Diana’s dead and William’s married. This is pure madness. “Well, who wouldn’t want to be a princess?” I smile.
“They live such extravagant lives. I couldn’t do it. Harry and I only buy secondhand clothes, and we never purchase anything at the grocery store unless it’s on sale or we have a coupon. Right, Harry?”
“Mmm hmm.” Nolan’s dad defines impassiveness, like he automatically hums to the sound of her voice but never really registers a word she says.
Sofia replaces the empty glass in his hand with a full one. He brings it to his lips like each swallow is oxygen to his lungs.
“We can’t stay. I just needed to pick up the contract that was delivered here. Scarlet is still on London time so I’d better get her to the house. I’ll be back later.”
“Drive carefully, Nolie. Last week Grace Kelly’s car somersaulted over a cliff.”
I look at Nolan.
Nothing.
I look at Harold.
Nothing.
What the hell is going on?
CHAPTER FOUR
My name is Scarlet Stone. I am the smallest kid in the playground. I kick bullies in the balls because they never see me coming. My self-defense skills—zero. My hundred-meter sprint time—thirteen seconds.
Not explaining thebizarre conversation that took place with his parents is not allowed. Yet, it happens. He can’t honestly expect me to be satisfied withunconventional marriageand they havea few issues,as an adequate explanation for what I witnessed.
Nolan doesn’t say one word about them during the drive to Tybee. He points out the best places to eat, the oldest buildings, the ghostly history, and the significance of each square—and there area lotof them—but not once does he offer a single word of elaboration for Harold and Nellie Moore.
He doesn’t know me. I love mystery and trivia. Horror films are my love stories. Risk is my drug of choice. The purpose of being here, in my place of birth, is to let go of everything I thought I knew about myself—about life—and discover something deeper, a greater meaning. However, this new development, aka the Moores, tempts the hell out of me. My head screams,I have to know!
Nolan helps me with my suitcases up to my room, then we return to the kitchen. “The stove is gas therefore the exhaust fan has to run when it’s in use. The floors are ripped up because tiling is Theo’s next project with the house. The bed has clean sheets and a quilt, but I recommend getting your own sheets if you’re a germaphobe.”
I’m not a germaphobe—communal underwear being the exception. I’m desperate for him to give me more of an explanation about his parents. He doesn’t, and I can’t bring myself to ask any more.
“Here’s the key. Theo is not here unless he’s working or sleeping. He doesn’t say much, but he notices everything, and he’s an anal-retentive perfectionist when it comes to his job. So you best stay out of his way when he’s wearing a tool belt.”
I take the key and place it on the worktop.
Nolan nods to the key then jerks his head in the direction of the hooks by the door. “Weird stuff like that will drive Theo crazy.”
“Sorry? Like a key… one single key on an otherwise empty worktop?”
Nolan nods. “Your bedroom and bathroom are yours. You can live as messy as you want in those spaces, but the shared spaces such as the kitchen, living room, and garage will need to be kept tidy if you don’t want Theo losing his cool.”
I laugh. “How do you work with him?” Oh that’s right… you were born into crazy. A crazy I’m dying to solve.
“I handle the business part. Theo does all the manual labor. He does his thing. I do mine. That’s why we work well together. We’ve been friends for years, but he’s become really withdrawn in his life, so I respect his space.”
“He sounds like a lovely bloke.”
Nolan shrugs. “He’s just quiet and looks a little rough around the edges, but he’s a hard worker, pays his rent on time, and makes me a shitload of money because every house he renovates ends up in a bidding war.”
Slipping the key onto the hook, I get my first good look around the place, no longer letting Harold and Nellie consume my mind. The dark-stained cupboards and shiny marble worktops look brand new. Beveled-edge, wide, dark trim accent the doorways and floors. It smells like wood in here. I like it.
“Your man—Theo—is good. Did he make the cupboards himself?”
“Yes, ma’am. He has sick talent.”
