“All the furniture in this room is original to the house,” Susan said. “Eighteenth century. This room belonged to the last owner of the house, Mrs. Lacey. She was the current owner’s aunt. Died five years ago.”
“Not in this bed, I hope,” Lauren said.
“No, in a hospice in Chatham. She was a nice lady. My mom knew her well. So, what do you think?”
“I think I love it,” Lauren said, already picturing herself at the desk, her computer in front of her as she began a new project, her own this time.
“Great. Let’s get the papers signed, then, shall we? Why don’t we stop by the office, take care of business, and then grab some lunch? I’m starving.”
“I don’t know,” Lauren replied lamely. She’d actively avoided social situations since Zack’s death, but Susan looked so crestfallen, she felt mean for refusing.
“Come on. It’s on me,” Susan tried again. “I hate eating at my desk.”
“Okay. Sure. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Susan replied, smiling broadly. “Jerry will be thrilled to have rented this place so early in the season. When do you want the lease to start?”
“April first through Labor Day,” Lauren replied.
“Perfect,” Susan said, already heading toward the stairs. “I’m already spending my commission in my mind.” She laughed merrily. “I think you’ll be happy here.”
“Billy will love it.”
“Oh? Who’s Billy?” Susan’s arched eyebrows made Lauren laugh. She obviously thought Billy was her boyfriend.
“Billy is a puppy. My brother, Xavier, gave him to me for Christmas.” He thought a dog would make me less lonely, Lauren added in her head. And he had. Billy was a joy. A brown furball with limpid brown eyes and a velvety nose. “Pets are allowed, aren’t they?” Lauren asked, realizing she’d never thought to inquire.
“Yes, the owner has no issue with pets. What breed?”
“Chocolate lab.”
“I love those. They’re so cute.” Susan locked the house behind them and headed for her car. “Just follow me back to the office, and we can walk to lunch from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lauren said.
As she got into her car, she felt lighter than she had in months. “You’d like this place,” she said, addressing Zack, her vow to stop talking to him momentarily forgotten. “The view is stunning, and it’s nice and private, away from the mob of tourists. I think I can write here,” she added, her voice tinged with hope. “What do you think?”
I think it’s time you let go, Lauren, Zack’s voice replied in her head. Lauren ignored him and drove down the hill.
Chapter 2
Moving into Holland House didn’t take long. Susan McPherson had had the house cleaned and aired out before her arrival, so the rooms smelled pleasantly of pine cleaner and the sea. Lauren brought only the essentials: two suitcases of clothes, Billy’s crate and toys, her Kindle, which had at least ten books she had yet to read on it, and several framed photographs.
She set her favorite picture on the nightstand next to the four-poster. It had been taken at Xavier’s graduation party nearly ten years ago, the night she’d met Zack. Xavier had caught them unawares, gazing at each other with all the desire and wonder of two people who’d made a sudden and intense connection. They looked young and carefree, and already halfway in love. Looking at the picture always made her happy. It served to remind her that something wonderful could happen when you least expected it and change your life forever.
Lauren threw open the curtains and opened the window a crack to let in some fresh air, unpacked her clothes, and placed some personal items on the old-fashioned bureau, claiming the previously impersonal space as her own. She’d known she’d pick this bedroom before she even signed the rental agreement. She’d always been something of a history buff, and the colonial decor had appealed to her on sight, but it was the four-poster and the lovely writing desk that sealed the deal. Lauren positioned her laptop on the polished surface of the desk, then stowed some office supplies in the drawers, running a gentle hand over the pattern carved into each mahogany rectangle. She couldn’t help wondering about all the people that had used the desk before her, especially its original owner, who must have written all their correspondence as they gazed out over the bay, a quill suspended in their hand as they considered their next words.
Her reverie was interrupted by Billy, who pushed his nose into her calf, making her laugh out loud. He’d been nosing around the second-floor bedrooms, yapping excitedly, but now he probably wanted to get outside and explore. Lauren scooped up the puppy and carried him downstairs. He was too small to navigate the stairs on his own, which was a blessing in a way since that would ensure he’d stay put instead of running all over the house, but she’d have to install a security gate soon to keep Billy safe. The little dog ran toward the sliding door and pressed his nose to the glass, his eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the placid bay and the open space beyond the patio.
“All right, all right,” Lauren said as she reached for her coat. “We can go outside.” She grabbed Billy’s leash and pulled on a pair of gloves before opening the door. It was warmer than it had been when she came to see the house, but not by much. The wind lifted Lauren’s hair and whipped it around her face, momentarily blinding her. She loosened her grip on the leash, and that was all it took for Billy to take off. He raced toward the wooden steps to the dock and had managed to clear the first two on pure inertia before falling headfirst down the rickety staircase.
“Billy, no!” Lauren screamed as she plunged down the steps after him, hoping she wouldn’t follow his example and tumble headlong down the hill. The puppy looked like a brown ball of fur as he rolled toward the bottom, then landed with a hollow thunk. Lauren was beside him in moments, crouching next to him as she reached to stroke his head. Billy whimpered pitifully but didn’t get up. His gaze was glazed, and his back leg was folded at an odd angle beneath his body.
“Billy?” Lauren called to him. “Billy, get up.”
But the dog didn’t budge. His head lolled to the side as he rested it on his paws, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun. His breathing was shallow, and his whimper was carried away on the wind. Lauren pulled off her gloves and yanked her phone out of her pocket, searching for the nearest vet. She called two numbers, but both offices were closed, the recording advising her to leave a message. She didn’t want to leave a message; she wanted Billy looked at immediately. The third call was answered by an actual person.
“Good morning. How can I help?” a perky female voice asked.
“Hi. My dog fell down some steps. I think he’s badly hurt.”
“Are you a current patient?”
“No, I just moved to the area. Is there any way you can fit me in?” Lauren pleaded.
“Please hold,” the young woman said. She came back a few moments later. “Dr. Kelly will see you at noon. Can I have your name, address, phone number, and the name and breed of your dog?”
Lauren provided all the information, her gaze never leaving Billy’s face. He was perfectly still, lying there as if unconscious. “I’m afraid to cause him more pain,” Lauren said to the receptionist as she considered the logistics of getting him to the vet.