Our footsteps echo and halt in a vast foyer devoid of furniture or dust. Empty for months, a superb cleaning company continues to tend to its needs, leaving it always primed to impress a potential buyer.
I point up, voice professional. “This chandelier was installed in 1928, but can be replaced if it’s not to your taste.”
He stubbornly crosses his arms as his long neck stretches to investigate the piece. I find myself staring at his Adam's apple, wishing I could poke it. Maybe if he coughed he’d lose the condescending look on his face.
His head slowly lowers, shadowy eyes bored as he announces, “It can stay.”
I smile, my distaste for him as a person, thinly disguised this time as I continue the tour. “Wonderful. Let me show you the main living room. There are three. The coziest, which faces the backyard, was used as an informal sitting room by the Lowrys. The larger two rooms are where they entertained guests.” As we step into a stunning, bright and open space I explain, “This molding was part of the renovation. The Spanish tile floor as well. It is unusual but that’s why they liked it, the uniqueness of its appearance. The materials are authentic, flown in from a village south of Madrid, hand-painted. You can choose any of the jewel-tones in this pattern and enhance or highlight them with the use of rugs, so don’t feel confined to one palette. But I’m sure you’ll hire a decorator. I just don’t want you to be put off by the colors. Most people want hardwood floors or cement floors now.”
“I’m not most people.”
I pause and motion toward the front of the living room. “Their original arch was preserved when the windows were torn out and reinstalled with double-paned glass. All except for the one that crowns them. The stained glass was too lovely to sacrifice.”
Our gazes hold. He says nothing, as though he doesn’t know why I’ve stopped talking.
An irritated knot twists in my chest. I turn on my heel and lead him toward a door on the far side. “This might interest you,” I begin, but Tanner cuts me off.
“How do you know what interests me?”
Surprised and with my hand settling on the copper doorknob, I lock eyes with him.
He’s so intense, this man.
I will not let him intimidate me.
“Mr. Hamilton, every powerful man I’ve ever known loves a library such as this.” I glide the door forward and we enter my favorite room in the house. “The ceiling is fourteen feet high. All the walls are deep mahogany, not just the one entirely made up of bookshelves, top to bottom. The floors, as you can see, match. Those were painstakingly reinstalled but the scarred walls are all original. There is history here that gives it a sense of magic and depth.”
The bored stare has vanished, replaced by subtle enthrallment. I’m pleased by his reaction as he walks to the rolling ladder and touches the aged wood. Standing in one place he pushes it forward and back to watch the wheels spin. Dropping his arm he steps away to get a better view, neck craning to drink in the possibilities. There are no books on the shelves now, but it seems he’s picturing them filled if he were to buy this massive home for himself.
I bet this would be his office. I can see his feet up on a glorious desk as he reads the Atlanta Journal, a steaming cup of black coffee waiting for his lips. He’d absently rake confident fingers through his hair before reaching for a sip. The door would open and he’d glance to it…
“You were right.”
Blinking back to reality I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”
“This interests me.”
Think of something witty to say.
Don’t just stand here.
What the hell is wrong with you?
“Wonderful,” I smile. “I thought you might like it.” Walking out the door and into the tiled living room I’m listening for footsteps that don’t come.
Should I go back and get him?
Pausing on the center tiles I look behind me. He’s leaning on the wall outside the library, both hands stashed in his pockets, chin dipped a little, looking at me from under his eyebrows.
“Mr. Hamilton?”
Holding my stare, a slow smirk tugs at the left corner of his mouth. “Carry on…Emma.”
He said my name like I’m a naive little girl. He still hasn’t dropped his original opinion of me? This man is waiting for a reason to end this tour, isn’t he? Send me back to the office, made insecure with the feeling I won’t be taken seriously for years. Well, that’s not going to happen.
I smile, “Right this way…Tanner,” and turn on my heel, adding in a teasing tone, “Don’t make me wait this time.”
He chuckles and pushes off the wall.
