin would be for me. It had been my home away from home growing up and had one of my favorite hiking trails right on the property.
Maybe it wasn’t Phoebe’s fault that her father had decided to use it as a rental property, but this felt a little bit like being rejected by her all over again. My face flushed hot. She certainly hadn’t needed to take an attitude with me about it, especially after the way she’d treated me thirteen years ago. If anything, she should have been apologizing.