“Clayborn Knight.”
Jackson examined the drawing. The man’s features were sharp and brooding. He was glancing over one shoulder, as if caught by surprise, and Leah had captured intelligence and suspicion in his eyes. He looked like someone who wouldn’t miss much.
“You’re very talented.”
She blinked at the compliment. “Thanks.”
His eyes slid away as he handed Leah her cell and the moment passed. He turned back to the movie, grateful for the distraction. She resumed drawing.
The month he’d been dreading had slid by faster than he’d expected. Nothing had changed, and yet things felt different. Jackson was torn between duty and a creeping sense of contentment he was unwilling to give up.
Chapter 9
Leah
And just like that, after four whole weeks, he’d left. No note, no warning. Leah came downstairs to find Jackson’s car had gone from the driveway.
“That guy has serious communication issues,” she grumbled to herself. And though she listened out for him, nothing disturbed her as the morning turned to afternoon and the hours dragged on.
She dug out the old diary again and read the rest of Esther’s entries for February and most of March, reveling in the youthful exuberance. She was enjoying the light-heartedness Esther was so known for, when one jarring paragraph leaped off the page.
The Creep was waiting for me at the bus stop after work today. I couldn’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t walk me home but I just didn’t want him to! He wears so much gel in his hair it looks like he’s been caught in the rain. Imagine pushing your fingers through that—no, thanks!! And he told me threeTimesin ten minutes that he has a really high IQ. Not smart enough to tell I don’t like him, though.
The Creep.
Could he be the “IHate Him” guy?
It definitely wasn’t Atherton Hale, who Esther only ever referred to by name and who she was clearly falling head over heels for.
Interest piqued, Leah read on, but the happy chatter on the following pages—of friendship, outings, parties, and new love—made the house feel emptier, so she eventually pushed the diary to one side and made herself get back to work on the monthly E.V. Huxley newsletter.
She watched a little television when the evening drew in, eating soup and crackers with half-hearted attention. Thought of starting a film but couldn’t be bothered. Tried to settle on a book and failed. Even drawing held no appeal. As she scrolled idly through social media, the crackling of the fire in the grate went a little way toward filling the hole left by Jackson’s absence.
The following days came and went with no sign of him. The house seemed bigger, the quiet more noticeable. It was concerning how quickly she’d gotten used to him being around. Amity Court went back to being a big, empty museum, with Leah both day and night watchman.
Ailsa, Esther’s gardener, arrived early one morning to tidy the flower beds and borders—with the news that Jackson had paid her and asked her to continue looking after the grounds until the house was sold. Checking her own bank account, Leah found her wages had been deposited, too. The relief was enormous; she could afford to go out. Since Hazel had come down with a cold, Leah immediately messaged Florence Martinez and they arranged to meet at Diner 43.
While she waited at a table, Leah spread thePine Springs Observeropen across the Formica and searched the job ads. There was hardly anything listed—mainly short-term, seasonal vacancies for fruit pickers.
“I’m sorry—have we gone back to the 1980s and you forgot to tell me? I’d have worn my rah-rah skirt if I’d known.” Florence slid onto the bench seat opposite. “No one advertises for work in the paper anymore.”
Leah gave a wry smile. “I know that. But there’s nothing online so I thought it was worth a look.” She flipped to the rentals pages.
“I thought you could stay where you are for now?”
“I can. But Jackson plans to sell the house as soon as he gets a good offer, and I need to be prepared. I can’t afford to sit back and wait until I have no job and nowhere to live.”
Leah had precious little money to fall back on. She’d only just finished paying off her car loan, and a recent service had been twice as expensive as she’d hoped, plus she needed two new tires. There wasn’t enough in her savings to put down the deposit on a new place, as well as covering the rent and living expenses too, especially with her job situation up in the air. Esther might not have been able to pay her much, but Leah had been spoiled by the live-in agreement. Real life was rarely so kind.
“The timing sucks.” Florence grimaced. “If I hadn’t just signed the renewal on my studio we could have looked for something together.”
They’d hit it off from the moment Ava had talked her daughter into coming along to Esther’s book club. Bonding over a goofy sense of humor and shared positivity, their friendship had grown easily. Living with Florence would have been the answer to Leah’s prayers.
Delia, the dumpy owner of the diner, broke brusquely into their conversation. “D’you know what you want?”
Leah quickly ordered her cappuccino and breakfast bagel. Diner 43, across the street from the salon where Florence worked, was a handy place to meet. The food was good and the retro decor appealing, even if the service could be varied. The comforting sizzle of food on the griddle wafted from the serving hatch, the scent ofall-day breakfast hung in the air, and the quiet buzz from the other tables captured the local spirit of Pine Springs.
Florence asked for her usual. “I’ll have a chai latte, please, and the fiesta wrap.”