It goes on like this through all the rooms. I talk and he listens, silent and mysterious. Sometimes he smirks which only makes me act more detached. Our eyes lock time and again, each time holding a little longer like two bulls deciding if we’re going to lock horns…or let the other live. I’d prefer the former. I’m getting to a point where I’d like to punch him and ask him who the hell he thinks he is!
This is not my first showing.
I’ve had countless commissions.
All very happy buyers.
Nobody studies properties like I do.
Not even Cora.
I go the extra mile.
Learn more.
Know more.
That’s how you succeed.
Tanner Hamilton will see that I’m the best realtor he’s ever met if I have to pound it into his patronizing head!
“Excuse me a minute, would you?” He gracefully slides his phone from his pocket and dials, lifting it to his ear and saying, “Dan, reschedule my haircut. I have to see a couple more homes today.” He hangs up and eyes me.
“Was that your assistant?”
“Clearly.”
“Did he even get a chance to talk?”
“No.”
I control a sigh, but my brows tie in a knot, telling Tanner just how ridiculous I think he is.
CHAPTER 5
EMMA
“M om?” Doesn’t look like anyone’s home but I saw her car parked out front. “Mom, you home?”
Dad’s voice booms from the back yard. “Baby Love? Outside! Bring lemonade, will ya?”
Walking to the refrigerator, I glance at the photographs pinned with magnets, most of them askew. Eric with two missing front teeth in the first grade. Ethan and I wrestling when I was ten with me red-faced from laughing so hard. Eric in a pileup on the field during high school after they won the game. That was right before he found out about his scholarship. Ethan holding a ribbon from a contest he won in the math and science fair, age twelve. Me at prom with Tyler O’Reilly, the boy I lost my virginity to, but nobody besides me and Hannah knows that.
I pause, gazing at my favorite one that rests right in the middle of them all. It’s Mom and Dad kissing before a date-night when I made them stop on their way out, to let me take their picture.
And I can’t help but smile at the letter Mom has pinned up from the Botanical Gardens reminding her it’s time to renew the family’s memberships. Ethan, Eric and I are all grown up, but she still buys them for us every year, handing over the cards and insisting, If I stopped getting these, you might not go.
Filling a couple of glasses, I put the pitcher back in the fridge and walk through my old dining and living rooms, so familiar I can’t even see the details anymore.
Outside, Dad is squatting as he hammers a nail into a thick cedar plank, more wood piled high and waiting to his left. “Your uncle Jeremy is coming by to help me and I wanted to get a head start, make him think he’s late.”
I say on a laugh, “That’s hilarious. You want this lemonade now or should I set it down?”
“No, give it,” he grins, rising up and wiping sweat from his forehead. “You look nice.”
“Showing a house today.” Handing him his glass, I explain, “Cora’s giving me bigger clients, Dad.”
“Yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up, and he hands me the glass to take to the ta
ble.
“Maybe she wants to retire and she’s testing me? I don’t know, but it’s very exciting. Why did you decide to build an extension onto the porch all of a sudden?”
Dropping to a squat, he eyes his handiwork. “Your mother and I want a hot tub.”
Leaning on the existing banister that will be torn out before the day ends, I tilt my head. “Hey, that’s not fair! Why didn’t you guys have one when we lived here? We wanted one and you know it!”
Dad gives a wolfish grin. “This isn’t for kids.”
On a grimace I step backward, waving the image away. “Gross. Okay, stop right there. I get it. Don’t need to know more.”
He laughs, his desired effect achieved. “Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we’re dead.”
“I’m glad you still have that kind of…drive. I just don’t want to know about it.” Dad chuckles and picks up his hammer as I ask, “Did you make sandwiches for you guys?”
“Let Jeremy fend for himself,” he mutters.
“But what about you?”
Warm brown eyes, same color as mine, glance up from under his sweaty brow. “You wanna make us some?”
