“Let me get the right key.”
My foot shakes and I crack my knuckles as I impatiently wait while he goes through a huge key chain.
“Ah, got it, but there is no hurry to get in here.” He turns to look at me.
“Yes, there is. I want her stuff before the heir gets it.”
“Heir?” Lee’s brows shoot up. “Coal, you’re his heir. Didn’t you get his letter?”
“What letter?” My father never tried to reach out to me after I left.
“Coal, you get everything. All the money, land, and so much more.”
“Why?”
“Come in and let’s talk, then I’ll take you to the house.”
“I know where the house is.”
“He sold the old place and had a home built that overlooks the lake.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” I look around my mother’s gallery and notice that nothing has been touched in all these years. Just the sheets covering the paintings that she personally owned. I walk back to her office ignoring the pictures of her with students and artists on the wall, not ready to deal with those memories. When I enter her office, I find it’s the only thing that’s different. The desk is bare and the walls are clean of everything. It’s like she was erased from here.
“Where is her stuff? When was her desk cleaned off?” I growl as I turn to look at Lee. He’s only a couple inches shorter than me, but he steps back from the look in my eyes.
“After you left, your father came in and had everything boxed up. Last I heard, he had it put in storage for you.”
“He told me I couldn’t have anything. None of it. None of her stuff.”
“Coal, come out here.” Lee holds out his hand, directing me back to the main area.
“No, just tell me.”
“I can’t, son, you need to meet me at this address, then we can talk.”
I ignore his “son” comment; I haven’t been anyone’s son in a long time. I take the offered card from him. When I get back to the SUV, I enter the address in the GPS and realize it’s an address not far away on Candy Cane Lane. I head that way and wonder what the hell Earl had been thinking. My mother had always wanted a house on the lake, and I’m confused as I pull up in front of the large Victorian inspired home. The house sits atop a rolling grass hill with a large circular driveway and wrap around deck. The pillars of the deck are white, and the house is a beautiful deep green with white trim. There is a large circular room on the second floor with big windows facing the lake. I step on the porch and look across the street to the lake and all the other houses lining the other side of it. This is exactly what my mom would have wanted.
Why did Earl build this home?
Lee pulls up and parks behind me in the driveway. I notice a second driveway that must lead to the garage, but I’m too busy trying to process everything to check. He pulls out a key and unlocks the big ornate door with frosted glass. It opens into a foyer with a chandelier hanging overhead. I step into the home and instantly smell my mother’s favorite flowers and the stupid air freshener scents she loved. There are open doors to my right and left, and a large wooden circular staircase in front of me. Everything is styled as if my mother had done it herself. I stop in what must be the den. A large painting hangs over the marble fireplace. It was one of my mom’s favorites. Tears clog my throat as the memories overtake me. I sit down on the light gray leather side chair.
“What is this place?” I choke on the words.
“Your father had it built five years ago. He moved out of your old home shortly after you left. Had it demolished and lived at one of the cabins at the campground until this place was done. He said the least he could do was give you a home your mother would be proud of.” He smiles as he looks around, and I can see his eyes are misty too.
“What aren’t you telling me, Lee?”
“After you left, he got the results of your mother’s autopsy. He knew you blamed him for her death; he blamed himself too. But there is so much you don’t know, Coal. You judged him for things your mother told him to do.”
My eyes flare wide and I stand up and pace the room. “She was okay with her husband sleeping with whomever he wanted, even her friends?”
“Yes.” I can’t believe that. I need to get out of here. “Coal,” he says as I turn to leave. “They had arrangements. Including the fact he could sleep with others. She had the one thing she wanted from him—you. They were friends, not lovers. He left you a letter explaining all of this. When you’re ready, you should read it. But the thing you need to know is your mother was dead before her body hit the floor. She had an aneurysm.”
His words stun me.
“Come on. I’ll buy you a drink. But know this house is yours. Earl slept in a guest bedroom. He wanted you to move into this home and never think it was his. He never cheated on your mother after her death. He was faithful to his best friend. He regretted, just like you, that he wasn’t home when she died.”
He leads me out of the home, locking it behind him, and then to his car after he gives me the key to the house.
Chapter 2
Kiera
I pull the bike I found sitting waiting for me after I got off my shift cleaning cabins. It was Mr. Bridger’s last gift to me. He died yesterday. After I got the news, I sat in the cabin he used to live in and cried. He was the only person in this awful town that was nice to me. He had helped me get the job at the country club dining room after I worked for him a bit. He was always mean to everyone but me. Everyone in town called him Mr. Bah Humbug; I called him Mr. Bridger. He would always take the time to talk to me, and he never called me names. He had once told me about his wife’s old art gallery. When I road past it today, there was a man sitting on the porch. I’m wondering if now that Mr. Bridger is gone if it’s for sale.
As I enter the women’s locker room, I make my way to my locker and notice the lock has been broken again. I take a big breath and look around. I don’t know why they insist on doing this, but I learned not to hide anything in my locker. The manager has been trying to fire me since she had to hire me. She’s one of the townspeople that calls me names behind my back and to my face. Her latest is to call me a criminal, and that’s why she keeps busting into my locker. I grab my clothes and step into one of the stalls to change. I never change in front of people; they don’t need to know how much their words hurt me. As I slide my jeans down my legs, my fingers brush the scars on the outside of my thighs, and I calm instantly just touching them. I haven’t harmed myself in a long time, not since I’ve learned techniques to better deal with my emotions, like my body art. The beautiful flowers lining my thighs down to my calves comfort me. Some of the artwork faded today when I took a shower, but I’ll do more tonight to get over the nerves from today. Losing Mr. Bridger is just another reason I have to get out of this godforsaken town.
I slide my pressed black slacks up my legs and slip my black shirt on over my bra, then I step out of the stall. I free my dark hair from the ponytail it has been in since my shower. My hair is so thick it’s still damp. I brush it out before styling it into a low bun at the back of my neck. I line my eyes with black eyeliner and put on a little blush and mascara. My fair skin is flawless, and I don’t need powder or foundation like several of the other girls that work here. My aunt always told me I had skin like my mother’s. I sit on the bench and slip on the required black low heel dress shoes, then I put on the dark gray tie and matching sleeve armbands. The armbands make us look like dealers at a casino. Rounding out my work uniform is the long, black waist apron with the country club logo in the center.