She tamped down frustration as she retrieved the lid of the garbage can. The burden of being compulsively tidy meant she simply couldn’t ignore this.
“Covering the can will attract fewer pests,” she said apologetically, but why should she apologize? The Roost was a historic treasure; Jack and this homeless man were the ones who ought to be apologetic.
She secured the bungee cords to anchor the garbage can lid in place while the vagrant chuckled. “There’s no point,” he said. “The raccoons will pull it off tonight to get at whatever is inside.”
All the more reason nobody should be living here. The Roost still held secrets, and discovering them was Alice’s only hope of resurrecting her moribund career.
Alice returned to her car and drove the half mile to the clubhouse. As much as she disapproved of the golf course, the clubhouse was spectacular. It had opened two years earlier, a Colonial Revival mansion with magnificent white columnssupporting porticos and balconies. Every bride within fifty miles wanted to get married at the Tucker’s Grove Clubhouse.
A man in khaki shorts and a grubby T-shirt sat on the front steps of the veranda. Sunlight glinted off the golden tones in his unkempt hair. He was a good-looking man, no question—broad shoulders, easy confidence, but …was he eating pudding with his fingers?
She couldn’t believe it, but even as she approached and locked gazes with him, he continued scooping chocolate pudding out of a plastic cup with two fingers. Dunking and licking. Her raised eyebrow must’ve tipped him off, because he chuckled softly.
“I forgot a spoon,” he said, shrugging. “Gotta make do.”
She smoothed her skirt and assumed a pleasant expression. “I’m looking for Jack Latimer. Is he here?”
“You found him,” he said, running his index finger along all four sides and the bottom of the disposable pudding cup for a final clean-up before sucking the last of it off his finger. He stood and tossed the cup into a trash can, then met her gaze with a heart-stopping grin.
“I’d offer to shake your hand, but I don’t think you’d accept,” he said with a wink.
His easy charm caught her off guard, and she took a step back. “I’m Alice Chadwick. I was surprised to hear you had taken up residence in the Roost.”
He made a low noise, a cross between a grunt and a scoff. “Yeah, me too. But hey, it’s free so I’ve got no complaints. Doc and I have been living there since February.”
“Doc” must be the man she mistook for a vagrant. She didn’t care who he was, she didn’t want anyone living in a rare and fragile historic building.
“I have an academic interest in the Roost,” Alice said. “The building is at least three hundred years old, and there are well-defined protocols for the preservation of such a property.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you from the state?”
“No.”
“The county?”
“No, I’m a history professor at William & Mary, but I’ve always been fond of the Roost. Any building with such a storied past shouldn’t be subjected to the wear and tear it’s currently receiving.”
Jack set his hands on his hips, probably to show off the corded muscles up and down his arms, but at least he had a hint of sympathy in his expression. “Yeah, sorry about that. I asked the Tuckers for a room in the clubhouse, but something about it not being permitted for residential use won’t let them do it. So I’ll be at the Roost for the next couple of months.”
“It doesn’t even have running water, does it?”
“Nope,” Jack confirmed. “I set up a porta-potty out back and I use the locker rooms in the clubhouse for a shower. A generator provides electricity if I need to run the microwave or power up my laptop.”
He was going to live in squalor for months? “I’m sorry, but this isn’t acceptable. Why can’t the Tuckers put you up at their hotel? They own a very nice hotel in town and it’s quite comfortable for long-term stays.”
Jack shrugged. “They’re flat broke. I guess they need to squeeze every dime they can get out of the hotel.”
“They’re not broke! The Tuckers are one of the wealthiest families in the state.”
“Maybe they were rich once upon a time, but they don’t have enough money to meet their bills.”
There were a couple of construction workers fiddling at a nearby pump, and they glanced over, eavesdropping. She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “None of that is true, and you shouldn’t start that sort of rumor. It’s tacky and damaging to the Tuckers’ reputation.”
Jack threw up his hands, even though he seemed more amused than threatened. “Fine, have it your way,” he said. “The Tuckers are rolling in dough and lied when they begged me to accept a thirty-percent stake in the golf course in exchange for funding the construction. I’m too cheap to pay what they wanted for a room at their overpriced hotel in town, so Kyle is letting me stay at the Roost for free.”
A sickening feeling began to grow in Alice’s gut. Why would anyone choose to live with no water and only spotty electricity unless what Jack said was true? The Tuckers must have a short-term cash flow issue. Even millionaires and billionaires could have problems accessing immediate cash.
“I don’t like seeing that satellite dish on the roof.”