“Well I’m not going to let you starve. I know you—it’ll be hours from now and you’ll be hungry, dehydrated, and you won’t stop working until you get grouchy. I’ll be right back. Where’s Mom today?”
“Woman’s Group has a fundraiser coming up and she’s with the planning committee. In other words, she’s drinking mimosas with a bunch of chicks.”
Shaking my head I give him a lopsided smile and disappear into the house. By the time I’ve sliced in half and piled high, five roast beef and cheddar cheese sandwiches, Uncle Jeremy is walking in, taking off his shoes as Dad makes everyone do.
“Lookie here,” he bellows, reaching for food. “Arrived just in time. Didn’t know you were gonna be here, Emm. But boy am I glad to see you now!”
“I bet,” I laugh, watching him shove his mouth full. We walk out together and I explain, “I dropped by since I was in the neighborhood and had some extra time before a showing.”
I can barely understand him as he mumbles through chewing, “Working today? That why you’re dressed up?”
Glancing down to a flattering blue dress I just bought, I hide a rising blush with a shrug and a lie. “This is one of my normal work outfits.”
Not knowing any differently he chomps away, talking with his mouth full. “You look great. I’m sure you’ll impress them.” Upon sight of Dad and how much he’s completed with the extension, Jeremy’s frown is instantaneous. “Hey, what the hell, am I late? I thought we said eleven! I’m sorry, I should have checked to make sure that was right. Dammit, how’d I get that twisted in my head?” He looks at his watch and Dad and I crack up. Flicking confused glances between us, Jeremy relaxes. “Oh you piece of shit, Jake. You really did all this to make me feel like an asshole?”
“Yeah, for all of two seconds, but it was worth it. Now you’ll work extra hard to catch up.”
“Think again,” Jeremy smirks, grabbing Dad’s glass from the table. “This your lemonade, Jake?”
“Hey!”
He downs it. “Ah, that’s good. Nice and cold.”
“Go get me some more you thief!”
Jeremy admires the empty glass. “So delicious, ice all melted just right so the tartness is softened just enough, you know what I mean?”
“Emma!”
Laughing I retrieve Dad’s glass. “I’ll get you some too, Uncle Jeremy. Now get to work!”
“Yes, Sergeant! Jeez, you gonna let her talk to me like that, Jake? What about respect for your elders?”
As I disappear inside I hear their voices carrying over the distance as Dad informs his younger brother, “This is her house more than it is yours. She’s boss. Here’s my toolbox. I’m going to rest now.”
“You fuckin’ liar,” Jeremy laughs. “I can just picture you sitting back eating bon-bons while I build your damn love tub all on my own.”
My hand pauses on the refrigerator door at those words.
Knowing Dad and Uncle Jeremy won’t come up for air unless forced to, I exchange the glass for two larger ones, and put the lemonade in a cooler, filling it with all the ice we have. My eyes are dead though, mind heavy. As I take two trips to carry it all outside, Dad sees my face.
“What’s up kiddo?”
“Nothing,” I smile. “Have to go to work soon.”
He sits back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs. “You can’t lie to me, Baby Love. I know you better than that.”
Jeremy, squatting by Dad, adjusts his weight to see me better.
With both of them scrutinizing me I shrug, “I just hope I have what you and mom have, one day.”
Dad chuckles dismissively, “I like you single, thank you very much.”
Jeremy makes a face like he understands. “The day Zoe brings a guy home to meet me I will probably toss him out the door.”
My dad and his brother find this very funny, but as I escape over to the plate of sandwiches I find my appetite has left me. My fingers float away from the platter, and soon I find myself sitting on one of our weathered patio chairs.
Distracted with my thoughts, I try to help him understand, “Hannah moved out, Dad. I live alone. I’ve been spending more time with my younger cousins, because Ethan has Charlie. Ben doesn’t live in town and it feels like he’s itching to find ‘the one’ or something…doesn’t come around as much except when he drives down from the farm for dates. Eric’s obsessed with the Falcons.”
“As he should be if he wants to win,” Dad mutters.
“I’ve been kinda seeing someone but it doesn’t feel right. He’s just not my guy, you know?”
“Good,” Dad mutters. “There’s no rush.”
“I’m trying to talk to you about this.”
He stands up, shakes out his legs and walks over, taking a sandwich and locking eyes with me. “Emma, you can always come over here more. Join us for our movie nights.”
“It’s not the same, Dad.”
“I know, but we’re here for you.”
Sighing I run a hand through my hair. “My luck I’d show up and you guys would be doing something kinky.”
Dad chuckles, “Entirely possible. Probably should call first.”
Holding his look I tell him with as much raw honesty as I’m capable of, “See, I want that. Passion. Life is too short for less, right?”
He grimaces and turns on his heel, returning to his brother. “We need to change the subject. Talk about this stuff with your mother.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows are cocked as he mutters, “Why didn’t we have just boys?”
“Mom was lucky. Jaxson, too.”
“I know, right?”
“You gonna work or stuff your face?”
Jeremy grins, “What do you think?”
“Yeah right. Here’s a hammer. Not that you know how to use one.”
“I can use it on your head.”
“Try it,” Dad chuckles.
I duck out without saying goodbye. As I slide my shoes on I hear Dad call out, “You leavin’ Emm?”
“Yeah, Dad! I have to work, sorry!”
“Give us a call later!”
“Yep, bye!” I lock up, footsteps hurrying as I smooth down my dress. After Jeremy called attention to it, I’m trying not to become aware of the reason I bought it. Was it for the sale or for the man? But that’s ridiculous. Tanner is a terrible pain in the butt. I have no interest in him. None at all.
CHAPTER 6
EMMA
O ne week, four days, and twenty-two houses later, we’re still pushing each other’s buttons. When I’ve exhausted all aspects of the final showing of today I realize I don’t want to return to the office just yet.
“There is another house of ours up the road if you’d like to see it,” I offer. “It’s a little smaller, that’s why I didn’t think it would interest you.”
He’s come to trust that I’
ve learnt his tastes, and have good instincts, so I expect him to turn me down.
He opens his palm. “We’ll take my car.”
“Afraid of walking?”
His eyebrows lift. “That close?”
“Three houses. We can drive if it’s too much for you.”
His lips twitch. “We’ll walk.”
Through the next mansion my tour plays out in exactly the same manner as all of the others. Mostly his jaw remains tight while mine won’t stop yapping. As usual I continuously catch him staring at me in a way that is unsettling. Not in the bad way, but in the good.
We run out of rooms—even the attic has been explored—and now that we have nothing left to look at, we’re standing on the front porch, staring out at the street, silent.
Neither of us is making a move to return to our cars.
Tanner coughs and looks up. “Nice day.”
“It is,” I reply. After more awkward silence I ask him, “Did you know that it rains more in Atlanta than in Seattle?”
He eyes me. “That true?”
“Yes, I dated a reporter at CNN briefly and he told me.”
“Why don’t they publicize that?”
“Maybe because it’s sunny here most of the time, and in Seattle it’s gloomy, so it feels worse. Here it’s more like Hawaiian weather, tropical. Not today, light humidity today. But when it is raining and warm, it’s very much like that, often the sun peeking out quickly afterward. Gorgeous. Not all shadows and darkness.”
Tanner eyes me then fixates on the sky, grabbing his wrist behind his back, both elbows bent in an L-shape. “You store a lot in that brain, Emma, don’t you?”
Descending the short row of steps I casually tease him, “That’s what it’s for, isn’t it?”
Behind me I hear him say, “I want to see that one.”
Following his pointed forefinger to a For Sale sign just up the street on the opposite side, I blurt, “That’s not one of ours,” before I realize that doesn’t make me look good. Glancing to him I stand straighter. “I’ll call the number and get the code from them.”
“Good girl.”
Emma Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 11) Page 2